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Confessions of a California Dem
Four times, starting in 1992, I have stood in a voting booth* and conjured up the image of a certain President of the Board of Supervisors for the City and County of San Francisco announce in a halting voice that Supervisor Milk and Mayor Moscone were dead of gunshot wounds and that Dan White was the suspect. I have done so in order to suppress the tiny bit of vomit that reflexively rises every time I am called upon by the perpetual joint stupidity of the Democratic and Republican parties in California that results in me having no alternative than to vote for Dianne Feinstein, and thinking of her having her last unselfish and genuine human emotion is the only thing that can get me through that experience.
Thought you'd like to know.
*This is a lie. I voted absentee in 1992 and 1994 and could therefore have vomited with impunity on both those occasions.
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