Yes, I desire to "return home" to ballot-stabbing.
Wow, leave it to Diebold to turn a fun time with a punch card and stylus into a throw-back to some of our worst memories of sitting in sweaty desks hunched over a standarized test with a hard, non-mechanical pencil cramped in our fingers.
At least with voting there is no time limit. (I don't imagine it would take one 13 hours to figure the new system out, though my poll line was the least efficient I've seen it, my election judges dull enough to require two minds to determine what to do for Voter A whose name was not on the list but who had changed his address over four weeks ago, he said.
(Isn't that one of the most standard scenarios? Call the Election Board, darn it! It was funny that one of the judges said, "what's the number?" Good freaking gracious.)
I burned through my whole pencil-tip blackening in the huge ovals, and I didn't even cast a vote for the unopposed chumps or certain others I don't want to support either way. The "voting booth" was a three-sided screen propped on a bumpy, plastic table.
The ballot, three times as big as the punch card, was a graphic design disaster that made me doubt, as I left the church/polling place, that I had even cast a vote in the 10th District state senate race. I do have an opinion about Flaherty, I. Burnett, Klumb and Justus. . . .oh well, I'll never know.
I don't like to sit down and vote, either, so I didn't, and that was uncomfortable. Not as bad as the cold metal chair I avoided, but still, not fun.
Guess I should have used the touch-screen?