Marco Rubio is, by all available evidence, everywhere.
Not content with serving as Secretary of State, Rubio is also currently the acting National Security Advisor, the acting Archivist of the United States, and—at one point—the head of USAID before the agency was unceremoniously sent to the great bureaucracy farm upstate. These are just the roles we know about. For all we can tell, he may also be running NORAD on weekends and subbing in for the Surgeon General during lunch breaks.
Naturally, the internet noticed.
For months now, social media has been flooded with “Marco realizing” memes, placing Rubio into every conceivable job imaginable. One especially viral photo shows him slumped in a chair, looking like a man who has not seen REM sleep since the Bush administration. Meme creators, sensing blood in the water, have had an absolute field day.
Which brings us to Thursday’s important national update: Marco Rubio has assured the American people that he is not taking the Miami Dolphins coaching job.
Take a breath. Democracy survives another day.
Sharp-eyed readers will note that Rubio did not explicitly rule out the position forever. And honestly, why would he? The man is a known NFL fan, and his wife, Jeanette, is a former Dolphins cheerleader. At this point, adding “interim head coach” to his résumé would barely register as unusual.
What makes this moment notable isn’t just the joke—it’s the tone. This administration, from President Donald Trump to Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent to Vice President JD Vance, has demonstrated a rare and increasingly controversial trait in Washington: a sense of humor.
They laugh at themselves. They lean into memes. They don’t act like every joke is a constitutional crisis or a threat to democracy. And that, oddly enough, has become one of their most effective political weapons.
The contrast with the modern Left couldn’t be sharper. While Democrats default to shrieking outrage, performative despair, and joyless moral panic over nearly everything Trump does, the administration projects confidence, normalcy, and—heresy of heresies—fun.
All the president’s men (and women) may be funny, but more importantly, they appear human. That matters. Voters tend to like people who don’t seem permanently miserable. Progressives, unfortunately, have made dour sanctimony their brand. Their base may love it—misery does enjoy company—but independents? Not so much.
Humor, it turns out, is political capital. And this administration is spending it wisely.
In the meantime, here’s hoping Marco Rubio gets some sleep. Or at least a long halftime break.
