Why I’m Voting

Why I’m Voting

By Charles E. Kraus

ctmagician@gmail.com

Mort Sahl used to say that when he died he wanted to be buried in Chicago so he could remain politically active.  Evidently, certain cemeteries have grave-side polling Mausoleums.

By my count, I’ve participated in 11 Presidential elections.  Some have turned out my way, others found the majority heading in a different direction.  Nixon and Bush II for example; I was opposed to those guys, and still am.  Eisenhower worked out better than my dad said he would.  At the time, I was too young to have my own opinion, so I had my dad’s.  We were wrong.  I’ve voted even when I knew my candidate was going to lose. Seemed like the right thing to do. Set an example for my kids. Gave me a sense of living up to the obligations an adult takes on.

There was a time when the associates of ward bosses “helped” transients get to the polls, told them who to vote for, then compensated the derelicts with a little whisky money for their trouble — or loyalty.  Take your pick.

When our country opened for business, only white property owners were allowed to vote.  Then most white adult males.  Later, black males - if they could withstand the harassment and skewed literacy tests.  Eventually, even women could vote!  By 1971 eighteen-year-olds were participating in the process.  If you were old enough to defend your country, you were old enough to help select its leaders.  

In 2008 and 2012, the Left brought voter roll disenfranchisement of minorities to our attention.  In 2016, the Alt-Right wants us to know that hoards of aliens have infiltrated the registration process to skew election results.  So we have it both ways.  Registered Hispanics are being dropped from voter rolls, and illegals are swamping the system.

In this year of turmoil, I still intend to submit a ballot.  Just not by email.

When you cast one, you are voting for candidates, initiatives, and for the system.  Showing up means you have faith in the process, that there are enough checks and balances built in to overcome any tampering.  There is value in continuity. I assume my vote counts just like I assume I can walk down the street and get to my destination.  It’s not a certainty, but an extremely strong probability.  

Voting is signaling. It’s a message to those with whom you disagree that a segment of the population rejects their assessments and game plans.   You are also signaling to those with whom you agree, letting them know there are like-minded individuals ready to organize for the next round.

The greater the turnout, the more likely the will of the people prevails.  

Of course, it would be nice to think that informed voters outnumber other participants.  A little effort, please, Dear Potential Voter. A vote is a message, and if you are sending a message, it's best to have something to say.

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Charles E. Kraus lives, writes and votes in Seattle.

Pro clown: Those creepy amateurs are bozos

Pro clown: Those creepy amateurs are bozos 

By Charles Kraus

    Recently published in The Oregonian and The Baltimore Sun 

Charles the Clown is a developmentally appropriate clown, meaning he puts his make-up on in front of children so he's less scary. The Seattle-area clown said he came up with the idea when he noticed some kids were uncomfortable when he entered in full costume. (Courtesy of Charles the Clown)

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on September 30, 2016 at 6:56 PM, updated October 04, 2016 at 11:07 AM

By Charles Kraus

Might be a good idea to clear up the recent clown scares before Halloween.

I've been a clown for almost 50 years. Not a creepy one, not even a circus one. Nor a guy standing on the corner inviting customers to enter a store. I perform at children's parties, school shows, library programs, corporate events, festivals and fairs. As far as I know, the only person who thinks I'm creepy is my brother-in-law; he owes me money.

As a small boy, I was taken to the circus each year and got to watch Emmett Kelly, one of the world's great clowns. Not only wasn't he frightening; he wasn't even funny. He was sad, forlorn, and though ultimately amusing, mostly he touched heartstrings.

There are people who don clown costumes and suddenly go power mad. The outfit seems to give them license to cut loose. Most of these folks are amateurs who believe their exaggerated behavior is hysterically funny. They should be arrested for attempted impersonation of a clown.

It isn't really necessary to wear floppy shoes, colorful make-up and a rainbow wig to be a clown. Mr. Chaplin posed as a little tramp. Red Skelton simply put his hat on upside-down. As my stage show begins, I'm disguised as a relatively ordinary man. Except for the bright red pants.

About half way through the program, I try to turn myself into a clown. Everything seems to go wrong. As I'm powdering my face, the puff ends up on top of my head where I can't find it. Of course, the kids see it and began shouting their observation, trying to be helpful. I'm tangled in the suspenders and find myself wearing the jacket as if it was a dress. This may not sound particularly amusing, but it's been making kids laugh for 50 years.

I'm assuming that grownups who are fearful of clowns developed their coulrophobia (I'm still amazed that there is a scientific name for it) when scared by one as a child. The fear can be pretty pronounced. You would not believe the amount of hate mail my website attracts. According to the authors of some of these love letters, I'm in cahoots with the devil. Many years ago, the Los Angeles Unified School District refused to use clowns for their after-school programs. There is a stigma. When I make the rounds at the children's hospital, teenagers won't have anything to do with me.I developed the "become-a-clown" routine because I noticed that a few children were uncomfortable when I walked into the part
in the complete outfit. Made sense to me. Imagine a small child being confronted — possibly overwhelmed — by a tall person with strange hair, size 97-and-a-half shoes, wearing an outrageous outfit, and displaying a face that looked much sillier on television than from 2 feet away in Mrs. Smith's living room.

Yet, clowns make kids giggle. They visit senior centers where elderly gentlemen stand on long lines waiting for entertainers like me to twist balloon animals they can take back to lady friends seated at tables.

Not all clowns have the skills of Emmett Kelly. Or the sensibilities of Marcel Marceau. But, as far as I'm concerned, most are well-meaning and fun to watch. One or two may be creepy.

But, then again, there are creeps of all kinds roving the world. Some are dressed in business suits. Some in uniform. Or in the traditional polka dots and silly hair.

Lately, I've seen a lot of silly hair on television.