Marco Rubio, Have You Considered Comic Sans?
Marco Rubio, secretary of state, has taken a brave stance on a prudent matter ripping at the fabric of American life: sans serif typeface.
This week, Rubio put an abrupt end to the State Department's use of Calibri, a screamingly liberal font akin to a beanie-clad barista serving oat milk to a drag performer while Bon Iver twinkles from the speakers. Rubio wrote that moving official correspondence back to Times New Roman would "restore decorum and professionalism to the department's written work."
You might be saying, yes, he's right on this one, just like he's right on his hatred of Daylight Saving Time. While I agree that Times New Roman is a classic, and while I would very much like to peep Rubio's list of pet peeves on his notes app (you just know he has a good one), there's more to this font kerfuffle.
You see, President Joe Biden's administration changed the typeface in 2023 for a real reason. The State Department's office of diversity and inclusion recommended Calibri, maintaining it was an easier read for people with visual impairments, dyslexia and so forth. Rubio has dismantled initiatives related to inclusivity, so the death of Calibri is not a shock.
However, we the people do not need another silly war over perceived wokeness. What we need now is cohesion. We need to unite around a common enemy such as boiled brussels sprouts, warm beer or Dasani.
Designer Vincent Connare created Comic Sans MS in 1994, channeling the energy of comic book bubbles to pair with a cartoon dog image for Microsoft. Sounds innocent enough, similar to that guy who invented Labradoodles.
Since that launch, though, the font has become much-maligned, partly because people tend to apply it awkwardly. Comic Sans has not only popped up on PTA signup sheets and potluck flyers but in myriad bizarre contexts: my 9th grade English project on "Sir Gawain and the Green Night," a Dutch World War II memorial, a letter from an attorney representing associates of Rudy Giuliani.
Comic Sans lacks a serif like Calibri but somehow sacrifices all visual ease. With its thick letters, uneven spacing and inconsistent baselines, Comic Sans would frankly be a poetic choice for communications between the United States and foreign governments.
Other fonts conjure specific demographics, thereby sowing discord. Helvetica, for instance, calls to mind a gray IKEA SALTSJOBADEN sofa (Democrat). Garamond resembles leatherbound books enjoyed over a tawny port (classic conservative). Papyrus evokes a Ross Dress for Less (MAGA).
Comic Sans stands apart with a ruthless whimsy that confounds all. It is infused with the childlike wonder of a playground ruffian named Knuckles McGee who eats ketchup from the packet. It embodies the joie de vivre of a new divorcee, Dina, who drinks appletinis and sings "Mah Na Mah Na" as interpreted by the Muppets.
You just started playing that song in your head, right? No matter who you voted for? It will be in your brain for approximately three days. When you close your tired, politically weary eyeballs, you will see "Mah Na Mah Na" in Comic Sans dancing across the vitreous humor of your eye's central chamber. Central, see? Compromise. Unity.
Marco Rubio, please write this ironclad plan in your notes app, perhaps next to your thoughts on water bottle size and electronic dance music. A fractured nation awaits our new shared foe, as we have all secretly started to like Creed again. Thank you for your full attention.
========
Stephanie Hayes is a columnist at the Tampa Bay Times in Florida. Follow her at @stephhayes on X or @stephrhayes on Instagram.
----
Copyright 2025 Creators Syndicate Inc.
Comments