Ron DeSantis attended Yale and Harvard; he worked, at night, to chip away at his tuition. He also taught, briefly; there was a perception that his relationships with students were sometimes inappropriate. Though it's confirmed he occasionally attended student parties (a bad idea), the story seems to end here.
When Donald Trump gained power, he appreciated the way that DeSantis would slavishly defend Trumpian missteps on Fox News. Trump rewarded this behavior by endorsing DeSantis in the Florida gubernatorial race. So Trump anointed DeSantis; DeSantis went from obscurity to fame very quickly.
Trump has a well-documented love of glossiness: Ivy League degrees, telegenic profiles. Trump wants you to "look the part." But, also, Trump is deeply confused; though a part of him likes the Ivy League, he really has the greatest respect for a person who fights from penury to billionaire status. (Of course, this doesn't describe Trump himself, though Trump doesn't seem to understand reality.) Though Trump liked the word "Yale" on the DeSantis resume, Trump never really respected DeSantis. He wanted DeSantis to be a good soldier--to be meek and grateful.
At some point in the recent past, DeSantis filmed a grotesque ad with a child; the child was playing with blocks, and DeSantis encouraged the child to "build a wall." This was a tip of the hat to Trump--but, off camera, DeSantis audibly mocked Trump (and mocked the TV spot). Word of the mockery found its way back to Trump--and this poisoned the Trump/DeSantis relationship. (You just can't invent stuff like this.)
DeSantis amassed power by giving people permission to hate; Florida became a capital of "freedom" (unless you were non-white, or gay, or transgender). A favorite trick of DeSantis was to say something outrageous, i.e. "We should be free to eat babies." He would then watch as the media reported on the outrageousness. He would finally go on Fox to spin the developing story: "I'm the victim here. Look at the liberal media, trying to invent a crisis when I'm just defending freedom." Amazingly, this worked, again and again.
Certainly, Trump pointed his guns at DeSantis after the reality of 2024 became clear--but, also, DeSantis just sabotaged himself. He was notably weird. He ate pudding from a cup with three fingers (no spoon). He yelled at children, in public, because they wanted to wear COVID face masks. He always seemed flummoxed when reporters would ask about his (hypothetical) presidential ambitions; despite the Harvard degree, he never seemed to tell himself, "Ron, you need to begin to anticipate this question." Sometimes, a light would go on; he would make an active effort to conceal his own sense of entitlement and chagrin. But the effort required actual physical strain; his head would start to bounce up and down on his neck; he looked like a strange, plastic toy. Voters began to sense that DeSantis was not quite human. This wouldn't work--for a presidential candidate.
I very much liked "Swamp Monsters"--as the story of a frenemy bond unraveling. At the same time, it can be tiring to read non-fiction about such nasty people. No one emerges as a hero. At least Matt Dixon makes some admirably smart decisions--to keep the page count low, keep the paragraphs gossipy, and use an enticing title. He knows what he is doing.
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