VOTING FRAUD or just bad fashion taste? (Shutterstock).

So I went out last night after the Crooner’s Lounge closed and happened to pass by my voting drop-box.

Curious in the wake of the Justice Department’s decision to insure election integrity by dispatching people to California to … do what?

Fortified with a sandwich and a bag of chips, I drove along at about 2 a.m. and – sure enough – there was a monitor. Standing a few feet from the drop-box was a portly guy with a familiar look and a hungry expression on his face.

“Say … haven’t I seen you before?” I asked. He cast a longing view toward my meatball sandwich and said, “Yeah, maybe. I work days as an ICE agent. This is my night gig.”

I smiled. “But don’t you realize that it’s 2 on the morning,” I said. “How many voters do you plan to monitor?”

“Oh, I’ve had some people come by. One guy” – he tapped on the vote-drop box – “thought this was a recycle receptacle and some lady kept shoving her debit card in, thinking it was an ATM.”

“So,” I said, “no actual voters, fraudulent or otherwise?”

“Noooo …” he said. “But what’s to prevent a mob of fake voters from hiding in those bushes– as soon as I leave my post – from rushing over here and jamming a bunch of ballot envelopes from Harry Potter and Mary Poppins down the hatch?”

“But, friend, this is California. There’s only a handful of days left to vote. The vast majority of people have already already cast their ballots. Aren’t you folks a little late to the party?”

He look around, furtively. “Yeah … but I need the money. The ICE work is too frustrating and it’s hard to get enough meal breaks.” He paused. “Say, brother. Are you going to eat all of that sandwich?”

I handed it over to him. No price is too high to have honest elections. But I did keep the Doritos.