Some years ago a friend of mine named Roy told me this one about people named Roy. I added the rest.
There are two kinds of Roys. The first one is an overweight used car salesman wearing loud polyester pants, faux cowboy boots, a huge Texas-sized belt buckle, and a likewise oversized cowboy hat. He is chomping a fat cigar while standing in the car lot in front of the “daily special.”
The second Roy is a skinny rube from the sticks, with a protruding Adam's apple and buck teeth. He wears a frayed cap with a tractor company logo, a faded plaid shirt, wrinkled jeans, and unpolished shoes. He is the guy who buys the daily special.
Likewise, there are two types of Republicans. The first are the slick fat cat corporate executives – the mega‑church ministers and their buddies in crime, the televangelists. They wear expensive suits and flash their gaudy jewelry and thump their checkbooks and Bibles. They promote patriotism, family values, and unbridled capitalism.
The second type are the equally fat, though poorly dressed, hicks-from-the-sticks who vote for the political and religious fat cats.