I'm George Santos, And How Lucky Are You To Meet Me
Hi there! Can I buy you a drink?
No, your eyes are not deceiving you. It really is me, George Santos, Republican congressman from New York’s Third Congressional District, owner of a closetful of imitation prep school sweaters, and inventor of the Hula Hoop.
What are you drinking? A Manhattan? Perfect. You know I invented that too? Bartender, two Manhattans over here! I assume I get the two-for-one inventor of the drink discount? No?
Okay! That's fine. But don’t skimp on the vodka!
Of course I meant the rye. I invented the drink, I know what’s in it, obviously, of course.
How much? Fine, but I need the receipt, this is getting filed right under “campaign expenses.” After all, I’m courting a potential voter. Right? After all, we just met. I do not NOT know if you live in my district.
Can you believe how much they charge for a couple of Manhattans? Jews must own this place. LOLOLLLOL the Jews, am I right? Hi Hitler!
No, of course I didn’t mean it like that. I’m also Jewish. No, I knew you were, which is why I knew it was okay to make that little joke. You people joke about Jews and money all the time. Right, our people. The Jews who are your people and also my people.
My ancestors? Hungary. But also Ukraine. Hungary and Ukraine.
Where in Hungary? Um, near the capital. I can’t think of the name right now...
Oh, you meant Hungary’s capital? Of course I know it’s Budapest. Istanbul is the name of the village near Budapest that my ancestors came from. Sure, Google it. I’m pretty sure the name has changed, though. It was Istanbul back when Hungary was part of the Muslim empire.
Well look, that’s what my mother, God rest her soul, always told me. I swear I’d call her and ask her about it right now if she hadn’t died in the Challenger explosion.
No no, not an astronaut. She was watching from a nearby beach and a piece of debris landed on her. Can you imagine? All the miles and miles of beaches in Florida where one could see the launch, and she was standing in the one square foot where a giant piece of the shuttle landed.
Of course I meant the Columbia. Thank you for saying that, and you’re right, I am too young for it to have been the Challenger. I’m thirty-four. Thirty-one, actually. I get mixed up because I graduated law school so young.
Come on, it’s still early. Let’s have another drink. How about a rum and Coke? Ha ha, no, I didn’t invent this one. But I was the first person to popularize using Malibu instead of Captain Morgan’s. So much smoother, and people love the coconut flavor.
Cacha what now? Not familiar with it. No, I don’t know any Brazilian rums. Yes, I am from Brazil. But see, I emigrated when it was still a communist country. Which was so long ago, way before I was old enough to even know what rum is, let alone drink it.
That’s why I’m a Republican now. Republicans have always been strong anticommunists, like our hero Ronald Reagan. And after seeing what the communists and the Marxists and the radical leftists did to my homeland, my family’s homeland... (dabs at eyes with cocktail napkin)
I meant our homeland after Hungary and Ukraine, which we fled after surviving the Holocaust. To Brazil, where we went.
What? Wikipedia says that Brazil never had a communist government? Well, that’s what I was always told by my mother. I suppose I could ask her, if she hadn’t been taken so tragically from me in that Kansas City skywalk collapse.
Right, Columbia explosion, my mistake. My father died in the Kansas City skywalk collapse. I’m getting them mixed up. Boy, that bartender put a lot of vermouth in that Manhattan.
Right, whiskey. It was more likely the whiskey. I don’t know why someone started reversing the proportions of whiskey and vermouth in Manhattans. When I invented them, you could drink them all night without feeling woozy enough to fall off your barstool.
Whoops! Whoa! Bartender! A towel and another rum and Coke over here, por favor.
Yes, por favor, it’s Brazilian for “please.” Right, Portuguese, that is the language we speak in Brazil and a phrase I picked up there and not while eating in a Fogo de Chão on Long Island.
Oh, no worries about the stain setting in. I have literally hundreds of these sweaters. Most of them are made of cashmere, of course. I only wear the synthetic cotton when I'm out socializing and might spill something on one of them.
Yes, hundreds. Would you like to see them? You look like a man who can appreciate fine luxuries like cashmere sweaters and thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. Which I totally have on my bed right now.
Great! Let me just call ahead and make sure my husband isn't home. Oh no, he's not really my husband. More of a roommate. Usually he even stays in his own wing of the house, though right now we're living in a one-bedroom in Queens while the house is being remodeled. But he's almost barely ever even there, I promise.
Say, where are you going?