Fifty-six years ago, I worked as a Democratic precinct committeeman for the election of John F. Kennedy for president.
But I no longer think I can vote for a party that reminds me of my old Christmas lights: They all hang together, but half won’t work, and the other half are not that bright.
Or the party that victimizes the productive and makes mascots of the nonproductive.
Or the party that thinks sex in the Oval Office is considered resume enhancement.
Or the party that tells me all of the icebergs will melt if I don’t buy a Chevy Volt today.
Or the party that thinks illegal aliens should not be deported.
Or a party that has a black president elected by white voters who encouraged racial disharmony.
Or the party where ignorance of the law qualifies you to be president.
Or the party that’s asking for gun control but allowed guns to get into the hands of foreign drug dealers.
Or the party that has attorney generals who don’t do their jobs.
Or the party that cries “Black Lives Matter” but condones the deaths of millions, black and white, through abortion.
These aren’t the values I learned growing up with the party of Harry Truman.
God won’t continue to bless America if America turns its back on him.