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Election  Night  2008

by Brian Hassett

Early morning in the Universe  –  sunrise over a New America.

I arose from the floor of a Harlem hotspot dreaming of something way bigger than me.  And right off the mat, the Election Morning Ritual of tea & subtlety, pacing & breathing, and dreaming in the bright new light of it.

And there’s the widescreen of Barack & Michelle & their girls walking into the polling booth in Chicago and taking their time to burn in the memories of casting their historic ballots.

And all over New York you could hear doors slamming on apartments and taxis and trains as young and old, black and white went through their daily rituals — and today’s quite singular one.

I realized we were getting Obama as President, at least as Veep to Hillary, back on Super Bowl Saturday in January when I first watched will.i.am’s “Yes, We Can” video (here).  It had just been uploaded the night before, and I watched it early in the jingle-jangle morning and just lost it — couldn’t watch it without getting choked up for weeks afterwards.  It was so obvious then that he was ours — America’s, the world’s, right now’s.  Somehow it felt more ancient than futuristic, more traditional than trendy, more Rushmore than YouTube.  And it was good.

But of course there was still a helluva race ahead — first the primary against Hillary and then the general against McCain, and it did look close a couple of times, but especially starting that Monday of the Lehman Brothers collapse and McCain “suspending” his campaign and stumbling around like Henry Fonda in the woods in On Golden Pond, followed by Colin Powell coming out on Meet The Press, you knew who was going to win.  In fact, I was able to post the final election results on this here site on Halloween, a full four days before election day — and was 99.5% accurate.

I spent the afternoon getting all gussied up in black velvet tails and Ben Franklin knickers with knee-high socks topped off with a top hat, accented with colorful Obama buttons, and everything underneath my waving homemade Obama pennant flag with a little red & white Canadian one on top.  All I needed was a clanging bell and some rolled parchment.

Heading into the Election Night, for the first time in my life I was the most popular person in Harlem!  Looking like a “Hear-ye, hear-ye!” town crier from the American Revolution, I was carrying Obama’s flag into battle — lighting up faces of people who still haven’t come close to learning English.  Shopkeepers were waving, and mothers were pointing me out to their small children.  Passing pedestrians were either breaking into huge smiles or full-out hollering, “Obama!”  It was dusk on the final day of The Nightmare From Texas, and minorities may have been happier than anyone that the lying war sap’s reign of error was ending.

Riding the subway through Harlem in black velvet regalia — facing beaming white smiles from dark African faces, shining and sharing across the aisle like Washington will soon be if  all goes according to plan.  A little boy beside me is admiring my buttons, and finally says in the cutest voice, “All Barack!”  So I reach in my bag and find a button for him just before he gets off.  And some guy’s watching me do this, and he pulls out his keys from his pocket and wound off and his little Obama key-chain and handed it to me across the subway car.  It’s the coolest thing and I’ll cherish it forever.  And so I looked in my bag and found another button and handed it across to him.  And there was some guy standing nearby smiling as he watched all this go down, and the guy I just gave the button to handed it to him.  A crowd got on right after that and we all got separated — but within seconds all us strangers had just given each other something for nothing.  America was changing right before our eyes.

Then I’m off, flying between the towers of Midtown, when suddenly a-ha, a “Vote Here –>” sign for a polling station, and, decked head-to-toe in Obama, I enter most illegally and go beaming around.  Poll site day-workers are smiling back huge hugs, and then I spot the ancient New York State steel levered polling machine and go over to open the curtains and have a good gander –

but Nooooo — The Big Bossman spots me and nearly football tackles me the heck outta there!  So there I was;  Tossed back into the Manhattan rush-hour of snappy suits and swinging briefcases, big ego scowls and some big-hearted smiles.

And then ah into the ah of the Election Plazah at Barackefeller Center!  People.  All beaming faces.  Lights.  A red, white & blue skyscraper.  Broadcast trucks.  Giant screens.  And rows of flags waving wide and high in tonight’s heavy winds of change.

There’s lots of people, but it’s not crowded.  And NBC had once again laid out the red carpet.  Well, actually it was blue.  And plush and thick, from one end of the plaza to the other — “Election Night 2008″ woven into the ground that democracy’s participants were walking on.  And not just Americans, but thousands and millions who came here from foreign countries, like me — because “America” is so much a part of so many.

And meanwhile, I’m getting photographed more than I ever have in my life.  Plus, they’ve got somebody dressed up like donkey and somebody like an elephant, and for an hour the three of us become the most in-demand trio in New York.  And on top of that, the inside of my coat is lined with buttons that I’m selling.  Which I never even mentioned to anyone, but people kind of figured it out.  All I kept saying was, “Vote Socialist!  Vote Obama!”

And a couple times I actually get challenged about being an interferring Canadian, but I quickly bounce ‘em back with ol’ Christopher Columbus and Thomas Paine and Alexander Hamilton as pretty cool un-Americans.  And if that don’t shut ‘em, I drop Albert Einstein, Andrew Carnegie and Madeline Albright.  And if that don’t do it, John Lennon, Neil Young and Charlie Chaplin usually does.  You can be American from wherever you’re born.

And waving my colorful homemade flag was doing the trick!  It was like a freakin’ antenna pulling in the channels.  Friends were tuning in from all over.  Philip the Iraq war reporter with his big pro camera weaves in documenting the stories of regular people in the eye of history.  And here’s Levi, the online LitKicks disturber, happily dancing through the crowd like it’s an outdoor Dead show.  And there’s the Jimmy Carter staffer Zoe waving from her comfortable perch, soaking in the immensity of it all.

And friendships are being made instantaneously all over the plaza, conversations starting without introductions.  It was a family reunion and we all knew each other.  And even though it was early it felt pretty late, with everybody already a little giddy, a little silly, a little too happy — and it didn’t matter to anyone.

And of all excellent things they were actually handing out plastic beer mugs!  Or maybe they were coffee mugs, but I figured they’d work way better for beer.  So, I copped several for the crew, and off dee-do.

It was getting time to plant the flag and hold the fort.  There are two main giant screens:  one for NBC, and one for MSNBC, which has been my network of choice since it came on the air about 10 years ago.  And to boot, it’s their side of 30 Rock that’s completely bathed in Democratic blue and turns out to be the naturally livelier side of the grand plazoo all night.  So, I promptly claim n maintain the center screen-front fort-site!

There’s a six-inch high curb running across the battlefield a perfect distance from the screen and it makes the best forward line I can think of.  Next, I’m lookin for SOUND — where some half-deaf old people can hear what’s being said even while crazy New Yorkers are screaming in joy.  And right along the curb line directly in front of the MSNBC screen, there’s a nice big Bose speaker on a stand, squared off by barricade stantions.  So that becomes our solid right flank;  and I’m holding down the front curb-line;  and our left flank is held by Gina Gershon’s sister and a wall of her girlfriends who haven’t moved in an hour.  ”We’re solid.”  “We’re bull’s-eye center.”  “It’s a go, General.”

We had our private box at the theater  – once we had our perimeter secured, there was a buffer of about 50 people deep in every direction around us – and we could just GO! And lemmi tell ya, nobody’s burners were on “medium”!

And as I keep waving my Canadian–Obama flag, along comes Winnipeg-Manhattan guitarist brother Terry;  and Paul, who I only just met but who’s been a friend for life;  and Anna, Philip’s pregnant wife blessing her child who’ll be born around the same time as the next President in January.  And here comes Ralph the producer, and Brad the net oracle, and Anne the global adventurer.  And then comes somebody holding up a giant Obama yard sign as they’re dancing and weaving through the crowd, and as the sign floats closer, sure enough, underneath it all is Nadette, an actress friend of nearly 30 years bringing suburbian lawns into this uber-urban plaza.

And from our private box we could easily make runs to the deli which you could almost see from our “seats”.  The only trick was getting back through the outer ring of the scene — excuse-me-ing through the tight outer strata of late-comers and non-insiders, then weaving through the gentler inner rings of patriots to our secret center where we had enough room to dance.

And dance we did.  Along came four cute girls from England who’d flown over just for this moment and were as funny as that other Fab Four who flew over here.  Or the flowing French poet who’d also flown in just for this.  Or the gorgeous Kim Basinger with the flower in her long blond hair.  Or the Canadians who kept appearing all night from Vancouver and Montreal and Toronto and Edmonton.  It was like all the Americans who materialized in Ontario when we were registering people to vote with Democrats Abroad.  In fact, as the night comically revealed itself, our encampment became surrounded by Canadians — typically too shy to say anything, but when they saw my flag came and stood near and felt safe.  I became the freakin’ Canadian Consulate at Barackefeller Center on Election Night.

As Zoe & I are making what we thought at the time was the final beer run of the night at about 7:40, and we bump into this group of four Midwestern couples in their 40s and 50s leaving the scene.  Of course we start talking and they mention they’re heading out to get something to eat, to which I say, “Are you fuckin’ crazy?!  The big moment is coming right up and you’re gonna be staring down at a tuna sandwich?!”  They all laugh as I give ‘em hell, Harry.  So, Zoe & I hit the deli, and sure enough a minute later the whole crew of ‘em come in and say, “You convinced us.”  And they just grabbed some road grub and headed back into Democracy’s mosh pit.

Another wonderful thing about the scene was the diversity of people.  Besides there being every conceivable shade of pigmentation from the darkest African blacks to translucent northern whites, there was also every body type, age, and orientation.  There were turbans and ball caps, piercings and wheelchairs, suits and sandals.  It was America, and it was the world.

I was talking to this bunch of Jamaicans and we were all laughing and beaming and “Yesing,” and their accents were so damn thick I understood not a word they said the entire time!  Except “Obama.”  Yet we were totally communicating for a good long time — our faces and hearts knowing what the other was saying all along.

And I’ll tell ya, there’s been a buncha times I wished John Lennon was here, but oh boy, none more than while we’re talkin’ bout a revolution, well, you know.  And how this was the world playing out that he and so many other visionary men of peace have shared through sermons or songs or non-violent stands.  This was the dream — and it has manifested and is dancing and cheering and wired.

It’s like tonight had gone into sudden-death overtime where you couldn’t leave because it could be called and be over at any moment!  The best part of course was when the Dems scored points by winning a state — and a cheer went up as far as you could hear, echoing through the canyons of our spines.  And for every Kentucky or Mississippi there was a playful boo, then we laughed out loud at our own silliness.

And as each state was called, just like in ‘04, NBC had these two giant tapestries, one Dem blue & the other Republican red, that were being pulled up the side of 30 Rock, one foot for each electoral vote won.  Except this time the blue side was climbing much higher than the red one.  

Although my predictions for the Presidential winner, electoral college numbers, percentage split, and Senate and House seats were all Dead on or close damn to it — the one thing I (joyously) didn’t get right was the time the news organizations would project a winner.  I knew it could come at 8, and if not then, at 9 for sure.  “There’s no way we’re not going to know before 10.”  But all those hours came and went with nothing.

Here’s an obvious conspiracy for those who enjoy those sort of things:   There was obviously collusion between the networks to all hold off their Presidential projections until 11PM.  They obviously didn’t coincidentally all make the “call” at exactly the same time.  They coulda called it a week ago, or anytime all night . . .  but what the heck, the whole county was riveted until the match was sparked and the emotional fireworks set off.  No matter when you tuned in or arrived at your election night gathering, by 11:00 you’d been on the edge of your seat for a while.  Or, the edge of your curb, as the case may be.

There was a clock on the bottom of the screen — and although it was obvious to some of us what was going to happen when it struck 11:00:00, most in the crowd didn’t know it was coming.

But after hours of good-vibe build-up, the clock ticked eleven and the screen tocked Barack — and the voices and the spirits and the hands shot up, fingers splaying, eyes blazing, thousands jumping, people hugging, falling into another, high-fiving hands so fast you never see the arms, screaming, tear-soaked faces like thousands of brand new parents – but no romantic midnight New Year’s Eve couples kissing — for just a moment there was something even bigger than one loved one.

Some people were frozen in Buddha-still calmness, others were bent over crying and shaking.  People were hanging out windows, flashbulbs were flashing from every direction, horns honking over everything, girls screaming like Beatlemania, it all swirling into a roaring, deafening tornado, tossing us side to side, but hardly anyone falling down.  And the cheering kept going — there was no person telling us to simmer down so the show could resume.  Talking heads were yammering away on movie screens and the speakers were still blaring but we were all chanting “O – ba – ma”  or “Yes we can” so loud nobody heard a word.  And after one wave of peak cheering would begin to subside, another would start out of nowhere and everyone would raise their voices and arms again for no reason except the joy of it, the beyond-beliefness of everything — as new layers of what just happened were rolling through people’s hearts and minds and out their faces.

For some it was a tearful release of exhaustion after sleepless nights for days or weeks or months — defenses down, fatigued openness, sleep-deprivation delirium.  And for others it was such a sweet gentle smile of serenity.  . . . “Finally.”

But so-sadly, with the networks calling it at 11:00 — that was the exact time of the last elevator to The Top of The Rock rooftop so there was no way to kiss the sky as well as all the pretty girls in the plaza.

After a prolonged evening of anticipation, the dominoes fell quickly.  I lost any sense of time at this point, but it seemed like right after the projection, John McCain was walking out to give his concession speech.  As I expected, he was huge and gracious — his best speech since I-dunno-when.  Poor old guy got waylaid somewhere, off into the Rovian practices of kill n torture what you don’t like and ask questions later (See, also: Iraq, Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo, Clelland, Kerry, Bush-McCain 2000, etc., etc.)

Everybody was in a “boo-McCain” spirit, but I knew he was better than what we’d seen in this campaign.  So every time he said something particularly gracious, I’d yell, “Alight!  Give it up for John McCain!”  And nobody would.  The crowd had followed my every cue all night — when to clap, cheer, laughing at my one-liners — as Zoe said, “You had those people eating out of your hand,”  — but when it came to giving props to the distinguished gentlemen from Arizona, I had zero pull.  

And geez I just gotta say — in politics, your opponent is your enemy only until you win; and the moment it’s over, you become colleagues again.  You compete as hard as you can, or “vigorously” as Obama wonderfully called it;  then we all work together.  Done.

So, immediately after McCain finishes his concessionary congratulatory comments to the new President-elect, the world was transported via Marshall McLuhan stacks of amped televisions to the massive gathering in historic Grant Park in Chicago where Democratic supporters had their heads bashed in by billyclubs in 1968 – and had them blown off by words in 2008.

And once again, Obama Presents a beautiful stage, with a classic row of flags like those waving around the Washington Monuments and this Barackefeller rink in New York City.

And as the soul-speaker soars, the Barock Center New York crowd is cheering like we’re at the greatest Central Park concert ever.  Except there’s no rock star.  There’s not even a person.  Just “two big screens and a politician.”   And we’re peaking all over the city, all over the country, all over the world in a synchronized riot of joy.  This is not just an American story, not just a black story, not just a Democrat’s or young person’s story, nor just an immigrant’s story or this story — it’s all of us — all North America, Africa, Europe — dancing as one, in more ways than one.  It’s every underdog, every book-reader & book-writer, every neighbor, every one with hope in whatever language they speak — this Rose smells as sweet tonight.

And Obama’s calmly asking for our collective help, our common good.  It gets so quiet you only hear the people sobbing in the crowd of thousands.  Complete breakdowns.  Some couples now hugging like they didn’t at the New Year’s Moment — because now one of them is shaking and crying.  We see the soon-to-be-famous tears from Jesse and Oprah, but seeing them for real glistening in the Barockefeller Lights on the cheeks of both women and men, old and young, white and black, red-eyed and helpless, weeping uncontrollably, and there wasn’t an unblurry eye in the house.

“This is our time to reaffirm that fundamental truth, that out of many, we are one;  that while we breathe, we hope.  And where we are met with cynicism and doubts and those who tell us that we can’t, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:  Yes, we can.”

And your cells and limbs harmonize with the words, and you’re “Yes!”  And Joe Biden walks out, and that gem finally kicks in – “Oh my god!  Joe freakin’ Biden is Vice President!!”

And as the guests began to leave, I stayed and shook hands or winked into their dazey eyes or stood for a picture next to their ear-to-ear smile as they passed from the plaza womb out to the new world of New York tonight where strangers were stopping strangers just to shake their hand.

As we were leaving the light and into the night, my final image was of the giant blue column still climbing up 30 Rock, and the whole plaza bright and glowing . . . like it should be.

Meanwhile the streets were all a half-hour-after-midnight on New Year’s Eve — laughter echoing through every canyon, girls holding hands and skipping down the sidewalk, old shopkeepers watching everything from their doorways.

Terry and I whirl around the corner onto Sixth Avenue and Boom!  Right into the Midwestern crew we talked into staying at 8:00!  And it was now a whole lot more than a few hours later.  The well-put-together folks we’d met were now red-faced and joyous with their glasses listing crookedly, their hair a shambles, shirt-tails flapping, just a puddled mess they were, and as soon as they saw me rounding the corner they dropped their bags and ran over with giant bear-hugs of joy, thanking me most profusely for encouraging them to stay.  And the leader goes, “Hey, wait a minute,” and rushes back to his bags, and another guy says with a beam, “You’re gonna get something nice.”  And sure enough he comes back with this high-end print of an almost 3-D painting of Obama & Biden that will beam tonight from my walls forever.

And after a boatful of giant hugs, off they sailed into the glistening New York Sea at night as Terry & I floated on down the Avenue of The Americas, following The Great Invisible Forces to . . . . Times Square.

And as we whoosh around the corner into Times Square’s trash & vaudeville – the barricaded streets, shut-down sidewalks, yellow police tape everywhere, battalions of uniforms, and eight lanes of traffic racing through the center of it!  The massive crowd has dissolved down to a nice loud throng — so we fit right in! – bolting directly to the center island — the core of the core – ground-to-sky screens all around — Obama’s ears 8 Miles High — a constant roar — traffic, different speakers blasting different speakers, and a very high cheers-per-second ratio.

cue:  ”Dancing In The Streets” — loud.  [Phil Lesh & Friends, NYC, Nov. 6th, 2008 recommended]

And my Canadian flag’s immediately attracting a flood of delirious Canucks, some from the city I just left, some from places I never heard of.  And again it’s the celebrity flash-flash of my town crier top-hat n tails hailing in the news in Times Square routine.

All heck’s broken loose — for a moment it seems like old New York — people having a good time and no one interfering.  “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” is being belted out by an ensemble well beyond any concerns over harmony.  There’s a thousand Lady Libertys with one arm raised holding torches of camera-phones broadcasting beacons of freedom’s light to the rest of the world.  It’s the first time New York’s been like this since the Rangers won the Stanley Cup in game 7 at Madison Sq. Garden, when all the cars on Seventh Avenue were caught in the human flood, and the streets for blocks around became an instant street party — and you could walk up the avenue between rows of cars high-fiving both drivers and passengers from their open windows.

It was like that all through Times Square, except it seemed every car was coming from an Obama party, not just arriving at one!  It wasn’t random drivers caught up in some random New York street party, but every person in the city was in on it.  Or at least every person who was awake and outside.  The few Republicans here were long since safe behind their security systems, and anyone who was alive for the last few hours couldn’t help hearing and seeing and feeling the emotional and literal fireworks shooting off of every streetcorner in New York.

It was Fourth of July.  It was Beatlemania screams still echoing outside Ed Sullivan’s Paramount Theater.  Not only was every car smiling like a cartoon, and every driver too, but there was a person sticking out of every sunroof that went by — and people leaning out the side windows to high-five the Times Squarers as they drove through the piazza.  And if you weren’t honking your horn enough and got stuck at a light, brothers reached in your open window and honked it for you.  And not only were people chanting as they marched, a fire truck went by honking out “O – ba – ma” on his horn in time with the crowd, and the young Irish cops were doing stand-up routines for the crowds and working the passers-by like the best street comedians.

I talked to one of the officers in charge who said there’d been no problems at all over the entire city all night.

Nice, eh?

New York, I love ya!  So much like the blackout night five years ago  — happy positive vibes emitting from everywhere.  It was Woodstock without the mud.  It was a sunrise without the hangover.  It was a White House without a Bush.

And word filters up that Union Square was overflowing with people, and St. Marks Place in the East Village has broken into a spontaneous street-long block-party, and it was clear this was not going to be over anytime soon. 

And it was so gawdamn global – the giant screens were flashing crowds of people in Paris and London and Rome and Rio and Sydney and Toronto and hot-damn, summer in the city!  The back of my neck feelin’ all goosebumpy.

It was great that we were not dancing just cuz it was some date on a calendar, but because of something worked for by people the world over — and because of all the changes this will bring, from the smallest of human exchanges to the speeches of kings — it’s “a transformation of civilization” as Neil Young is currently singing it — it’s the hundredth monkey cracking the cocoanut for milk — an evolutionary step in our species — a turning-point that’ll be taught long after we’re gone.

And it’s happening now.  If you can read this, you’ve got your invitation.  We are the cells that are multiplying.  We are the lucky ones that make it across the river to The Promised Land.  This is a moment all people will wish they lived through.  And that this is even bigger for the world than it is for America.

It is our time, as he kept saying.

Live it or lose it, as I keep saying.

= = = = = = = = = = =

And wonderfully P.S.

A night later, a bunch of us went to the best band goin’, to my ears, Phil Lesh & Friends, and at the beginning of the show, the 68 year old bandleader came out and Dedicated the show – something I’ve never seen any GD member ever do  . . .

Phil:  ”Two days ago, we lived through and participated in a turning point in history, as important as anything that we’ve seen in our lives. And I bet everybody in this room was a part of that in some way. So, I want to dedicate this show tonight to that uniquely American spirit, which was just thrown up, at the perfect moment, with this man, and this movement, and these people.  So, here’s to you!”

Followed by chants of, “U.S.A., U.S.A., U.S.A.,” at an underground Grateful Dead concert in the core of Manhattan!   

*

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See, also:  the Election Night 2004 story

= = = = = = = =

by Brian Hassett

karmacoupon@gmail.com

“Keep your smile on and it’ll light your way.”  BH

The Presidential race –

I finalized my predictions on Nov. 1st, and called the final Electoral College to be:

367  to  171 and it turned out:

365  to  173

“My bad”:  I thought the Dems would pull off North Dakota;  and I gave Indiana to the Repubs, but the Dems squeaked it out by .9%.  And then McCain eventually won Missouri by .1%! 

Missouri & Montana were my two final changes   All along, I was calling Missouri for McCain, but at the last moment (!) I switched it, figuring the national “mo” that was with Obama would sway the “.1%” in Obama’s favor and keep Missouri’s streak going.  But, nooooooooo.

Also:  I figured McCain would get 56 million votes, and that’s exactly what he got on election night, but ended up with 59 million after all the absentees were counted.

I called Obama hitting 70 million, and he ended up with just over 68,500,000 — so, damn close there.

I figured the spread would be:  54% – 45%.  . . . Turned out: 53% – 45.7%.

I called the Senate:  56 – 42 – 2

and at present it’s:  56 – 41 – 2 — with Minnesota yet to be decided.

Without knowing much about the House, I guessed it would end up 265 – 170, and it currently stands at 255 – 176, with 4 undecided.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Final Numbers (as of Dec. 9th):

Obama:  68,520,000 votes, . . .  52.79%

McCain: 59,455,000, . . .    45.81%     (1.4% for “other”)

total votes cast:  129,786,000

(source for the above: The Green Papers)

November 2008 U.S. population:  305,836,000  (U.S. Census Clock)

Total eligible voters:  ____ million

Total registered voters:  169 million (86 Dems, 55 Repubs, 28 independents) (source: Wikipedia)

This makes an excellent “program” to print out for the evening’s festivities . . . 

(all times Eastern;  all predictions as of Saturday, Nov. 1st, 2008)

And before you dive in   — click here http://thatradio.podhoster.com/index.php?sid=1399

and listen to a radio show about the election while you’re reading!  What fun!   

7:00 – - 6 states — The Bellwethers – doing their hit “Georgia & Indiana” — If McCain is doing worse than winning by 3%, he’s in trouble.  If McCain’s winning by 8% or better, it’s NOT going to be a full blow-out night. 

Dems (16) – - Virginia 13, Vermont 3

Repubs (42) – - Georgia 15, Indiana 11, South Carolina 8, Kentucky 8

7:30 – - 2 states

Dems (20)  – - Ohio 20   (20 + 16 = 36)

Repubs (5) – -  West Virginia 5 

8:00 – - 16 states – - Ahoy Missouri!      They’ve only voted correctly for the winner in every Presidential election for the last hundred freakin’ years (except, like, once).

Dems (138) – - Florida 27, Pennsylvania 21, Illinois 21, New Jersey 15, Massachusetts 12, Missouri 11 (but will be too-close-to-call until Way-later), Maryland 10, Connecticuit 7, Maine 4, New Hampshire 4, Delaware 3, D.C. 3  . . . . . . (16 + 20 + 138 = 174)

Repubs (33) – - Tennessee 11, Alabama 9, Oklahoma 7, Mississippi 6

8:30 – -  2 states

Dems: (15) – - North Carolina 15   (16 + 20 + 138 + 15 = 189) 

Repubs: (6)  – - Arkansas 6

9:00  – -  14 states – - Do the networks call it at 9:00:01? Or do they keep their powder dry till around 10?  

Dems:  (86)  – - New York 31, Michigan 17, Minnesota 10, Wisconsin 10, Colorado 9, New Mexico 5, Rhode Island 4    (86 + 189 = 275)

Repubs:  (70) Texas 34, Arizona 10, Louisiana 9, Kansas 6, Nebraska 5, South Dakota 3, Wyoming 3

10:00 – - 5 states - – Iowa could put Obama over 270.  Also, Brian’s late-steal state to watch is Montana. 

Dems: (15) Iowa 7, Nevada 5, North Dakota 3   (275 + 15 = 290)

Repubs:  (8)  Utah 5, Montana 3

11:00 – - 5 states – By in here we’ll be getting McCain’s concession speech. 

Dems:  (77) California 55, Washington 11, Oregon 7, Hawaii 4  (290 + 77 = 367)

Repubs:  (4)  Idaho 4

Roughly between 11PM and midnight will be Obama’s historic victory speech from Grant Park in Chicago. 

= = = = = =

The only three additional states that COULD go Obama if it was more of a blow-out:

Indiana 11, Georgia 15, and Montana 3 — bringing Obama up to 396. 

= = = = = = = = =

by Brian at www.BrianHassett.com 

or Karmacoupon@gmail.com

it’s 

Brian’s Playful Prediction

Challenging Challenge Contest

*

The Game of Predicting History . . .  

Fair to be played up until 6AM (Eastern) Tuesday, November 4th, 2008. 

Make your own predictions at home,

then carry them around in your head. 

Look away now and make your own call first, but here’s mine –

Electoral College:  367 – 171  ['04 was 286 - 251] 

Percentage:  54% – 45%  (1% “other”)  ['04 was 50.7 - 48.3; 2.4% diff.; 1% "other"]  

Total votes cast:  Obama: will crack 70 million votes;  McCain 56 million  

[in 2004 all numbers were the highest ever in history: Bush 62 million, Kerry 59 million, 121 million total]

Senate:  56 – 42 – 2  (Dems pick up 7)  [currently: 49-49-2]

House:  265 – 170  [currently 235-199]

[Subject to change   up until first poll opening 6AM Tuesday morning   :- ) ]

= = = = =

The largest Obama’s Electoral College could be is 396 if he won everything I predicted plus Indiana 11, Georgia 15 and Montana 3. 

I’ve been using the term “convincing win” for the last 3 or 4 weeks. I don’t think “blow out” and certainly not “landslide” will be appropriate. 

In fact, I’ve been thinking for a month, we’re going to have a small English language debate around Nov 4th / 5th as to what is a “landslide”. 

The Rule of Brian is: 

If the winner’s score starts with a four,

He’s known as “Landslide” forevermore.

If the winner’s key is only a three,

A convincing winner he will be. 

And this should have been spoken to Tim Russert R.I.P. but was delivered by Sec. of State Colin Powell to Tim’s brother & colleague Tom Brokaw.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

I have some concerns about the direction that the Republican party has taken in recent years.  It has moved more to the right than I would like to see it, but that’s a choice the party makes. 

I have especially watched over the last six or seven weeks as both candidates have really taken a final exam with respect to this economic crisis that we are in and coming out of the conventions.  And I must say that I’ve gotten a good measure of both. 

In the case of Mr. McCain, I found that he was a little unsure as to how to deal with the economic problems that we were having and almost every day there was a different approach to the problem.  And that concerned me, sensing that he didn’t have a complete grasp of the economic problems that we had. 

And I was also concerned at his selection of Governor Palin.  She’s a very distinguished woman, and she’s to be admired; but at the same time, now that we have had a chance to watch her for some seven weeks, I don’t believe she’s ready to be President of the United States, which is the job of the Vice President.  And so that raised some question in my mind as to the judgment that Senator McCain made.

On the Obama side, I also watched him during this seven-week period.  And he displayed a steadiness, an intellectual curiosity, a depth of knowledge and an approach to looking at problems like this – as well as picking a Vice President that, I think, is ready to be President on day one.  And also, in not just jumping in and changing his approach every day, but showing intellectual vigor.  I think that he has a definitive way of doing business that would serve us well. 

I also believe that the approach of the Republican Party and Mr. McCain over the last seven weeks has become narrower and narrower.  Mr. Obama, at the same time, has given us a more inclusive, broader reach into the needs and aspirations of our people.  He’s crossing ethnic lines, racial lines, generational lines.  He’s thinking about how all villages have values, all towns have values, not just small towns have values.

And I’ve also been disappointed, frankly, by some of the approaches that Senator McCain has taken recently, or his campaign has, on issues that are not really central to the problems that the American people are worried about.

This Bill Ayers situation that’s been going on for weeks became something of a central point of the campaign.  But Mr. McCain says that “he’s a washed-out terrorist.”  Well, then, why do we keep talking about him? 

And why do we have these robo-calls going on around the country trying to suggest that, because of this very, very limited relationship that Senator Obama has had with Mr. Ayers, somehow, Mr. Obama is tainted. 

What they’re trying to connect him to is some kind of terrorist feelings.  And I think that’s inappropriate.  I think it goes too far, and has made the McCain campaign look a little narrow.  It’s not what the American people are looking for.  And I look at these kinds of approaches to the campaign and they trouble me. 

The party has moved even further to the right, and Governor Palin has indicated a further rightward shift.  I would have difficulty with two more conservative appointments to the Supreme Court, but that’s what we’d be looking at in a McCain administration. 

I’m also troubled by, not what Senator McCain says, but what members of the party say. And that it permitted to be said such things as, “Well, you know that Mr. Obama is a Muslim.”  Well, the correct answer is, he is not a Muslim, he’s a Christian.  He’s always been a Christian.  But the really right answer is, so what if he is?  Is there something wrong with being a Muslim in this country?  The answer is no, that’s not America.  Is there something wrong with some seven-year-old Muslim-American kid believing that he or she could be President?  Yet, I’ve heard senior members of my own party drop the suggestion, “He’s a Muslim and he might be associated terrorists.”  This is not the way we should be doing it in America.

I feel strongly about this in part because of a picture in a photo essay I saw about troops who are serving in Iraq and Afghanistan.  And one picture was of a mother in Arlington Cemetery, and she had her head on the headstone of her son’s grave.  And as the picture focused in, you could see the writing on the headstone.  And it gave his awards — Purple Heart, Bronze Star — showed that he died in Iraq, his date of birth, date of death.  He was 20 years old. And then, at the very top of the headstone, it didn’t have a Christian cross, it didn’t have the Star of David, it had crescent and a star of the Islamic faith.  And his name was Kareem Rashad Sultan Khan, and he was an American.  He was born in New Jersey.  He was 14 years old at the time of 9/11, and he waited until he can go serve his country, and he gave his life.  Now, we have got to stop polarizing ourselves in this way.  And I’m troubled about the fact that, within the party, we have these kinds of expressions.

So, when I look at all of this and I think back to my Army career, we’ve got two individuals, either one of them could be a good President. 

But which is the President that we need now?  Which is the individual that serves the needs of the nation for the next period of time? 

And I come to the conclusion that because of his ability to inspire, because of the inclusive nature of his campaign, because he is reaching out all across America, because of who he is and his rhetorical abilities — and we have to take that into account — as well as his substance — he has both style and substance — he has met the standard of being a successful President, being an exceptional President.  I think he is a transformational figure.  He is a new generation coming into the world — onto the world stage, onto the American stage, and for these reasons I’ll be voting for Senator Barack Obama.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 

Here’s 6 minutes of flying into Winnipeg for the Summer Summit Kelvin reunion in 2009  . . . 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KA_TS-nq8nU

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 

Here’s 2 minutes from The Opening Reception of the Kelvin Reunion — “Christmas in July” at the Myles’s 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GbeAwJoh1-E

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 

Here’s the Breakfast Television show on CITY-TV with Linda Ranson in Winnipeg August 5th, 2009:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wZKk8JYe6vk

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =   

Here’s the 7 minute “album version” of the Portage & Main photo shoot  with the old Gang, the evening of Wednesday, August 5th, 2009:   

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ySY0MaKXO4

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = 

Here’s Clark’s 1-minute hit single version of the Portage & Main photo shoot . . . 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLpXO2W-9KY

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Here’s Winnipeg’s Shaw TV segment when they showed up at the tour of Kelvin, August 6th, 2009.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rfdrH1n2UoE

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 

First video uploaded

Recorded Friday, Sept 26th, after the 1st Presidential Debate btwn Obama & McCain.

Location: The Royal Windsor Pub, in Oakville, Ontario, Canada

We were playing to have a little pre-game show, but everyone was having such a good time we never got around to it . . . so, after almost everyone had left — just the hardcore’s remained — and by fluke I had the camera, and Ben Stiller just happened to have come, so I gave him the camera and he did a great job! 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6finC2EyJaE

                            The 

          Mighty  Bama-Rama  Rap

                                                                                by Brian Hassett, Sept. ‘08

Like tonight is the night,

          the Barack is The Rock,

And “change” is The Word,

          and the voice has been heard,

.

And the heart is on the drums,

          and passion’s playin’ bass,

And the word has hit the streets  -

          you can see it in their face!

.

There’s a choir in the chapel

          an’ they’ve just begun to swing,

There’s a band down on the corner,

          hear the chimes of freedom ring.

/ / / / / / / / / /

It starts off kinda quiet,

          an underdog in spring,

No coronation here

          from a white-haired former king.

.

Just a jazzy scrappy jugband,

          eternity on tap,

And the singer in the center

          with the silky thunder rap.

.

The conductor: . . . of-an-orchestra,

          and a mighty rolling train,

Playing sweet sonatas

          and crushin’ John McCain.

/ / / / / / /

The combo’s on the road,

          packin’ stadiums ‘n’ clubs;

Chopping down great big lies

          and tiny weedy shrubs.

.

Tonight the tour’s landed

          at Toronto’s famous pub,

To listen for the next question

          that John McCain will flub,

.

Where the poets strum and teachers play

          and time is on our side                              ”yes it is!”

Where colors swirl, the nuns have fun

          and wayward Jekylls hyde.

/ / / / / / /

Two score and five ago

          our father Martin dreamed

Imagining a whole new world

          beyond what his had seemed.

.

Blink your eyes and here we are

          awoken from the dream,

To find our plans were written by

          that visionary’s beam.

.

So, . . . bless this race.

                              . . . This human one,

                   That comes in many shades,

Bless this space, this human one,

          Inspiring in spades.

.

It’s forty-years since Martin marched

          and water-cannons shot,

We’re still alive on the-other-side,

          and this is what he sought.

.

Launching dreams from Lincoln’s steps

          arching across the sky,

Who’d a thought we’d hit the oath,

          The inaugural bull’s-eye!

/ / / / / / / / / / /

So, on to P.A., Ohio,

          and everywhere we’re not,

It’s a Happy Holy Homerun

          with everything we’ve got!

.

The band has played, the song has sung,

          and now we’re on our own,

To ride this wave, and thumb this road,

          and take the flight path shown.

.

From dreams on stages, thru history’s pages,

          We’re making words come true,

The choir’s singin’, the bells are ringin’

          but This is up to you.

.

 “Yes, we can!”

.

Obama ‘08

I’d always remembered the way she told the story the first night that she got free.  It was the most amazing, real, solo story-telling performance I’ve ever seen in my life.  Then I somehow remembered her name!  Ashley Smith.  So I was able to look it up online, and even though this is a slightly edited down version, all I can say is — be in a quite place, get yourself comfortable, don’t be distracted, and just go right into this. 

There’s something about her accent, her demeanor, her calmness, her honesty . . . this person just picked out of the hundreds of millions, who never expected to be in front of a camera in her life, let alone held by an escaped convict who’d just killed people.  And all on the same day. 

And this was riffed the evening it ended and before she went to sleep — like, it was still live in that day for her.  This is so raw. 

And it was done on the fly in (I think) the restaurant of the hotel that the city put her up in that night.  The reporters just plopped her on a couch, and she just riffed it all out in one uninterupted non-stop solo!  How she holds it together and keeps going is just riveting, chilling, jaw-dropping . . .

 video:  http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/7180835#7180835 

news story:  http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/7157845/ 

I recommend to everyone I know to watch this. 

It’s a real-life performance you will never forget. 

p.s.  There’s this whole huge passage edited out of the link above.  If anyone ever finds the whole entire story, let me know and we’ll link.  In the meantine, here’s this whole amazing part that’s edited out — frombetween 5:30 and 9 in the morning . . .

About 5:30, 6–well, 6, 6:30–he said, “I need to make a move.” And I said, “A move?” He said, “I need to get rid of this car before daylight, this truck [the agent's].” I said, “OK.”

I knew that if I didn’t agree to go with him, follow him to get the truck–he’d just take the truck, then one thing–or two–one of two things. He would kill me right then, and say, “All right, well, if you’re not going to help me, then I won’t need you anymore.” Or the police would never find him, or it would take longer. And someone else would get hurt, and I was trying to avoid that.

So I went . . . I said, “Can I take my cell phone?” He said, “Do you want to?” I said, “Yeah.” I’m thinking, well, I might call the police then, and I might not. So I took it anyway. He didn’t take any guns with him. The guns were laying around the house. Pretty much after he untied [me], they were just laying around the house.

And at one point, he said, “You know, I’d rather you shoot–the guns are laying in there–I’d rather you shoot me than them.” I said, “I don’t want anyone else to die, not even you.”

So we went to take the truck, and I was behind him, following him. And I thought about calling the police, you know, I thought, he’s about to be in the car with me right now. So I can call the police, and when he gets in the car, then they can surround me and him together, and I could possibly get hurt, or we can go back to my house.

And I really felt deep down inside that he was going to let me see my little girl. And I said–or then when I leave, he can be there by himself, or he–he finally agreed to let me go see my daughter. I had to leave at 9, 9:30. And I really believed that he was going to.

From the time he walked into my house until we were taking that truck, he was a totally different person to me. I felt very threatened, scared. I felt he was going to kill me when–when I first–when he first put the gun to my side. But when I followed him to pick–to take the truck, I felt he was going to–he was really going to turn himself in. So he took the truck.

He got in the car and I said, “Are you ready now?” And he said, “Give me a few days, please.” I said, “Come on, you’ve got to turn yourself in now.” I didn’t feel like he might–I felt like he might change his mind, that he might not want to turn himself in the next day, or a few days after that, and that if he did feel that way, then he would need money, and the only way he could get money was if he hurt somebody and took it from them.

So we went back to my house and got in the house. And he was hungry, so I cooked him breakfast. He was overwhelmed with–”Wow,” he said, “real butter, pancakes?”

And I just talked with him a little more, just about–about–we pretty much talked about God . . . what his reason was, why he made it out of there.

I said, “Do you believe in miracles? Because if you don’t believe in miracles–you are here for a reason. You’re here in my apartment for some reason. You got out of that courthouse with police everywhere, and you don’t think that’s a miracle? You don’t think you’re supposed to be sitting here right in front of me listening to me tell you, you know, your reason here?”

I said, “You know, your miracle could be that you need to–you need to be caught for this. You need to go to prison and you need to share the word of God with them, with all the prisoners there.”

Then 9 came. He said, “What time do you have to leave?”

[ then the conclusion of the story continues on the clip ]

My initial post: 

I’m in shock. I just got home and will have MSNBC on all night. I was at the hospital and my cell went off 5 times and i couldn’t answer it but i knew something happened.

To explain it to non politicos, I’ve said it’s like Johnny Carson dying well before he ever retired. Or it’s on the level of John Lennon. The best of the best. Or to us hockey people, it would be like Scotty Bowman when he was still coaching, or Messier after ‘94.

He was so far and away the best — it was him, then everyone else. Barbara Walters just said, “This is a huge loss to America.” And she’s right.

He set the standards, and just about every journalist in the business was his student.

The Mayor of Buffalo has put all flags on government property at half-mast.

I remember him holding up the Washington Capitals jersey on MTP during their recent playoff run.

Passion . . . child-like enthusiasm with a genius’s intellect . . . the white board . . . “Florida Florida Florida” . . . And I think he’s the guy who came up with the “blue and red states” that we all now live with. The colors used to be different on the different networks, but it was he and NBC that really established the red for Repubs and blue for Dems.

I’ve got so many MTPs on tape, man — going back 10 or 20 years.

I got to meet him on election night 2004 and we shared a prankster’s wink and smile. “Can you pass the Russert test?”

November 4th this year should be dedicated to him.

As Bob Dylan ended his tribute to Jerry Garcia: “There’s no way to convey the loss. It just digs down really deep.”

RIP good brother.

= = = = = = =

Some facts, trivia, stories & comments about Tim from MSNBC’s outstanding non-stop coverage this aft / evening . . .

MSNBC did not run a single ad starting from when the news first broke (around 3:00) until 8:33PM!   

Meet The Press (MTP) has been on the air for 61 years, since Nov 6 1947 – the longest running show on television. 

The Smithsonian put his white board in their permanent collection! 

His using that in the 2000 election was rated one of the top 100 moments in all of Television history. 

When talking about politics, his face would light up was like a kid on Christmas.  And he listened to people’s answers. 

He was the guy who called this Democratic primary. 

It was the night of the North Carolina / Indiana on May 6^th when he said, “We now know who the Democratic nominee is.”  It was when Russert said it — and that definitely — that it was like a judge rendering a verdict.  Other people may have said it, but it was when Tim said it that it meant everything to both campaigns, and every journalist in the world. 

David Gregory – When the word got to the Hillary campaign headquarters that Russert had called the race over, the air went out of the room.  He had that gravitas.  And no one else had it. 

That he didn’t want MTP to be an argumentative program.  He knew exactly what he wanted to do with that show, transformed the show, and transcended journalism.  If he said something, you could take it to the bank. 

He was a key witness in the prosecution of Scooter Libby. 

He had one son, Luke.  And his father Big Russ was still alive. 

And Sunday is Father’s Day.  L  how sad. 

Fuck.  I can’t believe he’s not here anymore. 

Mike Barnacle – named his son Timothy – and Russert was at his Christening. 

He was a player-coach to other journalist – one of the team players, but also the coach of the team. 

He was always the smartest guy in the room. 

They didn’t reach Chris Matthews in Paris until 7PM.  He talked about how everyone in the room would say “Russert is here.”  His presence meant more than anyone else’s.  But he was not a cocktail party guy. 

How red-eyed and choked-up some journalists & others are – Al Hunt, Mike Barnacle, Keith Oberman, Chris Matthews, Campbell Brown, CEO Jack Welch barely making it through their tributes. 

He was a devoted friend to all who knew him. 

GE/NBC  CEO Jack Welch – “this has affected me like only a few days in my life.” 

Mario Cuomo was a mentor to Tim.  “We’ve lost him when we need him most.” 

He was so grateful for the life he was living.  He was very spiritual.  He felt blessed to have his elderly father. 

Tim’s closeness to Sen. Daniel Patrick Moynihan.  What smarter person could he have been around?! 

He was a lawyer.  

He intimidated his colleagues cuz he was so smart. 

Moynihan said to Russert about the Ivy League hotshots in the Senator’s office.  “What they know, you can learn.  What you know, they can never learn.” 

He was the guy who popped the David Duke bubble – when he appeared on MTP, it’s Russert’s questions that ended his political rise. 

That he could impersonate Sen. Moynihan’s voice so well, he would actually take calls on his behalf in Washington. 

He brought Chuck Todd into NBC and expanded his role. 

He was the guy (because of his credibility and clout) who changed MTP from a half-hour to an hour. 

That the statements that he got on MTP are part of the historical record of Cheney and others in their statements about the lead up to the Iraq War, and so many other historical events.  He was creating a record for history. 

He changed not only MTP, but every other serious news show on television.  He set the standard.  As Matthews said, “He was the gold standard.” 

Eugene Robinson of the Washington Post:  He understood politics so much better than everyone else.  His encyclopedic knowledge, and his work ethic made him so outstanding.  He’s such an institution and presence in Washington.

Crew members are working tonight with tears in their eyes.  They still have to work tonight and were so touched by him. 

Leadership qualities.  Family base. 

Ben Bradlee (Wash Post) – when the release of your guests on Saturday becomes a must-know in Washington, you know you’ve arrived. 

Tim’s hour-long show in MSNBC on the weekend is also gone.   He just had Jim Webb on last weekend – and I’ve got the tape of it!  J 

his doctor: Dr. Michael Newman — asymptomatic coronary artery disease – he did his best with exercise and life style.  April 29^th stress test.  was on the treadmill this morning, as on most days. 

They occur without warning.  no way to detect them.  there was rupture of cholesterol build up.  he had an enlarged heart.  they did the autopsy and found the break in the artery. 

he was taping the opening for Meet The Press. 

within a few moment they knew Tim was in trouble.

an intern who knew CPR began doing it. 

they needed a defibulator. 

He was known to have coronary artery disease. 

Even in a witnessed cardiac arrest, survival is only about 5%. 

His weight was an issue. 

Oberman at 8:  “If he wasn’t the story, he’d be here guiding us tonight.” 

He’d taped his weekend “Tim Russert” show in the morning!  There’s one last show!!!!!  John Harwood was on.   (and it appears as though Kelly O’Donnell, among others) 

Lindsay Graham was scheduled to be on MTP this Sunday. 

Time Magazine just listed him as one of the 100 Most Influential People In The World. 

Brokaw:  he was called today “a little after 2:00″ this aft.  They said, “He’s collapsed.  It doesn’t look good.” 

Tim loved the game of politics.  He always said, “I have a face for radio.”  Hair spray never touched his Irish locks. 

He was clinical.  He diagnosed people. 

He was the brightest aide on Capital Hill.  He knew where everything was. 

He and Brokaw were both big Chuck Berry fans!  They had a bet who was going to lose the most weight – and the winner would get a platinum Chuck Berry record!    

He was also hugely into Springsteen – was more into than anyone around him at a recent concert. 

He was burning it at both ends. 

His dad just went into an assisted-living facility in Buffalo. 

His son was really into politics too, and had just graduated college with a major in history. 

Chris Matthews at 8:20 – He was “us” as a country.  He was role model for me.  He was the hardest worker he ever saw.  The preparation.  There is no one who beat him.  He constantly reminded us to look for the truth.  It was a competitive business, but he shared with everybody.  The David Duke take-down.  Tim didn’t say Duke was a racist — he forced Duke show it himself. 

We lost the quarterback tonight. 

How he got Moynihan through his first re-election. 

17½ years on MTP.  The longest serving host ever. 

He reinvigorated the Sunday morning news shows – he forced the other networks to step up. 

Frank Rich (NY Times):  He changed Sunday Morning.  It was the biggest meeting of newsmakers.  There isn’t another single entity in news that had this position.  Yet he wore himself lightly.  He took on the most powerful people in America – but he was never a gotcha wise-guy. 

History is about stories – and he understood it and could bring it out of others.  

David Gregory – there’s a crater left here in the news world. 

He jumped through the phone with enthusiasm.  He had such a joy for children. 

Bob Scheffer his competitor from Face The Nation:  “He made me better.”

Obama:  He was the standard bearer for good journalism.  But also a great person. 

John Edwards:  He was the yardstick by which every other journalist was measured. 

“Go get ‘em.”  was his written sign-off line to good colleagues. 

Now he’s gone. 

You may have heard this one before, but Every Single Vote (Really) Counts in this primary!  First because it’s proportional delegates instead of winner-take-all, so each vote directly adds to your candidate’s delegate total, win or lose;  and second, the party’s nominee in the fall will be ratified by super-delegates based in large part on the total popular vote nationwide (plus the total elected delegate count). 

PA is a “closed primary” meaning you can NOT vote unless you’re specifically registered  WITH the party you want to vote for. 

After March 24^th  you can NOT vote if you’re registered as “No Affiliation” (independent), or registered with a different party, or living at a new address, or not registered at all.  This landmark primary will be talked about for the rest of our lives, and your chance to participate in history ends when the mail gets picked up on Monday, March 24^th. 

Or you can do it right now – takes about a minute — by clicking here: 

https://www.pavoterservices.state.pa.us/Pages/VoterRegistrationApplication.aspx

at the top center, “click here to download [print] a voter registration application that can be completed manually”.  Print out the form, check off 11 questions, you’re done.  This page also has the mailing address for your county office to mail your completed form to. 

You can Change Party Affiliation, or Change of Address, or whatever (at question #2). 

Then question  # 9, # 9, # 9  . . .  is for Party Registration. 

Voter registration must be done manually in Pennsylvania due to statewide election laws requiring the voter’s physical signature on each registration form. 

I’ve heard from so many people in so many states who were so bummed-out they never registered in time.  So I’m just sharing this to help you avoid regret later.   J

It’s totally free n easy, and if you don’t wanna vote later on, you don’t have to.  But if you get swept up in this Story of The Year and want to participate, if you’re not already registered with your party before March 24^th there’s nothing you can do about it.  No tickie, no votie. 

And Bonus!  This year the PA Primary is on Earth Day!  April, 22^nd.  What could be better?!  J

Feel free to forward or post this anywhere — as-is, or edit into your own version. 

For more info you can call:  1-800-552-VOTE. 

For more fun you can volunteer for your favorite candidate via their websites, or just start engaging your friends in this historic present. 

Here are two good places to start: 

http://pa.barackobama.com/PAteams

http://hillaryclinton.com/hq/pennsylvania/

“When you get confused, listen to the music play”

            http://www.dipdive.com/dip-politics/ywc/

       You  . . .  Can’t  . . .  Vote  . . .  If  . . .  You’re  . . .  Not  . . .  Registered !

Brought to you by  BrianHassett.com    J

and

Brian   at   karmacoupon@gmail.com