Surfing the wave of Santorum from the bottom...

I couldn't resist. As we begin the arduous task ahead on choosing who is going to lose the presidency this year, the reality show called the Republican primary made its "Rock Of No Love" tour stop in Iowa today, in a caucus attended by less people than a normal Bon Jovi concert and just as meaningful. I know we should all hold in great awe the power of a state with less people than Brooklyn and Queens, but after seeing week upon week of media and stumpers falling over themselves to see exactly what combination of rascism, homophobia, and jingoism will win over votes of people who consider Applebee's a "haute cuisine dining experience", I'm pretty much over the whole process.

And face it, the Republican party has become nothing but a bunch of grown-up bullies, bent on judging and persecuting others not like them (or in many cases, like them). It does surprise me at times how the gay-marriage card can be thrown still (though not for much longer). There is not one sane person who doesn't know that the whole issue will be moot in less than 20 years, and even these candidates know it. However, the mental picture of two dudes kissing is a lot easier to grasp than the complexities of the speculative market. If you talk to any person no matter what affiliation or morals, and try to get an answer on how that issue would effect them in the least, and beyond the "it's wrong in the Bible" mantra, there's no substance. The only person I can imagine with a horse in this race is Michele Bachmann, and her ex-gay-maker snakecharmer of a husband who eerily brings to mind the picture of Family Feud's Richard Dawson's fat gay cousin.

Even more odd is Rick Santorum's endless crusade against all the gay. I'm telling you, he must've been cornholed pretty bad as an altar boy to have this must of a hard-on over the impact of affording equality to same-sex partners. The whole "well, then we can have man-on-dog marriage" is either a perverse fantasy of his or a smokescreen, since its completely apples and oranges. I mean, you cannot discriminate on hiring a man or a woman, and his logic would that allow that you can hire a cat? And this isn't even addressing the Leviticus argument which should also close down all the Red Lobsters in Des Moines, causing an uproar seen like no other.

My opinion is going back and forth on whether this clown car of revolving frontrunners is either the press gluttonously chewing through new characters like their version of the Bachelor, or whether all these goons are just fodder to direct fire away from Willard himself, the seemingly anointed one. As in, it's his turn let him have a go to shut him the hell up. I'm torn. Of course, the idea of voting for one of the "voodoo" faiths which Mormonism falls into (sorry, but behind your back, they're all laughing at your special underwear) would not settle in the heart of thse old grannies that no one but the megachurch they give their welfare ahem Social Security to that allows them to sit judgement on others to make them feel a skosh more better. If Newt "drop the cancer-wife for a newer model" Gingrich can attract these people by just prasing Jeebus every 3 sentences, then you know it's all about you, Mitt.

And that's alright. Romney's a greasy moneypasser that earned the only money not passed down from Daddy by laying off people, and spent the most part of his political career heading up a state that won't vote for him because he basically enacted the same middle-of-the-road shit that Obama hasn't even been able to come to (i.e. universal health care, gay marriage). The fact that he's just changing whatever position he has to fit whatever audience he is in front of proves he's even more of a pushover than Obama is (and that's kind of saying a lot).

In the end, Iowa will prove nothing. The 24-hour news monster will demand the slapfight go on for at least a few more weeks, until they'll be tripping over themselves to be the first to anoint the winner. Then the "who will they pick for VP game" will carry them through to the summer, where the "I'm a better 'Murkin than you" soiree will begin.

Meanwhile the economy's going down the toilet faster than a 2am burrito from Taco Bell, and 75% of what we buy is shipped to us care of some overworked 12 year old Chinese girl. Progress.