Seriously, the amount of time that Rick Santorum spends thinking about other people’s lady parts, and what some men may be doing with their pee-pees, is highly disturbing. I mean, if the bus driver spent as much time talking about this stuff as Santorum does, you’d report him to the cops and carry your kids to school ten miles on your back.

Your Democracy, ladies and gentlemen.

Cherish it.

Added Rick Perry Bonus: I was watching the Frontline documentary on the appalling case of Cameron Todd Willingham, whom Perry put to death for murder by arson based on trash science not far removed from bleeding people with leeches. Apparently, toward the end, Willingham believed his wife had sold him out and, while in the death chamber, he told her that he fucking hoped she’d rot in hell, or something to that effect. Confronted with the fact that the best scientific evidence exonerated Willingham of the crime, and that he’d rigged an investigation into the case by firing some people and installing his cronies, Perry says to a gaggle of reporters that Willingham was a “bad man” because, at the end, he directed at his wife “an obscenity-laced triad.”

A triad.

Inches from actual English.

For. The. Win.

(Let us pause briefly here to point out that anyone who takes Ayn Rand seriously at Paul Ryan’s age desperately needs to get out in the fresh air and sunshine more.)