I don’t mind to run to CVS and buy you a box, my guy.
I’ll maintain threads about how great the ratings are for his favorite cable news shows. We’ll wear T-shirts that say “I’d rather be a Chinese communist than a Republican.” I’ll excoriate all of his political opponents as child pornographers who murder their subordinates, roast infants on a spit, and suck the marrow from their charred bones to maintain their youthful appearance. I’ll call them my enemies and celebrate their losses more than Walz’s victories.
I’ll insist that everybody just has to believe him when he forgets he knows the authors of our communist platform, named Operation 2029.
I’ll shrug when he convinces his followers that Christians are disproportionately pedophiles and try to make it illegal to take kids to church because “why do you support kids getting fondled by some boomer in a frock, you monster?!?!”
I’ll defend efforts to ban books from public libraries that might influence kids to be straight because, “why do you support sexualizing children, you monster?!”
I’ll laugh at others for having voted for anybody else and pretend that’s discrediting (before turning them in to the secret police, of course).
Then, suddenly, I’ll pretend to not really like the guy and ask everyone to accept my complaints that 2028 Republican Candidate Sarah Huckabee Sanders isn’t fit to be president because, like her makeup, she prefers just a shade too much government for my taste and, oh by the way, her troubled cousin Matilda only tracked 3 weight watchers points for an ice cream sundae in 1999, according to some sketchily sourced records.
Then I’ll cry about how it’s a conspiracy that everybody suddenly started calling me weird.