Once you have given up, however, you can then simply recede--into a pleasant and tranquil daze filled with comforting thoughts. (Just like David Brooks of the New York Times.) Just remember that they (Republicans, I mean, I hoped that that was fucking obvious but in case it was not...Republicans) have your best interests at heart: An obesity-and-stress-induced visit to the nearest pauper's grave. Once, of course, they have sucked you dry, stripped the flesh from your bones, and sent whatever's left to the rendering plant. (Figuratively speaking, of course, you wouldn't need a grave if they did that--hmm, that would be a money-saver, now that I think about it.) If your parents are the lucky enough to have a home, they could then easily take out a second or third or fourth mortgage. Then you could rot away in a nice container under a well-manicured lawn for
#VOTE
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