We can hammer away day and night at the Republican Party, but let’s be honest. Nobody can do as much damage as its own members. Like demented earthworms writhing in a Mid western manure pile, they seem obsessed with screwing themselves as often and as brainlessly as possible. For that reason, this month’s Asshole is also a bonafide hero!
Just when the GOP’s rebranding fantasies were starting to firm up like an impending dump moving into the bowel region, Representative Steve King from Iowa let this one rip: “For every [undocumented immigrant] who’s a valedictorian, there’s another 100 out there that weigh 130 pounds, and they’ve got calves the size of cantaloupes because they’re haul ing 75 pounds of marijuana across the desert.”
Bravo, Steve-O. That’s serious Jackass shit! King’s crapola came during a discussion about DREAMers— immigrants brought to the U.S. as children who hope to gain citizenship through the proposed DREAM Act.
By his own account, King never says anything off the cuff. Like some sort of xenophobic Vulcan, he believes everything he says is logical, carefully considered and void of emotional contamination. As his devoted brother and chess opponent Jon has said about his sociopathic sibling, “There is no emotion in chess. If you start getting upset, you lose control.”
King himself has said he has a thing for “exact science” like math, with its “finite answers” free of “judgment calls.”
Logically, then, King’s now-famous “cantaloupe calves” comment was no slipup. Each of his quips outshines the last and is scientifically calculated to pluck at the cold heartstrings of his support base. He may not speak from actual emotion, preferring to rely on rockhard facts about cantaloupe calves, but King knows full well he is speaking directly to the roiled emotions of Tea Party voters. People who are unable to carry conflicting or even multiple thoughts in their brains at one time take to broad generalizations like fruit flies to a moldy muskmelon.
Take for instance another of Steve-O’s greatest shits, when he compared selecting visa recipients to choosing a mutt to retrieve dead birds. “You get the pick of the litter, and you got yourself a good bird dog,” he said at an Iowa town-hall event in 2012. No whiff of judgment there.
The congressman must have been thinking about how he settled on his wife, Marilyn. He probably rolled back her lips to check her teeth and ran the bitch around the back forty a few times to make sure she was good breeding stock. Judging by the fact the sons she squeezed out for him are lame lapdogs for Daddy who can’t seem to form their own views of the world, she’s a genetic failure. Ain’t so easy to get the “pick of the litter” after all, is it, Steve?
King grew up in a little buttfuck town in Iowa called Goodell, which still has a population under 150 and a Caucasian demographic of 95%. He likes to talk about his idyllic, “Norman Rockwellian” boyhood, when things were “as perfect as they are ever going to be,” and everything was “under control.” It was a whitewashed world of baseball, church and mom’s pot roast with gravy. There were no gays, no slackers and no cantaloupe-calved drug mules.
It’s always been a right-winger’s dream to turn the whole country into a self-governing, “under control” Mayberry where everyone is the same, and surprises are evil. As King spins it in his phony Vulcan-speak, “The argument that diversity is our strength has really never been backed up by logic.” Oh no, of course not. Our strength obviously lies in a depleted, non diverse gene pool of incestuous, small-town cretins! Fess up, Steve. The dream of a racially pure America is as empty as Strom Thurmond’s KKK sheet, and you know it.
Birddog-gate wasn’t the first time King fascistically likened immigrants to animals and probably won’t be the last, but there’s an even more sinister side to his choice of metaphors: The suffering of animals— whether the furry or border crossing kind—seems to get his rocks off.
Before his cantaloupe fetish kicked in, he enraged people who actually give a shit about our four-legged friends when he tried to block legislation against dogfighting. That’s right, dogfighting. And it wasn’t the first time! Check his voting record: No one has worked as tirelessly as King to make sure animals keep dying in horrific ways. Getting your kicks from that, by the way, is a well known trait of the basic psychopath.
It’s hard to keep up with King’s rapid-fire attempt to chop his own party off at the knees. He was the first doofus to defend Todd Akin’s senile delusions about “legitimate rape,” actually claiming he never heard of anyone getting pregnant from incest or statutory rape. (Maybe in Goodell, that’s just called love.) His antiabortion and anti-gay rants are so mind numbingly GOP-typical, his dead “hero” Joe McCarthy must be using Steve as a sock puppet. And he hates Obamacare so much, he skipped his own son’s wedding to lodge a knowingly futile vote against it.
Why stop now, Congressman King? We urge you to take inspiration from your love of dog fighting and finally introduce your DREAMer Deathmatch Bill. Can you imagine the kind of hootin’ fun we’re in for when those dope-totin’ cantaloupe calves take each other on? Yeehah! Embrace your true talent and show the country what going fullJackass really looks like. And whatever you do, Steve-O, keep talking. Proclaim your “facts” loud and proud, make sure there’s always a live microphone nearby and don’t listen to those illogical, know nothing strategists who tell you Iowa is a swing state, and your district is still winnable for the Democrats with a dumbass like you using your mouth as a rectum. You’re the logical one. They don’t know what they’re talking about.