REVEALED: Why It Took Nevada So Long to Count Election Results!

Because of my stellar, fiery journalistic skills (i.e., making crap up), I've uncovered the shocking truth behind why Nevada took forever in wrapping things up. It's because of this guy:

It's the truth. How else do you explain why a state with such a low population took much longer than the bigger states? The entire election has just been a farce of agony and torture. Everything hinged on Nevada's six electoral votes, and every day I watched as the percentage of completion crawled along. Then every night around five, they'd call it a day and send their one counter home to bed because he needed his daily eleven hours sleep. The next day he'd come back in to work and knock out another whopping 1% before calling it a day. 

Shocking thing is I encountered this lone Nevada vote counter in Kansas before he migrated West. Couple years ago, I found a rare, cheap beer I liked at a liquor store. So I loaded up four six-packs; one in each hand, one beneath my chin, the last one grasped under my arm.

The old clerk--straight outta a Green Acres corner store--asked me if I'd like a bag. 

I thought about it. "Sure," I said, "it'll make my life easier." Or so I thought...

Behind huge spectacles, he stared at me, eyes at half-mast, a sleepy tortoise on downers. I watched in horror as he ever so slowly (and a bit too lovingly) licked his finger. (I'm thinking, are there Amber Alerts for guys like me?) 

As he continued to lick that finger like a buffalo chicken wing, his eyes never left me. Finally, he lowered the wet digit to the plastic bag dispenser. It didn't take. So he brought the finger back up to his lizard-like darting tongue again, eyes glued to mine, hypnotizing me with his can't-take-my-eyes-off-a-car-wreck gaze, and licked the tar outta his finger again. In surrealistic slow motion, he lowered the offensively wet finger and again failed to pull the bag off the dispenser. But he didn't let it get him down as he stared at me through his owl-like eyes.

Okay, side-bar: First of all, I've never understood the absolutely unnecessary finger-licking the elderly favor to accomplish small achievements such as turning a page in a book and now, trying to grasp a plastic bag off a hook. Second, gross. Third, it's not only grotesque, but I can definitively say I don't want some guy licking up my bags, particularly during the pandemic.

As a child, I once tried this peculiar method. Thought it was grown up behavior (friggin' adults never made sense). All I got for my failed effort was a funky taste in my mouth.

Back to the liquor store, I decided to cut and run before ol' Mr. Lick-Fail-Repeat could run through the cycle again. I said, "Don't worry about it. I'll just strong-arm 'em out to the car." I did. It wasn't easy. But it was a lot quicker than the finger-lickin'-good bag dispenser man. And those eyes! GOD, THOSE EYES!

Such nightmares.

But the finger licker had a fairy-tale ending: I'm absolutely certain he's the only hire counting the 2020 election ballots in Nevada, painstakingly licking that damn finger with every ballot, time and time again, until it's totally pruned out.

For God's sake, people! Stop the madness of finger licking and my salivaphobia! Honestly, I don't ever want to get back to using paper currency ever again; you never know whose got their slobber all over that five-spot. 

Glad I got that off my chest.

(Okay, final side-bar: I'm done, at least for a while, writing about politics. Right now the last thing anyone needs is another knucklehead running around and saying hurtful things on social media. This post was done in fun and I think maybe it's a bit cathartic for me, putting my political woes and fears and anger to bed with a (I hope) funny small epilogue. At least for now. Peace.)