Commitment to the bit.

I was, of late, terribly disappointed to learn via The Rest is History podcast that, contrary to the 1970s Penthouse magazine-funded bio-pic, the Roman emperor and noted psychopath Caligula did not, in fact, appoint his favourite horse as Consul. My disappointment, however, has been soothed by news that American emperor and bloated psychopath Donald Trump has appointed performative Australian idiot Nick Adams as Ambassador to Malaysia.

The only thing that might improve upon this news would be the return of the infamously prickly Australia-hating Mahathir Mohammed to the office of Prime Minister to deal with the international crisis that must surely follow, because I don’t think Trump understands what he has done.

Adams might well be the grotesque homunculus constructed from rancid spam and chicken wing niblets he seems on Twitter. But there is also a non-zero chance he could be one of the greatest improvisational comedians of the modern age, simply playing that role on Twitter—and any minute now, the Southeast Asian diplomatic circuit—with a truly Homeric commitment to the bit.

Adams’ self-styled "alpha male" persona seems too perfectly crafted to be anything less than the genuinely perverse caricature of MAGA masculinity he presents online.

But unlike, say, Stephen Colbert’s original Stephen Colbert, a satirical deconstruction of an algorithmically perfect Fox News host, Nick Adams’ “Nick Adams” never winks at the camera. Or almost never. His onetime security guard—he’ll be getting an upgrade to Secret Service and Marine Corps protection when he takes up his ambassadorship to Kuala Lumpur—compared Adams to the legendary Andy Kaufman for never breaking character.

And yet… in performance art and comedy, that refusal to break character, to wink at the fourth wall, can be all the confirmation you need to know that you are watching a performer.

Adams’ performance of MAGA masculinity is so po-faced and yet so wildly over the top compared to, say, rival would-be alphas like Andrew Tate (despicable) or the Liver King (lamentable) that it strongly suggests a consistent shrewdness and satirical (if somewhat grifty) intent.

It recalls the line from Watergate, “These are not very bright guys and things got out of hand.”

I think, looking at the soon-to-be US Ambassador to Malaysia, that he’s a reasonably bright guy, who chanced on a funny little grift at the intersection of culture and politics, and “things got out of hand.”

It’s a helluva long way from running as a 21-year-old Liberal Party councillor in Ashfield on a platform of forever war against Sydney’s pigeons, to repping for an aspiring American Caesar. But on that journey, Adams has made some real coin from growing his cult-like following, with conspiracy rants against woke footwear and feminist candy, and heartfelt paeans to Hooters and chicken wings.

I don’t know whether Caligula’s horse was a fan of strippers and hot wings, but if it had actually made it all the way to the office of Consul, I’m sure it would have done its best. What does Nick Adams’ best look like? Part of me, the part that thinks we’re all doomed anyway, really hopes that it looks like Adams’ staying in character and never once breaking the fourth wall as he tools around Kuala Lumpur in the embassy limo, looking for a Hooters.