Gingrich and Santorum: We’re Not Racists—We Just Play Them in Public!

by on March 7th, 2015
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Falling behind and feverishly working on several articles I must have forgotten that my phone was on silent. I saw the Tweet on my screen and realized from the time that it had been there for quite a while.

Deviluknow666 tweeted: It is hard to help promote #LHwrites writing when he isn’t publishing or answering! Deviluknow666 is Satan’s Twitter alter ego and LHwrites is mine. I cleared the screen and saw I missed about 10 calls. Most of them were from Hell so despite the expense I had to call back.

“Oh look who decided to pick up his phone.” Satan remarked.

“No offense, but bitchy is not attractive on the devil.” Satan laughed when I said that.

“I know. Just kidding.” Satan replied. “If I was truly annoyed I could have made your phone ring, or booted up your computer screen and made it show something really scary. I was letting you get some work done but now I’m bored!” For some reason petulant child did not seem particularly incongruent for Satan.

“Would you like to try somewhere different for a change?” I asked. I was certainly in the mood for scotch and cigars but I would not mind a change of scenery.

“No.”

“All right then. I am on my way.” It was about 35 minutes later that I was seated next to Satan at our favorite Manhattan bar/restaurant and one of the few good places you could still smoke a cigar in public. Placed before me was a glass of Balvenie DoubleWood with one ice cube and in my hand was a freshly clipped Hoyo de Monterrey Excalibur No. 1 maduro.

“Here’s a riddle, what do the NAACP and Gingrich’s first two wives have in common?”

“What?” I asked.

“Their intense dislike of Newt.”

“I guess you are referring to his comments the other day in Plymouth, N.H? ‘And so I’m prepared if the NAACP invites me, I’ll go to their convention and talk about why the African American community should demand paychecks and not be satisfied with food stamps.’ Not only did Gingrich single out blacks but he sort of implied that they are satisfied with food stamps.”

“He didn’t imply it. He said it! Satan laughed. “I hope Gingrich doesn’t mind some company in the doghouse though.”

“I assume you mean Santorum’s comments made on a campaign stop in Iowa in early January? ‘I don’t want to make black people’s lives better by giving them somebody else’s money; I want to give them the opportunity to go out and earn the money.’ Where he not only singles out black people regarding public assistance, but sort of, kind of, implies they are all getting it?”

“If by imply you mean again that he said it, then yes.”

“It does show a certain mindset.” I observed. “Whenever they show that black guy, you know the one they always zoom in on at the Republican National Convention to illustrate their diversity, he always looks so happy. He must be about 160 years old because I understand he is a Lincoln Republican. Anyway, even he can’t be putting on a happy face about where a large slice of the main candidates of the Republican Party are hanging their hats these days?”

“Well, it’s not like they are hanging them on burning crosses or anything.” Satan smiled. “Not literally, certainly. They are just resting them at a certain end of the bus—and everyone else can step to the rear!”

“This is just the most recent and blatant evidence of their disconnect from huge swathes of this great nation.”

“That sounds so much nicer than using the word ‘prejudice’. You are so politically correct I think I might taste my scotch a second time!” Satan said making a gagging gesture with a finger to his open mouth.

“Well,” I began, “soon we need to take a more in depth look at the rest of the candidates and see what else turns up.”

“Weren’t you supposed to have finished that article already?” Satan questioned.

“Things keep coming up! Who would have thought Gingrich and Santorum would finish well in Iowa, Santorum very well in fact, yet keep talking? You would think they would stop for a while, if for no other reason than to get the taste of their shoes out of their mouths!”

“If they stopped talking what would we be doing now?” Satan asked.

“We’d be talking about the other topics for articles I am working on; like flip-flopping. There will be some surprises in that one.”

“Do tell.” Satan said as he took a sip of scotch and leaned back to take a puff of his cigar. “Do tell.”


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