Who the hell debated Tim Walz last night?
I understand he was introduced as “Vice-Presidential candidate JD Vance,” and I saw, on the stage, the familiar shaggy visage and guyliner of the ex-singer of some emo Appalachian family jamboree standing beside the governor of Minnesota.
But this JD Vance bore little resemblance to Donald Trump’s awkward running mate who always looks somebody snuck itching powder down his shirt. Nor did he look like the bookish author from several years ago, speaking empathetically about the people he threw under the bus in his best-selling Hillbilly Elegy. Nor was he the nerdy Peter Thiel acolyte bemoaning the coming matrifelinocracy worshipping their oracle, Taylor Swift.
The JD Vance who showed up at last night’s vice-presidential debate was none of those people and all of them: the bright young thing, the steely-eyed venture capitalist, the tech bro, the law school grad, celebrated author, Appalachian kid in bare feet, and now the man most ill-equipped to serve as Trump’s political assassin. The JD Vance I saw last night was somebody new, a bespoke creation for a single evening. Ersatz Vance.
Tim Walz, on the other hand, was just like the Tim Walz I’ve been seeing since he made that goofy video with his teenage daughter at the Minnesota State Fair. I expected, and got, a person who is half man/half labradoodle. And Walz played his part fine, arching his eyebrows and bugging out those eyes when the occasion warranted. Goofy Tim could be substantive, sure, and he got his jabs in, but I got the sense that the guy I was watching was the guy I’ve been watching, somebody likely to help you move your couch and even spring for a couple PBRs when the job is done.
Not so much with JD Vance, who has felt ill-suited to this moment from the first time he set foot on the musky carpets of Mar-a-Lago. On paper, his selection as Trump’s running mate makes sense. Wunderkind champion of the white underclass. The kid on the fast track, first to Harvard Law, then to Silicon Valley, and finally back to Ohio to run for office, and now Washington DC. The boy who made good. He’s been there and done that and left almost no mark on anybody for his efforts.
JD Vance, left, and Tim Walz, at their debate.
CBS
The question at top of my mind watching last night’s debate was, “Which JD Vance will show up?” As it turns out, all of them and none of them. What I saw was a congenial, aw-shucks conservative given to nonsensical platitudes about “Donald Trump’s common sense economics,” which is another way of saying, “Trust me, bro.” Except I don’t trust that Donald Trump has enough common sense to fold the laundry after it comes out of the dryer. I don’t trust Donald Trump to even know how to fold laundry And I certainly don’t trust anybody who would carry that man’s water.
We’ve heard in the press about how Trump has become a kind of surrogate father to JD Vance. And that, sadly, makes a lot of sense for the kid from Ohio whose father gave him up for adoption, and whose stepfather divorced his mom when he was young. I’m not trying to psychoanalyze the dude, but it makes some sense to a layman like myself that Vance would attach himself to a powerful older man who promises the world, even if he once described that man as “America’s Hitler.” And it makes sense that he would contort himself in whichever ways he deemed necessary to keep that man’s love.
Do you remember Game of Thrones? The young warrior Theon is captured, tortured, and broken by the House of Bolton. He becomes Reek, pet of the powerful Ramsay Snow. Eventually, he loses all sense of himself and lives only to please Ramsay. Watching Vance dodge questions about immigration round-ups and smoothly lying about Trump’s economic record made me realize: JD Vance is Reek.
Alfie Allen as Reek/Theon Greyjoy in ‘Game of Thrones.’
HBO
Don’t misunderstand—I thought the senator performed well last night, as did Governor Walz. Both were congenial, relatively dignified, and both did their best to answer the moderator’s questions without dragging each other into the mud. Both men comported themselves well, but only one of the two appeared to shape-shift before our eyes. Only one appeared to Reek the fuck out.
I’m tempted to say that the JD Vance we saw last night—measured, agreeable—is the real JD Vance. But why would I come to that conclusion? Because I’ve also seen angry JD Vance, haughty JD Vance, condescending and combative JD Vances. I’ve seen JD Vance make up lies and then double down on the lies. I’ve seen him attack, without reason, childless women. I’ve seen him pretend to be a dog owner. The only conclusion I can come to is JD Vance will be whoever you want JD Vance to be because, underneath the apple face is a hollowed-out core. Just below the surface of JD Vance is Reek.
Former U.S. president Donald Trump listens as JD Vance speaks during a rally in Youngstown, Ohio, U.S., September 17, 2022.
Gaelen Morse/Reuters
Others will talk about his inability to answer the simplest question of the debate: “Did Donald Trump lose the 2020 election”? He could not. Because to answer that question honestly—and, make no mistake, he knows the answer—would be to incur the wrath of his master, which is the one thing Reek cannot do. Because the thing about JD Vance, just like with Reek, is that he has been captured.
The reason we get an uneasy sense of JD Vance isn’t because he sometimes appears a little awkward in front of the cameras. It’s because the camera reveals something that might not be apparent to the naked eye; the reason he’s uncomfortable is because whoever JD Vance used to be is long gone. Whoever has replaced him is, in a very real way, nobody at all. He is Reek.
“I walked away last night wishing that JD Vance were less in thrall with his Great Replacement Theory brethren, and more in touch with people who would have loved him for whoever he actually used to be.”
— Michael Ian Black
I was grateful for last night’s civil debate. Grateful for a lack of name-calling. I thought everybody did a good job. Hopefully, they let Reek sleep in a big boy bed as a reward.
That being said, I doubt anybody’s mind was changed one way or the other. Both candidates held their own, but only one of them showed up as an entirely different guy than the one who’s been milling around donut shops, unsure of himself without a master to hold his leash.
Maybe the guy we saw last night is actually closer to who JD Vance actually is, or maybe he was just coached to make us think that’s the case. Regardless, I walked away last night wishing that JD Vance were less in thrall with his Great Replacement Theory brethren, and more in touch with people who would have loved him for whoever he actually used to be. Whoever that guy used to be is gone. Now he is only Reek.
