Cousin Lucky 

    Today I got my mail-in ballot from the Deschutes County Clerk. Deschutes County is in Oregon. As I dropped it on my desk, with about the same feeling as one handling a rattlesnake, for some reason my thoughts turned to my possibly imaginary cousin, Lucky.

   

    Let me digress for a bit. I thought I heard some gasps of horror when I mentioned mail-in ballot. Contrary to all the recent scary rhetoric about this mode of voting, Oregon has been doing it for about 22 years without any discernable ill effects. 

   Back to Lucky. A jury of his peers had come up with the idea that he was guilty of a rather unfortunate indiscretion and passed down a guilty verdict. This verdict carried with it a mandatory death sentence. Lucky had appealed to the Supreme Court, which was a comedic endeavor in itself. 

   The Court of 143 judges had a major problem of their own. The Court had been packed by various past Presidents with friends and family, some of who even had experience as judges and attorneys. Getting all these judges together at one time and all deliberating on the same case had become a herculean task, and so far no solution to that particular dilemma was in sight. 

    Anyway, the court had ruled 5 to 4 in favor of upholding the lower courts decision. I know those numbers don’t add up to 143 but there were 50 members of the court who couldn’t be located and then there is this archaic rule that court members who are themselves under indictment can not vote. Silly, huh? 

   So the date for his execution was set. In 24 months he was scheduled to die. Now came the dilemma. The State offered him, whether he wanted it or not, two methods of execution. Lethal injection or the electric chair. 

   Lucky was a very bright individual. He told the Warden, “Either way I’m going to be dead, right?” 

   “That’s right.” 

   “So why do I have to choose between two really bad choices?” 

   “To show that you have the freedom to choose how you’re going to die.” 

   “And how am I supposed to decide.” 

   The Warden brightened up and said with a good deal of pride, “You’re lucky, ha, ha, get it. Lucky is lucky.” 

   “Yeah, that’s really clever. No one’s ever thought of that before. So why am I lucky?”

   "Because we have people to explain to you what each choice would mean for you and convince you to use their method.” 

   Lucky thought about that for a minute and asked, “It almost sounds like these people are professional explainers and convincers.”

  “That’s right. That’s all they do.” 

  “So, they have no personal experience with either method?” 

   “Absolutely not,” the Warden answered emphatically. 

   Lucky thought of something else. “These people have to tell me the truth, don’t they?”

   The Warden found this highly amusing. “Telling the truth went out of vogue years ago. People who tell the truth are considered simple minded or at best, naive.” 

   Lucky asked in some exasperation, “So what good does it do me to listen to them?” 

   “Oh, none at all, but it will take your mind off the terrible situation you’re in.”

   “Who pays these people to spend this time on me?” 

   “Now that’s the best part. The electric people and the drug people pay these two convincers huge sums of money to represent their views of what’s best for you.” 

   “Just to convince me?” 

   “Just to convince you.” 

   “And whatever I choose, in the end I’m still screwed---like in dead?” 

   "That’s about it.” 

   Like I said, I am not sure why, but seeing that ballot just brought Cousin Lucky to mind.