You didn’t have enough ID? Try my experience this morning in NH on for size.
I stroll up to the D through G desk (my last name is an F) and I whip out my license.
The lady standing next to the guy with the registration list says “We don’t need that.” “Yeah, but here it is. It’s me!” I say with a smile. “No, we *can’t* see your ID, sir.” She says firmly.
“This is insane,” I mutter, stuffing my last-known-photograph quality picture back into my wallet.
“You’re stating your name under penalty of perjury, so we don’t need an ID.”
“So – what? – you’re afraid that I’ll say I’m one person and have the ID of somebody else?
Afraid I’ll give you proof that I’m committing perjury?” I look around; policeman behind and to the left tenses up.
“Alright,” I say, deciding to choose my battle elsewhere.
So I give my name and then slightly unsettled gentleman seated at the table says after a gulp “um, now we have a middle name here . . .”
“Dennis. That’s me.”
And I give my address.
Now the table was really low; I’m maybe 5′9″ and the table was low-thigh height.
I could read the name and address of every person on the page.
Seriously. You didn’t have enough ID. I shave my beard and take off my glasses, pick a common last name and I could vote twice today!
XXXX, who swears under penalty of pain, torture of perjury that he only voted once, and will not vote again today.