Voting and Tattoos

Hey guys, did you vote already? Well, what the fuck are you waiting for? Go do it!

Like I said on FB this morning: Voting is an honor, a privilege, a responsibility. We have the power to make a difference. Is the country perfect? Fuck no. Do we have a long way to you? Hell, yes-for the love of god, women have been voting for less than 100 years. But friends, it is lazy not to vote. Lazy to justify yourself by saying voting doesn’t matter. If you do not vote you lose your right to complain about what elected officials do in this country. And isn’t complaining what makes FB fun? So come on, get to the polls! Just so you can bitch about what happens next! 
It’s no secret that I’m rooting for one guy over the other. I will be crushed and concerned if my guy doesn’t get another 4 years in the White House. But I respect the process and I will respect the results. Voting is one of the most sacred acts in my life. I’ve voted in 5 presidential elections, every one that has happened since I became eligible. Each time I exit the polling station I feel exhilarated after exercising my right as an American. I do not that that right for granted. And I don’t think you should either. 
Today I got to witness something wonderful at the polls. Governor Cuomo signed an Executive Order giving permission for those who have been displaced by Hurricane Sandy to vote anywhere in the state. Those citizens voting out of district can only vote for President and US Senate, but it seems like the most elegant solution to a massive problem. When I entered our little local library to vote this morning the first thing I saw was a gentleman with his smartphone out showing the executive order to a polling official. She didn’t seem to be aware of the change, but she got on the phone and quickly was able to get the man (who I overheard lived in lower Manhattan and taught at SU) a ballot. I watched him fill it out and was grateful. To the Governor for helping as many people vote as possible-even as the repercussions of a major state emergency were still unfolding, to the gentleman for caring enough to make his voice heard, to the polling official who was clearly confused, but took the time to find out what the correct course of action needed to be.

Rock on New York State. I’m proud to live in you today.

Until I got the tattoo in honor of my boys last summer this girl was my favorite. 
She was taken from a piece of flash very similar to this one hanging in Flyrite Tattoo in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. The original artist was Robert Wicks. He started tattooing in Coney Island around 1917 or so. The guy I go to now owns a shop in Baltimore, MD called Read Street Tattoo Parlor, but on that day when we both still lived in Brooklyn I asked if we could do the girl and wrap her in an American flag with the word VOTE under her. He drew it up for me and I got it the same day. He did a fantastic job and she’s held up nicely over the years. 
While heavily pregnant with C, Ellie did a family photo shoot and got this one of the lady on my shoulder. In the first picture she is still covered with scabs, she did heal up nicely and the color settled down and is even. 

 In early November it’s too chilly to wear a tank top that shows off my vote gal, so every year I pull out this ratty old t-shirt. Z found a United States Bicentennial mirror at our awesome local flea market and brought it home for me, his bicentennial gal. It has pride of place in our house-the bathroom. 

So yes, voting and tattoos. I highly suggest both.
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