I thought that I would have outsmarted The-Evil-Doctor-Merlin-Channing-Lowe-Jr. on this off-off-season election day, but alas, I was thwarted multiple times. It appears that TheChan has stepped up his efforts to disenfranchise me. And regardless of my efforts, Dr. Chan has thwarted me, yet again.

I woke early, in an attempt to sneak by Chan and his Stassi Operatives. I went to my usual polling place, the Painted Hills Church, hoping to be in and out before I arrived to work. I saw it was quiet and barged in seeing the place was almost deserted. I stormed into the chapel and found a group of people in dark clothes, quiet, and secretive.

“Where the &#(! is the polling place?” I screamed, only to the horror of the inhabitants of the room.
“What have you done with the &#(!ing polling place?” I demanded.
I was only responded to with gasps of disgust and horror.
I stormed out, and barged into the office of the Church Secretary. Demanding the same thing.
“Sir.” she replied, “The Polling Place is not being held here.”
“Then who the &#(! is in there? Being all dark and &#(!ing quiet?” I demanded.
“Those are mourners.” the woman tried to cover, “You just barged into a private funeral.”
“Private my @$$.” I screamed, “Why are you people disenfranchising me?”
“Sir, can you please stop using such strange symbols in your speech bubbles?”
I threw my Voter’s Guide on her desk, in defiance.
She thought she was so smart.
She pointed to the address of where the polling place was. “This is the Mormon Church down the street. That is where the polling place is.”
“LIES!” I screamed, and attempted to storm back into the Chancel, but was dog-piled by *scare quotes* “mourners” and tossed out onto the street.
I picked up my pride, though it was bruised and battered, and proceeded to the Mormon Church, to get to the bottom of this. Clearly Chan’s Operatives were clever, trying to hide where I needed to vote.

I walked towards the entrance and an elderly man with a clip board tried to accost me.
“Would you like to Sign a Petition for Bob Gilby?”
BOB GILBY?
How Dare you Chan! Using my Uncle to thwart my vote.
I hid my Identification, trying to not let this clipboard wielding operative get a foothold into my right to vote.
(And he was clearly inside the 75 ft. Perimeter.)

I made my way inside the Mormon maze, and found the registration desk. Again, there was a line of people behind the A-L sign, and no-one waiting in the L-Z line. Such discrimination.
I got in line behind the lone man in front of me. The Operative in the L-Z line looked at my work badge hanging from my belt. “I bet his name is Gilby.”
“It is not!” I rebuked.
“Can I see your ID?” the attendant in the A-L line asked, trying to disenfranchise me.
I admit it, I froze, my two fake Voter IDs were in the OTHER line. I was forced to show my cards, and proudly showed my Jeremy R. Gilby, Libertarian,
“Gilby, like that guy soliciting outside?” one operative asked.
I was cornered, I quickly went to Plan B.

I pulled out my secondary Voter ID, John Morgan, Captain, Democrat.

The Operatives were not buying it, not this time. Chan taught them well. Even with my convincing Pirate Swagger.

I went to Plan C. Voter, John Walker, Republican, and I dropped a half empty bottle of Black Label on the table, to prove my minority status.

That was when the police came. The rest was a blur.

Stinkin Chan, you win this time!