Why I’ll Miss Rick Perry, The Zoolander Of Politics

Rick Perry has announced his secession.

He will not be running again for Governor of Texas.

This is an event to be placed alongside Michael Jordan leaving the NBA, Boris Becker leaving tennis and Ricky Bobby deciding that the world of NASCAR needed to live without him for a while.

It seems that, for the longest time, Perry has managed to represent Texas so strongly that every man wearing a cowboy hat and riding a horse on TV resembled him.

It was as if John Wayne had mated with Jerry Hall and created the perfect human form of the nation’s most self-confident state.

With his hair so perfect that it would surely have remained unmoved in a hurricane, Perry didn’t need to jut out his jaw. His jaw had already done the jutting for him.

Its sharpness and angle expressed a superiority of design upon which no Scandinavian architect could possibly improve.

To a plastic surgeon, he was, indeed, the most interesting man in the world.

It is said that Perry’s fundamental belief was pro-business. Oddly, though, he never looked like a man who would ever need to get down to business.

Looks and brains.

Looks and brains.

Why get your cuticles dirty, when you can just offer a manly Texan stare and a handshake stronger than a horse’s post-prandial odor?

You meet over lunch with those who matter — those who have money and power. You eat a large steak, you chit-chat about being good ‘ole boys and you ride off in your very large car.

That’s how business gets done in Texas. With a shake, a prattle and a Rolls.

Frankly, what is wrong with that? At least you know who’s the decider and at least you know he won’t be drinking cider.

Rick Perry will never be seen eating alfalfa or smoking pot, either. Such feline pursuits, those.

His detractors will point to his slightly murky run for the Republican nomination, in which he misremembered — or even couldn’t remember — certain pesky details about his own intentions.

What critics failed to understand is that a grasp of detail is the very thing that weighs down a strong decision-maker.

You leave the details to those who are incapable of making decisions, but very good at inserting numbers into spreadsheets.

What was comforting about Perry is that you always knew what he meant to say, even if he didn’t actually say it.

The small-minded laughed when he said of the BP oil spill: “From time to time there are going to be things that occur that are acts of God that cannot be prevented.”

But you knew what he meant: “Why do you low-life non-Texans keep whining about corporations? Corporations make everything. Yeah, they’re kinda like God.”

And when he said: “I am a firm believer in intelligent design as a matter of faith and intellect,” he was being kind.

What he meant was: “I’m not only religious, I’m smarter than you. Do I really have to prove it?”

Rick Perry was the Zoolander of politics. He looked, you listened.

The stupid exigencies of the asinine modern media forced him to speak, occasionally at length.

This was like asking Zoolander to play dodgeball. Wrong movie, people.

Thankfully, this might not be the end of Rick Perry at all. Just last Sunday, he explained to Fox News that another presidential run is “an option out there.”

The tiny-skulled will carp that he already had his chance and blew it like trumpeter with gout.

I, for one, hope that he runs and runs and runs.

Rick Perry is a reminder that there really are people like Rick Perry.

Often, those with his hearty beliefs operate behind the scenes, pulling the strings while they’re untying the strings on their pajamas, after a long night with Mavis and Davis, two former WWE wrestlers who now perform in private.

Rick Perry stands tall and juts out. This is to be admired.

It is certain, of course, that his pro-business policies will end up having attracted many new, vibrant people to live and work in Texas.

Oddly, these people might not all agree with his politics. They might be in favor of such things as abortion and — can you imagine? — gun control.

There might, indeed, be so many of them one day that they won’t elect anyone with the Perry Panache.

Perhaps he hadn’t foreseen that troubling consequence.

That’s the thing with Intelligent Design. In the end, it’s such a mystery.



Image: KEYEWeAreAustin/YouTube Screenshot by Chris Matyszczyk