Little Boots

Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus is an exercise in branding from twenty-one hundred years ago that struck me whilst I was on a plane today.

His father, Germanicus, was one of Rome’s heroes, and as a child, his mother Agrippina traveled with her husband on his campaigns — in, as you might have imagined — Germany, though at the time, it was a collection of hundreds of tribes. Germanicus was kept busy, and so little Gaius was raised around the Legions.

Agrippina, as Roman wives of ambitious Romans did, made the best of it, and from a young age, little Gaius, kitted out as a tiny legionnaire, would march beside the soldiers of his father’s legions wearing a child-sized uniform, sparking the nickname “Little Boots.”

Pliny said of him, “He who was born in the camp and reared 'mid the arms of his country gave at the outset a sign that he was fated to rule.”

His uncle, Tiberius, was Emperor of Rome. It seemed like Little Boots had a shining future. Hero father. Emperor Uncle. The fierce Livia in the family tree. What could go wrong?

Since “boot” is caligae in Latin, a diminutive nickname stuck: Caligula.

He was one of the worst of Rome’s leaders in its storied history. Madness, capricious violence, reckless irresponsibility, wild spending, and abuse of power came to define his term in office. He had a six-month window of promise, then a descent into a legacy that is clownish, terrifying, and tragic.

To stop this from digressing into a Roman history lesson, I am reminded that nicknames, mockery, and derision are some of the most powerful weapons in politics.

That’s one of the reasons I’m so deeply enjoying the ongoing humiliation of Florida Governor Ron DeSantis.

Look, I’m not saying DeSantis even gets near the Caligula scale of depravity, but Caligula hated the nickname. DeSantis is melting down over the spate of news stories about his lifts and platform boots.

I’m 5’10”…literally the median height for American men. So is Ron DeSantis. It couldn’t bother me less. I’m not the tallest guy in the room or the shortest.

For some reason, though, Ron and Casey (who is more Livia than Caligula) decided they needed to goose his height by a few inches to make him look taller on the debate stage and at events.

A guy who never wore cowboy boots in his life suddenly sports strangely designed drag boots with such an obvious lift that it borders on comedy.

His entire campaign now is sunk into one issue: his boots. Ponder this: over $100 million dollars has been incinerated by his venal SuperPAC director, Jeff Roe, and the campaign has burned upward of $50 million for…a fight about his boots.

Donald Trump, with his hyena’s nose for political weakness, has had a field day. The vaunted and very-online DeSantis social media team led by spokestroll Xtina Pushaw is flailing insults at Trump in return. It’s magical.

These are just a few headlines on Ron DeSantis and Bootgate:

3 Expert Shoemakers Say Ron DeSantis Is Probably Wearing Height Boosters

DeSantis’ go-go boots aren’t the problem; his relentless politicking is

True or not, DeSantis can't escape the raised boot rumors as his campaign falters

Trump Declares Ron DeSantis’ Boot Lifts Drama Is His ‘Kiss of Death’

Bootgate and the perils of drafting off Donald Trump

Why does it matter now?

Because the DeSantis campaign started at such a pinnacle that its collapse means the sharks of politics are ripping his campaign apart with even more vigor than usual. His hubris rose into the thin reaches of the atmosphere because…Florida.

Florida governors are really powerful. (The history of that damn mistake will be a chapter in my next book) and Ron is at the tail end of a string of GOP statewide victories that made every Republican governor more empowered…and more delusional. Tallahassee is a city full of lobbyists, money bros, and political influencers who have told DeSantis he’s the smartest, tallest, most handsome man in any room. He’s a role model for every man and the object of desire for every woman.

For a small (morally, emotionally, and personally) man like DeSantis, that kind of flattery was like uncut cocaine. He bought into their bullshit wholesale, and the comeuppance is coming retail.

When I tell you DeSantis aides in Tallahassee were having unironic discussions about what jobs they’d have in his White House, I mean it. They picked out curtains for the West Wing before Americans met their candidate. They imagined that the Twitter Fever Swamp of online chumps, choads, and screamers was America.

The delta between the early image of DeSantis and his searing political incompetence leaves him defending the small ball vanity of cowboy boots with lifts. His campaign has been slipping for months, less and less relevant with each passing twitch of his piscine lips. Had DeSantis not been under the spell of the private jet lifestyle, the fawning toadies in Tallahassee and his campaign, and an unfailing belief in his own bullshit, the campaign might have done differently.

He’s stuck now. Expect boot jokes galore at next week’s debate. Expect his attempts at stunt governing to fall flatter than usual. DeSantis has become a punchline, and that’s the kiss of death in campaigns.

A year from now, DeSantis will see those boots in the closet of the Governor’s mansion in Tallahassee and remember this was how his campaign, and likely, his political career ended. Over vanity. Over two inches of lift, in a campaign that needed something bigger and more serious than the cobbler’s viagra of a ramp to make him look like more of a man.