I'm the guy that texts a vote every time the television prompts me to do so. Depending on the quality of the graphic they toss up on the screen, I'll even vote multiple times. I've concocted a text-vote-graphic grading scale that takes into account such aspects as originality, style, legibility, and attitude. If a graphic scores a perfect 20, I'll vote 20 times.
I know, it sounds crazy, but a perfect 20 is very rare. On average most graphics will only compel me to vote 12 or 13 times.
CNN Viewer Poll: Did you see our pundit's reaction to the results of our CNN Viewer Poll that asked if health care is socialist?
My Vote: NoA thousand times no! I was far too busy voting.
I appreciate it when a poll gives me an option along the lines of "I don't know" or "undecided". A lot of the time, I find myself caring enough about the program I'm watching to vast a vote, but not quite enough to comprehend what's going on or form any sort of opinion.
SportsCenter SportsNation SportsPoll: The same question was posed to every athlete and coach by every shitty beat reporter across the country, and one athlete's response was not a canned recital of something a PR guy wrote. He didn't even use the phrase "we're just concentrating on taking things one opponent at a time"!
Is this controversial scandal the worst thing ever or the end of the universe?
My Vote: (A) The worst thing ever.
The foundation of reality as we know it is crumbling, but as long as the story does not involve Brett Favre or steroids, the universe should hold.
Texting rates always apply. There is no "may", so let's drop the pretense. Texting my votes can get expensive, but this is my only way of pretending that my opinion matters to anyone but myself. After all, I'm not quite attractive enough to slap my picture on a social networking site or create YouTube videos where I talk to the camera excitedly and project the impression of an interesting personality through the use of quick cuts, and my Twitter account was closed banned when I exceeded the bandwidth cap.
In this generation, everyone's crowded on the stage, jostling for position in the spotlight. I can't allow myself to be the only person sitting in the audience. This is why I text.
America's Got Talent Vote: Should the plate-spinning operatic duo of Tammy and Edgar Spinner move on to the next round?
My Vote: Yes
I don't keep up with the latest opera albums or attend local plate spinning performances as much as most people, but the Spinners were fantastic. I particularly enjoyed how they talked about their daughter who died, and how the show's sappy music perfectly punctuated their claim that she was watching them from Heaven, and was somehow actively aiding their efforts to win a crude amalgamation of The Gong Show and American Idol.
I walk amongst your kind with impugnity. No telltale characteristic hints at my hideous nature, no scarlett pound sign reveals my sin. I appear normal in every way. You have brushed past me a thousand times before and never spared a second glance as my unseen hand fumbled in my pocket, compulsively texting "yes" or "3" to a random number in the hopes that my influence would continue to expand.
Attack Of The Show Attack Of The Poll: Should Olivia Munn dress up in a sexy maid rape victim outfit and simulate fellatio on a creampop for the entirety of tomorrow's show?
My Vote: No
By going against the grain with this one I'm letting Olivia know that I value her for more than her looks, and am the one person she can come to when she tires of the single-minded troglodytes.
I am the TV Poll Voter. I'm closer than you can possibly imagine, and I am not alone. Unnecessary Backhanded Compliment guy has joined forces with me, and he wants you to know that although he almost never reads Something Awful as of late, he enjoyed this article just enough to finish it.
Today's viral teen news beat, brought to you by Mike from the Internet!
Ignore the hype. Find out how these games will likely go right or wrong.
Doing some reps on the water bottle huh. I prefer bench press myself. Just kidding - stay hydrated.
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