Take An Election Gamble

By John Brennan
Mountain View Telegraph
    I never realized what an essential tool of democracy playing cards could be.
    Although I'm sure it had happened many times before, the first time I heard of a card game being used to break a tie in an election was about six years ago, in the Estancia mayor's race. I didn't live in this area yet, but I remember reading about it and thinking what a novel and amusing way it was to settle the issue.
    What was even funnier was that both of the contenders got heart flushes— five cards, all the same suit, in this case hearts— and didn't even realize it.
    The judge who dealt the cards claimed he shuffled the deck. But not only were 10 hearts dealt in succession, they were 10 consecutive hearts. One hand was the ace, three, five, seven and nine, and the other was the two, four, six, eight and 10.
    If that happened in a casino, somebody would be calling the cops.
    Last week, they had to break out the cards in Estancia again. Two candidates for the town Board of Trustees played five-card stud, and a pair of sevens took the seat.
    While playing poker for public office may be peculiar to New Mexico, it's not uncommon here. In fact, it seems to happen all the time.
    In addition to Estancia's game of five-card stud, two officials in Maxwell, N.M., sat down at the card table to break a tie in this year's election. Edgewood had a three-way tie in 1999 in the new town's very first election. Instead of playing a full hand, though, they just drew for high card— which somehow seems not quite right.
    New Mexico apparently has a long and colorful history of dealing the hearts and spades to settle election deadlocks. It's obvious that our election laws must be rewritten.
    Not to eliminate games of chance, mind you. To make them the norm.
    Every election should be decided by gambling.
    Think how much time, money and effort this would save.
    Nobody would have to campaign, or make promises they have no intention of keeping, because it wouldn't matter. Nobody would have to vote, either.
    No paying to print those silly ballots or buy expensive voting machines. No worries about finding election judges to staff polling place from sunup to sundown on election day. No counting, recounting and arguing. No butterfly ballots and no hanging chads.
    We wouldn't have to worry about running to the polling place before or after work, or trying to find time during the work day.
    And after work, instead of watching slow-paced election returns on TV, everyone would look forward to a glitzy show called the New Mexico Public Officials' Poker Challenge.
    "Who's up next, Bob?"
    "Well, Jane, it's the Albuquerque City Council game, and they're playing seven-card stud! And stay tuned for the big one, a best-of-three challenge for the governor's mansion, right after these messages from our sponsors!"
    The show could be in prime time, and advertising revenue from the show could go into the public coffers, making election day a bonanza instead of a drain on government funds.
    There's only one problem. This would sort of ruin another New Mexico tradition— election outcomes that take days or weeks to be resolved— because we'd have a winner right away.