DeSantis’ War Journal: After the storm

Honesty’s the best policy

I project hate, because I hate myself. Image credit: Gage Skidmore via Wikimedia Commons

Dear Journal,

I lie.

A lot.

I boast. Inflate my abilities. Exaggerate my accomplishments. Fashion myself as the hero this chaotic world needs.

My therapist says people lie to appeal to others.

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After playing baseball at Yale, then teaching history at an elite boarding school for a year, then graduating from Harvard Law School, I joined the Navy as a judge advocate general. That’s the same job Tom Cruise had in A Few Good Men. Everyone likes Tom Cruise, right?

I tagged along with the Navy SEALs in Iraq for a spell. People back home said I was a war hero, which was awesome! I told everyone fighting for my country overseas was the greatest privilege of my life.

Except, in reality, I abhorred violence in all its forms. And I fundamentally disagreed with the false pretenses used by the Bush administration to justify the never-ending war on terror. Of course, I didn’t say that to the people back home, because then they wouldn’t have liked me.

My therapist says people lie because they fear rejection.

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In 2012, I decided to run for Congress. At the time, the President was Black, and a lot of people in my neighborhood didn’t agree with that. It didn’t bother me. I love Black people. My favorite show growing up was The Jeffersons. I even voted for Obama twice. Would’ve done so a third time, too.

But I really wanted to win that election. Everyone likes a winner, right?

So I said mean things about Obama, lied about Obamacare, and even wrote a book with a title that poked fun at his much, much better selling memoir — which I adored.

I won the election. Because I’m a winner. People like winners, ergo people liked me.

In fact, so many people liked me I won re-election in 2014.

I’d always fancied myself as a social liberal and fiscal conservative, but nobody in my district liked that. Neither did any of my popular colleagues in Congress.

So, in 2015, I co-founded the Freedom Caucus and threatened to nuke the financial credibility of the U.S. government. It wasn’t my favorite part of the job, but I did it to own the libs, which people who watched Fox News really liked. Necessary evil, right?

I won re-election in 2016 too. With ease.

My therapist says people lie to exploit others.

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Around 2018, I’d told so many lies I couldn’t keep track of what I actually believed. I questioned the veracity of the Mueller investigation, cosplayed my kids in MAGA-wear, denied the seriousness and severity of climate change, and emerged as the Achilles of the culture war.

This is when things really took off for me. By then, I’d realized the more I lied, the more people liked me. And the more people liked me, the more power I could amass.

I respected democracy, but I really respected power.

People don’t bestow power on anyone. They bestow power on those they revere.

So I ran for Governor. My opponent in the general election was Andrew Gillum, a close personal friend. Over the years we’d shared many dinners and even more drinks. There was also that one time, when we were on vacation in Daytona Beach, when we got super high, and we did that thing we don’t talk about. To anyone. Ever.

I really admired Andrew. We’d been very close. Burrowed inside each other’s hearts and minds. Bodies too — just once.

But I desperately wanted to win that election. So that’s why I said voters shouldn’t “monkey this up” by voting for Andrew. We haven’t talk since. I miss him desperately.

My therapist says people lie to create fantasy narratives and deny reality.

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When the pandemic hit my career went supernova. As long as I agreed to pretend the virus wasn’t a threat, I’d get ample airtime on Fox News, which meant millions of people would pay attention to me.

I like attention.

So I called the virus a woke liberal Chinese hoax — or whatever — and acted as if everything was normal. Business as usual. Florida was a bastion of freedom.

But then, lots of people started getting sick, and lots of vulnerable people — especially the elderly and immunocompromised — started dying. If people learned the truth, they might stop liking me.

I told my staff to incinerate the public health data. There was no way my pandemic response could look worse than New York’s or California’s or any other DemocRAT-run state.

Luckily, due to my decisive actions, there’s now a permanent information vacuum. Nobody knows how much better or worse Florida performed than other states during the pandemic. Or how much better or worse Florida could’ve performed had I instituted the bare minimum safety precautions. Problem solved.

My therapist says people lie to cover up mistakes.

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With the radical left’s old racist uncle installed as President in 2021, my path to the Oval Office was blown wide open. I just had to keep doing what I do best: lie.

That’s why I outlawed the teaching of Critical Race Theory in school — even though it never happens. And banned a bunch of math textbooks for solving woke algebra. And passed an anti-LGBTQIA+ law to address a problem that doesn’t exist, while pretending I’d never heard of Matt Gaetz. And decided I was a vaccine skeptic after all, hence, by my decree, the innocent children of Florida would be as well. And finally, as my magnum opus, hired an ex-Army intelligence officer named Perla Huerta to dupe a bunch of vulnerable, asylum-seeking Venezuelan refugees into flying to Martha’s Vineyard.

Libs = owned.

My therapist says people lie to escape punishment or avoid accountability.

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I’m doing a fantastic job in the aftermath of Hurricane Ian, by the way. It’s not me who’s politicizing the crisis. The media got the trajectory of the storm all wrong. Who could’ve predicted the hurricane would be this strong anyway? Climate science is inexact — at best. And all this hyperventilating about Florida’s broken property insurance market? I solved that months ago. I’m doing the best job I can with imperfect information.

My therapist says people lie when they’re afraid.

She says my braggadocio, theatrics, and false bravado all mask deep-seated insecurities and self-loathing. She says, at my core, I’m a scared little boy. Afraid of a changing world and my increasingly fraught place within it. Terrified of things I don’t understand and can’t comprehend.

I don’t like being afraid.

I just really want to be liked.

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Writing updates: September was a productive month.

I penned six pieces for this unhinged newsletter, wrote a very well-received guest essay for Work/Craft/Life, recapped the September Fictionistas Zoom call, submitted the first chapter of my in-progress novel to a writing competition, and dragged said in-progress novel ever closer to the finish line, kicking and screaming, one word at a time.

This past Monday I also whipped up a piece of flash fiction for a live lit event taking place in Chicago on October 14. That story is truly bonkers, and I absolutely love it.

Depending on how the event goes, I may shop a modified version (probably a touch longer) of that piece to some literary mags. Or, if I’m feeling magnanimous, and disinterested in waiting weeks or months for my invariable rejections, I may pre-emptively post it here. Time will tell.

This month I’m planning some classic satire pieces, starting with next Friday’s takedown of block parties and street festivals. I originally promised that one today, but the urge to vivisect fellow Florida Man and future felon Ron DeSantis proved too enticing.

I’ve also got some really fun ideas brewing for November, including the next entry in “The talks” — a fan favorite — and an inkling for the rare, nice story. Plus, barring my untimely death, we’ll be celebrating some major milestones together very soon.

Finally, there’s a potentially epic collaboration in the works.

Bottom line: Tons of great stuff is lurking on the horizon, so please subscribe and spread the word.

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Second, the app delivers a simple, super clean, easy-to-read interface, with no ads or pop-ups. Plus, there’s dark mode!

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My entire archive is available is here. A bookmark, perhaps?

Thanks always for reading.

Catch you next Friday.

Amran