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For Immediate Release    -    Office of Media Relations    -    September 1, 2004    -    10:27 PM (EST)


ZELL MILLER: Good evening. Since I last stood in this spot, a whole new generation of the Miller Family has been born: four great grandchildren.

Like you, I think about my children's future. And like you, I have been convinced by the Republican party that not only do them Muslamoids want to kill every last Christian in America, they're also chomping at the camel bit to do to the inbred backwoods of Georgia everything they already did to this foul liberal cesspool of a city.

In the summer of 1940, I was an eight year old boy, living in a remote little Appalachian valley. The Democratic party was not yet a puppet to the radical black power movement, but even we children knew that there were crazy darkies who would rape our white women at knifepoint if they could. Yet years later, Presidents Kennedy and Johnson would nevertheless hijack my once-noble party in the name of so-called "equality." But unlike my dear friend and philosophical soul mate Strom Thurmond, I chose to continue calling myself a Democrat – if only to honor the memory of a time when normal fellas could vote for the donkey and not feel like race traitors.

But today, in the summer of 2004, we live in a very different world. And today the biggest threat to my great grandchildren's future comes not from the Africanese negroids within, but from the Islamiac negroids from without – who go by the name "Al Qaeda" – which anyone can tell you is the Muslamian word for "faggot-loving, baby-killing, America-hating liberal DEMOCRAT!"

Yes, make no mistake that Al Qaeda, unlike the Soviet Union, which was a real and palpable military threat, is gunning for every one of you jiggly-armed xenophobe crackers standing before me today. Al Qaeda, which is basically the 700 Club with RPGs, is an ephemeral, conceptual threat that can never be defeated. Why is that? Because without them, the Republican party which I so revere and emulate would turn on itself like a steak-wrapped piranha. I mean let's face it: quasi-fascism, faggot bashing, and treasury rape just isn't enough to hold the GOP together. But raw, unhinged, illogical fear is! And unlike the Cold War, this fear can be turned on and off and the threat misrepresented whenever poll numbers dare to nosedive.

I stand before you today to blatantly re-write history and ask you all to remember the so-called good old days: when bad guys wore leather and swastikas, and the press was in cahoots with the deceptive power brokers who worked the winches at the top of the ziggurauts. Where accidental mullatto children were not legally frapped, but instead sold into servitude and given names like "That One", "Number Four", and "Boy". Where homos committed their disgusting sex acts in skid row alleys, rightfully pursued by legions of Southern Christian Pharisees. Those were the good ol' days, and only one candidate will obsessively project this image – and I tell you what, it isn't the candidate who voted against the high-tech, billion dollar B1 bomber, or as I like to call it, The Terror Of Middle Eastern Shanty Towns. Sometimes you gotta bring a bazooka to a knife fight.

Truth be told – I'm a silly, senile old man. And there can be no doubt that the only reason I'm addressing you tonight is because I'm a turncoat Benedict Arnold, a Republican show pony who's supposed to convince the country, and moderate Democrats, how great the President is. Forget the fact that traitors should never be trusted.

It's amazing what a person will do, slashing and burning their reputation, switching allegiances the way a vain, fickle teenage girl gets crushes on TV heartthrobs, when they're told over drinks that stabbing your party in the back will secure you a generous little footnote in the history books. Well, my legacy is secure now, and it's a legacy of iron-spined pandering to the big guys in power.

Which is why I want all Americans to hear me loud and clear. John Kerry and the Democratic party HATE AMERICA. They spit on the graves of our heroes, and use our beautiful flag – when not burning it – to wipe the santorum from between their repulsive sodomite butt cheeks!

And unlike President Bush, John Kerry won't talk tough. He won't posture, or act macho, or play dress-up in cool cowboy and fighter pilot costumes, and he might even have trouble sleeping at night if he ever summons the guts to send a measly thousand or so boys to get mulched in a faraway combat zone. It's like that totally fair and balanced book says – he's just "Unfit for Command."

John Kerry voted against a multitude of military programs, and he just doesn't get it: the will of the people, at least the people in this great impenetrable bunker of a convention center, is that the United States of America is a militant theocracy, just like Iran. Soldiers, out of the goodness of their heart, give us our freedoms, which we shouldn't actually use, but put on the mantle all tasteful like.

John Kerry thinks we should be worrying about the state of the union. About our record number of poor, and uninsured, and uneducated. My friends, I submit to you that George W. Bush's America doesn't have the luxury of sweating that kind of small stuff. But we will – once evil has been wiped off the face of the earth. Which, by my calculations, could happen anytime in the next 456 years.

If given the choice between sticking to your guns and shooting straight, or making the right decision, George W. Bush will have the integrity to pound his chest – even when wrong.

Thank you, and God Bless America.

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