Nachos are delicious. Tortilla chips and cheese are one of those primordial combinations that allows endless variations, from fancy artisanal nachos to heatlamp-warm artificial ones. It is always exciting. Do not get in the way of a person and their nachos.
Thus it is perhaps only fair that, when someone stopped New Jersey Governor Chris Christie at a baseball game this weekend on his way to his seat to enjoy some hot nachos, he got fucking lit about it.
We only catch the tail end of the conversation, but what we see in Christie is a man teetering on the brink of insanity, his face just inches from a fan’s, nachos clutched tenderly to his chest. “You wanna act like a big shot?” the disgraced onetime Trump surrogate, who mortgaged his political future for a cabinet position he did not receive and now stands as the country’s least popular governor, tells the man. “You’re a big shot.”
It almost serves a sort of knighting of the man, one big shot decreeing to another that one need merely seek Big Shotdom to receive it. It is surprising that he did not then offer the man a single chip, a sort of communion wafer among big shots. Christie then walks away to enjoy his nachos himself, as all big shots do.
The AP tracked down the newly beknighted Big Shot, who apparently had just told Christie that he sucks:
Christie remains utterly alone and unloved upon this earth, but at least he has his nachos.