Being a poll worker

 In early 2021 there was a slew of advertising encouraging people to become poll workers in New Jersey. It seems like a lot of the recent poll workers had left the calling or died. I remember going to the polls in 2019 and being bewildered by the array of post 80-year-old election workers. Hence, it was not surprisingly that covid, the fear of covid, or the rumors that computers were coming to the voting booths had diminished the ranks of the poll workers,

Having decided not to work for the Census bureau after all, I felt that at least here was something I could do with my spare time. Plus, the pay was not bad for a one-off day twice a year. I became a poll worker, starting with the primary election of 2021 and have been doing it ever since. 

As rumored, the polling sites have become computerized. Gone are the huge books that voters and the poll workers had to peruse to find a name. Now the modified I Pad could find the name and party. Party affiliation being necessary for primary voting. 

The most fascinating part of being a poll worker is the social dynamic. Here is a relative cross section of people who, for the most part, are complete strangers. This group is expected to engineer the complicated process of getting the machines working, herding the voters through the process and ending the day with the necessary colored tags and engineered the minutiae of the process. Surprisingly, for the most part, the group works as a team with only occasional testiness.

At the ungodly hour of 5 am the assembled group starts the day. There's not even a coffee urn. The leaders and the followers soon emerge. Some people gravitate to the check in computers. Some people gravitate to the machines on the floor. Electricity can be a problem.  Surprisingly, every plug in a firehouse is not functional. Occasionally someone from the county shows up to supervise things and people discreetly put their cell phones in their pockets.

Extacted from the voting machine at the end of the day is a small disc, the size of a disc in an old digital camera. This tiny hard drive contains the voting data.  

One of the highlights of my experience occurred on a very slow primary election. I got to learn about how a woman lost her husband, first to illness and then to another woman. Then the group opened up about everybody's children. I am so glad I travel. It gives me something to talk about on election day. 

Editor's note: There is training given before each election day and now they have online training. 

Mr. Mustache Goes to the Movies

 

Today we are going to talk about the new Bruce Springsteen movie and the recent Bob Dylan biopic, A Complete Unknown. A decent review of the Springsteen film,  Deliver Me From Nowhere is in Slate. 

In some ways the films are similar. Two white singer songwriters recording for Columbia want to change streams. Dylan wanted to take up the electric guitar, a departure from the acoustic instrument, and Springsteen, famous for his electric guitar work, wanted to make an acoustic album. Both caused consternation among the powers that be.  

The Springsteen film is about the making of the Nebraska album. After a long tour, the boss wanted to spend time in a small house on the Jersey shore and record songs on a cassette recorder. The album that later became Nebraska was an underproduced attempt of singing melancholic songs in a sparse setting. He also took up with a hometown girl. 

The Dylan movie has a broader swath, not only documenting Bob Dylan, but other people in the folk revival movement, including Joan Baez and Pete Seeger. In general, I thought the Dylan movie was stronger, partially because of the quality of the music.

I'm sure the Springsteen film will be available on one of the screening services. For a diehard fan, see the movie. For second tier fans they can wait for it to come to their homes. 

The Earl of the Garter

 

Recently I was confronted by the disturbing news that Prince Andrew was relinquishing his title as Earl of the Garter. This ominous news led me to a search on the Order of the Garter. 

At my nephew's wedding, I was thrown a garter and caught it. Apparently, it meant that I would soon marry. It didn't happen, although the garter itself has an exalted position on my living room tchotchkes table. How proud I am to possess this object and how horrible it must be to have to leave the sacred order that goes back to the fourteenth century. 

Traditionally a garter was needed to keep a stocking or sock attached properly to the leg, in effect to keep the object from drooping. Modern clothing includes cuffs that keep the stocking or sock upright on the leg, leaving the use of a garter to be unnecessary. 

Being stripped of one's garterhood seems maudlin. Sarah is no longer the Duchess of York. The tragedies that befall the British monarchy. 

My day at the Whitney

 

One of the problems with being older is that you don't have hip friends who are up on things. For example I suspect no one I know has heard of the most important artist of the 21st century. People my age who knew all about Pollack, Picasso and Andy Warhol have never heard of Basquiat. However, thanks to Slate Money I now know about Basquiat. Yesterday I even saw one of his paintings at the Whitney.

I enjoy my annual trip to the Whitney. Yesterday was a nice day and I could walk there from the Highline.  It's a nice walk although I cannot recommend the twelve-dollar tacos. 

The best part of the visit was the rebellion. The Whitney has these huge elevators, and I got in one going down. There was an elevator operator who put his hand out and said "That's it, it's filled now so no more passengers." 

One woman outside the entrance said, "Nonsense, there's plenty of room". The next thing I knew thirty people defiantly walked past the employee and entered the elevator.

The elevator operator said "Don't blame me if the elevator stops!" The full elevator then safely made it to the lobby. I was impressed. I feel sorry for the soldiers if our president sends troops to New York. They won't have to worry about the inner city habitues. They'll have to worry about fighting emboldened New York intellectuals. 

Editor's note: The newly reopened  Princeton Art Museum has two Basquiat paintings. 

AI may not be the game changer that we thought it was

 

We have been hearing about Artificial Intelligence for a couple of years now. The stock market is gaining largely on the basis of AI. Now the naysayers are coming in with questions about how much money AI is actually going to make. 

Who is going to be helped by AI? Certainly, lazy college students will be able to use their Google AI like a prior generation used Cliff Notes. Law clerks could be replaced by NexisLexis AI. Otherwise no one really knows who is going to be willing to pay for the thing. As of now, most public AI search engines are advertiser supported only, This Slate article questions, for the expense, how AI is supposed to turn a profit. 

While everyone is complaining about higher energy bills, AI is starting to be seen as the culprit. AI is extremely energy intensive. All that power has to come from somewhere, and the present administration believes that solar and wind energy should be abandoned in favor of oil, gas, and coal. A lot of coal will be needed to run AI powered servers.

Editor's note: You may be asked to prove you are a human being to look at today's links. I seem to have trouble picking out the curtains from the chairs.  

 

Good morning Henry

 

So how do I get up in the morning. I have coffee and then I go to Facebook and I watch a lady call for Henry, the donkey. A sweet voice cries out "Good morning Henry" and I watch a rather demanding donkey run down from the barn where the sweet lady puts donkey food in his bowl. Henry brays, shows his teeth, then gets down to chowing down.  I think the site is Boggs farm. I have no idea how I got on the list, but now I have trouble getting up in the morning without dear Henry. 

There is in the Internet hinterland another lady who drives a bus which provides doggie day care. Apparently she stops the bus and a large group of dogs run to the bus and board, each dog having an assigned seat. The latest video from this series k9bus convoy. Just as the instant oat meal is cooking in the microwave I watch dogs board the bus and get snacks from the hostess, The doggie hostess knows the name of every dog as well as their eccentricities. 

Since I'm recommending time killers, two travel (Steve Marsh) videos I like involve travel in and around Scotland (Ruth Aisling). Sometimes as a treat Mr. Marsh brings along his lady friend. I suspect she has a real job in addition to YouTube. If you like cheeky political commentary, I recommend the Bulwark. 

My trip to California in 1974

 

I’m on my second Paul Theroux book and I was thinking of my own attempts at travel writing.  At this time, my thoughts turned to the diary I was going to keep of my post college trip to California. I found an incomplete diary and it contains a full description of the day before the trip (Apparently, we went to Freehold Raceway). That is followed by class notes, phone numbers but nothing about the trip to California. Not even anecdotes. 

Hence, I've decided to rectify this by finally writing about my 1974 journey from New Jersey to California, with Bob Weinberg and the 1966 Ford Falcon. You can think of it as the 50^th Anniversary recanting of that trip. I am using real names, I doubt if anyone would recognize themselves anyway at this point.

I'm finding my recollections are pretty good. I guess the trip stood out in my memory. Occasionally I might give a sneak peak of the project in this blog. Quien sabe.