In a turn of events that would make even the most jaded soap opera writer blush, New Jersey Congressman Jeffrey Van Drew – the same man who once fled the Democratic Party like a rat from a sinking ship – has emerged from a three-week political vanishing act, clutching a freshly minted endorsement from the orange-cheeked oracle himself, Donald J. Trump.
Let us paint the scene: Trenton, New Jersey. A state known for diners, mafia movies, and a peculiar brand of corruption that smells faintly of burnt coffee and broken dreams. Our protagonist, the Honourable Mr Van Drew, had been absent from public life since early November, leaving his constituents to wonder if he had been abducted by aliens, joined a monastery, or simply lost in the labyrinthine tunnels beneath the State House. Rumours swirled: a heart attack in a secret love nest? A sudden conversion to deep-sea fishing?
No, dear reader. The truth is far more banal and infinitely more sinister. He was, as it transpires, negotiating a return to the GOP fold, a move that would make a zigzag look like a straight line. His return was heralded by a press release that landed with the subtlety of a brick through a stained-glass window. In it, he thanked 'President Trump for his unwavering support' and promised to fight for 'the forgotten men and women of South Jersey.' The language was pure Trumpian: simple, repetitive, and utterly devoid of self-awareness.
Let us consider the implications. Van Drew originally won his seat as a Democrat in 2018, a time when the party was riding a blue wave that washed over the Garden State. Then, in 2020, he switched sides and became a Republican after voting against Trump's first impeachment. His explanation? The party had left him. One could almost hear the violins. Now, after a quiet spell of contemplation – or perhaps a long weekend at Trump's golf club in Bedminster – he has emerged with a new endorsement, a new party, and a new set of principles that match the current political weather.
The mystery deepens when one considers the timing. Why now? Why after three weeks of silence? Perhaps he was waiting for the perfect moment to strike, like a politician-cum-operatic tenor hitting a high note. Or perhaps he was simply waiting for the polls to swing his way. In politics, absence is often a strategy; you cannot be quoted if you are not there. But a vanishing act of this magnitude smacks of either deep cunning or profound incompetence. We lean towards the former, though the latter is always a dark horse.
From the perspective of this gin-soaked correspondent, the whole affair is a masterclass in the absurdity of modern American politics. Here we have a man who has changed party affiliation more times than a chameleon changes colour, now endorsed by a man who has changed his policies more times than a dying star changes temperature. The voters of New Jersey's 2nd district are left to wonder: is this a principled stand or a desperate grab for power? My money is on the latter, and I would bet a bottle of decent gin on it.
In the end, the story is not about Van Drew or Trump. It is about a political system that rewards shape-shifting and punishes consistency. It is about a public that craves drama and despises nuance. And it is about the sorry state of our discourse, where a missing congressman can reappear with a golden endorsement and no one bats an eye, except to ask for more details. We shall watch this space, but only with one eye open, the other squinting through the bottom of a glass.
Biff out.
