Olson on Dusty: "a buck-forty soaking wet"

Jennifer Leither / Mitchell Republic

Editor's note: $20 says Jacquelyn Johnson is skeptical of this gig and doesn't want to live in Pierre or maybe it's a new decidedly not a ginger boy band despite the maybe accidental orange homage to Dusty's real master. 

Shad Olson ain't buying it either.

Now that NeverTrump swamp creature Dusty Johnson has added officialdom and his $7-million warchest to the worst kept secret in South Dakota politics, announcing his run for South Dakota Governor, a few observations on the first "Team Dusty" video ad of the 2026 campaign.  

But only if you're man enough to take it. Take it long and hard and rough and sweaty and dirty. Because that's what Dusty 2026 is all about. Man stuff. And word to the wise, if you're a buck-forty soaking wet and wearing dimestore cowboy boots and skinny jeans, you better just see yourself out before you strain an earlobe. Only real men allowed beyond this point. You must be this tall to ride this ride.

Dusty's first ad is just that intimidating. Vroom-vroom.

It's nothing less than a South Dakota-fried version of cultural appropriation of toxic masculinity. What with an assemblage of Dusty shots featuring arm swinging "dude walking," backslaps, firm handclasps and Dusty in a booster seat piloting a Dodge Ramp pickup, NeverTrump Congressman Johnson is attempting to appropriate toxic masculinity, complete with obvious coaching on diction and pacing to sound more gruff and authoritative, rather than professorial and peevish.

At one point Dusty enters the Johnson family dining room authoritatively and makes an amorous beeline for his seated wife with an intensity that might have left viewers wondering if he was going in for a randy handful of firm bosom or round bottom or both, with a side of creamy thigh. And why not?

Because Dusty is a man's man, who sees what he wants, wants what he takes, takes what he sees, and sees what he likes. Or, something like that. Anything. Anything manly and brutish and bullroar that forces his voice into an octave lower register of brute force and machismo. And South Dakota Strong. Gggrrrrrrrr.

Pass the Brut aftershave and the candy cigarettes. It's Dusty time up in here.

Whereas 2018 Congressional candidate Dusty was a cross between Howdy Doody and Kermit the Frog in a "Young Republicans" clip-on tie, exuding all the professorial charm of Urkel and Poindexter, 2025 Dusty wants everyone to know that he's graduated from Buster Browns, shortpants, suspenders and bowtie, to a new and rough and tumble version of his scrawny self, ready to tangle Mano y Mano with any hombre between here and the Picketwire. John Wayne included. This is Dusty Johnson with three new chest hairs and his dad's aftershave. Focus group tested and approved. Ram pickup included.

Removing tongue from cheek for serious observation, any imaging product that's two flannel shirts and a Red Ryder BB gun away from being a lesbian dating profile signals one thing and one thing only about the 2026 GOP Gubernatorial Primary:

After scanning the candidate landscape, Team Dusty Johnson sees an alpha male businessman from Aberdeen as their most formidable competition and they're programming accordingly. They're making Dusty a man's man, as clear counter programming to keep Dusty from looking like an errand boy about to get his clock cleaned by the company owner for botching the coffee again.

And spoiler alert, the next internal race polling you'll see likely confirms the logic of the masculinity makeover and the identification of main competition. Doeden surging. Rhoden fades. Hansen is a non-factor and by end of summer, it's a two man race between Aberdeen MAGA businessman Toby Doeden and Dusty Johnson, with Doeden able to go toe to toe and dollar for dollar with the establishment plant.

And they have to make Dusty credibly into a "man" capable of winning that comparison, regardless of what other rumors and unexplained compensation to male assistants might suggest.

And good luck with all that.