Eugene Weekly : Savage Love : 11.09.06

Savage Love

by Dan Savage

I live in Colorado Springs, home to the right-wing conservative evangelical movement. As the nation recently learned, the founder of New Life Church, Ted Haggard, was fired after a male prostitute revealed that Haggard bought sex and drugs from him. It's hard not to feel a bit sorry for him, even though I have always hated everything Haggard stood for. How do you view all of this? Does Haggard deserve our sympathy? Or do we point our fingers and laugh?

Confused Coloradoan

We should make a joyful noise, CC, whenever a powerful hypocrite is exposed. God should bless Mike Jones, the male prostitute who exposed Ted Haggard, and you should balance whatever sympathy you feel for Haggard against the misery he inflicted on the countless numbers of gay young people his church has "counseled." If you want to feel bad for someone, feel bad for Haggard's kids, not Haggard himself.

Now, I realize Haggard is ancient fucking history at this point—there was an election last week, huh?—but there's something I just gotta get off my chest: For more than a decade, the religious right has insisted that homosexuality can be cured. Just give your heart to Jesus and—poof!—you're straight! If there is any justice in the world—and there seems to be, judging from last week's election returns—Haggard's downfall should be the death of the "ex-gay" movement. No more ex-gay ad campaigns, no more credulous stories about "successful" ex-gays in daily papers or on cable news.

Arguing with religious people about the futility of giving your heart to Jesus—at least where "cures" for homosexual orientation are concerned—can be maddening. As with evolution, they're not moved by science, data, or irksome facts. Not even the existence of ex-ex-gays gives them pause. Anything is possible through Christ, they blandly insist, and if you're sincere enough in your devotion to Christ, if you invite him into your heart, he will cure you.

Hello, fundies? I know you're reading this, because every week I get e-mails from concerned Christians who just happened to chance upon my column—cough, cough—and write to share the wonderful news: I don't have to be gay! If I give my heart to Jesus—if I have faith—he will cure me!

Well, my fundie friends, did you see that letter of apology Haggard wrote to his congregation? I'd like to wrap it around a brick and shove it up all of your fat asses. But since I can't do that, I'll just quote from it. In his mea gulpa (Haggard gives lousy head, according to Jones), Haggard copped to "sexual immorality" and described himself as "a deceiver and a liar." Those details made it into most of the headlines. These details didn't:

"Describing a lifelong battle against temptations that were contrary to his teachings," says the Denver Post. "[Haggard] had sought assistance 'in a variety of ways,' and while he had stretches of 'freedom,' nothing proved effective. 'There is a part of my life that is so repulsive and dark that I've been warring against it all of my adult life,' Haggard wrote." (Emphasis added.)

If you believe that Jesus Christ can change the sexual orientation of a believer, why on earth did he refuse to cure Haggard? He founded a church that has 14,000 members! Thousands were brought to Christ by Haggard's preaching. Mixed in with Ted's meth-fueled gay sex romps and hypocritical gay bashings were, without a doubt, thousands of good works.

Did Jesus help Haggard out? No. Haggard struggled with temptation all his life. He tried to battle off his "dark" desires, but nothing proved effective. There was no cure for Haggard, no miracle. No matter how long he struggled, no matter how much faith he had, Haggard's sexual orientation remained unchanged. Nothing helped. Not prayer, not Jesus H. Christ on his cross.

Nothing.

If giving his heart to Jesus couldn't cure Haggard, what hope is there for the likes of me? If Jesus can't be bothered to work a miracle for the most powerful evangelical minister in the country, what "hope" is there for the average dyke?

None.

The ex-gay thing is over. It's dead. It was bullshit from the start, and it's bullshit now. And I will personally track down and bitch-slap the next fundie douche who sends me an e-mail explaining how Jesus can cure me. And I will personally track down and shit in the mouth of the next cable-news anchor who entertains—even for an instant—the notion of a miracle cure for homosexuality.

Consider yourself warned, Paula Zahn.

I wanted to congratulate you on playing a big part in Rick Santorum's humiliating defeat. The Santorum euphemism made the man a joke in the eyes of many, many voters. It feels good, doesn't it? But I can't help feeling that it's wrong for me to feel a sense of schadenfreude watching his stuffy kids cry onstage. He makes outrageous, illogical statements regarding homosexuality; and I can laugh at his weeping progeny. That's okay, right?

Finally Finally Finally

I've been deluged with e-mails—thousands of e-mails—thanking me for Rick Santorum's defeat. I did my part, but I can't claim the credit for his defeat. I mean, come on.

But one person did get it right: Four years ago, Savage Love readers—the new definition of "santorum" was a reader's idea—set a single stone in motion. While Santorum would have been defeated even without a filthy, lowercase definition of his last name floating around out there, having a name that can barely be mentioned in polite company anymore didn't help. So effective was our "frothy mix of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex" campaign that the editor of the National Review was fuming about it in a column published on Election Day itself. We helped to make Rick Santorum into a national laughingstock—with an invaluable assist from Rick Santorum, of course.

The political power of satire should never be underestimated. There's a reason monarchs and despots once locked up cartoonists and satirists. Being made ridiculous? That's politically disempowering fairy dust.

However, the real credit and mad props, as the kids once said, go to the people of Pennsylvania. You wiped Santorum from the floor of the U.S. Senate, and a grateful nation salutes you! Bravo! Well done! (Electing him in the first place? Not so well done. But all is forgiven.)

As for Santorum's kids, well, once again we're put in the position of having to feel sorry for the offspring—the oddly attired offspring—of a delusional bigot. But just how bad should we feel? I remember listening to the radio when Santorum said something obnoxious about gay couples: An anti-gay-marriage amendment was a homeland-security measure, Santorum said, which makes gay couples terrorists. My son, who happens to be the same age as Santorum's younger daughter (the one weeping and clutching a doll in that widely circulated photo), was in the room at the time and he got pretty upset. So, yeah, we should all feel bad for Santorum's kids—what kind of parent drags a sobbing child in front of the national media?—but let's also feel bad for all the other kids that Santorum hurt.

So is that all the gloating I intend to do over Rick Santorum? Nope. For a full-throated gloat-a-thon, read on.

A new Savage Love podcast is available for download every Tuesday at www.thestranger.com/savage.If you would like to record a question for a future podcast—can't do 'em without your help!—call 206-201-2720.

You would think I had single-handedly defeated Rick Santorum, judging by the thousands of e-mails I've received since last Tuesday. A sampling…

You toppled a senator, Dan! And while Rick Santorum may be gone, the word for the frothy mixture of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex will live on for all time.

Congratulations for helping orchestrate the crushing defeat of that frothy shitmeister from Pennsylvania, Rick Santorum.

Thanks so much for helping those of us in Pennsylvania who fought long and hard to kick that homophobic theocrat out of the Senate. We may have done the voting, but your helping raise awareness on a national scale certainly played a part in his ousting. You're the best, Dan!

That messy, unsatisfying, nonconsensual ass fuck of a senator is gone! I am sure your inbox will be flooded with congratulations, hopes, dreams, unicorns, and offers for sexual favors because of your huge role in publicizing what a terrorist this guy was, but I couldn't help myself: THANK YOU!

The power of satire should never be underestimated! Thanks for fighting such a good and necessary fight!

As a Philly resident, I just want to thank you from the bottom of my heart, for all of your efforts to get rid of this jerk. I am so happy we are now a Santorum-free state!

Okay, that's enough! My head is so swollen after reading my e-mail this week that my hair is in danger of popping off.

For the record…

While I appreciate the accolades, and while I recognize that most were offered with tongues planted firmly in cheeks, I can't take credit for Rick Santorum's crushing defeat last week. The lion's share of the credit goes to the wise voters of Pennsylvania. (It would be churlish of me to point out that those same wise voters sent Santorum to the Senate in the first place—twice—so I won't point that out.) Pennsylvania voters poured into the polls last week to vote against the frothy mix and by doing so earned themselves the love and gratitude of a grateful nation. As the kids once said, "props."

The second largest share of the credit goes to Bob Casey, who beat Santorum—a sitting U.S. Senator and the number three Republican in the Senate leadership—by a whopping 18 motherfucking percentage points. Well done, Mr. Casey. (And gee, it looks like you could have risked taking my money after all—but political hindsight is 20/20, I realize, and all is now forgiven.) And there were the activists on the ground—Democrats and progressives in Pennsylvania that worked like hell to register new voters and get everyone to the polls. I'm thinking of groups like Philadelphians Against Santorum. You guys rocked the nation last week. As the kids once said, "mad props."

But there's a smidgen of credit I will take: I did help to make Rick Santorum into a national laughingstock—an international laughingstock (the new definition of "santorum" is known all over the world)—with an invaluable assist from Rick Santorum, of course.

There's a reason why monarchs and despots used to lock up political cartoonists and satirists. Being made ridiculous, being turned into the butt of a joke—that's politically disempowering fairy dust. It's hard to rule when you're not taken seriously, and it's hard to be taken seriously after your name has been reduced to a dirty joke. Indeed, the power of satire should never be underestimated.

And can we pause here to marvel at just how far Rick Santorum has fallen? His name—pre-punch line—was seriously tossed around as a 2008 Republican presidential prospect. Post-man-on-dog, post-lowercase "santorum," and pre-defeat, no one was seriously contemplating swearing in President Santorum in January of 2009.

But even the small smidge of credit I'm claiming today needs to be shared. So let's take a moment to thank the Savage Love reader who first suggested having a contest to rename a sex act in honor of Rick Santorum. And let's thank the Savage Love readers who sent in so many great definitions. And finally, a big thanks to all the Savage Love readers who voted on the winning definition: "the frothy mix of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex." And thanks to everyone who made "frothy mix" the number one result when you Google "Santorum."

Like the substance itself, the new definition for "santorum" proved to be sticky. Too dirty to print in "family newspapers," the new definition has nevertheless been alluded to on the pages of mainstream daily newspapers, in classy magazines like the Economist, on cable news programs, and on The Daily Show (twice!), directing hundreds of thousands of people that had never heard of my column to www.spreadingsantorum.com. Barely a week has gone by in the last three years that some mischievous headline writer somewhere hasn't worked "frothy" or "mix" into a header about Rick Santorum. The new definition of santorum proved irresistible because it forever associated Santorum with the sex act that so clearly obsesses him. It made sense, it had an internal logic and smacked of poetic justice. It worked.

But the new definition's real power is revealed in its ability keep the heads of Santorum supporters everywhere spinning so briskly. I haven't updated www.spreadingsantorum.com for more than two years now and yet National Review's Kathryn Jean Lopez was fuming about the new definition of santorum in a column published on Election Day:

If polls are an indication, some angry people will get the chance to celebrate Tuesday night. They may want Dems to win generally, but they'll be watching one Senate seat in particular: They want to watch the defeat of Rick Santorum.

I'm not talking about people who disagree with him on, say, the threat from Iran. I'm not talking about people who disagree with him on privatizing Social Security. I don't mean people who disagree with him on a federal marriage amendment. I mean people who think it's pretty funny that when you Google the senator's name, you get a repulsive lowercase version of his last name, a word invented by sex columnist Dan Savage that refers to anal sex.

Next to President Bush—type in "miserable failure" on Google—Santorum is the politician most successfully victimized by nasty internet political tactics. Reasonable people are doing it. The libertarian magazine Reason has even nodded to the reference in their web log in the last week. Otherwise smart people succumb to the temptation.

Yup, reasonable people are doing it, Kathryn, and they will continue to do it. Because reasonable people know that mocking politically powerful, bigoted, sex-obsessed, deranged national figures is often the only weapon we have at our disposal. (And, yes, I'd say Rick Santorum is way more obsessed with sex than I am.) Mockery is a potent political weapon, one that Republicans are only too happy to use. Remember those Band-Aids with purple hearts on them that the party faithful wore at the GOP convention in 2004 to mock John Kerry?

But, oh man, Republicans sure are pussies. Give them a taste of their own fucking medicine—when are Democrats going to start employing dirty-trick tactics on Election Day to suppress the Republican vote?—and listen to them whine. (How long until we hear the sad cries of the oppressed Republican minority in the House?) It was perfectly okay for Santorum—a politically powerful figure—to say the most vile, offensive, disgusting things about his fellow Americans (he was railing against oral and anal sodomy for anyone, gay or straight, in that infamous man-on-dog interview), but when politically powerless people come together to make Santorum the butt of, yes, a vile, offensive, disgusting, and effective joke, well, that's just rude!

You know what? Fuck that. Fuck Rick Santorum. Fuck you too, Kathryn. We gave Santorum a taste of his own butt-sex-obsessed medicine—if he was going to obsess about our sex lives, we were going to give him a goddamn reason to—and it served him right. He was asking for it. Lowercase santorum couldn't have happened to a not-nicer guy.

Here's another piece of mail that came in today…

I need to revel in Rick Santorum's defeat, Dan. I need to gloat some more! You've gotta post YOUR gloat TODAY!

Well, here it is—a week after you wanted to see it, I realize, but weekly paper deadlines are what they are. (I did post a version of this on the web, however, the day after the election.) I hope you enjoyed it. I have to say, though, that it wasn't as easy to write as I thought it would be.

It would have been a lot easier to be a total dick about Santorum's defeat if he hadn't made such a gracious—and apparently sincere—concession speech. I almost fell off the couch when Santorum asked the crowd to give a round of applause to Bob Casey.

Where was this graciousness and respect for political differences while Rick Santorum was in the U.S. Senate? And where was this graciousness during the actual campaign? Santorum stopped just short of accusing Casey of flying off to Pakistan twice a week to rim Osama bin Laden. If Santorum had spent the last 12 years in the Senate being the person he was for 12 minutes during his concession speech, well, he might not have made so many enemies in Pennsylvania and all over the country.

But to anyone out there who is feeling bad for Santorum, or for his weeping children (what is it about Republicans that always makes you feel so awful for their kids?), I would direct your attention to this video clip: www.youtube.com/v/03zFTTqHScI. In an interview with CNN during the final days of the campaign, Santorum came out against—no shit—the pursuit of happiness.

The man clearly doesn't get—never got, still doesn't get—what this country is all about. America is a better place now that Rick Santorum has been wiped from the U.S. Senate. It's something to celebrate—so why not whip up a little santorum with someone you love?

That's how I celebrated.

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