Reince Priebus Never Stood a Chance

A few years ago someone sold a script to Hollywood based on a Reddit post asking an interesting question: Could you destroy the Roman empire if you traveled back in time with a single Marine infantry battalion?

I know how that sounds. A movie based on a Reddit post? But if you go and read the post, it’s actually pretty ingenious. The writer, James Erwin, has a knack for storytelling and a pretty good eye for detail.

And the idea is kind of captivating. On the one hand, the Marines have machine guns and grenades and helicopters and long-range communication. But on the other hand, all of that technology is dependent on technologically complicated supplies. No GPS. No electricity. No more fuel or ammunition than they have on-hand.

Meanwhile, the Romans have numbers on their side. They know the terrain. They are deeply integrated into their own supply chain. And they are hard men used to life in the ancient world:

The Praetorians close another 15 miles. The pace is exhausting for the hastily scraped-up auxiliaries, but marching on fine roads near Rome, even under 100-pound packs, is child’s play for a Praetorian, a man who has never known air-conditioning, never sat in a cushioned chair, never greeted tropical storms or arctic gales with anything but Stoic resignation because he has never had a choice – unlike the men of the 35th, whose tempers are fraying under the stress of their predicament and their utter isolation. At 4 in the afternoon, with humid temperatures roasting American and Roman alike, a unit of 50 Roman cavalry in glittering metal armor appear on the horizon. Sergeant Alvin McCandless shouts to his men, who take up position behind a line of sandbags. M16A4s are trained on the Romans, and a SAW is locked and loaded – .50-caliber bullets. Within five seconds, enough firepower to annihilate a legion is concentrated on Fulvius Bassus and his men. Bassus approaches cautiously but holds his head high and keeps his horse trotting at a confident pace. The Invaders shout something, but he pays them no heed. They’re too far away for a parley, and he’s not even close to bowshot range. He will uphold the honor and dignity of Rome, and he will come in close enough to talk. There is a sudden flash of light. Something erupts in a cloud of dust in front of his horse. A split-second later, loud reports echo through the air. Now the Invaders are shouting again, their voices now unbelievably loud, with a strange hissing behind them that distorts the sounds into something inhuman. By reflex, Bassus and his men draw their swords. . . .

You can see why Warner Brothers was willing to take a flier on Erwin’s story treatment. I mention all of this because I was thinking about Erwin’s tale last week watching Reince Priebus being ousted from the Trump White House.

Priebus was never really a good fit for Trump World. Maybe if the president’s goal had been to work with congressional Republicans to pass legislation, or build the party’s grassroots, or fundraise on behalf of Republican candidates—you know, the normal stuff presidents do—then Priebus would have made for an okay chief of staff.

But none of those things are priorities for President Trump. I don’t say that with any sort of judgment. Maybe you think that Trump’s goals (draining the swamp and MAGA-ing like it’s 1959) are more important than legislating and party-building. Maybe you don’t. The rightness or wrongness of Trump’s priorities isn’t really the point. They simply are what they are.

But what this all meant is that Priebus was already at a tremendous disadvantage coming into the White House because his skill-set didn’t mesh well with the president’s priorities. But then things got even worse. He was surrounded by Trump family members who are essentially unfireable. And when Anthony Scaramucci showed up to take the communications director job, things got really weird.

Not only did Scaramucci have no relevant experience for running the White House comms shop, he had a temperament unsuited to the job. Hence his tirade against Priebus for leaking, in which he (wrongly) accused Priebus of committing a felony. Which was followed by his unintentionally public attempt to leak against Priebus and Steve Bannon.

By the end, Priebus wasn’t quite like a Marine fighting against the Roman Legion. He was more like a mildly-competent 19th century general dropped the middle of the Mad Max universe.

And Immortan Joe has dispatched him accordingly.

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