Pre-ramble: Apologies to those folks who take polls literally, but really, get a clue.
I'm certain that everyone reading this has a clear understanding of how political polling transpires. However, for the sake of clarity and to put a human element to it, here's my explanation. Paul Schlub and Paulette Schlubette arrive at the phone bank office, a gray windowless cinder block building in the low-rent area of a decaying downtown metropolitan area. They each meander through the open room to their respective desks, strap on their headsets, and commence dialing from a list of registered voters, or just a list of phone numbers. The next eight hours are spent asking questions, receiving too long answers, and generally wishing that college degree meant something. If it weren't for the student loans, they could actually live instead of exist. But, hey, they got jobs!
Paul gets his first hit. Heinous T. Partay and his lovely wife Teena (his second and much younger wife) have just sat down to supper when the phone rings. Heinous loves to be asked his opinions, and when told that a simple yes or no answer is sufficient, he launches into how he hates the government and the high taxes and the gays and the abortionist murderers until he gets all red in the face and has to get his nitro pills from Teena, who is otherwise engaged in painting her toenails hot pink while she watches her dinner grow cold...again. Paul closes his eyes, leans back in his chair, and really really really wants to just go outside, smoke a joint, and bang Paulette.
Paulette, on the other hand, just got her third, "I'm eating dinner, dammit! Stop calling here!" call, which was the topper to three successive ignored rings. She looks at the picture on her desk of her four year old son and two year old daughter and dreams of winning the lotto and moving them all to a country that was less angry and stupid. She never thought of Paul.
Once all of the calls have been made, the data is collected and the extrapolations begin! The computers whirr along, crunching and counting and analyzing until the last byte of information has been processed. There is virtually no human element to this part of the story, so we'll move on. Always hated math, anyway.
The numbers indicate that there are virtual dead heats in many Congressional and Senatorial races that were just recently blow outs. One blowout remains a blowout (I am not a witch), bucking the new conventional wisdom that this country has completely lost it's mind. Only about half of it has, if the polls are to be believed. And, why shouldn't they? A couple thousand patriotic Americans let their dinners grow cold in order for the rest of us to have a snippet of the electorate's mood.
And therein lies the problem. The numbers are based on a relative handful of voters, and it's only those voters who are motivated enough to answer the phone and the questions. The tightening of the races has more to do with the new majority, the Independents, declaring their intentions. See, Independents don't carry signs for either side, so are a tad slower to get involved, preferring to watch the sides go at each other. They also don't answer the phone during dinner. Ever.
The other motivator driving the changing poll numbers is, of course, fear. But it's not the fear on the Right, it's the fear OF the Right that is pushing the reluctant to act. If the Tea Party candidates don't scare you, you're just not paying attention. If the Republicans don't make you want to send them to timeout until they can act more like adults, then you're watching too much reality TV.
I may be proven wrong next Tuesday, and if I am then I will apologize to all I offended and move to Canada. But I just cannot believe that nearly half the voters of Nevada are stupid enough to think that Sharron Angle would make a good Senator. I've lived in Nevada, went to school there, and my in-laws live there. I'm no fan of Harry Reid, either. But, Sharron Angle? What, are you afraid she'll invoke her Second Amendment remedies on you and your family if you don't vote for her? They traded in chickens for the poster child of Guns and Ammo magazine?
But that's what the polls tell us.
Colorado, my home state away from home, where my son and his wife live and a part of me will always reside, where my beloved Denver Broncos look like crap this year, the home of the only man I've ever wanted an autograph from and who could be Emperor of Colorado if he'd just ask. I love the State and it's people, and I cannot believe that two of the scariest and most dangerous men in American politics have almost half the voters ready to elect them in their respective races. Tom Tancredo and Ken Buck are misogynistic racist hypocrites, and that's me being nice. There is no way that half of the good people of the great state of Colorado actually support these two idiots.
But that's what the polls tell us.
Never been to Alaska, don't have any family or friends their. I don't really know that much about it other than what I saw on Ice Road Truckers. Sure looks pretty. Lots of oil. Bridge to Nowhere. Government checks to every citizen. Poor Scott McAdams, the Democratic nominee for Senate, who is a cat at a dog fight. He seems like a really nice guy who really cares about the people around him and his home. And he is said to have zero chance of winning. Are the hearty folks of Alaska really going to send either one of the Spawn of Evil candidates to Washington and leave the sane one at home? Well, it kinda makes sense in a way.
At least, that's what the polls tell us. (Mr. McAdams should probably be grateful. Nice guys get eaten for breakfast in DC).
The Loud White Minority is exactly and only that. Let's make sure they stay the minority.
Go vote next Tuesday.
Hamster Prez
No comments:
Post a Comment