Last night, my wife and I were sitting at home and watching reruns of “The Amazing Race” from 20 seasons ago, because sometimes the darkness naught but consumes us all and it’s best to just give in to the madness.
For whatever reason, she brought up the official Marco Rubio website on her phone — I’m assuming she accidentally swiped just below a puppy Vine or an Ironman race report. She said “You have to see this,” and I agreed: given the choice between viewing Marco Rubio’s website and continuing to watch “dating entrepreneurs” gag down giant bowls of spicy Hungarian soup just to stay six seconds ahead of the “dating models,” I chose the darker, more eldritch path.
The site is as sleek as it is insane, kind of like if Prince were raised only to feel bafflement and rage. Join me in this narrative scroll-down, then just go see the damn thing for yourself; if I included pictures, this column would be three sentences long. [Ed note: Maybe you’ve got something there…]
The Email Sign-Up Tab Proves That There Are, in Fact, Stupid Questions
So, the first thing you see on the site, which you get to after clicking through a donation page, is a picture of Rubio looking like a version of Michael Pena that would get beaten up by the actual Michael Pena. I think he’s making a point during a speech, but his index finger looks like its pulling an invisible trigger, which, I mean, I guess that’s just how all of these goofballs walk around now? To the left, there’s a sign-up widget for the Rubio newsletter. It looks pretty standard until you read the question that functions as a header for the tab: “Are You Ready for a New American Century?”
Rubio obviously still thinks this is 1999, and I’m sure that the concept of a Backstreet Boys reunion tour is really confusing the hell out of him right now. We’re 15 years into the “new century;” is Rubio mocking his backers? Does he plan to run for 85 years? What grand plan does he have in store for the year 2100? Unless the man is a warlock and can reset space-time at his whim, then it’s safe to say that “time” is one of many concepts that Rubio doesn’t quite grasp, along with — as you’ll soon see — the nature of life, true religious freedom and whether a cat is, in fact, a donkey.
“Human Life Won’t Become a Donkey or a Cat”
I’m still not even sure I believe this conversation happened, or that Marco Rubio is not a malfunctioning hate-bot. In an interview on CNN the morning of the last GOP debate, Rubio engages in an argument with a reporter about whether Rubio’s assertion that life begins at conception is a product of his faith or hard science. If you’ve ever read a book whose characters didn’t stand up when you opened it, you know that the answer is a maddeningly gray area, made so by factors like the difference between life and the potential for it, when human/animal consciousness begins and women’s rights.
Rubio, however, never made it past the “Superbook” VHS tapes, so he just resorts to saying, over and over again, “Science proves it. Yes it does. Science proves it.” When the reporter tries to make him see that the issue is fairly more complicated than that, the mass of shrieking leeches that make up Rubio’s brain start crawling off in different directions: “Well, what does it become, then? A cat? A donkey?”
I don’t… I don’t think so? Look, it was kind of early in the morning during this interview, and I understand that the stress of a presidential campaign can reduce even the most stalwart human being to a gibbering pile of emotional outbursts. But good lord — whoever decided to make the cat/donkey thing an actual headline on Rubio’s website should be fired immediately, and then hired by The Onion.
Like Most Republicans, He Misunderstands the Function of Planned Parenthood
In the wake of videos released depicting Planned Parenthood employees discussing the donation/sale of fetal limbs and organs, conservative blood vessels burst across the board. The two main things that people are upset about here are 1) the sale or donation of the organs and tissue in the first place, which they’re trying to depict as some horrific “Soylent Green” meets “Repo Men” dystopian scenario, and 2) the relatively callous tone of the employees themselves.
As to the first point, Cecile Richardson, the president of Planned Parenthood, acknowledged it, clarifying that organs and tissue are donated to a few places in which medical research is done, and goes on to say that, “This is actually laudable, that women and their families choose to make fetal tissue donations in order to potentially save the lives of other folks.”
To the second point, Richardson did address that too, saying, “I personally apologize for the staff members’ tone and statements.” Okay, but I’ll take it a step further: work in any industry for long enough, and you can become jaded, even callous to the work. I think people in general try to be decent human beings, but believe me: as someone who has worked in both industries, you don’t want to know what your server/bartender or your college professor has to say about you to his or her colleagues. Most of the time, it’s just talk, a way of coping with stressful, thankless work. The ones who don’t smoke or do illicit drugs have to do even more bitching, too.
Since then, Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal cut funding to two of the state’s PP clinics, even though those two do not offer abortions of any kind. New Hampshire also cut state funding. And Marco Rubio has a lengthy diatribe on his site about how he would defund Planned Parenthood completely and unequivocally.
The insane part of all of this is that abortions account for only 3 percent of Planned Parenthood’s total services. The doctors and nurses working there perform over 800,000 breast exams annually, 1 million screenings for cervical cancer, and a few million more contraceptive services, cancer screenings, pregnancy/prenatal services, and more ever single year. For many women at or below the poverty line — a demographic that Republicans love to talk about helping — this is their only outlet for certain types of healthcare.
Marco Rubio: Time Lord. Cat-Donkey. Jerk.