On January 23rd, drag performers Trixie Mattel and Congressman George Santos got into a spat on Twitter. The embattled congressman had tweeted disapprovingly about the impressions actors were doing of him on late-night TV, calling them “TERRIBLE” (they were). Ms. Mattel, real name Brian Firkus, controversial (if beloved) winner of “RuPaul’s Drag Race All Stars” Season 3, entered the chat, replying, “maybe the source material was weak.” 

Santos shot back: “Clearly you know all about weak acting skills,” with a gif of Mattel’s disastrous impression of RuPaul during an “All Stars” challenge, which nearly got her booted from the show. 

Mattel responded: “I am not an actor! I was young, and I had fun at a festival!” This was a dig against Santos’ denial/ admission that he performed as a drag queen named Kitara Ravache in Brazil. He wouldn’t challenge the accuracy of the recently emerged photos, instead telling reporters at LaGuardia, “No, I was not a drag queen in Brazil, guys. I was young, and I had fun at a festival. Sue me for having a life.’”

Santos shot back at Mattel: “It’s all good! I won my race against the fan favorite too,” referring to Mattel’s controversial win on All Stars. 

Is this the “danger to democracy” I keep hearing about? A sitting congressman who bickers with drag queens with remarkable cultural fluency? I’m supposed to be upset that the Republican Party — which is currently in the throes of a full satanic-panic-style meltdown over drag culture — now has among its ranks not just a mere open homosexual, but a Drag-Race-lore understander. A SISTER? Well, I’m not. The Advocate should have updated their “Is George Santos Even Gay?” article the minute he started arguing with Trixie Mattel on Twitter. A hardcore gay sex tape would have proven less. Journalistic malpractice, I say, his mysterious marriage to a woman notwithstanding. What more proof are they waiting for over there?

Sure, he lied about everything besides being gay — a traditional congressional fib, for Republicans especially. Santos also lied about working for Goldman Sachs and Citigroup, a hilarious departure from the archetypical American politician, who actually does have links to Wall Street and plays them down — dons a Carhartt jacket and insists he’d rather talk about “Main Street.” Not Santos. He wanted his public resume to look like a Congressman’s private one, and his explicit dishonesty in this regard is regarded with far more seriousness than the implicit dishonesty of millionaires who film campaign ads that suggest they are middle-class gardeners, cowboys, Teamsters, armed vigilantes, coal miners, public housing residents, or whatever else their consultants deem relatable for the district. Perhaps it should be regarded as more serious. But my urge to defend Santos, a man whom I share no politics with — as a slightly embarrassed but ultimately unregretful two-time Bernie Sanders voter — only speaks to the power of his charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent. “What it takes,” in the RuPauline cosmology, as I’m sure the congressman understands.

Santos’ propensity to lie about almost everything — others have made lists, so I won’t bother mentioning them all here — stands in deep contrast with his complete inability to hide his personality, or bite his tongue, more subtle forms of dishonesty of which the standard politician is a master. When Piers Morgan asked him why he thought he could get away with the lies, he responded, “Well, I ran in 2020 for the exact same seat and got away with it then, and I guess—” he then pursed his lips and shrugged.

“Well,” said Piers, “that’s honest.”

Santos exudes personal charm, and I’m not the only person unable to resist it. “SCAMMER LEGEND HE HAS MY VOTE,” read one popular tweet in response to the Morgan interview. Other responses included “He’s my favorite politician by far,” “They hate him because he has the charisma to pull it off while it took Biden 40 years to fail upward doing the same thing,” and “‘I got away with it then.’ Extreme gigachad.”

Santos, like Trump, recognizes politics as the reality TV show that it is. For example, when Mitt Romney told Santos during the State of the Union address that he didn’t belong there, he told the press, “It wasn’t very Mormon of him,” minding his angles as he addressed the cameras with bravado and stage presence, as if the people behind them were not reporters, but producers. His producers, for his show, and in that moment, they were. Casting directors couldn’t find a brighter star with a telescope.

Liberals can’t keep their eyes off him either, studying his every move for sinister intent. At one point, Alejandra Caraballo, an activist who served as an expert witness for a congressional hearing on white supremacy and domestic extremism (where, ironically, her own tweets encouraging followers to accost Supreme Court judges when they appear in public became a topic of conversation), once claimed that the gay, olive-skinned Brazilian flashed a white supremacist symbol on the floor of the House and implied doing so allowed him to strike up a friendship with Marjorie Taylor Greene. The “white supremacist symbol” in question is the “ok” sign. Its association with white supremacy is the result of a successful trolling operation by 4channers to discredit progressives by linking an innocuous symbol with racism. It worked, and now flashing the sign is a bat signal for liberal credulity — one that trolls gleefully exploit. The symbol is also the equivalent of the middle finger in Santos’ native Brazil. Is Santos a white supremacist? Well, he purportedly posted a Planet of the Apes-style rendering of the Obamas on Instagram in 2014, which is certainly a racist act if true. Does posting a racist meme in 2014 mark someone as a racist for life? I’m not really sure, but does it even matter? Let’s say he is a racist. Is he then also a white supremacist? No! He’s not even white, at least not by the standards of actual white supremacists. As far as I’m aware, he’d also be the first white supremacist to falsely claim Jewish heritage — sorry — Jew-ish.

The rush to caricature Santos as some limp-wristed Nazi, a’la The Producers remake, is hilarious and reeks of desperation. But what’s behind this desperation? Why would Ms. Caballero, a wise Latina, according to her Twitter bio, concoct a conspiracy theory in which a man several shades darker than herself covertly signals to racist America using some sort of secret Klansman ASL on the floor of the House? I think deep down she knows as well as I do that the photos she referenced do not look sinister but camp — and look it straight in the eye.

In the first, George Santos stands before Congress in an outfit clearly stolen from the big and tall section of a Build-a-Bear Workshop. He is making a ridiculous face I can’t describe in words, only vague noises which would be unintelligible to the overwhelmingly heterosexual male audience Solana has cultivated here. In the second, Marjorie Taylor Green, a wacky Southern gal whose unbreakable 2 a.m. Facebook poster spirit has led to many a trial and tribulation, whispers in George’s ear as he cackles. A menacing laugh? I think not. Caballero said of the second photo, “George Santos flashed a white supremacist hand gesture on the floor of the House and became besties with Marjorie Taylor Greene. They’re not being subtle.” Subtle about what? A good time? Are they friends because of a secret white supremacist code, or is it because when I look at this picture, I can feel the fag hag chemistry through my phone? This hit job, of course, was political.

But Alejandra’s mercenary lesbianism is no match for Santos’ endearing gay buffoonery. No amount of conspiracy theorizing could convince a normal, incredulous person that a cartoon character like George Santos constitutes a real threat to entire races of Americans.

His numerous lies are obviously the result of some pathological impulse. Of course, the people of his district deserve a normal representative who, at the very least, respects them enough to only lie about important things.

However, we should be honest in saying that the stupidity of Santos’ lies makes them, and by extension, Santos himself, compelling. You can’t help but be impressed by the chutzpah of a sassy little gay guy who lies with his full chest. The random nature of the details stays with you. Santos falsely claimed to have attended Baruch college. Why Baruch? It’s not even a prestigious college! Why didn’t he lie bigger? Go foreign? Take the Gatsby route and call himself an Oxford man? Clearly, nobody was checking. Inexplicable! Pretending to have attended a random public university wasn’t enough! He also claimed he was a volleyball star at Baruch and played so hard he required knee replacement surgeries. Why? Why volleyball? Men’s volleyball, for Christ’s sake, nobody cares about that! Why a knee replacement surgery, the most matronly of orthopedic operations? None of it makes sense! Inexplicable lies are where Santos shines in this centuries-long soap opera we call American politics. Like all great characters, we must suffer through his boring subplots, such as alleged campaign finance violations. As an anti-hero, and one of the best we’ve ever seen on the show, we must also contend with his demons, his evil lies, and Dark George moments, like claiming to have lost employees in the Pulse Nightclub Shooting or allegedly scamming a disabled Veteran who was trying to raise money to pay for his service dog’s veterinary bills. The moral urge to condemn Santos and see him removed from Congress is natural, the right thing to think morally, but in the back of my mind, a small part of me is rooting to see him return for another season. 

Such is the nature of good TV. I’ll be watching.

-River Page