repubgazette8-24-07recountpoliticssept1deadlinekeyser

The decision by some parts of the "vote no" coalition to demand a recount represents an interesting divergence of opinion, tactics and goals by those who opposed the referendum.

In fact, it was originally Melody Potter, chairwoman of the Kanawha County Republican Party, and fellow Republicans who did most of the legwork in opposing the measure. The county party did not undertake its campaign as an official project of the GOP, but in essence that's the group that was behind the biggest opposition effort.

Others, though, fell in love with the media spotlight and seem loathe to relinquish it. While it's hard to argue with the logic of a recount with just a 300+ difference out of more than 46,000 ballots (there should be a law requiring a recount under those circumstances), the odds of a one-issue, paper ballot mistake of more than 300 votes seems highly unlikely.

The money it will cost the opposition to conduct the recount might be better used by, say, donating it to the Republican Party to help elect Republicans who would vote against any future gambling legislation, or even roll back such laws where possible.

Melody Potter and her fellow "vote no" Republicans decided not to participate in asking for a recount. They are not opposed to the recount or to those who are requesting it and paying for it. But they rightly decided that it was time to focus on future projects, including preparations for the 2008 elections. And they did not want to be

identified as one-issue zealots.

After next week's recount, the anti-gambling forces will likely turn their attention to ridding the county of gray machines, which in large part is a paper tiger. Most gray machines seem to sit idle more than they are played, Three gray machines that sit in the back room of one restaurant on the west side hardly see any activity at all, generating barely enough revenue to pay the electric bill, according to the owner.

But the local racetrack and its supporters have tried to deflect attention from the table games debate by making a bogeyman out of the gray machines. Local pro-table games officeholders have pledged to join the fight to eliminate or at least seriously curtail the neighborhood slot machines.

In reality, of course, the racetrack wants only to eliminate the competition. Forcing gray machine users to bring their nickels and quarters to Tri-State would no doubt add hundreds of thousands to their annual revenue. What we'll hear is another dishonest campaign from the gambling side spouting a lot of mumbo jumbo about how gray machines are a blight on the community, when truth in advertising would actually demand an admission that it's all about funneling customers to Tri-State.

The irony is that table games opponents will likely join forces with Tri-State and its supporters in an anti-gray machine campaign, with the result being that Tri-State wins again -- with no recount necessary.

Ever been to Keyser? Nice town, great restaurant and inn (The Candlewick) good people. But Satan, Lord of Darkness, and his hellish minions designed all roads leading to Keyser.

I had been to Mineral County, but never all the way to Keyser until Tuesday when I traveled there to meet with State Senate candidate Gary Howell. No matter whether you drive all the way across I-68 almost to Cumberland, Md., and drop down from there, or cut across U.S. 50 at I-79 at Clarksburg (the way I came back), a drive to Keyser is like an invitation from Count Dracula to hike up the Borgia Pass.

When deciding which route to take, I asked Gary whether I should cut across from Clarksburg or go up to Cumberland, to which he replied, "It's two hours either way." He should have said, "Is your life insurance paid up? How's your endurance?"

I've driven to the Eastern Panhandle -- to Martinsburg or Charles Town -- many times. How hard could Keyser be? After all, it's even closer to Charleston than Berkeley or Jefferson counties.

So I buzzed on up to 68 toward Morgantown, made the big right turn toward Cumberland, and thought I was making great time. Then, I exited onto Route 220, where I apparently did something to awaken the minions of Beezlebub (maybe it was the Fox news channel I was listening to).

Because suddenly, on an otherwise perfectly sunny day, I encountered an endless stretch of pea soup fog, drizzling rain, assorted furry creatures wobbling across the road like Lindsay Lohan after a night out, and a road so winding it could start a pocket watch. I kept waiting to hear Rod Serling's voice.

Determined to take another route home late that night, I drove two-lane Route 50 all the way to... well, to wherever the heck it was destined to take me. According to the map, it emerges on I-79, and in fairness it eventually does. But not before it winds up and down mountains, warning you with yellow road signs that say things like, "Steep grade next four miles" and an arrow with enough curves to qualify as a 1950s swimsuit model.

Plus, of course, it was foggy again. Not just, "Gee it's a little hard to see" foggy -- no, this was pitch black night time "if there's a curve here I'm a dead man" foggy, because you literally could not see, and yes, there was almost always another curve.

Curves, curves, curves. Curves at 20 miles an hour. Curves at 10 miles an hour. When I was able to do 40 I felt like a NASCAR qualifier.

At one point, around 2 a.m. and with real doubts about ever seeing civilization again, I sincerely considered stopping the car, getting out, and shouting into the foggy night, "What the hell is going on!?!" But I knew I would be kidnapped by aliens, so I kept driving.

Apparently, when Keyser was established, the highway department held a staff meeting and said, "We really hate Keyser and don't want anyone to ever go there. Any ideas?"

At which point they gathered around a Ouija board and conjured up Satan himself, who said, "Let me handle it."

Good work, Lucifer. Job well done.

Elvis Presley performed nearly 1200 sold out shows during his "concert years" from 1969 through June of 1977, playing nearly every town in America that had an arena seating at least 7,000, and usually as much as 15-20,000 and up.

The largest crowd to which he ever played was a gathering of more than 60,000 for a New Year's Eve show at the Pontiac Silverdome on Dec. 31, 1975.

This Sunday at 8 p.m., TV Land will air "Elvis On Tour," a Golden Globe winning documentary of Elvis' Spring 1972 tour.

Today's question will take a little research, but the Internet will provide the answer. Elvis did not play West Virginia until 1975, but during the April '72 tour which is featured in the documentary, which show was the closest to West Virginia?

Regarding Thursday's trivia question, the songwriter who wrote "In The Ghetto" was Mac Davis, also known as Scott Davis before he became a star. Winning answers came from Tommy Phillips, Karen Ali, and Kennie Bass.