I had mistakenly remembered that Jed Bartlet won Dixville Notch (which he should have, being a native son), but it turns out he won the primary in the fictional analog, Hartsfield’s Landing.
All one needs to know about Dixville Notch is that it exists inside a lavish 210 room resort. The polling place is inside the hotel. The post office is inside the hotel. It’s miles away from anywhere, with no supporting community, no “wrong side of the tracks”, where reasonable-cost housing exists.
Two hundred plus rooms. Twenty one voters. A ton of “little people” who keep the place running don’t live there and don’t show up in the famed results.
There’s a metaphor in this somewhere.
(And I stayed there when it was family-run. A corporation took it over a few years ago; I’ve heard bad things.)
November 4th, 2008 at 10:51 am
Meanwhile, McCain reportedly cleaned up with the Notchville Dicks.
November 4th, 2008 at 11:02 am
Also an improvement on a small town’s ability to get its pointless and irrelevant exercise widespread attention. Thanks ever so much for helping.
November 4th, 2008 at 11:08 am
I had mistakenly remembered that Jed Bartlet won Dixville Notch (which he should have, being a native son), but it turns out he won the primary in the fictional analog, Hartsfield’s Landing.
November 4th, 2008 at 11:09 am
Nate says not.
November 4th, 2008 at 11:22 am
JohnH, I figure if those idiots want to get up at the asscrack of dawn just to make a headline, more power to them.
November 4th, 2008 at 11:45 am
Persia: Not the asscrack of dawn. Polls opened at midnight. Then closed a few minutes later, once everyone had voted.
So it’s not a scientific sample, but that’s one Hell of a swing over to the Dems.
November 4th, 2008 at 12:59 pm
Yeah, except the last person it went for was Hubert Humphrey.
Just thank your lucky stars the Redskins lost last night. That’s a metric that’s never wrong.
November 4th, 2008 at 3:17 pm
All one needs to know about Dixville Notch is that it exists inside a lavish 210 room resort. The polling place is inside the hotel. The post office is inside the hotel. It’s miles away from anywhere, with no supporting community, no “wrong side of the tracks”, where reasonable-cost housing exists.
Two hundred plus rooms. Twenty one voters. A ton of “little people” who keep the place running don’t live there and don’t show up in the famed results.
There’s a metaphor in this somewhere.
(And I stayed there when it was family-run. A corporation took it over a few years ago; I’ve heard bad things.)
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