Pledger Rand Paul Slam Dunks “Pig Party”

Then, having been awarded his place in Frat House fame, promptly ditches his hillbilly date. He wanders off to go burn a fattie with a really drunk sorority chick and falls into a deep philosophical discussion on the Aqua Buddha.

Libertarians and Tea Partiers all across America, and especially in Paul’s home state of Kentucky, are stunned and confused by his almost instantaneous abandonment of key elements of  his campaign platform. Most notably wherein he promised to end earmark (aka pork-barrel) spending.

But any girl who was ever socially awkward or from an impoverished home or less than magazine cover beautiful knows exactly what happened. Kentucky, it turns out, was the biggest Pig at the Pig Party.

Rand Paul, son of a doctor, never once got his hands dirty with an honest day’s labor. He’s the dreamy football captain with just a bit of a rebel streak. And when he suddenly invited Kentucky to the Frat Party, she couldn’t believe her luck. A handsome, intelligent up and comer like Paul could take her places. Possibly all the way to the altar in Washington D.C. And there he would give her the life she always dreamed of, but knew she could never have because she didn’t have “it”. i.e. classic good looks, money, connections.

Or in this case: jobs, infrastructure, political clout.

But he asked her anyway. He was charming, flirtatious. He asked her about her snow-globe collection. He seemed interested in her ideas and her ideals. So she passed up a Friday night date with “Herman Norman” to go the Frat House Party.

And once she was there, it all became incredibly, horribly clear. He needed her to get his foot in the door. Winning the Pig Party Prize meant he was “in”. No more hazing, no more low status bullshit. He could play with the big boys now.

All those pretty words floating away like the ashes of burning leaves.

Well, now what?

I lived in Eastern Kentucky for a year, teaching at a University there. One of the notable things about this area was it’s rather activist dislike of the government. A historical placard in town related that the local courthouse had been burned down several times over the years by people who didn’t appreciate the idea of government meddling in their affairs.

I’m hoping Kentucky gets pissed off. I’m hoping she doesn’t just fall into a heap of make-up streaked, blubbering butter cream frosting. To be honest, I’d much rather see her kick off her shoes, hike up her skirt and rally her kin folk. Because there is one thing a true Kentuckian understands and that’s a blood feud. Their philosophy always has been: Never let the government dick with you and never, ever forget it when they do.

Mr. Paul might do well to remember that.

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