Pathetic Politicians

Rick Santorum, I Hate Your Face

April 02, 2012

Multiple Pages
Rick Santorum, I Hate Your Face

Rick Santorum has been the Republican primary season’s Surprise Moral Warrior. He has already won eleven states, and depending on how he performs in Wisconsin tomorrow, he may continue to battle the icy Mormon cyborg Mitt Romney for the nomination.

Based merely on those who hate Santorum, I suppose I should love him.

After all, he has a rare talent for ruffling progressives’ preening peacock plumage, and that’s usually a good sign. To hear his haters tell the story, he is THE HEART OF EVIL and a DISGRACE TO THE HUMAN RACE who wants to pillage, rape, and divest all of America’s gay anal wombs of their Goddess-given recto-spiritual progeny—or something like that. They say he is a grotesquely bigoted bully whose heartless heart pumps solely on unrefined nitro-powered hatred, a sadistic closet case who is waging a violent Hate Jihad against women, homos, atheists, and every other untouchable pink lamb of modern sensitivities. As is the ironclad rule these days, the Anti-Hate Crusaders employ rhetoric and tactics that ooze far more palpable hatred than the “hate” they’re supposedly fighting, as evidenced in how they deliberately smeared his name with frothy brown anal lube in devising his “Google problem.” Because they took umbrage at the fact he supposedly said SHAME SHAME SHAME at them, they scream SHAME SHAME SHAME back at him, only ten times more loudly. They appear blind to the fact that the problem is hive-brain lynch-mob shaming itself, not which side’s doing it. Shame on all of you!

Last week he was targeted by the Racism Industrial Complex for allegedly calling Obama a “nig-” before correcting himself. I’m not convinced he said “nig-” on that video, but in the past he’s lied about calling people “black,” so it’s possible. Either way, I rate lying as far worse than using forbidden words, but I’m abnormal.

“I can’t muster one positive micron of feeling toward the man.”

But despite the fact that I hate his antagonists’ shriekingly misguided moralism, I can’t muster one positive micron of feeling toward the man. For starters, I have problems with his face. And his personality. And his politics. And his priggishness. And his authoritarian impulses. In politics as in life, the enemy of my enemy is not always my friend. In many cases, it’s merely some other jerkoff I dislike for entirely different reasons.

First there’s his face. Sure, it’s unfair to blame him for that incongruous nose jutting out of his lumpy head as if someone jammed a cheese wedge into a potato, so I will not hold him accountable for what is either an act of God or an accident of nature. But he is entirely to blame for that dorky, smug, imperious smirk that his attitude seems to have forever welded onto his visage. His is the mug of a priggish hall monitor who’s forever smelling something unpleasant.

But it’s so much more than his face. At a regrettably low, sad, destitute, and lonely point in my life a few months back, I found myself watching a couple of the Republican primary debates, and his personality rubbed me the wrong way like a Brillo Pad scraping against herpes sores. Both Santorum and I were raised as Pennsylvania papists, and he conjures distant memories of some generically uptight, passive-aggressive, repressed schmoe I would have hated during my dozen years of Catholic school. The fact that he’s Italian doesn’t help, either.

And then there are Mr. Sanitarium’s Santorture’s Santumor’s Scroturum’s Santorum’s politics, at least what I can discern of them amid all the hyper-moralistic soapboxing. He is allegedly opposed to eugenics, says there’s no constitutional right to privacy, has vowed to wage a “war on porn,” and recently said the economy is not the main issue in the upcoming election.

Not scoring any points with me so far.

He is unflinchingly pro-life, whereas I’m only in favor of saving the lives of people whom I like. And the story of him and his wife cuddling his infant son’s corpse will remain creepy throughout ten thousand eternities.

He seems to wish that gays would cease to exist, whereas I only wish they’d shut the hell up and quit acting so gay about everything. Even so, the fact that he discouraged a young male from using a pink bowling ball is all kinds of gay.

He appears to think Iran poses a much larger threat to Israel and America’s existence than they do to Iran, which doesn’t make any sense in any universe bound by things such as logic and facts.

His fulminations against Islamic theocracies ring especially hollow from an American theocrat who also staunchly defends the Israeli theocracy. Since I’m an agnostic who’s highly wary of anyone who claims divine authority to intervene in my life, it freaks me the frick out that he claims to be fighting against Satan and apparently believes that God asked him to run for president.

Worst of all is his chronic moralistic flatulence that mirrors the tiresome prig-progs who are constantly engaging him in pietistic one-upmanship. From my experience, the most truly ethical people never blab too loudly about morality, and I’ve come to view theatrically self-righteous public displays as nothing more than crass social status-jockeying.

Rick Santorum is probably the loudest “social conservative” currently in American politics, and many of his loudest opponents are self-defined socialists. I’m suspicious of anything with the word “social” in the title. That’s because I’m antisocial. For me, politics isn’t so much about what sort of society I want to live in as much as what sort of people I want to avoid. I consider myself a misanthropic individualist, but lately many collectivists have taken to depicting anyone who resists the blind herd’s undertow as a “sociopath,” so it’s fine to call me that if it makes you feel better about your weak-ass conformist sheepishness.

It is precisely this moralistic mob mindset where both sides—Rick Santorum and those who hate him because they think he hates them—lose me. Both sides are uptight control freaks who value “morals” over logic and display meddlesome authoritarian impulses.

For a moment I wondered whether I’d rather eat lunch with a socialist or a social conservative, and I instantly resented myself for daring to suggest such distasteful options. In a perfect world I’d stick both sides with the check, grab some takeout, and run.

 

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