it looks like my e-mailed vote did the trick and helped tip the incredibly close election toward Obama, whose victory may largely be due to my efforts.

Don't think so? Well, look at this:



From: Barack Obama
Date: Wed, Nov 5, 2008 at 7:47 AM
Subject: How this happened
To: Andrew Lederer


Andrew --

I'm about to head to Grant Park to talk to everyone gathered there, but I wanted to write to you first.

We just made history.

And I don't want you to forget how we did it.

You made history every single day during this campaign -- every day you knocked on doors, made a donation, or talked to your family, friends, and neighbors about why you believe it's time for change.

I want to thank all of you who gave your time, talent, and passion to this campaign.

We have a lot of work to do to get our country back on track, and I'll be in touch soon about what comes next.

But I want to be very clear about one thing...

All of this happened because of you.

Thank you,

Barack



As you can see, he took the time to write to me before even making his speech!

Meanwhile, the New York Board of Elections obviously hasn't gotten the memo and is still desperately trying not to accept reality:



From: NYSBOE INFO
Date: Tue, Nov 4, 2008 at 5:28 PM
Subject: Re: Here is my ballot --
To: "Andrew J. Lederer"


New York State does not accept email votes. A Notice to Voters with additional information is attached.

If you believe you are registered, you may go to the polls on Election Day and, if your name is in the poll book, cast your vote or, if your name is not in the poll book, show identification and ask to vote by affidavit (paper) ballot.


New York State Board of Elections
40 Steuben Street
Albany, NY 12207-2108



I, of course, quickly set them straight:



From: Andrew J. Lederer
Date: Wed, Nov 5, 2008 at 1:19 PM
Subject: Re: Here is my ballot --
To: NYSBOE INFO


As far as I'm concerned, the e-mail vote counts. If you do not add it to your official tally, you will be breaking the law -- the Constitution of the United States of America. And failing utterly at your task of enfranchising voters and running elections.

Not that I don't trust you, but please send confirmation that my vote has been added to the tally. Otherwise, I shall be forced to report you to the new president and I don't think he'll be too happy with you.

There are many potential consequences to breaking the law and the law you are threatening to break is the highest in the land. You may do jail time and then maybe not be able to vote.

I wouldn't want that to happen to anyone,'

Sincerely,
Andrew J. Lederer



That oughta put the fear of God in them.

I vote regularly. It's important to me to take responsibility for the direction of our society by, if at all possible, stepping up to the ballot when called upon to do so. I've felt that way since my father took me into those mammoth New York voting booths when I was just a boy.

Last time I went to vote, however, I had recently changed my address and, though I'd dutifully informed the Board of Elections of that fact, when I got to my new polling place, they had no record of my existence, nor was I on the rolls at my previous polling place. (I went back just in case.) So, I returned to the school where I should have been able to vote and cast one of those affidavit ballots. You know, the ones they don't really count but let you fill out so you can feel like you've voted and walk away happy rather than making trouble for them.

Well, this presidential election being such an important one, I determined to make sure my registration was in order, no matter what.

In October, when I realized I would not be in the U.S. in time to reregister and that it was close to the deadline, I e-mailed the New York Board of Elections, giving them all the information they needed to track down my registration history and let me know whether I was indeed registered at some mysterious alternate universe-style address.

Unfortunately, they responded over the course of a multi-message exchange with boilerplate "you can find the information you need at boardofelections.com (or whatever)" language, even though I had already explained to them that I couldn't. So, there was nothing I could do except to brave the vagaries of international mail and reregister at my current NY address.

Well, the first time I tried to mail the registration form from a non-US "post office" (in the back of a fairly downscale convenience store), it turned out the MasterCards they accepted did not include good, old, American-style swipe cards, so -- it being the end of the day -- I was forced to come back another time with the cash. Which, of course, I did -- choosing a special, international express method that would not only prove I had mailed the form by the postmark deadline but also track the journey and delivery so could be certain it had arrived and in time.

And it tracked it alright. All the way to the point where the envelope was handed over to the US post office.

Then . . . Nothing

Well, nothing to worry about, anyway. The number of days in the delivery guarantee meant my registration would get there before the deadline.

Except . . . Columbus Day. (Geez. Who thinks about Columbus Day when abroad?)

Well . . . The form was handed to the US Postal Service before the beginning of the week and it didn't have to be at the Board 'til Wednesday, so it would probably be alright anyway.

But no confirmation ever arrived at my NY address. Nor did the absentee ballot I had requested on the registration form. And when I tried to call the Board to find out what was going on, I got a voice mail tree that led me through a list of choices that ended with an option to receive personalized help. I chose that option, which led me back to the beginning of the voice mail tree.

Fortunately, I had prepared a back-up plan -- I wasn't going to let bureaucratic ineptitude prevent me from exercising my democratic rights this time around. I'd learned there was a later registration deadline in a different state where I could register at a friend's address and, when pushed against the deadline, I decided to do it.

Yes, this would be technically wrong in some measure. But were not technical wrongs also stacked against me?

I decided I would vote only for President/Vice-President, no local issues I had no business meddling in. And since the other state was, like New York, a state where my candidate was going to win anyway, there would be no Electoral College implications. I had found a way to do what's required of me as an American, despite the odds.

Sitting in an internet "cafe" -- with this second state's deadline about to be lost to me when the post office closed -- I got official permission to use my friend's address and headed to a full-fledged post office which would hopefully accept my American card. Yes, there was the possibility that I had enough cash if they didn't but I had earlier paid for something at the supermarket with cash and that meant it would be close 'cause I couldn't make an ATM withdrawal due to PIN code issues, so . .

Just in case, I decided to bail on that post office and, in the pouring rain, rushed back to where I was staying to get an envelope, which would mean I'd only need cash for postage.

It was now about 5 and the post office would close at 5:30. As I rushed home, I noticed unusual stuff on my cell phone's rain-speckled screen and clicked it back to the main screen. Then, I got home, got an envelope, stuffed it, closed it and was ready to put on the address of my alternate state's Board of Elections.

Except . . .

The unclear stuff I'd glimpsed through the rain on my phone's screen had been the electoral board's address. When my friend sent me the message saying I could use his address, I'd gotten so excited, I forgot to save the other one.

At about 5:15, still in the rain, I rushed to another post office, calling US phone information on the way. I got a number for election inf, called it and got a busy signal but no answer. Called again and my cell service failed me. Same thing again.

So, I was in the post office at 5:30.

But there was nothing I could do.

I could not get a postmark that final day.

Unless . . .

. . . I had someone in America mail the form for me.

That would mean they would have to forge my signature -- which would be technically illegal -- but I would be giving them my power of attorney, which would make it okay, right?

My out-of-state "roommate" (the friend with the address) said he could help with that plan but what he meant was that he would have some other friend of his take care of it and I didn't want to entrust my personal information to an unknown characte. So,o I called around frantically as it got later and later in America.

Finally, someone else -- part of my world -- agreed to help..

The form was in the mail.

I would be registered in this other state.

I could vote.

However, I also needed the friendly forger to sign and send the form requesting an absentee ballot and when I asked, there was no response.

For several days.

Turned out this particuar form said "under penalty of perjury", which the other had not. I think that meant that I promised I was supplying accurate information on the form, not that the signature wasn't a forged one But the net result was that I had a facilitator no more.

But my new state's method of IDing the legitimacy of ballots was comparing signatures. If I wanted to get an absentee ballot, I had to supply my name in this other person's handwriting.

And I didn't even know what it looked like.

I asked for a sample to be scanned and sent so I could copy it but nothing came. It was again too late to send something from here, so the guy living at "my" address again offered help, but this time in the form of another unknown associate who would copy the signature and get it to the electoral authorities in exchange for a hundred and something dollars, which didn't feel wise and even seemed kinda dirty.

And anyway, I still didn't have a copy of "my" signature.

Finally, an artist who could copy the signature easily (if we ever got it) said he was willing to help if he could. By this time it was only days from the election, so I now also had to claim that something "unexpected" had come up after the absentee deadline ("under penalty of perjury") in order to get my vote.

But I still didn't have "my" signature.

And yesterday, it was down to the wire.

My signature-pal was still unreachable. I explained in my messages that she didn't need to sign any documents, just a blank piece of paper to serve as a guide to others, but still -- nothing.

And my helpful friend's schedule was tight, leaving less and less time for him to run my errands.

Plus, I wasn't even sure if what I wanted could be done once Election Day actually came, so I e-mailed the elections office to ask but, as night descended, they hadn't replied.

And then, from within the swirling vortex of tangled plans, I realized.

None of this would have been necessary if my New York registration, which had been active for years, had been in place as it should have been; if I hadn't, for reasons unknown, vanished from the rolls; if the Board of Elections actually contacted people with registration issues, rather than waiting for them to arrive at the polling place to find they're not listed.

So, I decided to vote as I should have in the first place. As I am entitled to. As a New Yorker

Of course, during the night, I received a faxed copy of my alternate signature.

And late at night, I got a boilerplate response from my alternate state's election officials that seemed to indicate my plan could still be pulled off if my artist friend still had the time to help me. (The mindless e-mail mostly restated my questions as the answer. New York did that too. I hate that.)

But I needed them no longer.

I sent this e-mail to the New York Board of Elections:

"I, Andrew J. Lederer, a citizen of the State and City of New York, hereby cast my ballot for Barack Obama for President of the United States and Joseph Biden for Vice President on this, the 1st Tuesday of November, according to my rights as established by the U.S. Constitution. This is my vote. I instruct you to consider it as such. Should you require additional information to establish my identity, feel free to contact me and I will supply it.

I have registered as required by law. Our system of government by the people does not make strip me of fundamental rights simply because you have made errors in processing that registration.

So, this is my vote. It is a real vote.

To ignore it is to betray the very notion of America."

I hope those of you who can vote without problems will do so as, if even one person who wouldn't have otherwise voted does so after reading this, I'll feel like I mattered. (Of course, I'm really only speaking of Obama voters, tee-hee.)

If I were in a David Kelley show, I'd probably sue to make it count.

But, you know. I feel good.

Because I voted

I've always been interested in pop culture that's gone before. TV, movies and music that preceded my arrival on the planet.

In fact, one guy I know -- who believes in a curatorial approach to life rather than simply enjoying what you like -- once found fault with me for listening to music that was popular when I was maybe 3 years old, claiming I only wanted to listen to the music of my time, but that's not really the music of my time, is it? My baby ears must have heard the sounds and that probably makes them more compelling to me but there were still revelations to be had in listening to them.

The music was, to me, in many ways new and, at least in part, a further indication of my historical interests. I mean, it's not like it was later music that could bring back the memory of a first kiss or something (although, theoretically, this music could have brought back memories of my actual first kiss).

I wasn't interested in it for culturally narcissistic reasons and I have proof.

When I was in Los Angeles, I went to a program featuring old L.A. children's show hosts and enjoyed it almost as much as if it had featured people I remembered. I liked those captains or skippers or cowboys or whatever simply because I liked the moment and the form.

And the other night, I spent hours watching a series of documentaries about British children's television, from the '50s through the '70s. (The '80s and '90s are next week.)

It was great. Thoroughly enjoyable, though there seems to have been a great fondness for mouths that didn't move, both in animation and puppetry. (Yet this is also the land that brought us SuperMarionation.)

And in just 2 and a half hours, I acquired a couple of generations worth of British childhood media memories. I can, like, maybe be a spy or something (if I learn to speak English).

It's funny that I'm such a backward looking bloke (bloke!).

'Cause now I wanna watch more of "The Tomorrow People".

somehow mislaid my registration, though it should still have been in force as it's not long since the last time I voted.

Turned out, the simplest way to fix things was to reregister.

The envelope had to be postmarked by October 10th and must reach them by the 15th, so I paid an extra £4.50 above the regular air mail rate of about 50p for what I considered an essential service -- the ability to track the document to make sure it arrives in time.

I just entered the tracking number in the appropriate field on the Royal Mail website. The tracking information returned to me was as follows: "It's on it's way. Your item, posted on 10/10/08 with reference LY327428459GB has been passed to the overseas postal service for delivery in UNITED STATES OF AMERICA."

Gee, whillikers. Thanks for the help.

I paid 7 times the regular cost to be told "it's on it's way."

If I'd simply dropped it in the box, I'd have been pretty certain it was "on it's way."

Or is the actual sending of mail a premium service over here?

For God's sake, what's wrong with you Brits? In America, you can at least can count on the actual sending of mail.

(We do, however, have problems with voter registration.)

My basic orientation when it comes to the existence of God is somewhere between atheist and agnostic with a touch of superstition thrown in for extra flavor. Certainly, if there is a Universe Control, I don't see the entity in the captain's chair as an anthropomorphic ManGod, a deity who, as a basic notion is similar to Huckleberry Hound, only Huck, of course, is a ManDog, quite colorful and funny. (Though with limited animation.)

Maybe there is a guiding power, but it could be more like a mathematical equation than a daddy. And actually, the Jewish religion forbids you from conceptualizing God with any certainty or thinking you've pegged him, so -- via musical theater or otherwise -- I guess I'm in the right place.

Anyway, my approach to Judaism, as in the song, is "Tradition". It means something to me to stop in place at certain points of the year and do exactly as my forebears have done for thousands of years and, presumably, as FutureJews will do for generations to come. That's one of the reasons I love to fast on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.

Now, Wednesday night, I had nowhere to go for a festive dinner before the fast, so I decided to make chicken soup myself, intending to eat some Judaic Health Potion before abstaining from food and drink through night and day and into the next evening. Suddenly -- even instantly -- as the holiday began, I got sick, having inherited a cold from a guy who's been staying where I am.

Now, Jewish law is officially suspended when health is at stake. But my inclination is to fast anyway.

However . . .

I'm from America, which is a good country in which to be a Jew but not so good a place in which to be sick.

I do not have health insurance. If I get sick, my country will let me die.

And two and a half years ago, what seemed like the beginning of a cold turned into something mysterious, long-lasting and even debilitating. I can't afford to let that happen again.

Plus I had a show to put on on the next night and had to do it or look like a flake to people I need to work with in the future and, as regular readers already realize, I needed the money.

So, instead of standing in a temporal line lasting thousands of years, I ate my soup.

I coddled myself, and dosed myself with (delicious) soup all night and through Atonement Day toward another night.

Yes. You heard me right.

On a day in which we abstain from food and ask for forgiveness, I made eating the central activity. (At least it was chicken soup.)

But, as I said, in the Jewish religion, the rules are suspended when health is at stake.

So, hopefully, I did the right thing.

Math forgive me.

During the Kol Nidre service at a Southwest London synagogue, I noticed at least two men who looked like my Uncle Eugene (of the New York Uncle Eugenes).

One of them even seemed to have his hand shake. (Not a handshake like those used to greet people. A shaking hand.)

I wish they'd had nephews with them. Maybe there are more of me.

can't use the old, "Does anyone wanna have a holiday dinner tonight?" status update trick for the soon-to-arrive Yom Kippur, since I already utilized that form of plaintive plying last week and the only fully willing respondent -- the kindly stray-taker who fed me right -- has already done her part.

We're recommended in Time Out and guests include Time Out Readers' Top 10 comedian, Terry Saunders, plus Lewis Schaffer, who's part of the current Big Joke Comedy Festival.

We'll also have Ewen Macintosh from "The Office" (and other big-deal endeavors including the scary stories show in Edinburgh), Helen Arney (to tell us about her audition to replace Carol Vorderman on "Countdown") and Storytellers' Club founder, Sarah Bennetto.

They are fine comic performers under any circumstances, but this time out, they'll be telling you true stories from their lives, so you'll gain new insight into some of your favorite performers and find yourself laughing at the truths they tell rather than the comedic tricks they play.

There'll be a bonus after the main show (if you feel like staying).

I'll be debuting (reading it off a piece of paper with in-the-moment embellishments) the second draft of the show I was developing to to fit the already-listed title of an abandoned slot in Edinburgh this year (part of the reason Richard Herring suggested me for the "Spirit of the Fringe" award). The original title was "I Need Your Love" but I think I'm going to change it to "Collateral Damage". (Yes, I know there was a movie with that name.)

The location is Inn on the Green, near Portobello Road and the Ladbroke Grove tube station.The address is 3-5 Thorpe Close, London, W10 5XL.

Show starts at 8 and costs £6. But if you use the secret code, "I don't want to pay £6," it'll be only £5.)

Previous installments have received 4-star reviews in Edinburgh and presented guests like Lizzie Roper, Scott Capurro, Paul Foot, Earl Okin, Chris Neill, Richard Herring, Matt Crosby, 3/4 of Pappy's Fun Club (w/the aforementioned M. Crosby) and Ronnie Golden. If you'd like me to save you some seats, you can send me a message at ajlpictures@gmail.com.

And spread the word if you can.

Thanks,
Andrew

on Sunday.

I do enjoy looking at art, but the truth is, I really like to see how other people live; the different lifestyles that are out there. And "open studios" give you a chance to go into other people's homes.

One of the places I went was a classic, London rowhouse, done up in an attractive, though perhaps somewhat cold kind of art museumy style. The backyard even had a monument and pool that would not look out of place in the courtyard of a museum of art.

The prosperous-looking, white-haired (but not old) guy who greeted me seemed offended when I asked if the art was his "stuff". He mocked me amiably for using the word stuff and I think he felt the use of that word represented a coarse diminution of the work.

But in reacting that way, he revealed his pretentiousness.

I had no doubt he saw me as a lowbrow American (assisted in this perception by the way the wind had blown my outer shirt to the side of my torso, heightening the appearance of shortness and fatness, two definitive aspects of that kind of dunce). Which made me think about Americans and I realized instantly that an American yuppie artist would probably look exactly as he did, even be wearing the same kind of clothes.

And he might think I was lowbrow, too. (Especially if the wind blew my shirt in that fashion.)

But he would probably not be offended by my use of the word "stuff".

They do something great over here.

Pretty much all the supermarkets, from high end to low, offer their about-to-expire items at deep discounts.

Produce, seafood, frozen pizzas, sliced meats. They have whole sections devoted to not-yet-moldering treats.

You can eat like a king for pennies, as long as you're prepared to do it right away.

And your refrigerator doesn't get cluttered 'cause nothing you buy will be good tomorrow, anyway!

(See, Victoria? I also report on the good things in the UK.)