At this time last year, I was immersed in the daily stress of knowledge that my state was infected with one of the most corrupt and extremist members of the United States Senate in our nation’s history. It was as if I had a throbbing metaphorical ulcer nagging at every thought that I had to process to get through my every-day. Whatever my imagination could muster in the process of improving my family, our lives and our happiness would include the stagnant downer: “Yes, but Rick Santorum is still our Senator.”
The feeling was exactly like the feeling one gets whilst walking with a broken arm or lifting with a broken leg. The tasks of the every day can be completed, yes; but the stress of the broken appendage seems forever present, thus making what should be normal that much more difficult… that much less satisfying.
Last year at this time, I was rising as I do today at about 5:45 AM. As I do today, I would always get up early to complete and review my edits (for work) and ensure myself the capture of the bonus kiss from my wife as she departed for work. The thing about last year was that intermingled with my quest to be ready from the first phone call from some art director out there was my addictive pursuit to serve my broken appendage: the daily embarrassment of the actions of former Senator, Rick Santorum.
Further, this time last year, Santorum likely took comfort in things that made me the least comfortable. He likely had little worries about the upcoming elections (as did the others, and specifically former Senator George Allen.) The Senator from Pennsylvania seemed blissfully unaware that a storm was coming; a storm so powerful that it would cleanse the streets of the likes of him. On a side note, I now find that especially pleasing given the propensity of the former Senator and his ilk to cite Winston Churchill. Meanwhile, I was far less than hopeful that my fellow Pennsylvanians were yet awakened. Thankfully, I was wrong by an 18-point long shot.
As the year progressed, I felt blessed that the former Senator’s large, infinitely foolish mouth was doing more damage to his ‘career’ than I could have ever possibly done. Yet, still, I worked feverishly to do whatever I could possibly do to help him along and off of the proverbial cliff. Honestly, there are few worse feelings than those that affix a dull and constant fear upon a persons every action; however unrelated it may be to the source. If you have a broken arm, you still have to buy groceries and so forth.
It was not until the debates that I took a deep breath of hopeful relief. Being from Philly, I took great solace in knowing that ‘nobody likes a whiney (pardon my French) pussy, especially in a leadership position.’ To my virgining joy, it was beginning to become crystal that the former Senator was his own worst enemy. Sadly, the depth of the all-encompassing importance held within my state’s duty to remove this man from its sight still lingered. The appendage throbbed as it did when it was first affixed.
The remainder of the year until the elections was awash with similar days, similar bursts of Santorum-induced joy, fear, and sadness. My early morning productivity had all but grinded to a staggering halt and was replaced with obsessive ALT-TAB’bing through articles, polls, and all things Santorum. On another side note: My wife is a saint. In fact, she must be the Patron Saint of putting up with obsessive behavior.
It was not until Election Day that I would remove the boil that had afflicted me for so long. I spent my morning in a largely Republican district, answering questions, handing out Democratic ballots, etc. To my blissful surprise, what I was hearing from Republican voters as they passed by was a sure fire sign that the deal was sealed in reference to the now former Senator. It seemed that the voice of the dignified conservative constituent had at last returned to the political sphere. Where had they been for so long? To my tickled ears, they seemed equally-if-not-more fed up with the ‘Santoro-extremist’ scourge that had afflicted their party as the staunchest Democrat I know. I began to feel cleansed as a great boulder cracked and fell away from my shoulder.
That evening and long into the wee hours, had you passed my house, you would have heard random explosions of “Woo-Hoo(s)!” and pots clanging together with other pots. Frankly, it was the best non-wife related night of my life. After what seemed to be endless horrid election cycles, it seemed that cracks were forming in the façade of the Republican scourge. As my nation systematically rejected almost every Congress member that I had obsessively despised, I danced around my home like a sugar-drunken schoolgirl. During which, the icing was placed atop the cake:
Check it out!
And now, today, I sit comfortably in my office, the scar from the excised appendage lingers, but builds my character more than anything else. Former Senator Rick Santorum: with his mighty ignorance and selfishness has at last taken his rightful place atop the mountain of irrelevant dim-wits. Gone from my ears are foolish phrases like “Islamofascism.” Gone are earfuls of asinine lectures about economics, sexuality and motherhood from a man who’s knowledge about such notions likely parity those of a Victorian six year old. Gone is a great pontificate of hypocrisy, whose blatant foolishness once held catastrophic power.
With the exception of today, my 5:45 AM’s are now bastions of productivity mixed with a perpetual smirk that puckers the corners of my once frowned puss. To my infinite joy, I can preface every mention of one of the worst Senators in our nation’s history as “[the] former.” A more priceless gift at this point in my life outside of the riches of my wife’s love is almost inconceivable. My state and my nation have at last begun rid themselves of their blind journey toward the abyss. The removal of former Senator, Rick Santorum (and the others) was a fantastic-if-not-omnipotent starting point to build from. Ten days in, I just thought you should all know that.
“As for the former Senator?” you ask? He has graciously aligned himself with a ‘think tank,’ for which, I thank him as when fools gravitate toward one another, their collective density will surely sink them all very soon. Plus, (snarkily) it seems that he’s Virginia’s problem now.
:::::