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It has long been clear that the second Trump administration exists primarily as an avenue for déclassé, C-level celebrities to mount a career comeback by using the entire federal governing apparatus as leverage. This is why, say, Dr. Oz is on television warning the country about ill-defined widespread medical fraud, why Kristi Noem spent much of her time at Homeland Security filming Orwellian videos to be broadcast in TSA lines, and why Kash Patel seems dead set on becoming the world’s first “celebrity FBI director.” No surprises there. Donald Trump himself originally ran for president in order to make himself more famous; it is only natural that he would attract a fleet of flunkies eager to fit the mold. (One I forgot to mention: Ron DeSantis’ new Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives–style pivot.)
But if there is anything unique about this late and increasingly febrile chapter in the president’s reign, it is how even the bit players of his administration—those occupying the most cushy and overlooked roles, who were once happy to revel anonymously in the spoils of victory—want in on the action. At least, that is what I found myself thinking about after watching the trailer for Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy’s forthcoming reality show.
