Donald Trump: The Quest for a Running Mate
There is really only one question that needs to be answered vis-a-vis Donald Trump’s running mate decision: Will the vice presidential nominee be an experienced politician with a clear channel to reality, or will the Donald double down on the Crazy Rage Train Express to Anger Town? In favor of the former: It seems like the only reasonable thing to do. In favor of the latter: the Rage Train is a highly efficient means of conveyance that has taken Trump to his current enviable position.
Running mates from most-to-least reasonable, from a conventional viewpoint:
Jeb!
Jeb! is an attractive running mate for Trump precisely because of how un-Trumplike he is. No matter how many poorly secured firearms Jeb! may tweet, America is still aware that he has access to his brother’s rolodex, infinitely deep wells of finance, and Brent Scowcroft. Does this enhance Trump by giving him substance and seriousness? Or detract from his allure by entangling him with The Establishment? In this season: nobody knows.
Chris Christie
Sure, everybody says he looked like a hostage standing behind Trump the other day. But Chris Christie is, to anyone not paying very close attention, exactly the sort of cheerful, tell-it-like-it-is fat guy who gets to marry the hot chick on the situation comedy, and not very many people appear to be paying very close attention during this particular cycle. To those paying somewhat more attention, he seems a lot like Tony Soprano, and that’s a good thing. To anyone paying more attention still, he looks like Tony Soprano, and that’s a very bad thing. But at this point we’re talking like 6% of the electorate, and those eggheads aren’t voting Trump regardless.
Marco Rubio
Something tells me that things between Trump and Rubio actually got a little bit personal, and Rubio is young enough to not want to play second fiddle. Still: Rubio has a Latino name, which could momentarily confuse 1% of the electorate in a favorable way. Or not. You know, scratch Rubio.
Ann Coulter
Coulter has been skilfully doing shrill paranoia and put-down politics with a foamy entertaining wrapper for many years now, and she would bring a certain brittle blond skinniness to the ticket that Trump would certainly know how to acknowledge in a gross way. Coulter’s a nice segue between the serious picks and the novelty picks - she arguably is politically engaged enough to be up for the job, but, not really.
Clint Eastwood
Ever since Clint Eastwood yelled at a chair, a certain breed of Republican has looked up to him a model of delightfully cranky and therefore relatable whiteness. The guy can act, he can direct, he can yell at a chair. When his aura of greatness overlaps with Trump, we’ll be hard pressed to know what’s going on because of all the lens flare. We’re definitely crossing over into “doubling down on reckless driving” territory here.
Sir Mix-a-Lot
I’ll be honest: If Trump picks Sir Mix-a-Lot as his veep, I’m probably going to vote Trump. “I like tax breaks … and I cannot lie!” “I like big guns… and I cannot lie!” “I like tall walls … and I cannot lie!” It will literally never get old. Literally. Never. Is this the curveball that wins the election for the Republicans and puts Kelsey Grammer on the Supreme Court? It very well could be. I like unexpected political twists, and I cannot lie.
