Rahm Emanuel leaving the White House to run for mayor of Chicago would be like Clooney leaving Hollywood to do community theater in Kentucky. Such an act falls under the category of “Things that Should Never Happen in America.”
I haven’t been a huge follower of Rahm’s career and I realize he’s been far from perfect in his role as Obama’s chief of staff. But I’m not talking politics here. What I regret is the loss of such major studliness on the nation’s cultural landscape.
First off, Rahm ain’t hard on the ol’ peepers with his healthy tan, full head of salt-n-pepper hair and bad boy missing middle finger. In DC, a town filled with gangly, pig-nosed, shellac-haired politicians, the Rahminator is positively smokin’.
But Rahm’s looks aren’t the only thing making him such a hottie. Here’s a guy who has the grace to be invited to join the Joffrey Ballet in his youth, and the cojones to send a rotten fish to some chump who did ‘im wrong while working for Clinton. He unapologetically called progressives who disagreed with Obama’s health care bill “retarded” and after the 2006 midterm elections danced on a table shouting that the Republicans “can go fuck themselves.”
My God, how I heart Rahm Emanuel, the temperamental, knuckle-cracking hothead who shouts at yuppie passersby to get out of his way during Sunday bike rides. The curse word spewing barracuda who makes everyone quake in his boots, including former British PM Tony Blair whom Rahmbo once told, “don’t fuck this up,” before a press conference.
And why do I love such a meanie? Because I’m tired of nice guys. Neutralized, overly diplomatic, edgeless bores who roam through our workplaces, neighborhoods and bars, trying their damndest not to appear politically incorrect or too aggressively masculine. I do appreciate their courtesy. But man, does it make life unsexy.
Rahm flips the bird to manners and decorum. And darn it, I like a man who sticks up for what he believes in and wants, who has no qualms about letting people know when he’s pissed off or bored, who’s brash in conversation and creative in settling scores (a dead fish? Classic.)
Certainly, the Democrats need someone who’s unafraid to open a can of whoopass every once in a while, especially as the Republicans are kicking rear and taking names. And who would you rather date? The guy who says, “I found Eat Pray Love to be a heartwarming depiction of the romantic challenges that visit modern life,” or the hunk who says, “fuck Julia Roberts.”
I like Chicago and the people I’ve met who live there, so I hope they get to have Rahm as their leader. If they do, I’ll live vicariously through them, imagining being in the room when my little Rahmen Noodle calls his opponents douche bags and hangs up on political contributors who don’t give him the money he thinks he deserves.
Actually, if I was in the room, I’d probably just giggle awkwardly. But on the inside, I’d be thinking, “hubba hubba.”