Another election day has arrived, and citizens from sea to shining sea are eager to head to their local polling station and cast their ballot for a variety of elections. As they do every four years, however, citizens first stopped and consulted the nation’s wizened old men.

Shortly after sunrise, the old men gathered their vital belongings and assembled on the rocking chairs of the nation’s porch. Coffee flowed as freely as the advice they gave to the throngs of eager, undecided onlookers.

“That fella Obama, he’s had a hard road up ‘til here,” said Mr. Jones, a retired steelworker. “He done his best. I reckon he best get another shot at it.”

“Now hold up now,” said Mr. Jamison, a retired hardware store owner. “Just because he done his best don’t mean he done it well. That Romney feller seems like he knows what’s what. I think we best give him a try.”

The collection of wizened old men grew throughout the morning as individual members returned from church, their morning flapjack breakfast, and dropping their wives named Mabel off at “cards with the girls.”

“Now, the country’s not in the greatest of shape, fer sure,” said Mr. Samson, a retired used car salesman. “I’m as worried about my social security as the next feller. But maybe we old folks need to step aside for a new generation of youngsters with new ideas.”

There was a small scuffle before another man leaned forward in his rocking chair, his straw hat blowing slightly in the morning breeze.

“That’s not quite fair, you know,” said Mr. Foster, a retired local rancher. “We paid into it and we deserve to gets what we need out of it. These young people, what with their face books and googles, they’ll find a way. My grandkids sure are smart enough.”

The conversation proceeded until each onlooker felt that they had obtained enough information to cast a ballot. With that, the wizened old men returned to their homes, awaiting the day four years from now when they would be needed again, or dead.