DeSantis and the Metamorphosis of MAGA

Ron DeSantis is decidedly a mean, ruthless SOB, but I doubt that he could ever compete with Trump for the wackadoodle vote. He’s more of a Richard Nixon type, isn’t he? Dirty, devious, but neither demented nor, hard as he tries, certifiably covfefe. No, he just isn’t sufficiently (and unabashedly) bonkers to inspire cosplayers wearing horns and warpaint to assault the U.S. Capitol.

So, if DeSantis becomes the Republican candidate in 2024, the GOP’s character will necessarily change. Certainly, Mr. DeSanctimonious (as Trump calls him) will retain both the racists and the evangelicals (where else would they go?), but—oh, mercy! — they will be such a grim and grumpy lot when deprived of the delirium of Trumpist hoopla. Where has all the fun gone? The rallies? The torchlight parades? The glossolalia? What a bummer!

Because, let’s face it: Ron is little more than a conventional gangster from Central Casting—tricky, calculating, creepy. Nothing fantastical or fabulous or woo-woo messianic about him. Less a con-man than a thug, DeSantis really IS what he IS, and truthfully (c’mon man) that ain’t much of a show!

I suspect, therefore, that a whole passel of the most zealous MAGAS—should The Mad King Donald finally be dumped—will simply lose their will to live—or, what basically amounts to the same thing—their will to dress up like horned Vikings and throw lethal tantrums in the King’s honor. A few may even feel so crappy about being abandoned that they simply slide off into the nearest gutter and metamorphose into gigantic dung beetles. So it goes.