Friday, November 07, 2014

I’ve been listening to the limitations’ of those that follow and those that tae, make and live by polls. Especially political poles.

To my modus, the following excerpt expresses it well. 

Sabato believes that in many cases, pollsters failed to factor in how heavily Republican and conservative the electorate in a low-turnout midterm was going to be.

“After the experience of 2012, when they undercounted Hispanics and young people, they were concerned about the same phenomenon happening again,” he said. “Perhaps they over-compensated. I want them to tell us.”

In case it isn’t clear; that is, the quote doesn’t make my thoughts on poles clear, it goes like this:

  • I want them to tell us. Okay, but it is tied into the first part of that paragraph. First: I don’t have to tell you damn all, especially when it comes to how I intend to vote in ANY election. That’s first and foremost. And you are a prune for even asking more than if I intend to vote.  So, there’s part of your answer, your presumption because you asked, I must answer; and, because you asked I must not only answer, I must actually tell you the truth of my intentions – when most poles are taken by sight unseen telephone poles, with no party affiliation given, reason other than we WANT the information and never a clue on my part as to what use one is going to make of the information I reveal.
  • After the experience of 2012. After that experience I wouldn’t trust a pollster anyhow, because even with all your efforts you cannot report or record what is not told you; which is what many voters this time did not do. We ignored the ringing phone except to pick it up and immediately hang up,  many didn’t tell you how they intended to vote, they told you what was bugging them and you filled in the blanks from what you thought you were hearing – which was them telling truth without giving you the information you wanted, demanded. Rather like what happened with the 2012 crowd when the youth ambushed the fat, old, white guy. Don’t believe me? Take a pole of the under thirties and check their mind set, I’ve listened to them.

I suppose the best thing surveys can do is be honest: tell folks who you are, who you are poling for, what use will be made of the information and most of all, remember to keep you hat in your hand.

Demanding answers and opinions will gain you stonewalling. Rather like politicians do when they don’t want to answer questions.

I’m told lies are not a bad thing to a persons physic. And I, for one, know pollsters have my name, address, phone number, voter registration information therefore my party afflation. While I don’t know who, what, where the pollster is located, or what use the individual is making of the answers.

And one other thing: There’s simply too damn many of you to answer all the time.

_____

From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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