The Nevada Ballot Heist   

Remember those halcyon days when you could tip your hat to the town clerk and know your vote was safe with that bowlegged rascal behind the desk—ink-stained, toothpick-chewin’, and loyal as a hound dog? Well, saddle up because those days may be galloping off into the sunset.

There’s a dust cloud kickin’ up in Carson City, and it ain’t the wind—it’s Senate Bill 100, and it’s got the sour smell of centralization, bureaucracy, and that peculiar itch that comes when a feller in a starched collar tells you he’s here to help.

Now, I ain’t what you’d call a revolutionary—unless you count the time I revolted against my wife’s liver pudding—but I have a nose for horsefeathers, and this bill smells like a whole wagonload.

SB100, for those not inclined to read the fine print on government mischief, proposes to take your local election official—your neighbor, your fishing buddy, your niece’s godfather—and put them under the thumb of the Secretary of State. That’s right–no more county choosing how to count ballots.

No more clerk riding herd on local voters. Instead, one person, sitting in a room so full of forms and regulations, they’ll have to keep the windows shut to keep the paperwork from escaping, will decide what’s timely, legal, and criminal.

Section 1 of this document of doom says the Secretary “shall adopt regulations” to make things happen “in a timely manner.” Well, I’ve been to a few town meetings in my day, and I can tell you that “timely” is a word that means different things to different folks.

To a man with a watch, it means five o’clock sharp. To a man with common sense, it means, “We’ll get it done right, and we’ll get it done safe.”

But Section 2 is where this bill drops its mask and bares its teeth. A county clerk who misses a deadline—let’s say their ox died, or their internet did—isn’t just getting a slap on the wrist or a stern talking-to.

No, sir. They’re looking at a felony. That’s right—prison time.

So now, your local official can get hauled off in chains for fumbling paperwork. I’ve seen a lot of fool ideas in my life, but turning good civil servants into felons over a calendar misstep ranks mighty high.

And don’t get me started on Section 3, where the Secretary now gets to choose not only the voting machines but also the vendors. Well, if you’ve ever seen how contracts get handed out in state politics, you know what a skunk smells like.

It ain’t ’bout efficiency—it’s empire-buildin’.

And empire-building brings us to the heart of the matter. Marxism, dear reader—yes, that sneaky old serpent dressed in promises and perched on a pile of regulations—is not just a danger to the poor and powerless. It ruins the mighty, too.

Give a man total control, and soon he’ll find himself surrounded by angry peasants and wondering why the food ain’t tastin’ as good as it used to. Power concentrated in the hands of one always ends the same way–ruin for everybody.

And if you think SB100 is just about elections, think again–it’s a whisper from the abyss, reminding us that when you give up local control in the name of efficiency, you might get neither. All you’ll get is a law that reads like a train schedule and a government that couldn’t find your polling place without a map, a mule, and divine intervention.

Don’t ask the state to fix what your neighbor can do better. Don’t believe the man who tells you he can make everything uniform—it usually means he wants to make everything his.

And above all, don’t trade away your vote’s shepherd for the cold hand of central authority.