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You lost your blue collar job. Your wife left you. Your rowdy-but-goodhearted son got in trouble with the law, but he can't join the Army and get straightened out without getting killed in Iraq.
There are just as many homosexuals as there were under Clinton, maybe even more. There are lots more illegal immigrants too, some almost certainly homosexual.
If you talk about your guns on the phone, your name goes in one of Bush's government spy databases. When the Communists take over ten years from now, they'll pull your name out of the computer, figure out which guns you have, grab you in the middle of the night, and torture you until you plead for death -- all legal.
The stinking GOPers have run off with Cal Cotillion and Fred Fundie. Why don't they love you any more, Joe? Why? Why oh why?
Joe, buddy, come home, you poor drunk bozo. Come home to the Dems. Play some softball, get your job back, meet a nice liberal girl. Get your life back together. We miss you, you big jerk! Not a whole lot, but some!
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