So Dooey's been saying mean things again.

Don't worry, I still love you, Tom. I won't call you a pansycrat. Even if you are whipped by your constituency, I understand. How the hell else are you going to get reelected in a state as backwards as South Dakota?

Perhaps the rest of the country will hate you, but they don't really get it. You understand, don't you, Tom? You can see that you must do ANYTHING in your power to prevent John Thune from getting elected.

Thune is the most horrid man I've ever had the misfortune to meet. Thune has a fake smile and a fake nonaccent and a fake hairline (I suspect). Thune is evil personified; I'm pretty sure Satan's voting Thune this year. He must be stopped.

You know this, Tom. You also know that for some godforsaken reason, Thune resonates here. These gun-toting, prairie-dog-hating hicks with sub-monkey levels of intelligence adore him. Your constituency is a fickle one. If you let it, your votership will turn on you like Reagan did on morals during Iran-Contra. Yes, Tom, I know that that simile was forced and not-so-good, but I like slamming Reagan.

He's dead, but he still sucks.

Tom, man, I feel like I know you. We've met four or five times. You're shorter than one would expect. You're nice, and you smiled at me every time, and you always paid attention to what I had to say.

So what if you're a nancy-boy liberal?

Here's to Tom Daschle and his attempts to not completely screw himself over in the 2004 elections.