Politically picky
When I read his e-mail I realized why I have no Republican friends.
When I read his e-mail I realized why I have no Republican friends.
As a 31-year-old white male in 2008, I finally grasp the political truth in that Public Enemy cassette I rocked in 1992.
I called a certain moronic President a "bozo" and my mom told me that we do not "blaspheme the president."
I said I couldn't believe he would rather be remembered as a racist than a homosexual and got the answer that he would be remembered as both of these, and a coward.
President Bush killed my father, a soldier whose burned remains are now a part of the Iraqi desert landscape, and I, longing to fit in by supporting something I did not understand, was stupid enough to vote for him the previous year.