Why Republicans dress like supervillains Our theater department staged a modernized version of The Drunkard when I was an undergrad. The temperance play has been around since the mid-19th century. We brought in a specialist from New York to choreograph every over-the-top gesture. Every movement of every character. Each had an entrance theme played on a tinny piano off-stage. The audience is invited to cheer the heroes and boo the villain. We sold bags of peanuts to either eat or throw at the bad guy. The whole point of the melodrama these days is high camp. Amanda Marcotte argues this morning (my take) that what we may be missing is that the right is staging a version of the show every single day. “Why do so many Republicans now dress like cartoon supervillains?” Salon’s headline asks. When Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-Ga.) arrived for the State of the Union Address garbed in a white fur coat and wore it through the speech, she got “compared to a Stephen King monster, a gangster’s wife in a mob movie, and, of course, a campy Disney villain:” But for the “wealthy heiress who spent her pre-political life as a woman of leisure,” drawing that kind of attention and ridicule is the point, Marcotte argues. It got Greene attention. It got her photo plastered across print and electronic coverage: Drawing scorn from people like [Seth] Meyers, which she can then repackage as “proof” that she’s a victim of the “coastal elite,” defined not by money, which she…