Max Santorum was well known in these parts…..these parts being Northern Pennsylvania timber country where men were men and everyone knew his place. Santorum was a lumberjack who was so big he reminded everyone of old Paul Bunyan himself. He had a reputation for being so tough that if he wanted something, like a woman, he’d just take it.
But there was one thing Max couldn’t have….and that was a son to carry on his legacy. Everyone in these parts knew how much Max wanted a son. That’s all he ever talked about. Word had it that Max had had every floosie, tramp, and hooker within 100 square miles…but none of them could give Max what he wanted most: a son.
That is, until one day Max was in town picking up supplies from the local sundry store. Behind the counter was check-out girl Hortense Mueller. Hortense was a homely, bespectacled girl well known in town as the old maid. But Max Santorum was taken with her and was determined to make Hortense Mueller his latest conquest. Hortense, of course, was taken with anyone who showed the slightest interest in her and within a few months the two were married. A few months after that, Hortense was with child.
“Well Max, looks like you’re finally gonna get that boy you want!” exclaimed an excited Doc Adams, the town obstetrician.
“Is he strapping like me doc?” asked Max
“Can’t rightly tell yet Max….it’s too early. But this here sonogram shows me at the very least he has a dick….so that’s a good sign.”
“Yep…that IS a good sign doc.”
Come fall, young Santorum was born. But there was bad news.
“Max, I’m afraid that son you wanted is not strapping at all,” Doc Adams explained. I’m afraid your son is a wimp, Max….an evangelical.”
Max blacked out but when he came to, he saw Hortense holding this pasty, wimp of a child in her arms.
“Max I’ve thought of some names for our son,” said Hortense excitedly. ”I like Gideon, Silas, Jedidiah, Job, or Jubal.”
“Over my dead body!,” screamed Max. ”It’s bad enough to have an evangelical, pussy of a son. I’ll be damned if he’s gonna have a pussy, biblical name to boot!”
“Rick will be his name,” Max proclaimed. ”I’ll toughen this kid up with a tough name. Rick!”
Hortense not wanting to further infuriate her violent, lumberjack husband reluctantly agreed. But secretly she planned to call him “Ricky” whenever possible or whenever Max wasn’t around.
The years passed and little “Ricky” grew…not into the strapping lad that Max wanted but a pasty, white, chubby, four-eyes who wore braces. He liked playing with neighborhood girls and their dolls and Easy-Bake ovens instead of playing kick-the-can and pick-up baseball with neighborhood boys.
What Max dreaded most was coming to pass: Rick was turning into a evangelical just as Doc Adams had said.
One day after kicking back a six pack of PBR, Max couldn’t take it anymore. He threw together whatever shit he could fit on his back and took off for the thick timbers of Northern Pennsylvania seemingly never to return and leaving Hortense to raise this pussy of a son all by herself.
Hortense, took it upon herself to raise her son to his predetermined evangelical destiny. She home-schooled Ricky insuring daily heavy doses of creationism, the 10 Commandments, and the New Testament mixed with a light sprinkling of math and social studies. There was no teachings of science….for obvious reasons.
“Mommie, why did God make the waters rise and wipe out so many innocent people?” little Ricky asked one day.
“Because they WEREN’T innocent Ricky! Those people deserved to die because they were not true believers in the word of God. Just like all people today who don’t believe like you and me deserve to die,” Hortense lectured her son.
“Oh,” acknowledged little Ricky.
As Ricky grew, Hortense determined to keep her pudgy son on the evangelical straight and narrow so she signed him up for the Boy Scouts. She beamed with pride as Ricky stood before his scout leader and recited the oath of allegiance:
On my honor, I will do my best
To do my duty to God and my country
and to obey the Scout Law;
To help other people at all times;
To keep myself physically strong,
mentally awake and morally straight.
While the rest of the heathen new enlistees sneered and mouthed the scout oath, the young pudgy patriot’s eyes watered up and his voice quivered while he recited–particularly when he got to the words “morally straight.”
As it were, scouting turned out to be Ricky’s refuge from the daily beatings he endured from neighborhood toughs. He made merit badges and rank faster than everyone else taking on an authoritative role that scout leaders noticed. He was known, behind his back, as Hitler Jr…..but Ricky didn’t care. He took great pride in being compared with one of his idols. On camping trips Ricky cracked the whip on slackers and miscreant scouts whom he regarded as ungodly. He recommended belt-lines….and even castration for boys who failed to put their hands over their hearts during the pledge of allegiance or slept in late.
Meanwhile, slacker scouts, sick of Ricky’s bullshit, sneaked into his tent one evening with the intent of giving him a wedgie like he’d never had before. Instead they did one better…they gave Ricky a gang corn-holing…not because they were gay but because they were typical sadistic boy scouts who figured a good round of butt-raping even with an asshole like Santorum was better than beating off all the time.
But what they did not count on is that Ricky liked it. Instead of being humiliated he found the experience invigorating. And he wanted more. Ricky stayed with scouting into his early 20′s…. well beyond the normal age limit…just so he could return to scout camp every summer and enjoy another round of butt-raping. After awhile Ricky discovered it was even better to “give” than to receive.
It was during these years that Ricky’s life as an evangelical really began to come together as he realized that sadism, butt-raping, authoritarianism, ass-kicking, hypocrisy, and racism were the cornerstones of his devotion to God.
Soon Ricky would go off to college where he excelled and found sanctuary among other campus God-fearing fascists.
“If God disapproved of me butt-raping younger men he would have spoken to me,” reflected Ricky one evening to his dorm mate.
“It’s God’s will,” echoed his roomy approvingly.
Ricky graduated with honors and soon found himself engaged in his real calling: politics, which he believed could be the best forum to forcibly fuck people in the name of God.
So….Ricky first ran for city council and won on a platform of annihilation of homosexuals. From there, it was on to the state Senate. While campaigning he met a bony, skank of a woman who, like him, was a sanctimonious christian evangelical who believed that everyone who did not think exactly like her should perish in fiery hell. It was love at first sight. They would go on to have four pasty, emotion-challenged, blank-faced children just like themselves: Caleb, Ezekiel, Ezra, and Hosanna.
With his family and his firm foundation of evangelicalism, Ricky seemed set for the future and would go on to win a seat in the U.S. Senate. In his victory speech, Ricky thanked God, God, and more God. He also gave thanks to God. And he thanked the sadistic people in his life who had taught him that forcible screwing and being forcibly screwed were important parts of being a good christian…perhaps THE most important parts.
After his speech, Ricky was getting some much-needed rest in his hotel room when he heard a knock at his door.
Opening the door, Ricky saw an old man….a giant of a man whom he did not recognize, standing before him. The man reminded him of Paul Bunyan.
“Yes son….I’m Max Santorum.”
“Cast ye away father for thou hast forsaken me.”
“Hear me out son cause there’s things to be said.”
“Say what thou hast come to say and be gone!”
“Son, I always knew I wouldn’t be around for you since you were such an insufferable pussy, non-man as a kid. So, I gave you that name…”Rick” to try and toughen you up. Well I’ve been following your career and I can clearly see it didn’t do a bit of good. You’re still the same fat-ass, pasty, pussy ass evangelical wimp you always were.”
“Well I’m just here to tell you that if you ever want to run for President….you need to drop that y from your name and just become plain old Rick.”
“Oh father…I love you,” cried Rick as the two embraced for the first time in more than 30 years.
“Me too Rick…..now, GO GIT EM SON!….uh, son….is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to hug me?”
…of course, Rick would go on to become President and single-handedly transform America into what it always aspired to be…an evangelical mecca of hate, intolerance, hypocritical homophobia, and sadism that would be known the world over…..