After more than a dozen debates, countless ads and interviews, oodles of fawning endorsements and myriad scathing critiques, I have selected a favorite presidential candidate: Rick Santorum.

A few months ago, I had the following to say about Rick:

…he seems bitter that he’s not getting as much attention as other folks, and nobody likes bitter (my life is a testament to such). He’s about a month away from acting completely resigned to losing, and I think he’ll drop out after Iowa.

Things haven’t played out that way. Thanks to being the flavor of the month for the anti-Romney and anti-Paul crowds at just the right time, Santorum finished a very strong second in Iowa. Some say that his popularity will drop upon further inspection, as did that of Bachmann, Perry, Cain, and Gingrich. But upon taking the closer look at the candidate that his unexpected success demanded, I realized that Rick is more than just the candidate I am compelled to support in this election.

I realized that Rick Santorum is the greatest candidate for President in the whole entire history of this great country. Thus far.

Careful research has revealed that Rick’s father was Italian, and Rick’s mother is half-Italian and half-Irish. This puts Rick as close to the ideal ethnic composition as we’ve ever seen in a major presidential candidate. Someone may one day come closer, since Aldo Santorum was from Trentino in the northern, lesser part of Italy instead of a vastly superior southern province like Benevento or Potenza.

Lest you think that I’m claiming that DNA is destiny, let me assure you that other factors contribute to his greatness. He lived in northern Virginia in his youth– not in Manassas, but in a pretty OK town I guess– and in a northern suburb of Chicago called Mundelein– which is a little further from Chicago than, say, Wheaton is. It is true that Santorum never lived in New Hampshire, Florida, or South Carolina, but he has compensated by being a far more devout Roman Catholic than the ideal candidate would be.

But what, one might ask, of his stance on the issues? Cutting to the chase, I looked at his stance on the biggest political issue of the last twenty-five years: the appointment of Samuel Alito to the Supreme Court. Senator Santorum voted to confirm Justice Alito. I am on record as heartily supporting Alito’s confirmation.

November 6th is still a long way off. The other candidates, Obama included, may raise their standings through careful preparation. Barring the entrance of a superior candidate into the race, I have no choice but to endorse Rick Santorum for President of the United States of America.

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Yesterday I attended a Jaguars game for the first time. Before you ask how it’s possible I’ve lived here so long without going to a Jags game, let me assure you that it’s been quite easy. Anyhow, at halftime, a marching band from a not-so-local high school performed “All Along the Watchtower,” which, as the announcer mentioned, was made famous by Jimi Hendrix.

A brief thought on poetry: if you look at the average high-school English reader, you’re not going to find too much that was written in the post-1960-ish. That’s not to say nothing worthy of academic study has been written; it certainly has. I think it’s a combination of two factors. First, stuff written that recently hasn’t been around long enough to be recognized as great or timeless poetry. Second, the people we would’ve called poets in centuries past are now writing rock songs (I would’ve written “pop songs,” but that probably would’ve offended songwriters more than “lumping all the different genres in with rock” would). Throw Bob Dylan (who wrote “Watchtower”) or Smokey Robinson (whom Dylan once called “America’s greatest living poet”) a little further back in time, and they’re poets, not songwriters.

So the boy sitting right behind me asked his dad, “What song did they say this is?” It was perfectly reasonable question, given the boy’s age and the difficulty of understanding the announcer.

The dad responded, “‘All Along the Watchtower.’ It’s a Dave Matthews song.”

Sure it is, just like “Behind Blue Eyes” is a Limp Bizkit song, “American Pie” is a Madonna song, and Psycho is a Gus Van Sant movie.

…

I was also reminded that the celebrations-after-anything-other-than-a-touchdown look even more silly live than they do on television. Act like you’re not playing Pop Warner ball anymore.

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Last year was a pretty good year. To wit:

I had a few good seasons of 7v7 soccer.

My glorious visage adorned the hallway of my workplace, for all to gaze upon as they passed.

I tested an iPad for a week for zero dollars and zero cents. Didn’t like it enough to keep it. Later I bought a new MacBook Pro.

I got a nice mention in the valedictory address.

My APUSH pass rate rose for the third year in a row. Or, more precisely, my students’ APUSH pass rate rose for the third year in a row. My pass rate has held steady at 100% since I was a junior in high school.

Osama bin Laden died ignominiously, Kim Jong-Il died un-sincerely-lamented, and Gaddafi died with the transliteration of his name unresolved.

My new classroom is well-lit, suffers no infestations, and isn’t sliding into a sinkhole.

I made new friends, dispatched ancient rivals, and became reacquainted with a friend I hadn’t seen in 15 years.

I saw most of my closest buddies, was visited by some cousins I haven’t seen in a while, and video-chatted with my niece twice.

I watched my friend ear33wig become an American citizen.

I was elected chairman of the school improvement team, though they haven’t given me a gavel. Yet.

I visited Clemson, saw my brick in person and watched a game in Death Valley for the first time since graduation. The Tigers had their best season in decades, won an ACC title, and earned a trip to a BCS bowl.

I still have students to teach despite the lack of district funding for transportation, and there was a JV soccer season despite having to raise funds independently.

They announced a new Bond flick, with a strong director and some star power in supporting and villainous roles and I was given parking decal number 007.

I developed and implemented new napping strategies.

Cutler (briefly) came back from his knee injury, Crosby (briefly) came back from his concussion, and though the Celtics wane, the Bulls seem to be back as a major power.

My folks’ dogs were relieved of the burdens of their sufferings, and are now in Doggie Heaven.

I kept the weight down and finished the year under my target.

As resolved, I bought a new mattress and wrote an entry at least once a week. In fact, I set a new personal record for posts in a year.

And despite predictions to the contrary, the world didn’t end.

…

In all, a spectacular year. I don’t see how 2012 can possibly live up to it.

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The year could have gone better.

My shot at being the district’s Teacher of the Year ended when some district folks scheduled a classroom observation during district-mandated testing time.

The Bears blew not one, but two chances to end the Packers’ season in January.

DFJ3′s dad and my friend Allison died on the same day, both far too young.

I played my last soccer game for some time, until the injury heals.

I sold my iPhone only to realize a few weeks later that I hated my new phone.

A coworker resigned on the day of her AP exam and another coworker-slash-long-time-mentor retired.

Someone from long ago found my blog posts about her. I’ve hidden in undisclosed, rotating locations ever since.

Woodchuck changed the color of their Amber bottles from green to brown.

The US men’s team choked in the Gold Cup final against Mexico, and the US women’s team choked in the World Cup final against Japan.

We had to raise a lot of money to make the JV soccer season happen.

I watched a former coworker and friend, Lego, go insane and turn vicious and malicious as he did so.

I had a less-than-pleasant visit to the dentist to get some fillings– the novocaine didn’t work, and the dentist decided to keep going.

My mom’s dog died, and my dad’s dog died.

The Bears’ season collapsed after Cutler broke his thumb.

They gave the next Bond movie a stupid name.

I kept only a handful of my resolutions.

And worst of all, I broke two molars, and have to pay for a bone graft and implant, and worstest of all, the dentist specifically said the Tooth Fairy doesn’t pay for adult teeth.

Good riddance to this horrible, horrible year.

…

I’m looking forward to 2012. Poland and the Ukraine will jointly host the European championship in June. A new-albeit-poorly-named Bond movie and a new Batman movie are on the way. There’ll be a big primary battle in the spring, fledgling and floundering third-party campaigns in the summer, and a general election campaign in the fall. We’ll get to mock the morons who think the world will end in December. There’ll be new resolutions to keep and new adventures on which to sally forth.

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Let’s assume that the Bears can get into the playoffs with just three more wins. They’d be the fifth or sixth seed since they can’t realistically catch Green Bay for the division title. Three more wins, then they’re in the playoffs, then Cutler comes back, then they rattle off four quick and easy wins, including a blowout victory in Super Bowl XLVI against whatever hapless opponent the AFC has the audacity to put in the game.

Unfortunately, the Bears are starting Caleb Hanie, which makes the aforementioned championship run that much less likely. Instead of helping the Bears win three of their last six games, he seems more interested in throwing lots of interceptions, being way too indecisive in the pocket, and committing incredibly stupid penalties that kill last-second drives. Yes, he made some plays, just like in the NFC title game last year, but an “attaboy loss” is still a loss, and the Bears need to win now. Hanie is not the solution.

That leaves five viable alternatives, assuming the Bears don’t just throw in the towel and work on improving their draft position.

#1. Start Nathan Enderle. I don’t know who he is, but he’s on the roster as a QB, so start him instead of Hanie.

#2. Start Josh McCown. This is who the Bears picked up because Orton got snapped up by Kansas City.

#3. Sign some other veteran free agent QB. Start him.

#4. Give Cutler a crash course in throwing left-handed. Start him.

#5. Play without a quarterback. Go with two tight ends. Line up Forte, Barber, and Bell in the backfield. Run the ball over and over again. “But wait,” you might say, “that’s only ten players. Who’s the eleventh?” Great question. Throw an extra lineman in the backfield for extra blocking. Split Hester or Knox out wide and have Forte toss them one every so often to keep the defense honest. Throw Podlesh back there on third down, make the D have to worry about a quick kick. Or throw Briggs or Urlacher back there, see if it confuses the defense. Or maybe you sub out Bell and put Podlesh and Gould out there at the same time– is it a run, a field goal attempt, or a punt? Who knows?

Better yet, who cares? Whatever keeps Hanie off the field.

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