So, where you goin', slick? Stick around; we love brown-shirt melodramas, where you're all bathing in delusions and armed with a furious idiocy - I can even hear the Wagnerian power chords straining to accompany the 'end-of-time cleansing' your type always falls for - and that's when we once again throw you down and turn off the light. Tomorrow doesn't belong to you.
About GOP
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