It's time to catch up on the current events compost pail — don't look, it's still banana peels! Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis' campaign has pledged a "reset" after a no-good, very bad recent streak.

To review: The campaign cut more than a third of staffers, including one who (aggrieved sigh) shared and possibly created a meme with a Nazi symbol. Meanwhile, Florida education officials detailed a potential upside to slavery — it taught important life skills? — within new middle school standards. This drew a rebuke from Vice President Kamala Harris, whose rebuke drew a rebuke from critics who said she was overly rebuking just part of the standards. Brief pause to say, OK, AND? Still bad!? Anyway, DeSantis rebuked the rebukes to the rebukes and said he wasn't involved.

So, things are not looking super for Tampa Bay's hometown guy. While some voters are surely turning away from the parade of cruelty, moral panic and insurance mayhem, recent presidential history has taught us that one can be an evil circus clown who gets indicted for sport yet maintain an ardent fan base. Something else is at work, and that something may be pudding. Well, what pudding represents.

The New Republic recently explained that no one likes DeSantis: "Voters — and the national media — have noticed that he's, well, a bit weird. Stories about DeSantis's lack of charisma and general off-puttingness abound, reinforcing the idea that he's cold and awkward." The piece goes on to compare him to noted social Demogorgon Sen. Ted Cruz, bringing up his odd laugh and rehashing the persistent low-blow rumor that he once ate pudding with his fingers.

Regarding pudding: I defend this move, because sometimes there is no spoon. What was he supposed to do, not eat the pudding? Was he supposed to use a comb like Sen. Amy Klobuchar? He could have opted for the "squeeze the base" technique, but the good lord put little extenders on our hands for a reason.

Bigger picture, though, is that some of us Floridians are popping our gum. We TOLD you, United States. We told you that you'd invite Ron to your party and everyone would migrate to the kitchen to flee the conversation. Like, maybe the campaign can offload Nazi enthusiasts and control spending, but can they make voters want to, in "Hamilton" lexicon, have a beer with him?

To clarify, this conversation is about men. If we were talking about female candidates, the column would be much shorter. No female candidate can be liked in America, and that is because we have cooties.

Look, I have never claimed to be a political analyst, simply a person who gets lost in thought and blinks out my contact lenses. Lately, though, I have been pondering the timeless territory tread upon by the Howard Deans of yore, the fact that elections often come down to tics and vibes. I have concluded, after some restorative pudding, that being likable isn't something a person can practice. It has more to do with raw oblivion, with not grasping one's true essence in the first place.

Self-consciousness is pouring off DeSantis in buckets. Being congenial clearly does not come naturally to the man, and my sense is he knows it. Let's imagine, not hard, that he does something awkward. Like, maybe he says, "Thanks you very such" to a donor. My money says he retreats to a hotel and sulks. I would do the same. I would relive the moment in my head for five hours while watching "NCIS" on USA Network. Yeah, I'm supposed to be at the diner eating short stacks with railway workers named Gary, but I am simply astew in masochism. The six campaign staffers in the hall of the Courtyard by Marriott can do nothing to fix it.

Then there's former President Donald Trump, who will clearly be the candidate again unless ... no, there is almost no scenario. He is equally a cartoon villain, but one graced with an absolute lack of self-awareness, or at least a blessed unbotheredness. This fractious personality feature appeals to many denizens of this young nation that claims no romance languages or classical architecture. The man routinely makes zero sense and does crimes, yet he thinks he's spectacular. And the jokes do hit, if we're being honest. I mean, "Meatball Ron" is pure poetry. Trump is the uncle you secretly want to see at Thanksgiving, even though the cops might come.

While we're at it, President Joe Biden has a dash of this flavor, too. This is why he had to stop squeezing people on the shoulders so much. Biden would slide into the same side of the booth with you at a one-on-one work lunch, you know? And you'd go back to the office all, "I don't think he meant anything by it, but it was weird. Like, why would he do that?" Trump and Biden will uncle joke each other to the end of our nation's dark denouement, while we in Florida remain stuck with DeSantis on the fire escape because he changed the rules so he could stay at the party he hates being at. Baffling!

There's a lesson in here for America's future, right out of Florida. Children, are you listening? If you want to succeed in leadership, stop caring this instant whether people like you. Don't be a wicked troll, please. Develop strong, intelligent policies that will help the American people, stow them in your back pocket, then run for office on a platform of Margaritas for All. Eat pudding with your fingers ON CAMERA. Get all five of nature's scoopers down in there, and the votes will cascade in like a sugar rush. This is the only way forward.

Stephanie Hayes is a columnist at the Tampa Bay Times in Florida. Follow her at @stephhayes on Twitter or @stephrhayes on Instagram.

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