Skip to main content

If you didn't vote, you can't bitch

For the past several months, members of the Cleveland County Commission have struggled with the issue of whether or not to build a county jail.

They’ve also gone back and forth on where that jail is supposed to be located.

This, because the current jail is overcrowded and State Health Department officials are breathing down our necks threatening large daily fines or, even worse, closing the facility.

A couple of months ago, more than 50 citizens attended a county commission meeting to “voice their opinion” about where the jail should be located.

Some said downtown Norman.

Others said Franklin Road.

Nobody was happy.

Now, fast forward to June.

A special election for County Commissioner — you know, the same guys who decide where the jail is going to be located — is scheduled.

And less than 3,000 of the 28,000 registered Republican voters bothered to show up.

Less than 100 mail-in absentee ballots were returned.

And only about 20 of you bothered to vote early at the election board.

I’m disappointed.

Though I am proud of the handful (read that literally) of you who went to the polls — good work. But for the rest of you — those 25,000 who sat around on their collective butts and didn’t even bother to go to the polls — you guys should be ashamed.

And, yes, the rest of this column is focused directly on you.

You’ll be the first one in line to complain about the jail or whatever county proposal in on the agenda, but you don’t have enough energy to go vote.

You’ll want to whine.

You’ll stand and shout at the rain and tell the rest of us how bad government is.

But you don’t do anything to change it.

You don’t participate.

You don’t vote.

Give me a break.

Consider this: While you of the couch potato variety are solidifying in front of your television, a bunch of tired, hungry — but very loyal — servicemen and women are across the globe fighting to bring peace and civility to war-torn Iraq.

And part of civility is being able to chose who will serve as the country’s elected leader.

But voting in Iraq isn’t easy.

Hell, to vote over there, you have to dodge the automatic weapon fire and avoid the well dressed suicide bomber.

Here in American, you have to turn off the television, get off you ass and go.

As I was writing this column, a few people were going to the polls to pick a new District 1 commissioner. God love ’em.

But I guarantee you there will only be a few. I promise you the number of voters who voted Tuesday will be small.

If I had my way, you’d get a stamped card when you voted. And those people with the card would pay less in taxes, get free stuff and get to help make the decisions about what government was doing.

The rest would just have to suffer.

Because democracy only works when people participate.

And 3,000 people out of 28,000 doesn’t make a quorum.

So if you didn’t vote, you can’t complain. If you didn’t bother to go to the polls, don’t send me a letter about how bad the government is; don’t bother to call, either.

You opted out.

You took the easy way.

And in American, the game of government can only be played by those with an “A” game.

If you want to make things better you have to roll up your sleeves and, in the words of Larry the Cable guy, “git-r-done!”

Until then, you’re just another whining couch potato.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Ex-pastor suing Moore's First Baptist Church

MOORE — A former official with Moore’s First Baptist Church is suing the church for his termination, and for “spreading false rumors about his mental health throughout the community,” court documents show. Jimmie D. Lady, the church’s associate pastor, filed the suit in Cleveland County District Court last week seeking $10,000 in actual damages and $10,000 in punitive damages for “severe emotional distress and mental anguish as a result of statements made about him when his job was terminated.” Lady’s attorney, Andrew Hicks of Houston, claimed church officials terminated Lady for being bi-polar, then spread rumors about Lady in the community. “Although a man of God, Dr. Lady cannot ignore the dramatic, adverse effects these untrue and unfair accusations have had on him and his family,” Hicks said. “First Baptist Moore’s efforts to tarnish Dr. Lady’s reputation have threatened his family’s livelihood. Through this suit, we hope to restore Dr. Lady’s good name.” Church officials denied...

If I were a chef...

If I were a chef, I’d spend early Wednesday mornings at the Farmers Market. I’d get there around 7 a.m., when the produce was wet and fresh and the day was young and the people were still drinking their coffee. If I were a chef, I’d wait patiently while the wrinkled granny lady individually fondled all 631 tomatoes on the table in front of her. I’d quietly tap my foot as she sniffed and touched each of the red, buxom vegetables before she finally selected two, and paid for them. I’d do that, if I were a chef. If I were a chef, I buy peaches — boxes and boxes of peaches. I’d buy them from the old, snaggle-toothed man with the radiant smile whose booth sits to the right of the entrance to the fairgrounds building. I’d buy his peaches because I know the old man understands fruit and earth and trees, better than anyone else there. I’d smile as his wrinkled, gnarly hand gently placed peach after peach in my basket. And I’d give him a sly wink after he handed me a bruised, but succulent pea...

Dear Daniel...about that graduation

Dear Daniel: By the time you read this, your graduation ceremony will be over. You and 500 or so of your friends have reached the first big intersection on that road we call life. Congratulations. As I watched you sit at the Ford Center last Thursday, I couldn’t help but remember your childhood. Granted, you are not my son, but instead, you’re the son of my closest friend. And, therefore, you are family. You were only 3 months old with I met your father. We both went to work for the Oklahoma Legislature and both found ourselves stuffed into this tiny office with no windows and very little space. Your dad had been there, maybe two days, at the most, when he told me he was going to be taking several weeks off. I wasn’t too happy about that. I’d started a week before he did and I didn’t understand why he was so special. I remember cussing him and pretty much acting like schmuck. Later, when he returned, he told me how his newborn son had to have heart surgery and that’s why he wasn’t at ...