Donald Trump is right about the rigged election that’s happening in Texas. I’ve been trying to vote here for weeks, and there is definitely something wrong with the machines.
I entered an establishment in Dallas, for example, and tried to vote for Donald Trump. All that appeared on the machine, however, was a long list of songs by Dolly Parton. I pushed the option that looked closest to Trump/Pence. A large bearded man in a leather jacket screamed “Who the fuck messed with the jukebox?” and threatened to break a pool cue over my sphincter.
This is not what democracy looks like.
Dejected, I tried another voting location. I entered the room and was stunned to see that the machine was labeled “Mortal Kombat.” Even after defeating a six-armed humanoid in hand-to-hand karate, I was unable to cast my ballot for Donald Trump.
I tried the next machine and was challenged to a street fight by an Asian gentleman in a headband. What is this country coming to?
I drove to my local election precinct, District 7-11, and they had voting machines where you could buy gasoline, voting machines that dispensed Mello Yello, and even a voting machine that existed solely to rotate hot dogs in endless, mesmerizing circles.
Did I gorge myself on Mountain Dew and wieners at this location? Yes.
Do any of these delicious machines take votes for Donald Trump? No.
Frustrated, I tried my local Redbox—presumably, a ballot box for those who support red-state Republicans. In this patriot’s opinion, it is inappropriate that a voting machine would rent out a DVD of Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates—a movie that sucked, by the way—and not count a ballot for Donald Trump.
But I didn’t give up. I walked into a voting location at a hospital in nearby Gulchtown and proudly pulled down the red lever for Trump. In response, alarms started ringing out and the entire fire department came screaming down to stop me with their hoses.
First of all, it is RIDICULOUS that I have to break through a pane of glass with a ball peen hammer in order to cast my vote.
Second, a legal voter should not be intimidated by law enforcement, and have a sprinkler system rain down on him, just because he pulls the lever for the Republican candidate.
It is wrong, it is un-American, and I am very, very wet.
Sometimes it seems like the voting machines here in Texas will do anything besides accept a vote for Trump. They will copy my keys; they will direct me to the Panda Express at the mall.
Heck, there’s even a fancy futuristic voting machine here at the Walgreen’s that can tell me if I have hundreds of different diseases from just one drop of blood.
Here’s a question for Washington D.C.: Why aren’t your machines as good at counting votes for Donald Trump as they are at diagnosing illnesses from blood droplets?
I’m still searching for a Texas voting machine that doesn’t require me to enter my Wells Fargo PIN, or stream the lyrics to “Sweet Caroline” in front of a totally unrelated music video.
Until then, I will keep fighting to cast my ballot for Donald Trump, even if our rigged contraptions fight me on it.
In fact, if the situation does not approve, I am prepared to raise my arms against these voting machines—which might be a good thing, because at one of them, you can win a oversized teddy bear if you’re a real good shot.