In a move that has left political analysts reaching for the smelling salts and a stiff drink, the former President has thrown his considerable weight behind Ken Paxton, the embattled Texas Attorney General whose scandals would make a Dickensian orphanage blush. This is, if you will, the political equivalent of a fireman handing a lit match to a petrol-soaked arsonist and asking him to be careful with the barbecue. Paxton, a man currently under indictment for securities fraud and facing an FBI investigation into corruption allegations, has been accused of everything short of stealing the silver from the Governor's mansion.
But Trump, ever the champion of the beleaguered, has decided that Paxton's troubles are merely the establishment's way of silencing a true patriot. The endorsement, delivered via a typically verbose statement that careened from paeans to 'law and order' to vague threats against 'the deep state', has caused a ripple of panic among Texas Republicans who had hoped to quietly distance themselves from Paxton's legal woes. Instead, they now face a primary election where the choice is between a man under indictment and a man endorsed by a twice-impeached former president.
It is, to use the technical term, a bit of a pickle. The race, already described as 'make-or-break' by pundits who clearly need to get out more, now promises to be a carnival of recrimination and low comedy. Paxton's opponents, including State Senator Dawn Buckingham and former Texas Supreme Court Justice Eva Guzman, must now decide whether to attack Trump's judgment or embrace his coattails.
It is a dance as delicate as a rhino on a tightrope. Meanwhile, the voters of Texas, a hardy breed accustomed to having their politics served with a side of absurdity, can only watch as their state becomes the world's most expensive political theatre. One can almost hear the distant sound of a cash register ringing as donations flood in from every dark-money group this side of the Pecos.
The guffaws from the national press corps are already audible. The race, originally a tedious affair of detailed policy debates and comparative corruption indices, has been transformed into a referendum on Trump's enduring influence. And in Texas, where everything is bigger, including the scandals, the outcome will be watched with the morbid fascination usually reserved for a car crash on the M25.
I, for one, will be following this story with a glass of the finest airport gin, toasting the sheer, unadulterated bonkersness of American politics. It's enough to make a man believe in democracy. Or at least in the restorative power of a double measure.
