Author: Tom Darby

In Nevada’s Senate race, Republican candidate Sam Brown saw his early lead begin to erode as incoming ballots favored his Democratic opponent, Senator Jaky Rosen—a scenario sparking calls for increased scrutiny over Washoe County’s voting procedures. Over 100,000 ballots reportedly sent to incorrect or invalid addresses call into question ballot integrity, echoing similar claims from the previous election cycle, when a comparable down-ballot shift impacted GOP candidate Adam Laxalt’s race in 2020 against Senator Catherine Cortez Masto.

Compounding the controversy are allegations that Washoe County’s Registrar of Voters (ROV) office failed to conduct proper signature verification, enabling the counting of potentially invalid ballots. This process involves comparing signatures on ballot envelopes with official records to confirm voter identity, a measure that many believe has not been uniformly enforced in Washoe County.

Critics are urging an emergency audit of every ballot envelope in Washoe County, with verification of each signature following Nevada’s Secretary of State guidelines. They contend that signatures that do not match, and if fraudulent, should result in the removal of votes for all relevant candidates. The unprecedented approach, which advocates admit could raise constitutional questions, would uncover potential discrepancies in voter verification processes.

Supporters of the audit are calling for federal oversight to ensure transparent, accurate vote counting, demanding that both parties be allowed to scrutinize ballot integrity. With video evidence allegedly showing lapses in signature verification practices, proponents claim that a thorough investigation is essential to safeguard the integrity of Nevada’s election processes.

Meanwhile, in a press conference on the unfolding election situation in Washoe County, Deputy Registrar of Voters Andrew McDonald attempted to quell growing frustrations, pledging that the ROV would “do better next time.”

The statement, however, sparked further criticism as voters pointed out the ROV’s ongoing struggles and recurrent issues across multiple election cycles. And with a new Senate seat hanging in the balance, Republican candidate Sam Brown’s tenuous lead has drawn sharp scrutiny to Washoe County’s ballot-counting process and long-standing procedural challenges.

With over $30 million invested in an election system to handle around 300,000 voters, the Washoe County ROV’s struggles have only intensified public discontent. The county has cycled through several acting registrars in the past four years, yet election night has increasingly become an exercise in delayed results and incomplete counts.

Despite these investments, persistent issues in vote tabulation and verification have led many to question whether the failures point to more than just incompetence.

The highlights of McDonald’s report were sobering as 79,000 mail-in ballots are already processed, leaving about 46,000 mail ballots in the pipeline. Additionally, 1,458 ballots have been challenged and require “curing,” where officials attempt to resolve issues, such as missing or mismatched signatures, to determine their eligibility.

The lengthy delay in finalizing counts has added more doubt surrounding the ROV’s operations. With criticism mounting, there is a need for a top-down review of Washoe County’s election procedures.

The old K-R wasn’t a big-time setup, just a scrappy outfit. Every Friday night, I’d drag 19-year-old Slim along to round up the cows out of the pasture and crowd ’em into the little quarter-acre square we used for a catch pen.

We’d camp out overnight because some Saturdays at daylight, we had twenty head of horses to catch and haul two miles down to the “stables.” That fancy word didn’t mean much in our case; we ran the whole deal off the tailgate, horses tied to ropes strung between trees.

We’d have to check on ’em throughout the night—another reason we camped there all weekend. Slim’s ma thought me stickin’ around was a good influence, figured I’d keep him in line.

Trouble was, I liked a good drink now and then, and there was a saloon a couple of miles down the way. So, after setting things straight with the horses on Saturday night, we’d mosey on over there, unbeknownst to Slim’s ma.

We’d be back to check on the horses by three in the morning. I kept myself mostly sober, but Slim was a different case. He managed to rustle up a fake ID and took it as a personal challenge not to leave a drop in any bottle he got his hands on.

To stay awake on the way back, I’d stop by a water trough halfway home, and dunk my head in that cold spring water to shake off the drowsiness. Slim usually woke up when I did this, but one night he was too far gone.

He didn’t stir until we reached the gate. Groggy, he sat up, scratched his head, and asked, “Are we at the water trough yet?”

Some horses were in a mood and hard to catch one Saturday morning, so we had to rope a few from horseback. That night, I let my youth and dumbness get the better of me.

Walking out to catch one of the more dependable horses, a pony zipped past. On impulse, I tossed out a Hoolihan, hit the ground as the rope went tight, and got dragged a good way before the pony finally stopped.

Slim thought this looked like grand fun. So when a full-sized horse ran by, he threw a loop, but his technique didn’t match mine. He pitched a nice loop around the horse’s neck and let out the extra coils just right—but forgot to drop to the ground.

That horse hit the end of the line, and Slim went airborne like a cannon shot, legs pinwheeling like a busted windmill, arms straight up like a high diver. He held on for dear life until the last second, then let go, but not before he managed a one-point landing that jammed his hat clean down over his eyes.

Watching him spin through the air, arms flailing like a windmill caught in a tornado, I couldn’t help but laugh fit to bust.

Then, he peeled his hat off, looked at his shoulder, and deadpanned, “Ya know what? I think I broke my shoulder. Ya know what else? I think I’m gonna pass out,” which he did, face-first into the dirt.

Finally got him in the truck and drove into town. At the ER I called his ma and told her what had happened.

Slim grinned at me when she walked in, “Are we at the water trough yet?”

To this day–his ma doesn’t know a lick about what he was yapping, thinking it was the pain medicine talking.

As dawn’s first light struggled to breach the horizon, he mounted his cow pony and rode up the rugged incline toward the Hungry Valley Rez. The air was crisp, a sharp 35 degrees that pricked at his skin, a reminder that winter still held its sway.

He paused atop the ridge, gazing down into the Spanish Springs Valley. The scene that unfolded before him stirred a deep ache in his heart—the once-quiet expanse was now a tapestry of homes and bustling enterprises, each structure a witness to man’s relentless march.

His thoughts turned to the coyotes he had observed on his daily journeys, those wily creatures now more frequently traversing the asphalt that had replaced their wild paths. They were harbingers of a fading era, forced to adapt to the encroaching civilization that encircled their territory.

The realization struck him with a palpable weight: he was also an endangered breed. The burgeoning world, brimming with progress and prosperity, threatened to sweep away the land and the essence of his existence.

He sat there, caught in the silence of the morning, feeling the chill of the future closing in around him. Soon, these rides—sacred moments of solitude and reflection—would become nothing more than echoes of a time long past.

The beauty of this land, unmarred by man, would retreat into memory, and he would have to wander the shadows of what once was a solitary figure adrift in the tide of progress.

A video captured over the weekend by a volunteer for Marsha Berkbigler’s GOP campaign for Washoe County commissioner has set off another political storm, revealing what appears to be an incident of campaign sign removal.

The woman in the video, Amy Powell, is the Deputy Director of Voter Protection and was seen removing Berkbigler’s campaign signs from a public area. Powell was reportedly an invitee at an event hosted by the Washoe County Democratic Party.

A former commissioner, Berkbigler is vying for the seat against current Democratic Chairwoman Alexis Hill.

The video, recorded by volunteer Cliff Nellis, shows Powell in a Mercedes van with California license plates. Nellis confronted Powell and recorded their interaction, which lasted 11 minutes until police arrived.

Powell contended that Nellis had improperly placed the signs on county property and had abandoned them. After reviewing the incident, police found no legal violation on Nellis’s part, and Powell returned the signs.

The police did not press charges.

Following the incident, Nellis visited the Washoe County Registrar’s office to inquire about Powell’s role in the local election process. Deputy Registrar Andy McDonald initially confirmed that Powell served on an election certification board. Communications Manager Bethany Drysdale later stated that Powell no longer is the Deputy Director of Voter Protection.

The accuracy certification board in Washoe County, tasked with overseeing the functionality of voting machines before elections, comprises three individuals per Nevada state law (NRS 293B.140). The board must be politically balanced, with no more than two members from the same political party.

Drysdale says a Washoe County employee has replaced Powell.

The incident has drawn criticism from Washoe County Commissioner Mike Clark, who questioned Powell’s trustworthiness.

“If Ms. Powell had anything to do with counting votes, verifying signatures, or any election process — and has shown this behavior — I question her integrity,” Clark said.

He further suggested that Powell’s actions, in his view, warranted further investigation.

“Just because she returned the signs doesn’t absolve her from accountability,” he said. “A bank robber isn’t absolved if he returns the money when caught.”

Clark also questions Powell’s use of a van with California plates.

“If she was acting in an official capacity, why was she using an out-of-state vehicle?” he added.

Clark stated that he expects the Washoe County Democratic Party to condemn Powell’s actions and is calling on Chair Alexis Hill to disavow her publicly.

It is not often that the residents and visitors of Virginia City can claim to have witnessed anything stranger than what befell the town the day after Halloween. Much to the astonishment of the esteemed city fathers and mothers, a flock of no less than a thousand wild turkeys descended upon C Street and began a determined march eastward.

Why they chose to head east remains a spirited debate among the townsfolk. Some of the more imaginative residents speculated that the turkeys were seeking asylum at the many Native American reservations in that part of Nevada, holding a grudge against the Pilgrims of Massachusetts for the infamous First Thanksgiving.

You see, turkeys, unlike humans, have a remarkable sense of historical injustice.

Others, possessing a differing logic, posited that the turkeys were bound for Utah. Why Utah, you ask? It was suggested, with no small amount of conviction, that the turkeys had somehow deduced that Mormons might abstain from Thanksgiving festivities, as they presumably prefer their turkeys alive and well, thus providing a haven for these feathered fugitives.

But the tale does not end there. Always with an ear to the ground for ways to evade the carving knife, the turkey stumbled upon the Mormons. Now, anyone with a passing familiarity with history knows that Mormons, like all good Americans, partake in Thanksgiving with great enthusiasm.

Yet the turkey, in its infinite wisdom—or lack thereof—latched onto a misunderstanding. They had overheard whispers of peculiar customs and dietary restrictions among various religious groups and mistakenly conflated these with a rejection of Thanksgiving. The turkeys thus theorized that Utah, the heartland of Mormonism, must surely be a haven where Thanksgiving was just another ordinary Thursday.

It is a curious and amusing affair when one contemplates the reasoning of turkeys, those feathered philosophers who find themselves unwitting participants in the annual celebration known as Thanksgiving. One must first delve into their historical grievances and misplaced logic to understand their peculiar migration.

As the story goes, the turkeys of North America have long harbored animosity toward the Pilgrims of Plymouth Rock. With their big hats and buckled shoes, the Pilgrims are infamous among turkey-kind for inaugurating what is now an annual feast of fowl.

Their ancestors witnessed their kin presented as the centerpiece of this grand occasion and passed down tales of woe and betrayal through the generations. Thus, the turkeys developed a mistrust for anything remotely resembling a Pilgrim–or a Thanksgiving table–for that matter.

However, turkeys are unknown for their grasp of nuanced human customs or history. With their limited yet imaginative comprehension, they reasoned that the Native Americans, who were present at that inaugural feast, might share their disdain for the holiday.

After all, if your ancestors had graciously shared their harvest and knowledge, only to see it commemorated by the annual consumption of your feathered friends, you might feel a tad resentful, too. Thus, in the collective turkey consciousness, Native American reservations became perceived sanctuaries, free from the shadow of Thanksgiving.

Armed with these dubious historical interpretations, the turkeys made their audacious bid for freedom down C Street. One can only imagine the scene—a thousand turkeys, heads held high, strutting with an air of righteous indignation, convinced they were heading toward liberation. Whether they were seeking the supposed sanctuary of Native American reservations or the imagined indifference of Utahan residents, their motives were clear: to escape the fate that had befallen their forebears.

Of course, reality and logic do not always coincide. Should the price per pound of turkey rise beyond the customary 95.7 cents following this great migration, it will undoubtedly be the fault of misguided but noble wild turkeys.

And so, the Virginia City Turkey Migration of ’24 will be carved into the annals of history, demonstrating the indomitable spirit—and occasional folly—of those who seek freedom.

At the Reno Cares Campus, Washoe County officials require residents to present a photo ID card to retrieve mail-in ballots. The policy comes amid broader discussions on voter ID requirements across Nevada.

The Cares Campus, a facility providing services to unhoused residents, houses ballots in a locked mailroom in its Resource Center. Once sorted alphabetically into designated mailboxes, individuals who present a “clarity card”, a photo ID that allows residents to access other campus services, can receive a ballot.

The facility does not send ballots by mail; instead, residents must deposit them in person at a vote center, mailbox, or post office.

The new protocol has sparked questions on Nevada’s approach to voter ID requirements, an issue Governor Joe Lombardo highlighted in his recent State of the State address. The governor pledged to implement statewide voter ID legislation or pursue the measure on the ballot, emphasizing the importance of election integrity.

In response, Assembly Speaker Steve Yeager stated that such legislation would be “dead on arrival” in the Democratic-controlled legislature. Attorney General Aaron Ford has also voiced opposition, calling voter ID measures unconstitutional.

The Cares Campus also allows individuals without a permanent address to use either the campus address or a nearby location, such as a street corner, for voter registration purposes. Washoe County spokesperson Bethany Drysdale explained that unhoused residents can still register and vote despite lacking a fixed address. Her statement has stirred concern over ballots mailed to non-specific locations.

State law mandates that voters register at their residence, yet Drysdale defended the practice.

“Just because a person does not have a fixed address, doesn’t mean they are not eligible to vote.”

Meanwhile, the Public Interest Legal Foundation (PILF) continues to challenge the accuracy of Nevada’s voter rolls, citing numerous cases of non-residential addresses, including casinos and vacant lots. In a lawsuit filed last year, PILF urged Washoe and Clark counties to remove such addresses from the voter lists. While Clark County complied, Washoe County has yet to act due to turnover in the registrar’s office.

The Elias Law Group, led by attorney Marc Elias, representing Washoe County in the lawsuit, argued that granting PILF’s demands would open the door to “unsourced, unverified, and unsworn” challenges that could strain election resources. The law group claims such changes could disrupt the registration process, leading to unwarranted investigations into alleged irregularities.

As Nevada’s voter ID debate heats up, the Cares Campus policy marks a step toward tightening ballot access, even as state leaders remain divided over the broader question of voter ID laws.

Cari-Ann Burgess, Washoe County’s Interim Registrar of Voters, is on administrative leave now following an initial medical leave. The development comes just weeks before the November presidential election, as Washoe County continues to struggle with administrative and political tensions related to its election processes.

The county issued a statement explaining that Burgess, who allegedly went on leave for medical reasons, is now on administrative leave as part of an investigation into her job performance.

“The County will not comment further on a personnel matter and is focused on conducting the 2024 General Election,” the statement reads.

In her first public comments, Burgess said she felt “forced out” after declining proposed staffing changes from the county manager’s office, which would have reallocated some election personnel without her oversight. Citing her willingness to return to her prior role as deputy, she claims being compelled to request leave.

“I feel like I was absolutely forced out, but I have no idea how we got to this point,” she shared, reflecting on her recent high praise from colleagues.

This incident marks another administrative turnover in Washoe County, where five individuals have held the position since 2020.

The instruments of progress, cruel and unyielding, chiseled away at the ancient of thought, much like a second-hand will erode the fragile contours of the soul. Though Edgar Allan Poe, master of melancholy, had passed long before the modern world awakened to its technological horrors, his mind had danced upon the precipice of such uncanny revelations.

Familiar he was with the Daguerreotype, a grim, silent reflection of reality, where shadows were trapped, lifeless, upon silver plates. In the years after his departure from this mortal coil, other specters–actors, the hollow marionettes of performance would attempt to invoke his spectral presence upon the silver screens of the early 20th century.

Among these shadows of men stood one who eclipsed all others—Samuel Story, an actor whose very name carried an unsettling sense of destiny. His features, sharp as a raven’s beak, bore the pallor of long-departed ghosts, and his voice, though seldom heard, echoed like a forgotten wind across the desolate moors of human imagination. In silence, he moved, as did all in those early films, the flicker of motion betraying the illusion of life, as though the actors were phantoms, tethered to a dim and fading existence.

On the night in question—oh, that dreadful night!—Samuel Story took to the sound stage, a place that had long been his battleground and sanctuary. The role was none other than that of Poe himself, the tormented poet whose life had played out in tragedy. A prop door, simple in construction, was to serve as a symbol of transition–from one reality into another, from life to the unknown.

And it was there, in front of that infernal contraption—the camera, the all-seeing eye of modernity—that Samuel Story’s fate became sealed. With solemnity, he approached the prop door, his hand trembling as it grasped the handle. There was a hesitation–a moment in which the air seemed to thicken, shadows deepen, and time recoiled. He stepped through the door, his figure passing beyond the frame in a single motion.

Yet, what should have been an exit into the next scene became something altogether more sinister. When the camera’s mechanical eye blinked its final shutter, and the crew awaited Story’s return, he did not appear. The director, camera operator, and co-stars remained stunned silent, the clicking of the camera’s film rolls flicking, but the actor had vanished–his departure not merely from the sound stage but from the very fabric of reality itself. The door, that accursed door, remained affixed in place, an inanimate witness to the inexplicable. No one could explain how or why, but Samuel Story had stepped through and, like a whisper lost to the wind, had vanished into eternity.

But as inexplicable as his disappearance had been, the world was unprepared for his return. In 2023, Virginia City, an old mining town steeped in legend and the lingering spirits of a bygone era to which Samuel Story reemerged. He appeared as though he had walked out of another century, his clothes as immaculate as they had been the afternoon he vanished. Dapper, poised, and dressed in the fashion of Poe himself, Story’s figure cut through the modern age like a specter lost in time. His dark frock coat, slightly frayed at the edges but still regal, flapped gently in the cool mountain breeze, and the air around him seemed to shift, heavy with the weight of things forgotten.

Witnesses, astonished and wide-eyed, stood rooted to the dusty streets, their voices caught in their throats. There he was, as though plucked from a silent film, his skin pale, his eyes shadowed with a timeless melancholy. It was as if he had never aged a single day in the one hundred and nine years he had been absent.

What secrets, then, did Samuel Story carry? What strange and unspeakable horrors had he encountered behind that door, beyond the veil of the world he once knew?

His silence was more unnerving than any words he might have spoken, and his presence, though mortal, felt disturbingly unreal. The echoes of Poe’s tormented soul seemed to cling to him as though the actor and the poet were now inseparable, their fates intertwined in some dark cosmic tapestry.

No one would disclose his secret as Samuel Story strolled through the street–a living paradox, a man out of time, and a mystery unsolved.

A new political advertisement from the Democratic Party is stirring controversy for its portrayal of an extreme dystopian future in which JD Vance is a dictatorial successor to a dead Donald Trump, and tech mogul Elon Musk gains immortality by “siphoning” resources from Americans.

The ad has quickly become a flashpoint in political discourse, with conservatives accusing Democrats of engaging in the very conspiracy theorizing they often attribute to the right.

The ad’s provocative narrative has drawn backlash for its surreal, dark imagery and hypocrisy. Conservative critics argue that the advertisement leans heavily into fear-mongering, pointing to the very type of speculative and extreme scenarios that Democrats have previously condemned.

Many have voiced concerns about the ad setting a divisive tone and stoking fears as it veers into exaggerated depictions of what a GOP-led America could look like. While the Democrats defend the advertisement as a creative expression to illustrate policy differences and potential outcomes, the ad has intensified partisan tensions.