The GOP Midterm Convention Is the Campiest Apocalypse I’ve Ever Seen

DALLAS—A couple of things are clear from the outset of the first-ever GOP midterm convention. For one: If Republicans lose in November, the world as we know it will end. For two: The party plans to go down looking fabulous.

Not the Republican Party—what, with members’ standard blue blazers and red power ties?—but the party in downtown Dallas, here at the American Airlines Center, where many of President Donald Trump’s MAGA faithfuls convened this week in anticipation of the midterm elections. There were sparkles and sequins and Trump jerseys and at least one man dressed as the U.S.–Mexico border wall, all while attendees mulled what would happen if Democrats reclaimed a majority in the U.S. House of Representatives, which they are largely expected to do.

I was initiated appropriately. Upon first arriving, I began swimming upstream against a crowd heading toward the main event, many clad in their finest reds, as I ricocheted between them with my suitcase. It felt a bit reminiscent of the stampede scene from The Lion King, only in this version they were wearing cowboy hats. We are in Texas.

MAGA merch tables greet people in the outdoor pavilion inside the perimeter. Offerings include a shirt celebrating Trump’s first term (“IT AIN’T A MISTAKE SNOWFLAKE”), another celebrating his current term (“SUCK IT UP BUTTERCUP”), and a hat hoping for a third (“TRUMP 2028”). Nearby, The Daily Wire hosts a party called the BaRNC—bar and Republican National Committee, we love a portmanteau—where drinks are flowing. (The outlet advises people to “enjoy conservatively.”) Trivia plays on the TV: “By early 2026,” one question reads, “how many illegal immigrants charged with or convicted of crimes had been deported under President Trump?” Put down the margarita.

Onstage at the main event, the message oscillates between hopeful (if we are talking about Trump) and utterly dire (if we are not). To some degree, that’s typical for any sort of gathering like this. But it’s on steroids here. “Your vote will decide whether our country stumbles at the starting gate of the next 250 years,” the president told the sequined, cowboy-hatted crowd, “or surges forward and never, ever looks back.”

Why this convention was planned has been a matter of debate. That’s mostly because this isn’t actually a convention. Those, in theory, exist to formally nominate candidates. But there are no candidates to nominate here. There are people who came as “delegates,” but they aren’t doing any delegating, because there is no delegating to do.

You could make the argument that this is about Ken Paxton, the Republican Senate candidate from Texas, whose scandal-ridden tenure as attorney general has him facing a weirdly close race against Democrat James Talarico (known in these walls as James Talafreako). “He may not dress right. He may not talk exactly perfectly, and he may not be the best-looking guy I’ve ever seen,” Trump said of Paxton. “But you know what he is? He’s the greatest attorney general in America, and he deserves to be your next senator.” The relationship between Paxton’s alleged homeliness and his fitness for office was a theme across the president’s nearly two-hour speech.

You could also make the argument that this was mostly about Trump, who, it goes without saying, relishes an opportunity—any opportunity—to be camp under the spotlight. (He entered the stage to Lee Greenwood singing “God Bless the USA.” How else?)

And then there was that closing act: the attempt to attract midterm votes for Republicans broadly by offering every American adult a $5,000 check. It was a fitting end to the evening, in which speakers foretold the apocalypse that would come if Democrats were victorious in the midterms. The result: socialism. The solution: also socialism. “If the Republicans win,” Trump said, “you win with us, and you get $5,000.”

The crowd went wild. Except one man dressed in a red T-shirt, standing off to my left. “THAT CAUSES INFLATION,” he shouted. “DON’T DO IT!”