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    Rick Santorum and the Evil Invention

    Thanking God—the one, true Catholic God—for another glorious morning, Rick drove up to the gleaming Santorum Headquarters. Despite his devoted staff, the operation had barely turned a profit in recent years, especially after the profound misunderstanding over his house in Penn Hills. But private consulting had been lucrative and the boyishly handsome conservative icon remained confident that recent efforts to expand his base would bear fruit.

    The guard recognized him, smiled brightly and opened the electrified gate. "Early again, Senator?" he asked. Though he had lost his seat on a technicality, Rick would always be a Senator to the faithful. He smiled and drove through, thinking, "Either that's a heck of a tan, or he's really bla ..." but was interrupted by the ring of his cruciform cell phone, "Do-mi-ne! Do-mi-ne!"

    "Senator? I'm sorry to bother you, but I can't figure something out."

    "What is it honey?" he cheerfully replied to his faithful wife.

    "I'm trying to play this new mp3 player you left me, but I can't find where the headphone jack fits in."

    "I didn't leave you a new player."

    "Well, Senator, silly me. It sure looks like one. It's round with lots of colored buttons."

    With a sick feeling, Rick deftly pulled into his parking space. "How many buttons? Count the buttons!"

    "OK, hang on .... twenty-six, twenty-seven, yes, twenty-eight buttons. Why?"

    "Are any missing?"

    "Missing? No."

    "Where are the girls?" The Santorums had a large family, as God intended, and several God-fearing daughters. But Rick knew that 98% of Catholics were regularly abusing God's plan with a truly evil invention—and he didn't want his girls at risk. "Get them out of there. I'll have Opus Dei sweep the house." Reaching the front door, Rick ran into the lobby and ordered the desk officer to get the Prelate on the encrypted line.

    "Again?" moaned his wife, "Last week all they found were some MegaDeth CDs, and they whipped all of us anyway. I don't mind so much, but I think the boys are starting to enjoy it."

    "Well, OK, we'll hold off this time. But I think you're holding ... contraceptives!"

    "Really? I've never seen them so close. How do they work?"

    "Foolish woman! Hurl them away! Don't even give Satan half a chance!" Rick knew this called for more than mortification of the flesh. He dialed the Red, White and Blue Fund. "This is Saint Rickum," he said, disguising his voice as well. "We have a contra indication ... at the house ... and she's confused ... you know what to do." Hanging up quickly, he caught his breath. "If this story ever gets out," he thought, "I'll have to get a real job."

    Comments

    According to Saint Rickum's church (sure it isn't St. Rectum?) that if a man spills his seed for any reason other than to procreate, then he is guilty of not only violating a holy tenet by utilizing a form of contraception, but also abortion since his seed is 'a living organism that is given man only to create a human's birth'.  Now, this also means that males who use Viagra and other like performance enhancements for anything but the ability to create life is also a mega sinner.  Hmmm.

    Geez, so many quips and puns are just whirling around, but I'll restrain myself.  Gosh, I may have to open chat room 'cuz really have some good ones.

    sigh.


    ricky saintorum!

    that's all I got. hahahahah


    I would have bet big bucks you would choose Saint Rectum as his nom de plume.


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