Sex
Tips From Rick Santorum
In which the noxiously homophobic Republican senator
answers your naughty e-mail
San
Francisco Chronicle, April 25, 2003
901 Mission St., San Francisco, CA 94103
Fax: 415-896-1107
Email: letters@sfchronicle.com
By Mark Morford, SF Gate Columnist
The e-mail box of Sen. Rick Santorum, R-Pa., has been
positively overflowing following his gleefully homophobic and moronic comments
about, in part, gays and the gay lifestyle, wherein he stated that
homosexuality is not only a dire threat to the sanctity of the American family
but also the immoral equivalent of incest, pedophilia, adultery, undercooked
shellfish, bestiality, acne, smelly socks, bounced checks, and fornicating
loudly with large beanbag chairs from Ikea.
Clearly an expert on the subject of love and human
sexuality, we considered asking the toxically small-minded senator, who
happens to be the Senate’s third-ranked Republican, to respond to some
particularly lascivious reader queries.
Anticipating his refusal, and using the original AP
interview as a guide, we have recreated what the senator might say were he, as
we imagine he regularly is, heavily sedated on Xanax and Nyquil and cheap-ass
Cabana Boy rum ...
Dear Sen. Santorum, R-Pa.:
My boyfriend really wants me to talk dirty to him during sex, but I feel so
embarrassed. I want to please him, but I’ve always been such a good girl!
What can I do?
—Potty-Mouth Wannabe, San Diego
Dear PMW:
By all means, talk that dirty talk. I personally find discussions of
Pennsylvania soil conditions and waste management during my monthly 2.7
minutes of frenetic jackrabbit procreative gyrations to be strangely
invigorating and sort of numbly stimulating, especially if I include an
explicit fantasy featuring me in a latex bodysuit spanking the bejeezus out of
those darn gay environmentalists, them with their greasy dreadlocks. Eww!
Dear Sen. Santorum, R-Pa.:
I’m a proud straight football-loving beer-drinkin’ male who loves his SUVs
big and his baseball hats backward. Lately I’ve found that I really enjoy
anal stimulation during sex with my girlfriend. Increasingly, my fantasies
involve this totally mega-bitchin’ hot act. Does this mean I’m gay?
—Homo in my Michelob, Florida
Dear Homo:
Yes, it most certainly does. And while I have nothing against you as a person
per se, I must say I do very much loathe and despise and consider a desperate
threat to the very fabric of humanity as a whole those disgusting unspeakable
things you are doing. You are a vile unhealthy abominable AIDS-latent
family-destroying sinner, and I’m deeply terrified of everything you do and
stand for and insert into your perverted little body.
But, that said, I fully accept you. Go, Jets!
Dear Sen. Santorum, R-Pa.:
My girlfriend really loves her Hitachi Magic Wand vibrator and uses it almost
every day, along with a variety of other sleek insertable toys. We still have
lots of good sex, but I’m a little intimidated. Is her love for these
gadgets a threat to my manhood? Am I not enough for her?
—A Manly Vibe, Oklahoma City
Dear Manly:
I’m afraid I have no clue as to what the heck you are talking about.
Hitachi? Like the TV sets? What you describe certainly sounds debauched and
illegal and quite possibly homosexual and a true abomination against God. And,
like I always say, if it sounds icky and wrong, it probably is.
Then again, if you are speaking of fine foreign-made
appliances, I am terribly fond of my spinning shoe buffer machine from Sharper
Image, which I like to sit on sideways and crank to full volume and moan
softly. As for gadgets, I simply love to send flirty little text messages to
myself on my PalmPilot and then giggle like a schoolgirl when I receive them
later during my daily leeching.
Dear Sen. Santorum, R-Pa.:
Ever since enduring Dubya’s insipid little war and bearing witness to the
international humiliation and resentment America now faces, I’ve been unable
to achieve orgasm. Right as I’m about to climax, up pops Rummy’s ink-black
eyes or Ari Fleischer’s puling sneer or Dubya’s dumb-as-nails smirk and,
poof, the moment is ruined. Should I turn off Fox News? Watch more porn? Join
the military? See a priest? Help!
—Gasping in Virginia
Dear Gasping:
Let me just state here and now that the entire concept of orgasm makes me more
than a little uneasy. The most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt was when I
ran over that peace activist in my Escalade just after sniffing some ether.
The truck lurched, hot cocoa spilled all over my lap and
I positively swooned and could’ve sworn I saw Jesus. Now, that’s
climaxing. Everyone should feel that once in their lives. Well, that and John
Ashcroft’s inner thighs. They’re amazing. You know those lime Jell-O mold
desserts with the little hunks of pineapple in them? They feel just like that.
Yowza!
Dear Sen. Santorum, R-Pa.:
Lately, my husband has taken to wearing my skimpy thong underwear and a lace
bra on the weekends and prancing around the house and singing show tunes from
“Cabaret.” He’s 6’5”, 240 pounds. Normally, this doesn’t bother me
much, but lately he’s taken to smearing my good L’Oreal makeup all over
his face, pretending to be Liza Minnelli. It’s ruining the upholstery, and
it’s disturbing the kids. My question is, do you have any tips on how to get
lipstick off a Barcalounger?
—Stained in Texas
Dear Stained:
Let me put it this way: I’m not saying homos are bad per se. I’m just
saying they scare the hell out of me, OK? I don’t understand it, I don’t
like it, I repress everything even remotely sexual or kinky deep, deep down
into a volatile little putrefied knot in the base of my gut, slap on a big
plastic grin as my left eye twitches uncontrollably, and get back to work.
Tick tick tick, am I right?
Sadly enough, the state doesn’t have the right to limit
individuals’ wants and passions such as your husband’s perverted underwear
thing. I disagree with that. I think we absolutely have the right to, because
there are consequences to letting people live out whatever wants or passions
they desire. You know, just like the Nazis.
Dear Sen. Santorum, R-Pa.:
After a tough day on the Senate floor, I very much enjoy slamming back an
entire rack of Coors Light, firing up Celine Dion on the boom box, lathering
myself in Redi-Whip, Crisco and 10W-30 motor oil and riding around my office
on a big pogo stick I’ve nicknamed “Ass-croft” while flagellating myself
with a large leather whip and making funny choo-choo-train noises. Does this
mean I’m gay?
—I Feel Free, Washington, D.C.
Dear Free:
I see you mock Senator Santorum, R-Pa. I see you perhaps have seen a copy of
the secret videotapes of Senator Santorum, R-Pa., engaging in certain drunken
lathery choo-choo activities in his office during Senate recess that he would
very much like to keep private.
Perhaps you would like to send Sen. Santorum your
personal e-mail address so the good senator may contact you with offers of
potential cash money to perhaps pipe down? Is this what you are saying?
Because the senator is prepared to do just that.
Or perhaps you would like the senator’s private home
address so you may come over and show Daddy what you’re really made of, is
that it? Does someone need a big bad spanking from big daddy senator? Yes?
Bad, bad boy! Who’s your big bad homophobic governmental daddy? Senator
Santorum, that’s who! Call me.
Dear Sen. Santorum, R-Pa.:
I’m a little worried about my dog, Binkers. He’s acting all crazy.
Runs around the house all day humping the furniture and whimpering like mad.
If I turn on Fox News, he starts salivating and howling and going into spasms.
They had Lynne Cheney on “The O’Reilly Factor” once, and he almost
exploded. My question is, can excessive masturbation really make you go blind?
—Doggie Style, Idaho
Dear Doggie:
Let me be perfectly clear. Anything you claim you see in those videos will
never stand up in court, do you understand? Especially the scenes where I’m
clearly wearing the Mao mask and jumping on the couch naked, waving around a
string of kielbasa sausages and singing “My Heart Will Go On.” Except for
the tattoos and the genital piercing, you can’t even tell it’s me,
especially through the haze of opium smoke, OK? So don’t even try.
Whoops gotta run. They’re voting on sodomy law back on
the floor. Makes me all tingly just thinking about it. Bye now.
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