Oregon's Dead Voter Roll Rodeo: The Ghosts With the Most Votes

In the wild, weird world of American elections, Oregon is stealing the show like a 28 Years Later flick nobody asked for. Picture this: 35 out of 36 counties boast voter rolls fatter than a politician's expense account. Turns out that they've got more registered voters than living, breathing, eligible folks who can actually stumble into the polls without the use of a Ouija board. It's like the state decided to invite every ancestor from the Oregon Trail right up to the two-party voting circus—except the game is only for Windows 98, complete with blue-screen crashes and mandatory dial-up modems that screech like banshees in heat while attempting to connect to the interwebs.

These rolls aren't just a little dusty; they're a full-blown graveyard gatherings! Deceased voters hanging around on them rolls like that one creepy stalker-ex you just can't shake, and folks who've packed up for sunnier pastures in Fort Worth, Texas, still getting invites to vote on school bonds they couldn't care less about. It's a bureaucratic buffet of the bizarre, where eligibility checks are about as discerning as a toddler's finger-painting contest.

The Law's the Law, Unless You're Oregon: NVRA's Big Bad Ignore

Enter the National Voter Registration Act, that plucky little law from back when people thought fax machines you could send memes on were cutting edge. It demands a "general program that makes a reasonable effort" to scrub the rolls of the ineligible—like the dearly departed or relocated residents. Reasonable effort? Ha! Please. In Oregon, 29 of those 36 counties have removed so few names, you'd think they were luring the zombie horde away from the voter rolls by dangling garlic cloves and holy water—except the garlic's pre-minced for 'convenience' and the water's been blessed by a motivational speaker. It's illegal, folks, but who needs laws when you've got audacity thicker than pre-election promises?

So, in a plot twist ripped from a superhero comic—where the caped crusader's secret weapon is a briefcase full of subpoenas and a grudge longer than a filibuster—those legal eagles dove in beak-first, smacking Oregon with an NVRA lawsuit that hit harder than a Ovechkin puck-slap. Judicial Watch and their merry band of ballot balancers versus the Beaver State Rolls Gone Wild. And get this: a federal court just greenlit the whole shebang, saying, "Yeah, this circus needs to pack its tents and GTFOOH before the lions and bears start unionizing".

Who You Gonna Call? When Desk-Jockey Lawyers LARP'd as Their Favorite Ghostbuster

Don't let the Oregon oddity fool you; this ain't Judicial Watch's first go-round. Back in Ohio, 2014, they inked a settlement so monumentally epic, it didn't just need its own zip code—it demanded a whole new dimension, complete with parallel-universe postage stamps and a postal service run by time-traveling carrier pigeons. The state had no other choice than to get serious about list maintenance, turning voter rolls into something resembling a tidy sock drawer instead of the laundry hamper overload from hell. Pennsylvania? Our pals there axed over 178,258 ineligible registrations in 2023 alone, capped off with a five-year compliance deal that even a caveman couldn't shake a stick at.

New York City chipped in by ditching 918,139 outdated entries since the 2022 legal tussle, probably while muttering about how nobody appreciates a good bagel anymore. And over in Los Angeles County, the pressure cooker popped, ejecting a whopping 1.2 million ghosts from the rolls. Across the map, these courtroom capers have flushed out over 5 million outdated names. It's like a national game of electoral whack-a-mole, but with subpoenas and stares of disapproval instead of mallets and a scoreboard.

Picture your not-so average election night: a B-rated bloodbath film where the farm-of-the-undead ballot-stuffers and nomadic no-shows come stumbling in for unwanted encores, turning swing states into grave-digging hustles. Dirty rolls? That's like letting zombies run the entire set, with unbearable shaky cam footage of a ten minute fistfight that nobody greenlit. Fair shots at any kind of election? Fuggedaboudit—these voter rolls are so jam-packed with apocalyptic influence that it would make Mad Max do a double-take.

Our democracy's already floppier than a wind-whipped inflatable tube man hawking lemons at a used car dealership—with Democratic candidates hamming up the limelight buck-naked while spewing whatever fever-dream drivel into a mic on cam meant to stuff their offshore accounts and trusts. Let's face it—no one with half a brain would vote for these clowns, you'd literally have to be a brain-dead zombie, and news flash, if you're voting for them, then odds are that you probably are.

Enlist in the Zombie-Slaying Squad: Cough Up the Cash to Cull the Cadaverous Constituency

Storming the barricades is a posse of conservative law sharks so razor-edged, they'd shave a bureaucrat's mustache mid-monologue. But caped crusaders don't conquer on caffeine and crankiness—they crave cold hard cash that clinks like loose change in a doomsday prepper's fanny pack. Oregon's in the kill zone, with a hit list of states longer than a conga line of the reanimated; the end-times skirmish is sizzling. Dough? It's the line between triumphant twerking on grave dirt and your engine stalling out mid-zombie sprint.

Don't let Ouija-board ballots swing votes in your State. Lob some loot into the Judicial Watch war chest to keep your lists lean and mean, and the graft griping about headshots so quick and accurate that it's taking out their zombie apocalypse hordes in one fell swoop. Ball's in your bunker, 'Murica: pony up the dough or continue to boogie with the brain-munchers and voters of ghost's past.