Politics - News Analysis

‘I Could’ve Destroyed Him…But I Let Him Live!’: Trump Goes Nuts After Ted Cruz Refuses to Support His 2024 Run

They're both loonies.

It’s never been a less-than-complicated relationship between Donald Trump and Ted Cruz. Both are hated for various reasons, each of them worthy of that hatred.

But it stands to reason that they would stand together in the end, if only because they are both Republicans. That’s not so much the case.

It’s no secret that back in 2016, when the enemy of all enemies, Hillary Clinton, was the rival, Republicans mostly banded together to campaign against her. But Ted and Donald went toe-to-toe. Trump called Cruz out as a weakling and even insulted his wife and family. Cruz called Trump out as a “serial philanderer,” a fact that cannot be disputed.

Trump came around once Cruz started “bending the knee” while he was in office. He changed his nickname for him from “Lyin’ Ted” to “Texas Ted.” Cruz, of course, voted for neither impeachment and was a good little Republican.

This time around, however, Cruz has not been a cheerleader for the former president, nor even endorsed him. And according to the New York Times, Trump is out of his mind angry.

“Ted — he shouldn’t even exist,” Mr. Trump said recently of Mr. Cruz, a 2016 rival, according to a person who heard the remarks and recounted them soon after. “I could’ve destroyed him. I kind of did destroy him in 2016, if you think about it. But then I let him live.”

The Times says that Trump is “privately ranting about and workshopping nicknames for other holdouts, like Senator Ted Cruz of Texas.” Never mind the fact that nicknames are something a sociopath does, Trump is on the warpath.

As much as I’d like to indulge the fantasy that Trump will return to his lifetime of being pro-choice and anti-gun, when he had Hillary Clinton as an honored guest at his wedding to Melania, I know that he’s on a trajectory now that must include the far right. But wouldn’t it be nice if he were mad at Ted for something real?

meet the author

Andrew is a dark blue speck in deep red Central Washington, writing with the conviction of 18 years at the keyboard and too much politics to even stand. When not furiously stabbing the keys on breaking news stories, he writes poetry, prose, essays, haiku, lectures, stories for grief therapy, wedding ceremonies, detailed instructions on making doughnuts from canned biscuit dough (more sugar than cinnamon — duh), and equations to determine the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow. A girlfriend, a dog, two cats, and two birds round out the equation, and in his spare time, Drewbear likes to imagine what it must be like to have spare time.

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