It’s a rare surge of optimism that has me participating in something called Postcards to Swing States, a get-out-the-vote effort arranged by – well, I don’t know who. Or even what.
When I signed up to do it a few weeks ago I asked for two hundred postcards, the fewest you can request. They arrived a week or so later, with a long list of names and addresses of apparent fence-sitters, or others who have been identified (by whom?) as needing a little nudge to get them to vote.
All the names on my list are in Texas. Texas is not usually considered a swing state, I don’t think, but it’s a target for possible flipping. The organizers claim to be “data-driven,” and say that “voters who receive handwritten postcards are significantly more likely to vote.”
So far I have completed a little over half of the postcards. Zero imagination involved: you’re supplied not only with postcards and addresses but the text to write, and even the date to mail them. The closer they arrive to election day, I’m told, the better.
I almost always vote, but never with conviction. I don’t trust the process and I don’t trust politicians. I am not now, nor have I ever been, a member of the Democratic (or any other) party, aside from a brief flirtation with the Greens. But I’m voting blue, and hoping for a blue tsunami.
Optimism is probably not the right word for my postcard involvement. Fear is closer to it: fear of what a second dump administration would do. I am convinced the votes are there to overwhelmingly defeat this bastard. I am not convinced they will all be counted. There will be cheating.
Nevertheless...
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