Every body in the country is just barely getting by, while the fat cat Republicans eat like Abbots and my God how the money rolls in at (insert your favorite filthy rich industry here), and poor us, the world doesn’t like us, were such meanies, but just you wait till we get in there next January. When the sun will come up every morning again, and the birds will sing and the grass will be green, and your father will never come home drunk again! Yaaaay!