Rick Santorum, giving an odd interview back in October to CaffeinatedThoughts.com
Ahem. An open letter to Rick Santorum:
I can call you Rick, right? You seem to want to get to know me on an awfully personal level. Well, I have something to say about that: Please get the hell out of my vagina. I did not invite you up in there. Nor did I invite you to poke around my uterus and ovaries, or anywhere else in my bathing suit area.
I think it’s important that people “are who they are” too, which is why I don’t care what two (or more) consenting adults want to do to get freaky. I don’t care if you and Karen do it twice a year with the lights out, socks on, and magic sweater vest flung on the floor. I don’t care if you have a secret furry fetish involving My Little Pony and jars of marshmallow fluff.
I. DON’T. CARE. ABOUT. YOUR. SEX. LIFE. Is that clear?
In exchange, it would be super cool if you stopped giving a fuck about mine. It’s getting creepy. You look out from the TV screen like we’re just pals, chatting about “intimacy” and making sure I’m barefoot, pregnant, and making men sandwiches because Jesus said reasons.
Let’s get one thing straight, mmmkay?
Go have some sex for pleasure, Rick. I bet you’ll have fun, Karen will be shocked, and your litter o’ kidlets will wonder if daddy and mommy are demonically possessed because they’ve NEVER heard those kinds of noises.