French here: it works. Miam.

Obviously, 2 is really bad. 5 is nice.

Honestly, when I remember it, I can hear the fabric of reality tearing.

I was 16, on a road-trip in the US with my dad and my sister. We’re French. First time in the US. Get to NYC after a month. That was before Internet existed: we had booked a room in the Central Park YMCA by mail. Reception goes: “Yes, you’re in the book. LastName, 2 people, today through next Saturday.”
“Err, no, sorry, the dates are right but there are 3 of us.”
“Oh, we must have written it down wrong, no problem, we’ll give you a bigger room.” We get to our room. 5 minutes later there’s a knock on the door. My sister opens it. My dad’s jaw clatters on the lino floor. It was his estranged dad and very much estranged step-mother. He hadn’t been in touch for 20 years; I had met them once when I was 3; my sister, never. They had booked a room under the same LastName (duh), for the same 6 nights, in the same hostel, for their first visit to the US.
We did spend some time with them in NYC, but it didn’t lead to any happily-ever-after, family-healing breakthrough, because they were jerks or, to be honest, monsters.

I like the way you think.

It’s a wine vine, I think.

Which country?.

While I feel the pain of his wives, with their 8 or 9 (living!) children each.

We’re in France.

He got the maximum sentence.

I am. We’ll have someone in the next week. (And the Left won’t like them.)

Thank you.

Where I’m from, the hyperbole would go “You’ll get punched.”

You made me laugh in the middle of a pretty shitty day. Thank you.

It took me a while to understand what you meant because we don’t write anything on our ballots. There are piles of small cards with one candidate (or list) on each, we (are supposed to) pick one of each and put one in the envelope.
But yeah, I agree with your take.

I had no idea. Thanks for explaining!

What’s the story here please? I’m out of the loop. Why is he expected to register? Most young Americans don’t, right?