So me and the whole Dimslow clan had dinner with this other candidate for President who wants to win the all-important Dimslow vote so as he can win the election. Well, I’ll be dimpled, if this here candidate did not come on just like the other guy. Hell, I thought I was talking to the same man the way he said whole bunches of things and nothing at all.
What the hell for we got to have two candidates more like fraternal twins than anything, is what I want to know, old John Doe Dimslow. Oh hell yes they bicker like the dickens and all but in the end you can see they’re little more than kissin’ cousins putting on one big show to show off how distinct they try to look one from the other, to show they got some sort of identity they like to call all their own—but what brothers don’t? They’re kissing cousins, I tell you that. I don’t trust neither one of them farther than I can throw a horse. Lord, do they know how to smile and look sincere when they come a visiting. But then I suppose they are—for the moment. Seems to me all they want to do is crack a pearly line right across the middle of them there faces. Spare me the pearlies when you’re trying to sell me, I always say.