JOPLIN, Mo. | A lull in the line of customers allows Carolyn Pendergraft to preach a spell from behind the glass-top counter at Dude&#8217;s Donuts.</p><p>&#8220;God allows government to be set up &#8230; to punish the bad people. OK? And if you (voters) let the bad people come in, they&#8217;ll punish the good people.&#8221;</p><p>She smiles, an extraordinarily cheery and, at 73, hard-toiling woman. For half a century in the same squat building on Joplin&#8217;s Main Street, she and husband Durard &#8212; or &#8220;Dude&#8221; &#8212; have served a clientele that doesn&#8217;t mind sprinkles of salvation and civics with their doughnuts.</p><p>&#8220;As the United States becomes more and more turned away from God,&#8221; she continues, &#8220;he&#8217;ll punish this nation. And we will fall and become the slaves of other countries. &#8230; With our indebtedness today to China and other countries, we already are&#8221; enslaved.</p><p>You&#8217;re in southwest Missouri, deeply religious and reliably Republican.</p><p>But if the proprietors and customers of Dude&#8217;s speak to anything, it&#8217;s to a longing for a candidate who stirs true passion.</p><p>Republican John McCain faces a challenge getting these voters out. He&#8217;ll need their passion to counter Missouri&#8217;s energized Democrats in urban areas.</p><p>Any GOP nominee ought to sweep this reddest of regions, but the Pendergrafts would rather it be U.S. Rep. Ron Paul of Texas. The Republican physician stirred up freedom-loving bands of primary voters with his calls to abolish the Federal Reserve and yank troops out of Iraq.</p><p>McCain and his running mate, Sarah Palin, do get their share of praise. At least one customer, a hospital nurse, includes the anti-abortion ticket in her daily prayers (mostly for the benefit of Palin, she says).</p><p>Others link McCain to a Washington that failed to police Wall Street investors and then rammed through a massive rescue. Pining for a positive vision of America&#8217;s future, a la Ronald Reagan, some grow restless of the attacks on Democrat Barack Obama.</p><p>&#8220;In all likelihood I&#8217;ll vote for McCain, as there doesn&#8217;t seem to be much of a third-party option,&#8221; says Daniel McPheeters, 29.</p><p>East of Dude&#8217;s, in a 15-block residential district of small A-frame houses, only two yard signs tout Obama. But the McCain signs are far between, too &#8212; about a half-dozen &#8212; and they&#8217;re outnumbered by the for-sale signs, some planted a year ago.</p><p>&#8220;It&#8217;s scary to hear everyone saying the economy could get much worse,&#8221; says Vicki Milton, 55, who selects a dozen maple long johns at Dude&#8217;s to take to a veterinarian caring for her kitty.</p><p>She&#8217;s a caregiver for the mentally retarded: &#8220;I&#8217;ve a difficult, low-paying job, no health insurance, and all the money right now goes into the bills.&#8221;</p><p>Politically charged fliers compete for space on the doughnut counter. Next to a vintage cash register that crunches out sales &#8212; no credit cards accepted here &#8212; copies of a newspaper article carry the headline &#8220;Wall Street Lines Pockets of Powerful Politicians.&#8221;</p><p>Carolyn Pendergraft chuckles: &#8220;This place is sort of like a library.&#8221;</p><p>Some customers grab a National Rifle Association flier &#8212; &#8220;Barack Obama: Enemy of Your Gun Rights&#8221; &#8212; but most do not.</p><p>They&#8217;ll just take their doughnuts and maybe a seat.</p><p>&#8226;&#8226;&#8226;</p><p>Jim Wells, a retired air-traffic controller, has sipped coffee at the same table for about 30 years.