Our frothy fecal friend is unlikely to become president, but there's plenty of cause for celebration: You can now both eat and drink Santorum.
Slate has the tale of a bar in Brooklyn called the Pacific Standard that offers a really gross scrumptious-sounding Santorum cocktail: Bailey's Irish Cream and orange-flavored vodka. Garnished with little chocolate bits. It has a nice color to it, but the writer wasn't too enamored of the flavor:
Savoring one last slurp, I slid my half-full glass back to the bartender: “That was a lovely experience, but I need to wash the taste out of my mouth. Would you please pour me a glass of Doc's?”
“Sure thing,” he said. Then he tried the line on his tongue: “'That was a lovely experience, but I need to wash the taste out of my mouth.'” Beat. “I haven't heard that since college.”
Har har.
Then there's the Santorum Frothy Chocolate Cream Pie, which seems a little more tasty, as is the Apocalypsecakes description of Prez Frothy's administration:
Santorum will spend his first day in office detaining you at Guantanamo for all your yoga and blowjobs. You will be chained to a rock, naked and pregnant, by Santorum’s legion of Abercrombie youth group members. Then, while you’re cold and alone and left to give birth to your gay best friend’s gay-by, a mob of Catholic priests will take a break from their Cuban slave-boy auction to tase you for each non-procreative orgasm you’ve ever had.
Although I would be careful not to bake the contraceptives.