Super Delegates vs. Electoral College by Burk Pendergrass

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Super Delegates vs. Electoral College
by Burk Pendergrass

All of his life, the Tennessee Mountain Man has heard the call to exercise your right to vote. Even fighting in one of the country's wars was not sufficient in the eyes of many. Voting was some how more than a right, it was a constitutional requirement of any and every son of the United States.

That worked well while America's back room whiskey swigging, cheap cigar puffing, wheelers and dealers enjoyed an illiterate voting public. Then along came Sam! No... not the cartoon character, Yosemite Sam, nor the gunslinger immortalized in song, but our Uncle Sam. The uncle fed prodigiously by President Lyndon B. Johnson in pursuit of the Great Society.

Forget a chicken in every pot! What America needed was a new car in every drive, money in the hands and pockets of everyone to buy the junk food they craved... forget the government cheese. Every day of his senior years the Computer Man's maternal grand pa asked grand ma for some jingling money, and having received same set off for the county square.

Grand pa made sure he had in his pockets his sharpest folding knife, his old old pocket watch which he set at noon everyday with the sounding of the surrounding factory lunch whistles, a stick of cedar for whittling, a twist of King-B for chewing, and a little pocket change for jingling... grand pa was now prepared for his day, indeed for the remainder of his days.

Wearing his worn out gray felt hat, grand dad would set out walking down the street. The state had long ago taken his drivers license and his children had finally taken all of his automobiles. Not that anyone wanted them. The last one the computerman recalls had the startling ability to be hand cranked. One need not necessarily be concerned with the state of the battery. It represented the old man's last ditch effort at his brand of freedom and to have a car no one would take from him. It didn't work. He was simply not safe on the road nor was anyone on the road with him safe.

As he walked along his way, grand pa jingled the little bit of coins grand ma had provided for his pockets and sang old book songs from the Hardshell Baptist Hymnal. You know... they only sang the notes, not the words... yours truly never understood that, but I digress.

Upon arriving at his destination, grand pa took a seat along side the other old timers gathered outside the Jackson County Courthouse in Scottsboro, Alabama, just before dawn, and producing his pocket knife and a newly split piece of cedar that cost him two bits he began to smooth off the edges of the stick preparing for a full day of

Author's Biography:

Burk Pendergrass, J.D., a Cherokee Indian and Viet Nam Vet specializing in

Posted on: February 13,2008

Email: bpendergrass@remotehelpdesk1.com
Website: http://remotehelpdesk1.com