This is the second installment of an exclusive RedState feature. Martin I. Tiburon, a fictional freelancer gives a peek into the workings of a governor’s campaign. He explains the October 29 events in Virginia.
Operation Trader Vic
As the McAuliffe staff got more difficult, it became clear that I would soon learn the details of the secret plans. At the campaign appearance, Biden was not his expected, charismatic self, then Terry McAuliffe danced — again. We were then informed that Donald Trump was not going to be in Virginia for the Tuesday ballot.
Team members gathered once more in the conference hall, and this time, they were angry. Trump’s arrival was what the campaign needed, because then Glenn Youngkin, who has been as aloof as possible towards the former President, could be properly demonized and saddled with every single negative that Trump possesses. It would be all that was needed to power the Democratic candidate’s resurgence and make it back to the governor’s mansion. Trump’s absence would only make it more difficult.
“Is he allowed to do that?!” bellowed McAuliffe, “He’s on the record saying he was coming; he should be held to that!”
Although Terry was trying to calm himself, Rubenstein reached for his cell phone. Rubenstein called the fundraising team and asked them to send out emails informing everyone that Trump had not yet arrived.
Before he hung up, Rubenstein said, “Squeeze out whatever dollars we can on the orange devil, for the last time.”
Then he looked everyone over before settling his gaze on Renzo, saying calmly, “Okay, what’s the plan?”
He delivered his message with a sense of surrender. The secret plot they had in their back pockets was finally revealed to me. As my mind flooded with information, I tried to stay calm. I was going to learn the details of Operation Trader Vic.
Renzo guided everyone through the process.
“So okay, Youngkin has a rally planned in Charlottesville, this Friday.” He looked everyone in the eye individually, even myself.
It was a race in my chest, and I’m ashamed to say it. My phone also recorded.
He continued. “This plays right into our plans. We all remember the darkest day in Trump’s entire term took place in that city.” Renzo was referring to when some white supremacists staged a rally that fateful Saturday and then, after counter-protestors arrived, one racist drove his car into their crowd, killing a young woman.
“What we will do is have a group of our own show up at his event, dressed exactly like those idiots that day, even give them those stupid torches to hold. This will look like those same racist fools have shown up to support Youngkin.”
Terry McAuliffe burst into loud laughter. “Holy crap! “This is amazing!This is PERFECT! Marty McFly won’t even know what to say!” His laughter continued.
“I already primed the pumps with some local media. Our dorks in Social have mocked up a bunch of Facebook posts and tweets,” Renzo continued. “We’ll make it totally look organic. I fed some of the images of the postings of these guys supposedly planning things to local reporters, and that way when our crew arrives they’ll believe it is real.”
“Plus they’ll be all excited to break a national story, so they’ll be motivated to run with it.”
“Next, I’ll tip off all our regulars at the same time about any local reports — Acosta, Hayes, Tapper, Kessler, Corn. The whole thing will explode, it’ll run the entire weekend, and by Monday nobody will want to even say the name Glenn Youngkin.”
Zo convinced me. I was sold. The candidate smiled wildly. “Oh man, this is so great. So — who we using, the volunteers and door knockers, or…”
“No,” said Renzo, firmly. “This cannot be connected to us. To keep the campaign from being distracted, we must use cutouts. A group from Virginia Democrats is ready and waiting to be sent. They will be the ones going out there, and we’ll have them paid off from the outside, not through any of our channels. We have The Lincoln Project paying them, and they are more than thrilled to be backing this.”
Rubenstein was my lead, I noticed. He slowly nodded his head and seemed satisfied with the fact that they were safe from all responsibility.
A few volunteers brought boxes with them on Thursday, and the children set the boxes near the conference rooms. A backdoor was opened and I found a young man in college with strawberry-blonde hair. A friend and he began to take the items out. A huddle was held later and I witnessed people wave their arms while giving me worried looks. I moved over to hear what they were saying.
It was not working. A large order of “Make America Great Again” hats had been ordered, but not wanting to give any money to Trump, they placed it with an imposter outlet from China. It was only a matter of weeks before it finally arrived. The hats may still be floating off Long Beach Harbor. Operation Trader Vic was impacted by California’s supply chain crisis.
Renzo was virtually tapped on my shoulder that night, and this sparked more curiosity than anything else. Weeks back, I was granted access to the campaign’s Slack channel, and at 11pm on Thursday, I saw he was online.
I probed to see how things were setting up for the next day’s plan to unfold.
What’s the deal with OTV?Which? I was careful when asking. As he responded quickly, I could tell that Zo was searching for an ally.
- These guys will give me an ulcer by the time I’m 40, Dude!
- Whoah, that doesn’t sound good. What’s wrong, anything I can help with?
- Nah, it’s just deealing with these cement-heads. They are young testosterone-addicted frat-jocks. When they cannot operate a garage door, they act as if they’re major D.C. operator. It’s mostly fine, I’m just herding cats, you know?
- Yea, I get ya. You don’t understand the problem.
- I’m here trying to coordinate tomorrow, get everything laid out and choreographed properly. Their busy with a MAGA party.
- Yes. I’m not sh***ing you – they are dressed up right now and having a F***ING PARTY!
Renzo sent them a photograph that they may have sent, which was taken with a cell phone. The picture showed Renzo and Renzo in white, khaki, and white pants. Beer cans were scattered everywhere. The result was quite ugly.
Zo then requested that I come in to help with coordination the following day. Jake and Terry were expected to appear with Jake. Christine was to attend the Youngkin event with the media. Renzo requested that I help coordinate the infiltrators.
I looked at his photo again. While part of me wanted it to be taken down, the best part of me supported it. It might be something completely different.
Renzo knew I was coming and I got there by 7:30 the next morning. I then watched, watching, as I sat down.
While everything appeared to be going as planned, there was tension within the office. After a few people had left by 9:00, Zo gestured to me and I set up in the conference area. We were given four laptops, a couple of phones and several other devices to help us monitor different feeds. The direct line to the agitators was via emails, social media, as well as through email. Things didn’t go well early on.
For starters, steady rain was hitting Charlottesville — but the real inclemency was in the thinking of the operators. Two of the players had come down ill, which I took to mean “hung-over.”
The leader assured them that replacements had been made. This made Zo a bit nervous, but that fell away when he suddenly proclaimed, “You have GOT to be kidding!”
He said that they had sent him a photograph. I was able to view the picture by him when he held up his phone. “I mean hell, they barely even match.”
Due to the MAGA hat gaffe, their headgear was mismatched and their pants weren’t a uniform khaki but an assortment of earth colors. He shrugged and said, “I mean, I guess it still works…”
It hit me. “Hang on — let me see that again,” I looked at his group once again.
“Ummm…Zo? There’s another issue.”
He lean in front of me, and asked my meaning.
Zooming in, I highlighted two of them. “Doesn’t this look like a girl?”
He murmured something profane, but I told him that there were more things to worry about. I scrolled through the photo to show another member.
It was obvious, despite the sunglasses and hat. One of these staged white supremacists…was clearly an African American.
After making more vulgarities, the man reached for a telephone.
“That’s it, I’m calling this off!” he announced, then began dialing furiously.
As I scrolled through Twitter, I came across a post.
“Oh man…I hate to say it, but I think it’s too late for that.”
“What?! What?! Why??” He rolled his chair over and there it was.
A photo of the group was posted by one of the reporters from Channel 29 News.
As we stared at the sign, we sat silently. The group was huddled in front of Youngkin’s bus, drenched in their random fashions, clutching their torches which bore no flames. In the vacuum of the conference room it was obvious that the result wasn’t overwhelming.
They approached these men @GlennYoungkin’s bus as it pulled up saying what sounded like, “We’re all in for Glenn.” Here they are standing in front of the bus as his campaign event at Guadalajara started.@NBC29 pic.twitter.com/l681ejyBjc
— Elizabeth Holmes (@holmes_reports) October 29, 2021
The phone vibrated and I grabbed it. The text was from one of my friends.
- Mr. McAuliffe, quick update-
It’s raining so the torches you got for us aren’t working. We are also wearing soaked khakis, so that our Nazi flags and Oriental Trading swastika are beginning to get ruined. We’ll try a photo by Glenn’s bus, and look racist.’
Renzo looked at me as I read him the message and he sank his face in his hands.
“Did he actually say that — he said, ‘we’ll try looking racist’, for real?!”
I gave him my phone and the text message. Zo then grabbed another phone. Within a matter of seconds, Zo was shouting at his soldier.
“Listen to me, you idiots need to get out of there, NOW! Clear out, and avoid any press around there…What?! You are not allowed to pose for cameras. No! Get – The – Hell – Out – of – there!”
He dropped the phone and it landed in an office more comfortable.
Zo answered media questions for the next several hours. The plan was to make it a fun time with plenty of prepared talk points for the media hyenas. He was instead on defense and the pile of PR comments were abandoned. Time was spent denying McAuliffe’s involvement.
Then, during one phone call I tap him on the shoulder to tell him that my laptop was open. Online, people identified two of the members as belonging to Virginia Democrats.
Renzo was now directing the gang to do what they had to to clean their profiles on social media. The remainder of the day was used to put out the fires, distract the press and try to take control of the narrative. Social media departments were overworked and trying to stop all the viral memes. McAuliffe danced at the event with his tiki torch on stage.
Although things were not perfect, the effort was long enough to make it appear that the office was sufficiently protected. There was no direct connection between this campaign and the election.
The Lincoln Project then made it public that they were behind this appearance. Renzo was shocked to see the announcement and decided not to continue. As he closed the Acer laptop, he took his messenger bag and went out on his own.
A statement from The Lincoln Project regarding the events at Glenn Youngkin’s bus tour. https://t.co/bcm8iP3EUZ
— The Lincoln Project (@ProjectLincoln) October 29, 2021
EPILOGUE
He was found at The Big Stick bar near the Navy Yard, later in that evening. While he was watching the World Series game 3, he was muttering about the depletion of their bullpen ahead of Tuesday’s vote. My truthful participation in the campaign was something I did not take pleasure in. It was a difficult task, but he did it with a smile.
So, I simply explained I’d be filing my piece soon, and my time in the office was finished. He drank his pint of IPA, and never glanced at the TV screen.
In a meek voice, Renzo asked, “Any chance you could take me with you?”
It is not clear if this was genuine or just gallows humor at the moment.
Editor’s note: this is a parody piece (that is, satire). Brad Slager should receive all the praises and ridicule.
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