THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, June 20, 1996 TAG: 9606200001
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A13 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: OPINION
SOURCE: Patrick Lackey
LENGTH: 74 lines
Here's good news about the year 2021: Virginians will pay no state or local taxes, not even a dime.
This foreknowledge came to me during a recent thunderstorm. I was jogging through woods, my thoughts on Virginia's announcement that the commonwealth is joining four other states in a ``Big Game'' lottery. It will offer colossal jackpots, the better to lure more people into gambling.
Suddenly the thunderstorm formed overhead and fired lightning bolts in every direction. Attempting to dash home through ear-splitting thunder, I tripped over an exposed root and struck my head against a rock.
While unconscious, I saw 25 years into the future as clearly as I see today. (It could happen.)
It was Election Day, except the elections a quarter of a century hence will be more like raffles than elections as we know them.
As I watched in wonder, citizens wrote their own names on ballots and dropped them into black boxes.
Back in my time, I'd written in Guy Friddell's name on a few ballots, when none of the named candidates seemed attractive, but I'd never written in my own name.
I watched each citizen get one ballot for free and as many additional ballots as he or she wanted, for $5 apiece. One fellow cast 50 ballots with his own name on every one.
I approached a poll watcher wearing a ``Reagan Was Right'' button and asked why everyone voted for him- or herself and how come people could buy extra ballots right out in the open.
``Where you from, boy?'' the poll watcher asked me.
``Nineteen ninety-six,'' I said.
``Shouldn't jog in thunderstorms,'' the poll watcher said, but he patiently explained that the right to name the next governor of the esteemed commonwealth of Virginia was being raffled off. All the ballots would go into a big barrel, from which one ballot would be withdrawn. The person named on that ballot would choose the next governor.
Used to be, the poll watcher said, people didn't vote much. They got it in their heads that their votes didn't matter. One year, after only 16 percent of eligible voters cast ballots for governor, the commonwealth switched to the raffle system.
``How big is voter turnout now?'' I asked.
``Ninety-eight percent,'' the poll watcher said. ``Virginians really love to gamble. Besides naming the next governor, the winner gets a Buick Riviera, a two-week cruise and a couple of million dollars.''
The governor doesn't go by his or her own name anymore, the poll watcher said. If the person who chooses the governor is named, say, Bob Smith, the governor is known as Bob's Governor.
The one election rule is that a citizen cannot name himself or spouse or child governor. One year a woman tried to name her dog governor but was forced to choose a person. Her hairdresser turned out to be one of the better governors ever. The citizenry came to love Hilda's Governor.
I asked what would happen to money collected from people casting extra ballots. The poll watcher explained that it would go to help support education, since there weren't any taxes anymore.
``None at all?'' I asked in astonishment.
``No need,'' he said. ``Virginians really love to gamble. You wouldn't believe all the stuff the state will let you bet on. I bet a thousand bucks that this June will be drier than normal.''
``With the state?''
``No need for the mob,'' the man said. ``And schools aren't that big a burden nowadays, what with so many kids dropping out early to make money to wager. Virginians really love to gamble. That's for sure.''
My tale may strike you as farfetched, but if you'd predicted 25 years ago that Virginia in 1996 would sponsor all manner of games to entice its citizens to gamble, no one would have believed you.
Virginians are learning to really love to gamble. They'd better, because state government increasingly depends on losers' money. MEMO: Mr. Lackey is an editorial writer for The Virginian-Pilot. by CNB