Buzzfeed reports on Rick Santorum Drinking Beer. In Wisconsin today, he started drinking at 11:30 AM.
I was in Wisconsin last year, and drinking bottled beer was NOT the local blue collar drink of choice. The working stiffs drink from big glasses of missile fuel gauge (see: 7% plus). What Rick has got there is gentry suds!
That’s some choice the Republicans give us this year – an emotional train-wreck that starts drinking at 11AM, a poorly programmed robot that doesn’t drink at all but wears magic underwear, and an egotistical fart that would drive the entire country to drink at 11:00AM. Nice strategy, GOP, why don’t you drag out Phil Crane and run him?
“Santorum in Wisconsin today. Before noon”.
11:30 is Bloody Mary time, you tool!
“Santorum in Iowa before the Iowa caucuses”.
It’s at least 2 hours past wine-thirty!
“Santorum at a brewery in Iowa, pre-caucus”.
To be fair, he’s just emptying the bottle to make room for the fetus.
“Santorum on St. Patrick’s Day”.
You just know that he’s the asshole who shows up to a kegger with his red plastic cup and no money.
“Santorum in Wisconsin on Sunday.” (i.e., the sabbath).
“Santorum watching Louisiana election returns last weekend”.
“Santorum sampling the local beer at the Millstream Brewing Company in Iowa”.
He can’t even use the excuse that it’s 5 o’clock somewhere, because the earth is flat and the daylight savings is gumm’int overreach. But to his credit, If I were Rick Santorum, I doubt I could get through a single day without 60 pounds of meth and a 90 count bottle of Vicoprofen.
A college buddy spills the beans about the frat-boy asshole’s college days via HuffingtonPost
Everybody called him “Rooster.” And Rooster liked to chug. Christine Grasso remembered how Santorum taught her the not-so-subtle nuances of chugging during her freshman year, when she was a “Little Sister” at the fraternity house. “Honest to God, he taught me how to chug a beer,” Grasso said. “Back then, you used to chug beer and, you know, challenge each other … He was amazing. He could chug a beer in like one gulp.” Rooster could beat everyone at beer-chugging, Grasso said. She explained the Rooster technique: “You just open your throat.”
Yeah, then he found Jesus and started judging everyone else. I know the drill, I’ve known a few born again Christians in my time – parents of a guy I knew found Christ because they couldn’t deal with messy personal lives. They passed the Evangelical seed to their spawn who – like fundamentalists the world over – ended up shifty, uneducated and with a crystal meth straw firmly planted in each nostril (or so it was reported to me). I say whatever floats your boat, but they were the most judgmental assholes I’ve ever met. Thou Shalt Have Your Fun Then Find Jesus and Start Judging Everyone Else.
I hope for the sake of his 14 batshit crazy, home schooled children, that Rick is eventually able to kick his filthy habit. The only cool Republican ever, Mrs. Betty Ford, has a nice place out here in the vast, broke desert full of winos called California. But get out your checkbook, because they don’t take insurance. My insurance anyway, your classy government, taxpayer funded insurance is probably accepted as if it were an American Express black card at Barney’s.
The First Step, Rick, is to admit you are powerless over constantly chugging delicious premium beers all day and night. Then find a higher power to believe in.