The Democrat as Other

I have more sympathy for Kyle’s position than I would like to admit:

Which brings us to back to the 2004 election. Giant Douche versus Turd Sandwich. And I am not torn. I am not aloof. I flat out want Kerry to lose. I want all the self-righteous Hollywood assholes gnashing their teeth. I want my landlady pulling out her hair. I want all the Wild-Oats-shopping, Michael-Moore-watching, “If You Aren’t Outraged, You Aren’t Paying Attention”-bumper-sticker-having yuppie pricks to all move to Canada in protest.

Geez. What the hell is wrong with me? I feel like I should know better. This sort of jingoism is everything wrong with the human race. But I am them and they are other. I am Cocks. They are Taters. Watching the non-stop barrage of VERY nasty North Carolina political ads with my Memaw, I questioned her seeming belief that every ad for a Democrat was a lie. But deep down I felt what she did. The smirk of the Democrats always seems a little more seedy to me.

W. is my Randy Moss. I just can’t see him the way I see Kobe Bryant.

Happy, Kyle?