A single vote – or rather, its lack thereof – determined the election outcome, as predicted by the Final Pulse exit polls.
Simon Frapas, a domain investor from Jacksonville, FL, failed to cast his ballot earlier today.
“They have counted 100% of all votes in that voting station, and Mitt Romney wins that station and the county, and the State, and the presidency – all by a single vote,” said Molly Mae of the Florida Chad Electorate Committee.
Had Mr. Frapas voted, things would have been different.
When a tie occurs in Duval county, the last vote to be cast determines the swinging outcome. Simon Frapas, a registered Democrat, would have thus elected Barack Obama as president.
“I was at a social networking event for domainers, and things got very exciting into the wee hours last night,” said Frapas. “You know, talking about the new gTLDs, exchanging domain lists etc. and by the time I went to bed it was 4:30am”.
Frapas spent most of the Election Day in a drunk stupor, unable to drive to the voting station to cast his ballot. His story, is a warning to all conscientious Americans that consider voting a duty.
Around the United States political gatherings, negative sentiment about the outcome rose high.
“Domainer convention, what the hell is that? Mr. Dumbass, do that after you vote! Partying should come after your civil duty as an American!” exclaimed political commentator, Michael Moore.
It will be an interesting four years under Mitt Romney, who has promised to create more domain flipping jobs and to enter the word “domainer” into the official White House dictionary.
Hey, y’all. It’s not Simon’s fault. I was the one that kept him out late. He wanted to go to a titty bar but all I could find in Jacksonville was skanks and hoes on the JKville street corners. Have you ever tried finding a legit drinkhouse in Jacksonville after 230 in the morning? On the bright side of things, you’d be amazed at what a crack ho would do for $20 bucks. Even the cops that busted us had a good laugh when they heard that one.
Anyways, the bail bondsman was late, muttering some bs about a race and how he had to get up early and go stand in a line to put some black man that was caught in someone’s office out of work and in the unemployment lines. Said something about a pseudo christian cult leader was better than any Ivy league educated black person any day, even if that cult were all the way in Utah.
Yeah, by the time we got to bed it was 430. Simon was hugging the commode and I was hugging anything to make the room stop spinning. By the time we woke up, the cleaning ladies done come in, took one look, walked out and closed the door behind themselves. Hells bells, I would want to clean that room. Looked like Simon done missed the commode a few times. By the time we got out of that room, it was after 11am and Motel 8 wanted to charge us a late checkout fee. Hell, they’d charge us more if they knew what that room looked like. Come to think of it, it looked pretty much the same as when we checked in.
Anyways, Simon was still drunk and muttering something about the ballot box. I pulled the car over to the side of the road thinking he wanted to throw up again. No, he just motioned to drive on. Then it dawned on me what Simon and the fat little jewish bail bondsman was talking about. Election Day. Well, I knew Simon was way too drunk to stand up in any line let alone make a rational decision, so I decided to drive to the county board of elections. I figured I could go in and get an absentee ballot, bring it back out to the car, let Simon fill it in real quick and run it on back inside…all of this long before the sheriff came around and saw us parked in his reserved parking spot. So I went on in and they told me absentee ballots ended days ago. They weren’t going to help our situation none.
Anyways, all that was left to do was go ahead and take Simon to some polling station. I figured I could run in and grab a wheelchair and load Simon on up in it and go to the front of the line like he was crippled. Only wheelchair I could find was someone already in it. I asked them if I could borrow the wheelchair when they got done sitting in it. The old lady and her son said no! Turns out, she’s crippled too…cept she’s bona fide legit crippled. Well, that left one thing to do. Pretend I was Simon and cast the vote on his behalf. I went back to the car to get his wallet and wouldn’t you know…he done pissed all over himself in my car seat. Damn, that’ll stain, I thought. I dug in his back pants pocket and grabbed his wallet. He muttered something like, oh no…not again! I figured that was a sure fire sign he had to puke and I ran over to the other door and opened it and Simon kind of half fell in the car and have fell out of the car and his head gently hit the concrete with a THUNK sound. Well, that might be a good position for us to go ahead and leave him in in case he did have to puke again.
Anyways, I got in line (yes, at the end of the line since everyone already gave me a pile of shit just walking up looking for a wheelchair…they thought I was a cutter). I stood in line for nearly two hours. I figured Simon was alright since I haven’t heard anyone scream or vomit. It was kind of ironic standing there in line on Simon’s behalf thinking that Simon’s breath smelled so bad he sure as hell could have cleared that room and made that line move faster. I kind of burped and tasted a little bit of puke.
Anyways, after a good long while it was my turn to vote. I showed em my ID. The lady looked at me, called over some election official women. She looked down at the wallet then looked up at me and said, That ain’t you!. I said it were and I was here to vote and it was my right and they had to let me. She kind of sneered and looked me straight in the eye and said, Sir – you’re white and that ID is of some black man. Damn, I forgot about the race thing. I told her it were too me and that I had been sick and lost a lot of weight and I was just a little pale. She told me to get out of here before she called the police.
Anyways, she didn’t have to call the police because the police were already here…at my car. Seems I parked in a handicapped space and with the door open and Simon half in and half out, I weren’t just taking up one handicapped space. I was now taking up two. Wouldn’t you know it. It was them same policeman from earlier this morning. When we got to the police station, we already still had the ink on our fingers from our earlier fingerprinting. I guess that made them happy they didn’t have to do so much work.
Anyways, by then Simon was starting to come around a little more. He still smelled like piss and an office put a surgical mask over Simon’s mouth so they wouldn’t have to smell his breath. I figured this was a good idea. Until Simon asked me to scratch his nose. He still had the handcuffs on. I turned my back to him and bent over to show wiggled my hands to show him I was still in handcuffs too. Well, wouldn’t you know it…Simon must have thought that was a sign to bend over and I would scratch it. He got down on this knees and put his face in my handcuffed hands and started moving his head all around. I told him to get the hell up. All the other jailbirds and officers were laughing at us. One of em said it looked like I had just shit a big ol turd and his face was stuck in my bunghole.
Anyways, the cops took us to a cell. The opened the door and told the inmate that was already in the cell to step back away from the door. They took the handcuffs off Simon and told him to go on in. Then they took the handcuffs off me and told me to go on in. Then he slammed the doors shut and said, you boys get to know one another cause you’re gonna be here a while. I told him that I know my rights and I still had the right to vote!
Anyways, the other dude in the cell asked me what we was here for, I told him it was because I tried to steal a wheelchair from an old lady, impersonating a black person, and illegally parking in not one but TWO handicapped parking spaces. The dude in the cell said he could help us and he could get us out of it. He said he was a lawyer and for $1000.00 he could get us out of serving any time. Told me he was relocating to Jacksonville from Panama City. Said he hadn’t got an office yet but was going to. Real nice friendly fellow. Handed me a card, shook my hand and said, my name is Starlita but you can call me Star. I asked him if he were any relation to Ringo Starr because there weren’t too many guys named Star. He said not as far as he knew. That’s when it dawned on me again…that race thing. Ringo and white and my new found friend was black. Still it was possible. Although I don’t know too many guys named Star.
Anyways…
Anyways, thanks for the epic comment! 😀 Your imagination goes beyond what’s considered healthy and into the realm of mad genius! 😀