Dwain Northey (Gen X)

If Texas ever needed a new state motto, it could comfortably be: “Wait… what?” Because that’s the only reasonable reaction to Governor Greg Abbott’s recent policy pinball machine.

First, he triumphantly signs a bill banning DEI in state institutions—DEI, the very framework designed to ensure institutions don’t slam the door on people who don’t fit the old establishment mold. You know, the same kind of policy scaffolding that made it possible for people like Abbott to rise in a system not exactly known for embracing accessibility or inclusion. But suddenly DEI is the Big Bad Wolf, blowing down the house of whatever ideological straw Abbott found lying around this week.

It’s like watching someone saw off the branch they’re sitting on, then hold a press conference declaring the tree “too woke.”

And because the chaos must always escalate, Abbott then declares CAIR—a civil rights organization—as a terrorist group. Not after a federal investigation, not after intelligence findings, but after apparently consulting the Magic 8 Ball of political theater. The move doesn’t solve anything, doesn’t address actual extremism, but it does generate headlines, which, let’s be honest, is the real currency here.

It’s governing by vibes. Bad ones.

But the pièce de résistance? Oh, Abbott is big mad—Texas-sized mad—because his precious redistricting plan just got bodied by a court ruling for being racially discriminatory. One hundred percent. Not even subtle. Not even creative. The court basically said, “You didn’t even try to hide it, Greg.” And there’s nothing Abbott hates more than being told “no,” especially when the “no” comes wrapped in the Constitution and judicial oversight.

So now he’s stomping around the political playroom throwing policy toys at the wall. Ban DEI! Label civil rights groups terrorists! Pound the podium! Spin the outrage wheel again! Something—anything—to distract from the fact that a federal court handed him a very public spanking for violating civil rights.

It’s almost impressive, if you appreciate the art of denial as performance.

Meanwhile, the governor keeps branding himself as a champion of freedom and fairness, which is an interesting angle for a man whose policies routinely get overturned for being unconstitutional, discriminatory, or just plain nonsensical. It’s like watching someone insist they’re a gourmet chef while repeatedly burning cereal.

So here we are, witnessing Abbott govern with the self-assured confusion of someone who forgot his own plotline. One minute it’s small government, the next it’s micromanaging public institutions. One minute it’s civil liberties, the next it’s banning the very mechanisms that protect civil liberties. One minute it’s “don’t tread on me,” the next it’s “unless I’m doing the treading.”

Texans, Americans, and anyone observing from a distance are left asking the same question:

“Is he okay?”

Because at this point, Abbott’s policy agenda looks less like a political strategy and more like a midseason meltdown on a reality show where nobody remembers why they’re fighting but they know they have to keep screaming for ratings.