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Some Republicans really can change. I know, because I was one of those Republicans

I’ve always thought of myself as a good person. And for the most part, I suppose, I am. I’ve done some bad things, of course. I’ve been ferociously drunk, loudly munched Corn Nuts during somber moments of silence, sung the unabridged 17-minute version of “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” off-key while baked out of my mind on Super Skunk, cut off my brother’s mullet while he was sleeping, done a classic Danny Thomas spit-take with a chalice of communion wine—and all during my nephew’s wedding ceremony, it turns out.

But while I’m not particularly shy about confessing my sins to anyone other than a priest, this one cuts to the quick: Once upon a midnight dreary, I was a Republican.