“I voted for him twice. I won’t vote for him again,” says Bob Lange, a family farmer from Malvern, Pennsylvania, of Trump in the ad that was first obtained by Axios. “Never thought I’d say this, but the Democrats are the party of common sense.”
Oh god not the “A vote for the Democrats is a vote for common sense” argument again. You have to offer voters something tangible, not “you’ll be smugly reasonable and rational if you vote for us.”
If you vote for us, we’ll reward you with the ability to act like the adult in the room everywhere you go.
Democrats are rebranding to be 2000s republicans.
: “If you’re not a Republican at age 20, you have no sense of humor. If you’re still one at age 40, you have no brain!”That’s part of the problem, a lot of conservatives that got disillusioned with the GOP under Dubya went to the Democrats. But they’d didn’t adjust their politics, they just dragged the party rightward on everything but token minority/disenfranchised “representation.”
She can’t rely on Muslim-American voters or other anti-genocide voters, so sge is relying on pro-genocide conservatives
courting Muslims would AlIeNaTe ThE wOrKiNg ClAsS!They’ve been trying to triangulate their policies in such a way as to siphon 2% of fascist voters over to their side instead of attempting to appeal to the 30% of the population that doesn’t vote for at least a decade, because that would require actually doing something.
The punchline is how much they are actually doing… that is a huge waste of time and money. Campaigns are like jobs programs for D.C. area college kids
I expect courtship to go poorly; PA is cousin territory and I don’t think she’s related.
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“Howdy Ya’lll I’m Sheriff Harris! If there’s one thing I hate it’s varmints and the worst varmints of all are anti-frackers! make me president and I’ll put a bullet between the eyes of every anti-fracker in the state!” For emphasis, I bit a chunk out of a hunk of beef. They roared. The crowd loved it. A chant started: “Death to anti-frackers! Death to anti-frackers!” Then a scuffle broke out in the front row. Three men dressed in denim tackled and hogtied a small, weasely-looking fellow. They dragged him up on stage. “Ms. Harris,” one man said, "this fella here is an anti-fracker. He stopped up 3 of my wells last spring. If you kill him right now, everyone in this room will vote for you. The crowd began a new chant: “Blood! Blood! Blood!” The bound man pleaded with me. “Yes, I stopped the well,” he said, “but I only did it because my family was starving. Please, spare me.” My life and career have been defined by hard choices. This was perhaps the hardest choice of all. My phone buzzed. A text from Robby. It read, “The Algorithm says: the anti-fracker dies.” “I’m sorry,” I told the man as I raised a pistol. “It’s not me. It’s the Algorithm.” I squeezed the trigger.
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