The Results Are In

Despite legitimate concerns about whether the nomination process, ballot distribution efforts, security protocol, and counting procedures would have met with the approval of independent U.N. observers, Mead Street's first election went off without a hitch.

Most of the results could have been predicted without extensive exit polling: Josie edged her father out for the position of Judge, brushing aside questions regarding their relative qualifications: "He's been to law school. I've been to elementary school." Simon is our new sheriff, with Bronwen as his deputy. The citizenry overwhelmingly supported mismatched socks, weekly barbecues, and the desirability of a club house. We have approved the purchase of a communal cow, though space constraints may limit our ability to implement this measure. Our Anthem is "Smoke on the Water," and Simon would be more than happy to play it for you on Fiona's guitar if you have forgotten how it goes.

There were a few surprises. The mayoral race took a felicitous turn when someone, apparently apprehensive about the possible ramifications of giving either candidate dictatorial powers on top of her maternal ones, decided to write Ioan in. The idea quickly caught on, especially after Ioan outlined his maverick platform: "I'm going to do some nice things."

We certainly weren't expecting Propositions 16 ("Everybody has to eat vegetables at every meal.") and 17.3 ("No jumping on the couch.") to pass, but they did, handily. When we reflected upon the level of enthusiasm with which our newly elected law enforcement team was likely to enforce these ordinances, we had to concede the hollowness of the electoral victory.

The most contentious issue turned out to be Proposition #1.4: "All showers on Mead Street must be less than 7 minutes long." The initial ballot count produced a tie, which Josie (in her first official act as Judge) decreed must be resolved by a second vote, after a round of public debate.

And so, over chocolate chip cookies and milk, we heard arguments for and against the proposal. Impassioned environmentalists pleaded for the future of the planet, claiming that long showers waste millions of gallons of water every year. Others questioned this use of the word waste: "It's not wasting water if you're enjoying every drop, is it? I appreciate that water more than any other water I use." Ascetics deplored such indulgence, proudly offering up their own icy, hurried bathing routines as models for the rest of us. Long-haired people argued for extra hair-washing minutes, by permit. Coin-op meters came under consideration; a Cap & Trade system was proposed; the option of taking 14-minute showers every other day was discussed. Those members of the electorate not known for frequent bathing were conspicuously silent.

And finally we were all talked out, and ready to vote again. Josie asked us to close our eyes and raise our hands, so she (as Judge) could make the final count. Given the vehemence with which she had expressed her disdain for Prop. #1.4, it's not surprising that this suggestion was greeted with a certain amount of hooted skepticism. Eventually we all agreed on a public vote; the 7-minute shower measure was defeated.

When asked why he had switched his vote, Brad explained that he supported abbreviated showers, but believed that making them mandatory was likely to cause resentment and cheating rather than a genuine embracing of environmental principles. He suggested that we allocate some resources for an education campaign promoting the benefits of water conservation instead. This proposal will appear on our next ballot, along with "Fruit Counts as a Vegetable at Breakfast," "Let's Dig a Tunnel From Here to Full Tilt," and Straight Marriage.