Say It Ain’t So, Santos!

Now cracks an ignoble heart. Good-night, sweet prince; And flights of congressmen sing thee to thy rest.

With a relieved slam of the gavel, Congress lost its best, most vibrant, most natty and nattering crook.

The American people bitterly cry out: When, oh WHEN, will we see another jumper-stretching shyster roam our Capitol’s hallowed halls?

(The November calendar page only just fell off. There’s still time for Senator Bob Menendez to don an ugly Christmas sweater. Perhaps his Egyptian bey keepers can gift him one.)

The House of Representatives unceremoniously voted to expel Representative George Santos for, among sundry crimes, enriching himself through public office.

No, discerning reader, that’s not a typo. Santos’s now-ex-colleagues turned the people’s house into glass. The only lawmaker innocent enough to not payola-pad his net worth once sworn in now occupies the Speaker’s office. Santos just did it more brazenly than the rest, who hide their lucre with surreptitious stock tips. *Cough.* *Cough.* Nancy Pelosi. *Cough.*

The hemicycle heave comes just after the FEC charged the profligate pol with racking up illegitimate expenses to his campaign account. Spanty Santos allegedly put on his campaign card a variety of hitting-the-hustings essentials: Hermès, Ferragamo, Botox.

What? Why the perplexed look? A man’s supposed to appear as an uncultured swine on the campaign trail now? With sagging dewlaps to boot? I don’t think so. Public-office runs are just as much about appearance as they are policy. The mien means as much as a mean press release. (Someone please inform Gov. DeSantis of the fizzog factor.) Only the most credulous National Review-reading civics nerd believes President Biden paid out of his own pocket for his facelift, crowns, and hair plugs.

Santos also had the misfortune of managing satyriasis while pressing the flesh—erm, a different kind of flesh. The kissing babies and glad-handing and normal political propitiation kind of flesh. But like any lusty millennial, he splurged on OnlyFans. Why should he feel any remorse? Wasn’t sex-starved Santos shopping small by encouraging entrepreneurism? And since when should our political figures be celibate monks? Puhlease. Last I checked, Bill Clinton remains one of the most popular former presidents.

Santos may not be able to keep his various identities straight (Jewish, gay, son of immigrants, banker, college graduate, and, who could forget, creepy crossdressing diva “Kitara”) but he’s hip to Beltway hypocrisy. He knows he’s being sacrificed on the altar of “good government ethics” by a bunch of leaching lechs who’d sell their grandmother down the river out for a K Street chairmanship.

Feeling like a betrayed Elizabethan play protagonist, Santos wasn’t about to bid adieu without his closing night—especially since C-SPAN turned Congress into an apron stage. The people deserved one more show! So our drama (drag) queen put the rep. in rep., refusing to resign, hence forcing his fellow representatives to vote on expulsion. He gave an entire news conference, promising to stay put, and asking the obvious question of why he should be expelled while Jamaal Bowman, who yanked a fire alarm to disrupt a congressional vote, walks scot-free. He also accused a colleague of being a “woman beater.” Jerry Springer is undoubtedly looking up from the great fire pit with admiration.

Even before his final act, Santos monologued dramatically on Twitter Spaces, “outing” his colleagues for binge drinking, carrying on lurid lobbyist affairs, and insider trading—as if anyone who pays the slightest attention to Capitol Hill doesn’t already know Congress is a liquor-soaked brothel.

(Former lawmaker and angry tree-puncher Madison Cawthorn once claimed he was invited to participate in a group boink-a-thon before losing his primary election. One year later, an upmarket prostitution ring was busted in DC. and Mr. Cawthorn still hasn’t been thanked for his service!)

Santos now joins the infamous list of kicked-to-the-curb congressmen. He’s now the sixth member to ever be cast out—making history until the bitter end! With his technicolor jackets, bizarre screaming streaks, larger-than-life persona, and snappy Twitter ripostes, our paunchy Long Island leading man-lady sang his final number: “To hell with this place.”

The lesson of l’affaire Santos: do try to skim off the top in a less obvious way, please.

The next step for the disgraced congressman is simple: launch the George Santos Institute for Responsible Statecraft. That way Il Bacco Ristorante dinners just come out of the ops budget.