Grover Norquist, an anti-tax crusader who is definitely totally also a Muslim, first sanctified the union between Congressional Republicans and himself with the Taxpayer Protection Pledge in 1986. It has been, for the most part, a harmonious relationship grounded by a mutual desire to prevent a few percentage points of income from being funneled to sick babies and handicapped old ladies. Recently, however, it’s taken the usual cruel turn toward John Irving-style white suburban key parties and silent tears.
Remember last year when Mike Simpson (R-Idaho) ripped a little chunk out of Grover’s heart?
“I signed (the pledge) in 1998 when I first ran. I didn’t know I was signing a marriage agreement that would last forever.”
He didn’t know it was supposed to last forever?!?! So, what – people just sign pledges willy nilly these days? What does a pledge even mean anymore!
Then there’s Lindsey Graham. Even Lindsey has doubts, which is unfortunate because his name out of all the pledge’s signatories lends itself best to the failing marriage metaphor.
“I agree with Grover, we shouldn’t raise rates, but I think Grover is wrong when it comes to we can’t cap deductions and buy down debt,”
Other prominent Republicans have denounced the pledge as well, including John McCain, Peter King, John Boehner, Saxby Chambliss and Bob Corker. The same people who gave you their souls by signing Grover’s pledge years ago are now apologizing for him like some regretful housewife who rolls her eyes whenever he speaks at parties.
Not only are they openly dismissing Grover, they’re essentially agreeing to do sexytime with Democrats for a little something-something in return.
“I will violate the pledge, long story short, for the good of the country, only if Democrats will do entitlement reform.”
See, Lindsey even said he’d violate the sacred pledge they made together if there was some Democrat out there who could give him the entitlement reform he craves. We know Norquist would like to chalk it up to impure thoughts, like it’s nothing more than a slightly frayed relationship you can fix by agreeing to a weekly salsa dancing class, but it’s all falling apart, Groves. Next thing you know you’re sailing into the back of some dude’s car with your lights off and then having to take him to the hospital to reattach his penis, because of how it was in your wife’s mouth at the time.
Heartbreak all around.