An interesting profile of Gary Johnson at The Economist:
The truly strange thing about Mr Johnson, qua politician, is his authenticity. But as Andrew Potter argues in his fascinating book “The Authenticity Hoax”, authenticity has lately acquired scare quotes, has become simply another marketing ploy. Rehabbed exposed brick is “authentic”. Buying your certified organic mangoes out of wooden crates in shops with buffed concrete floors is “authentic”. In American politics “authenticity” is a put-on populism, a regular-joe, bible-thumping bonhomie, an American flag lapel-pin persona. Rick Perry’s drawling, alpha-male Christ-love is fearsomely “authentic”. That’s his supposed advantage. But Gary Johnson’s authenticity seems, well, authentic. The media especially doesn’t know what to do with Mr Johnson and his indifference to optics, other than to ignore it. Because how can a man dispositionally allergic to pandering get ahead in politics? Yet his anti-charismatic charm seems to have worked in New Mexico. I know it has worked on me. I very much doubt Mr Johnson will get anywhere near the Republican nomination. But if he stays in the debates and keeps getting attention from the press, I think a lot of people are going find themselves surprised by the way the governor’s guileless can-do competence sneaks up on them.
It also links to Lisa DePaulo’s recent GQ profile:
A few things you need to know up front about Gary Johnson. There is nothing he will not answer, nothing he will not share. For six straight days, we spent virtually every waking hour together, which might have had something to do with the fact that there wasn’t another reporter within ten miles of the guy. Or that when you’re polling in the low digits and your campaign fund is less than Mitt Romney’s breakfast tab and your entourage is Brinck and Matt, you tend to be more forthcoming. But in fact, Johnson is fundamentally incapable of bullshitting, which is one of the many, many things that make him so unusual for a presidential candidate. (When a reporter asks him, after he gushes about how great New Hampshire voters are, if he says the same thing in Michigan, he replies, “No, Michigan’s the worst.”) He finds presidential politicking of the sort we’ve grown accustomed to—slick, scripted, focus-grouped, how-does-the-hair-look—to be “absolutely phony.”
Another thing you need to know: He was never supposed to be the fringe candidate, and his campaign is no lark. Before he officially declared, he visited thirty-eight states — on his own nickel — to get a sense of whether he’d be a viable candidate. He was the first GOP candidate to announce, in early April, and for about twenty seconds seemed like a contender. The wildly popular (still) two-term Republican governor from a state that is two-to-one Democrat. A guy who’s confident that he knows how to manage the purse strings and balance a budget because he did it — eight years in a row — in New Mexico. His fiscal conservatism is unmatched by anyone in the race. And his socially liberal cred — the only pro-gay and pro-choice Republican candidate — is unmatched even by some Democrats. (Of course, while this could be an asset in the general election, it’s a bitch of a liability in the GOP primary.) Even the backstory had a self-made charm: Born fifty-eight years ago in Minot, North Dakota, the son of a tire salesman turned teacher and a mom who worked for the Bureau of Indian Affairs, Johnson started a one-man handyman operation when he was 21, grew it into a construction company with a thousand employees, and sold it in 1999 for about $5 million. Oh, and he named it Big J (for Big Johnson). “It didn’t have the same connotation at the time,” he swears.
But still. Do not confuse his Zen-like quality for a lack of cojones. The guy has brass ones. He’s a five-time Ironman triathlete. He paraglides and hot-gas balloons. (Not hot air, hot gas.) He biked across the Alps. And from the right angle, he looks like Harrison Ford.
So what on earth is so radioactive about Gary Johnson? And how did he become Nowhere Man in a field as chaotic and uninspired as this one?
At least, that’s the way most Minnesota fans are going to read this little history lesson:
I’ve been accumulating news snippets about the as-yet-to-be-formally-scheduled release of Guild Wars 2 for an email newsletter I send out to my friends and acquaintances in the Guild Wars community.
