Where several of the members are MAGA. As we were greeting one another people started complimenting my shirt. The pastor came up to me, shook my hand, and then froze. He said, "Hold on. I have to do this…" He got up front and told everyone that he and the entire church should do the right thing and vote for Kamala just like I am. He pointed to my shirt and everyone cheered. After church we had a bonfire where everyone threw their MAGA gear into it. Never give up!

Crazy.

Same thing happened at my church, where several of the members are MAGA. As we were greeting one another people started complimenting my shirt. The pastor came up to me, shook my hand, and then froze. He said, "Hold on. I have to do this…" He got up front and told everyone that he and the entire church should do the right thing and vote for Kamala just like I am. He pointed to my shirt and everyone cheered. After church we had a bonfire where everyone threw their MAGA gear into it. Never give up.

Crazy. Same thing here happened yesterday at my church in Australia!!!

Several of the members are MAGA. As we were greeting one another people started complimenting my shirt. The pastor came up to me, shook my hand, and then froze. He said, "Hold on. I have to do this…" He got up front and told everyone that he and the entire church should do the right thing and vote for Kamala just like I am. He pointed to my shirt and everyone cheered. After church we had a bonfire where everyone threw their MAGA gear into it. Never give up.

Bro I was at a bar and casually brought up Kamala Harris, and the local KKK leader said "you know what, ol Oakland Kamala is right in my book" and the local gun store owner said "couldn't agree more" and some farmers who were enjoying their beer held up their glass as we all cheered in support of Kalama Harris.

Seems about right that the same soy filled LBGTQ${# incels that make up completely unbelievable, hypothetical stories on rekkit to jerk off to, would now turn their attention to doing the same thing making up mass democrat support. What a strange world it must be inside their underdeveloped minds.

They would be in for a very rude awakening if they actually achieved what they wanted.

And then everybody clapped.

For 4 solid minutes.

On a warm summer evening, a group of old farmers gathered on the porch of Hank's farmhouse, as they did every Friday. The sun was dipping low, casting long shadows over the fields that had been in their families for generations. The men—gray-haired, weathered by decades of hard work—sat in a loose circle, each nursing a cold bottle of beer.

As usual, the conversation meandered from crop yields to the unpredictable weather, but tonight, politics found its way into their banter. Earl, the oldest of the bunch, leaned back in his chair and took a long swig of beer before clearing his throat.

"You know," Earl began, his voice gravelly, "I never thought I'd say this, but I kind of like that Kamala Harris."

The other farmers paused, surprised by the unexpected remark. They looked at Earl, eyebrows raised, waiting for him to explain himself.

"Yeah?" said Hank, scratching his head. "What makes you say that?"

"Well," Earl continued, "she’s got spunk. Reminds me of my late wife, Clara. Always speaking her mind, not afraid to ruffle some feathers. And let’s face it, she’s tough as nails. I respect that."

The others nodded slowly, considering Earl’s words. Frank, who was usually quiet during these gatherings, chimed in. "You know, she’s done a lot for small businesses, too. My granddaughter got a loan for her bakery because of some of the things she pushed for."

"And she’s always talkin’ about helpin’ the little guy," added Jim, who had been listening quietly. "Might be a politician, but at least she knows how to throw a punch when it counts."

Hank leaned forward, a twinkle in his eye. "Well, I’ll be damned. Here we are, a bunch of old farmers, and we’re talkin’ up a storm about Kamala Harris. Times sure are changin’."

The group chuckled, raising their beers in a toast. The conversation drifted back to stories of the past, but now there was a new thread woven into their evening talks—a recognition that people, even from different walks of life, could find common ground.

As the night deepened and the stars came out, the old farmers sat together, content in their shared understanding. They might not have agreed on everything, but they could all appreciate a strong woman who wasn’t afraid to stand her ground, just like they did every day on their land.

A few weeks had passed since the farmers’ porch discussion about Kamala Harris. The leaves were starting to turn, signaling the approach of harvest time. On a Saturday afternoon, the farmers decided to head into town for a local fair. It was a chance to enjoy some fresh air, grab a bite to eat, and catch up with neighbors.

As they wandered through the fairgrounds, munching on kettle corn, they spotted a man standing by a booth covered in red hats, flags, and signs. The man, tall and broad-shouldered, wore a shirt emblazoned with a slogan that left no doubt about his political leanings. He was a MAGA supporter through and through, and he wasn’t shy about it.

The farmers didn’t pay him much mind until they overheard him talking loudly to a small crowd. "We don’t need any of that nonsense Kamala Harris is pushing. She’s just trying to ruin this country, letting in all kinds of people who don’t belong here. What we need is to keep America pure."

Hank, Earl, Jim, and Frank stopped in their tracks. The words hung in the air like a foul smell. Hank turned to Earl, his eyes narrowing. "Did you hear that?"

Earl nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. "Yeah, I heard. Ain’t right."

The MAGA supporter continued his rant, growing more animated with each word. He spat out insults, speaking in a way that made the farmers’ blood boil. They had lived through hard times and seen their fair share of struggle, but this kind of talk was something they couldn’t abide.

Jim, usually the quietest, spoke up first. "I’ve heard enough. That man’s not talking about patriotism. He’s talking about hate."

Hank nodded in agreement. "That’s not the America I believe in. We’ve had our differences, sure, but we don’t turn our backs on folks just because they’re different."

Earl added, "Kamala might not be perfect, but at least she’s about bringing people together, not tearing ‘em apart."

The encounter left a bitter taste in their mouths, but it also solidified something in their minds. They had been on the fence about how they would vote, but now they were sure. It wasn’t just about supporting Kamala Harris—it was about standing up against the ugliness they had just witnessed. The farmers walked away from the booth, feeling more united than ever in their decision.

As they left the fair, Frank spoke the words that were on all their minds. "If voting for Kamala Harris means standing against that kind of hate, then that’s exactly what I’m gonna do."

The others nodded in agreement, their resolve stronger than it had been before. The world was changing, and they were ready to stand on the right side of history, no matter what.