Only in the Hub City could the simple act of tidying up lead to a total systemic collapse of the democratic process. Early voting in Lubbock County hit a screeching halt this week because our high-tech voting machines apparently have the structural integrity of a house of cards in a West Texas windstorm. It turns out the machines refused to accept paper ballots not because of a sophisticated cyberattack, but because someone had the audacity to clean them.
Elections Administrator Roxzine Stinson—who described herself and her staff as “bumfuzzled,” a word that perfectly captures the “deer in headlights” energy of local government—initially thought the paper was the problem. When using older paper didn’t work, they realized the true culprit: they ran a cleaning sheet through the print rollers and accidentally triggered a secret “security toggle.” No error message, no warning—just a machine that decided it was finished with its civic duties for the day.
Naturally, rather than fixing it immediately, the whole operation took Tuesday off for San Jacinto Day. Because nothing says “protecting the right to vote” like letting broken machines sit in a dark room while everyone celebrates a 19th-century battle. After a huddle with the vendor, Hart InterCivic, they’ve finally figured out how to untoggle the toggle, and they’re promising everything is “fully operational” for Wednesday.
To make up for the fact that we can’t operate a scanner without breaking it, the county is extending voting hours until 9:00 p.m. on select days. So, if you’re looking to cast your ballot, you now have extra time to head down and pray that no one decided to Windex the equipment before you got there.
If we can’t even dust a printer without triggering a county-wide emergency, what happens if someone tries to use a screen wipe on the ballot marking devices—does the courthouse just self-destruct?
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