Back to the Insanitorum

What can be said about Rick Santorum that hasn’t been screamed countless times before? Is there anything to be said about the crying, talking, sleeping, walking, living avatar of the Old Testament that can come close to constructive criticism?

In short I’d like to say no, but I feel it wouldn’t be fair if Ricky escaped my bile and anger without some heavily biased sayonara; I’d be cheating myself out of a final tirade, having spent months flying into arm-flailing rants at the very mention of his (now filthy) name. So here it goes.

When the Republican nominations began I took my usual position of swearing loudly at a picture of each one, isolating each candidate’s most loathsome trait.

Mitt Romney, for example, is the success of a conservative scientist whisking the DNA of Ronald Reagan and Bush Sr. into one body; that is two twinkle-eyed smirking liars for the price of one.

Wild-eyed harridan Michelle Bachman has her “rehabilitation clinics” for homosexuals, and if that isn’t enough reason to pray that her husband is gay I don’t know what is.

Let us not forget Ashton Kutcher pranks Herman Cain and Rick Perry. Cain dropped out because he loved the pussy and Perry vanished because he didn’t collect enough cereal packets or something.

There was also rotund Clinton-era hypocrite Newt Gingrich and accidental racist Ron Paul, both of whom are trailing behind in the race, the Republican equivalents of hot farts on a jog.

But oh, Santorum! I knew there was something special about him. Once I stared into the squinty, sodomy-fearing eyes of that cheap Jerry Seinfeld there was an awakening…one not felt since Kanye didn’t allow Taylor Swift to finish.

For every aggressive cynic, it was a match made in, ahem, Heaven. I say this because there is literally nothing about him that isn’t risible; only in America could one nominee get this far relying on an unhealthy interest in the collusion of men’s genitals.

Santorum is that rare entity that thinks about gay sex more than gay people do. I chuckle at the thought of him letting out a girlish yelp every time a salacious thought involving a dong floats into his head.

His views on homosexuality have shocked so many, that writer Dan Savage redefined ‘Santorum’ as "the frothy mixture of lube and faecal matter that is sometimes the by-product of anal sex."     No other candidate will have such a lasting legacy; then again, no other candidate has a face that so loudly cries out for a mushroom-stamp.

Hilarious homophobia aside, Santorum was also a successful crowd pleaser when it came to the bear-baiting, bravado proposal that is the ATTACK IRAN ticket. Regarding Iran’s establishing of a nuclear program he claimed that the deaths of Iranian scientists were “a wonderful thing”, as I’m sure all sane Christians will agree.

But what endears me to Santorum is not his hatred of all things outside the US (and God’s love) but the bizarre look of confused happiness he wears every time he says something really fucking stupid. My theory is that ignorant statements give him surprise erections.

He doesn’t believe all of those silly things that an old book tells him at all! What he really adores is the warm, morning wood tickle in his trousers. It is a shame that he will never reach the White House because I’m sure the raging hard-on he’d brandish from vaporising the entire Middle East would be visible from space.

I will adorn Rick with one positive: if his infant child gets sick he drops everything to see them, even if it costs him the presidency. In contrast, I fail to visualise Mitt Romney leaving his gold-plated yacht to check if he even has children. This is of course no surprise, as the obscenely wealthy are often removed from reality, a dangerous trait in a potential president. The man is fuelled by avarice, and the Oval Office will only serve as his very own pocket-liner.

So, sweet Rick, this is the end. I lament that we must part ways. I wish you all the luck in the future, and you’ll need it, because with a nickname like ‘Anal Froth’ the future will be strewn with toil. Good luck and God Bless.

Right…where’s Sarah Palin gone?