
Experts in autocracies have pointed out that it is, unfortunately, easy to slip into normalizing the tyrant, hence it is important to hang on to outrage. These incidents which seem to call for the efforts of the Greek Furies (Erinyes) to come and deal with them will, I hope, help with that. As a reminder, though no one really knows how many there were supposed to be, the three names we have are Alecto, Megaera, and Tisiphone. These roughly translate as “unceasing,” “grudging,” and “vengeful destruction.”
As the 2018 election approaches, I find myself getting more and more bipolar (not clinically, just as a figure of speech). Stunning debate results, like those of Stacy Abrams, lift me up, while other headlines, such as the one about the 340,134 voters purged by Brian Kemp, drag me down.
Blessed as I am to live in what the Washington Post calls “the safest place to cast a ballot” (apparently even safer than Oregon), I can hardly comprehend what people who live in other places are going through. With all mail balloting (with paper ballots providing a trail to validate
the results), I have already voted, and my vote will be counted, and I have that confirmed in writing from the Secretary of State. But not everyone has these luxuries.
Fortunately, there are people who are knowledgeable doing their best to provide resources for voters, and for campaigns and volunteers assisting voters, to maximize the effective turnouut in this election. I say “the effective turnout,” by which I mean that there are, unfortunately, other people trying to minimize the turnout, and especially the Democratic turnout; and they are putting up hurdles to voting which potential voters need to know about in order to be sure their votes are counted.
One of these people is Steven Rosenfeld, a senior writing fellow of the Independent Media Institute. He has written “A Voter’s Guide to the 2018 Election” – not one of those that has analyzed the issues and candidates, but one that is concerned with the mechanics of getting registered, getting a ballot, and getting in counted, and what to do if you run into pushback.
There is way too much good advice to quote in full, and much of it is state specific. AlterNet has excerpted from the full “Voter’s Guide” information on states which require Voter ID, perhaps the right’s favorite method of vote suppression, though it is in competition with purging registrations.
Do you have the voter ID that is required in your state? If you cannot get time off from work to get that ID, or the paperwork costs associated with doing so are prohibitive, there are groups like VoteRiders and SpreadTheVote to help you get it done—or tell you what household bills you can bring to a polling place that will be accepted as ID if you’re a registered voter. In general, stricter voter ID laws affect non-whites much more than whites, and confusion surrounding ID has led people to skip voting. (emphasis mine)
These states in particular have quirks in their laws or in their processes, so it would behoove
anyone living (or advising voters) in those states to be sure one’s knowledge is up-to date:
Arizona
Georgia
Missouri
Texas
North Dakota
Arkansas
Voters in other states should be paying attention to any litigation their states might be involved with, being mindful that very late-breaking decisions may not be fully communicated or explained to election workers.
In other states, like Kansas, voters in some localities need to be mindful of more deliberate institutional barriers. For example, in Dodge City, where Latinos make up 60 percent of its population of 27,000 residents, the only polling place is a mile outside of the city limits and not near public transportation. In that state, like Georgia, the Republican candidate for governor is the state’s top election official in a very tight race.
Alecto, Megaera, and Tisiphone, I suggest deploying every available harpy to election sites in all states as soon as early voting starts, which in most states that have it, is now (or yesterday).
But, on an unrelated topic, there is one incident this week so egregious is just demands mention, even though you may have already heard of it. (Hat tip to Nameless for this source, the most detailed.)
We often read stories of people who leave animals stranded on a busy highway – or animals who get themselves stranded on a busy highway, for some reason, like the skunk who got his head stuck in a plastic cup, effectively blinding him. But GLUING an animal to a busy highway just takes it to an entirely new level.
“Sticky” (yes, she was saved and adopted and named, thank Ceiling Cat) is between 5 and 8 weeks old, and weighs 1.3 pounds (or did when rescued.) Hero Chuck Hawley, during his morning commute, saw what he thought was just a box in the road, but a trick of the headlights revealed it was a kitten. He immediately stopped to try to rescue her – she didn’t move – he discovered why when he tried to pick her up and realized she was glued to the pavement.
Well, he picked her up, glue and all. It took his efforts and veterinary efforts to get the stuff off (and lots of mineral oil). When it was all off, she was discovered to have three small round puncture wounds on her neck, of (still) unknown origin.
Alecto, Megaera, and Tisiphone, she’s safe and warm now, with human parents, and two human and two dog siblings to love. But I want the criminal found (here’s a petition we can sign to hopefully get you human assistance with that), and I want him or her dealt with in such a way that he or she never hurts anyone else again. How to accomplish that will become clearer when we know who it is, of course.
The Furies and I will be back.
Cross posted to Care2 HERE.

nothing to do with memorializing the CSA or the war, and almost everything to do with keeping people of color terrified so they wouldn’t get “uppity.” If nothing else, the fact that by far the greatest number of then were erected after 1900 should give that away. There is, or was until recently, one at the University of North Carolina – Chapel Hill which went up in 1913.
My family can trace our lineage in the United States back to early America and the shameful time when our ancestors owned slaves, a time when it was perfectly acceptable, even enviable, for one man and his kin to become rich off the unpaid labor, industry, and suffering of hundreds of men, women and children.
attempt to ameliorate the harm that white people have done. She generated thoughtful discussion around issues of white supremacy at her own expense. Those that participated in the actions against the statue in August and early September also sought to turn the tides on campus to discussions of racial inclusion and social justice. I stand proudly with them.
There is also a link to a newer Mother Jones article – 

In 2008 they went into crisis with everyone else, and were bailed out, in the form of conservatorship.
Even if you have been all caught up in the Kavanazi hearings and the latest craziness from the White House, you have probably heard of Mollie Tibbets. You would almost have had to be in a coma to have missed it. Mollie was a lovely and bright young woman, twenty years old, a student of psychology at the University of Iowa. She disappeared on the afternoon of July 18 while out for a run. Her body was found a month later, in a field. It was hidden under cornstalks. She had died from “multiple sharp force injuries.” A suspect was identified, who turned out to be an undocumented immigrant from Mexico who had worked on a nearby farm for almost five years.




It was Richard’s job to gather eggs in the morning. He wasn’t big enough to bring water in from the pump or do much else besides tangle in his mother’s night dress as she busied herself with breakfast. The coop was dark like the caves higher in the mountain where he wasn’t meant to be playing, dark like the secret places in himself and the echoing unknowns of behind-door adult choices. The coop was the mouth of a monster, stinking with a different stink in the dry and in the wet, clean with the filth of feathers and excess rubbish from the gentle raptors that resided there. He crouched to enter, though he was small enough to stand erect beneath the little door. He would try and surprise the birds, but he couldn’t. They clucked and bawked at him like they had seen it before and he was no one anyhow so why bother….
years, flying up from Goya, Argentina (if we are to believe them), and once here they frantically, industriously search out little globs of mud and build nests that resemble tiny brown desert igloos. The prison is smack dab in the middle of the little birds’ centuries old customary nesting grounds. Figuring that we’ve placed the prison here for their convenience, the swallows build their nests in the infrastructure of the steel girders—imagine a bridge built in a square with all the little caches, tiny lairs, and small dens that three stories of steel beams offer. This singular edifice sits in the center of the prison; it’s open air and we call it the plaza. There are a couple of trees, some sickly grass, and a 100 yard circular sidewalk in the plaza connecting our four yards. All the cops, free staff, and convicts (around 3,000 people) march through it to work, to school, to the library, and everywhere else we are compelled to go during the day, from four in the morning until around ten at night. Right above the sidewalk is the metal structure with its niches, nooks, and crannies—about every four to five inches—where the swallows build their nests, and there are a couple thousand of these spaces in the plaza. It is a wonderfully odd and happenstance open air aviary—except of course for the barbed wire and incarceration. The swallows are free and the humans are trapped. As we walk back and forth beneath their nests to school and work, the swallows, who apparently aren’t afraid of humans, stare grumpily at us, trespassing in their prison.
(Cheesy music plays while NARRATOR and the INTERPRETER walk us through the orientation. INTERPRETER wears a cardboard sign around his neck saying: INMATE INTERPRETER)

