North Carolina Lieutenant Governor Mark Robinson, the Republican candidate for governor in 2024’s election, is in the midst of one of the greatest crash-outs in modern political history—all because he doesn’t fully understand how the internet works.
Robinson is embroiled in escalating and overlapping controversies threatening his campaign. Recent revelations about Robinson’s alleged online activities have drawn comparisons to Uncle Ruckus, the self-hating Black character from the animated series The Boondocks—a caricature come to life and seeking the governor’s mansion.
Robinson, who rose to prominence after a fiery pro-gun speech went viral in 2018, has built his whiteness-worshipping political brand on unhinged and inflammatory rhetoric, primarily (and ironically) targeting marginalized groups. But newly uncovered posts on a pornographic website’s message board between 2008-2012—linked to Robinson in a wild CNN exclusive report—have taken his controversial persona to shocking new depths.
Evidently louder than he is bright, CNN reported that an account using Robinson’s name and email address made disturbing comments, including calling himself a “black NAZI!” expressing support for reinstating slavery, and using racial slurs. These discoveries were made, in large part, because he used the same language, phrases, and location (Greensboro, NC) on almost all the sites he frequented in the report. He even used his birthdate and the same username (minisoldr) everywhere he let his weirdly racist freak flag fly.
The posts also described sexual encounters in graphic detail and proclaimed an affinity for transgender pornography—a stark contrast to Robinson’s public stance against LGBTQ+ rights. On AdultFriendFinder, he called himself a “BBM.” On Nude Africa, which I understand isn’t really for Africans to view per se, he used his full name in his profile.
Like Uncle Ruckus, a cartoonishly racist Black character who worships white people and denigrates his own race, Robinson seems to have cultivated a persona that caters to the most extreme elements of the far-right. His alleged online comments, physical disposition, and scowl echo Uncle Ruckus’ exaggerated self-loathing, with the crucial difference that Robinson is seeking real-life political power rather than satirizing harmful stereotypes for comedic effect.
Robinson obviously denies making any of the many posts, calling them “salacious tabloid trash” concocted by his opponents. But the problem is that the mounting evidence tying him to the account—including biographical details that match his background—paints a damning picture. In other words, he continually volunteered the very things you can never give out if you’re pursuing any political office, much less a governor’s office.
The controversy has sent shockwaves through North Carolina politics. Prominent Republicans, including Senator Ted Budd, quickly distanced themselves from Robinson. “The comments reported in the article are disgusting,” Budd said in a statement. “Mark Robinson says they are not from him. He needs to prove that to the voters.”
Even before this scandal broke, Robinson was already trailing his Democratic opponent, state Attorney General Josh Stein—by double digits in some polls. Robinson’s campaign has essentially catered along with his political career.
Adding to Robinson’s woes, an email address belonging to him was also found registered on Ashley Madison, the infamous website for married people seeking affairs. Infidelity allegations (or even actual infidelity) alone may not sink a campaign. Still, the hypocrisy is glaring for a candidate who has railed against pornography and positioned himself as a supposed champion of “traditional family values.”
Let’s be clear, though: Robinson has been deep into his foolishness bag for a while. He has referred to homosexuality and transgender identities as “filth,” called Muslims “invaders,” and made derogatory comments about Jewish people and Black Democrats. Like Uncle Ruckus’ cartoonish racism, Robinson’s toxic rhetoric often seems to push boundaries of acceptability to absurd degrees, upping the ante with each dumb sentence uttered.
But wait, it gets worse: The lieutenant governor still faces scrutiny from earlier this year over the ethical use of his wife’s child-care-related nonprofit, Balanced Nutrition Inc., which the state says must repay $132,000 in federal funds. In a separate report, former employees employees say he was a regular at Greensboro-area video shops in the 1990s and 2000s—allegedly purchasing one bootleg video “described as a compilation of ‘super hardcore’ films [the seller] acquired in New York City that were too risqué to be sold in North Carolina.”
Despite the mounting scandals, Robinson insists he will remain in the race. In a video addressing the CNN report, he blamed his opponent and the media for what he called false attacks. “Let me reassure you: The things that you will see in that story, those are not the words of Mark Robinson,” he said.
However, Robinson’s blanket denials won’t be enough to salvage his campaign. The sheer volume of unhinged statements attributed to him—verified and alleged via CNN’s reporting—sorts out a portrait of a deeply troubled candidate unfit for high office. Like Uncle Ruckus’ bloated persona, Robinson seems to embody the worst stereotypes and biases of the far-right.
His rise in Republican politics despite—or perhaps because of—his ridiculous views speaks to a troubling strain in modern conservatism embracing hypocrites trafficking in bigotry and conspiracy theories.
North Carolina voters must reckon with whether they want a real-life Uncle Ruckus figure leading their state. Many conservatives have already thrown him away. Robinson’s campaign may ultimately serve as a referendum on how far dishonest politics of flooding the zone with foolishness—false grievance, misplaced scapegoating, and unfounded outrage—can carry a candidate.
Published: Sep 20, 2024 04:17 pm