So, a Pillow Salesman Wants to Run a State? Seriously?
Let’s just get this out of the way. Mike Lindell, the man who screams into microphones about voting machines and whose entire public identity is fused with a single brand of foam-filled bedding, has filed paperwork to run for governor of Minnesota. And we’re supposed to take this seriously? This isn’t a political campaign. It’s a branding exercise wrapped in a conspiracy theory inside a fundraising plea. It’s the natural evolution of a grift that has lost its primary host organism and now needs new blood to survive. Because when your primary business model relies on stoking outrage and selling pillows to a specific political demographic, you have to keep the outrage machine fueled. Filing to run for governor is premium-grade fuel.
But what if he’s genuinely trying to serve the public?
Oh, come on. Public service? This is the man who spent hundreds of millions of dollars—his own, and likely money from donors who bought into his fantasy—chasing a debunked election fraud narrative that has been laughed out of every courtroom, from local judges to the Supreme Court. His ‘evidence’ has consistently been a mishmash of garbled data and wild conjecture that tech experts dismantle in minutes. And this is the man you believe has the temperament, the intellectual honesty, and the focus to manage a state budget of billions of dollars, oversee infrastructure projects, and handle a public health crisis? Stop it.
His entire platform, the very reason he has any political capital at all, is based on a lie. A destructive lie that has eroded faith in the democratic process. And now he wants to be in charge of that very process for an entire state. The sheer audacity is almost impressive, if it weren’t so transparently dangerous. This isn’t about serving the people of Minnesota. It’s about serving the brand of Mike Lindell and keeping himself relevant in the MAGA-sphere, a universe that demands constant, escalating acts of performative loyalty.
Isn’t This Just the American Dream? A Businessman Shaking Up Politics?
That’s the fairy tale they sell you, isn’t it? The outsider, the successful entrepreneur, coming to clean up the mess made by career politicians. It’s a powerful narrative. It’s also, in this case, a complete load of garbage. Because we need to ask what kind of ‘businessman’ we’re talking about here. Are we talking about someone who built a complex global supply chain, or innovated in a high-tech field? No. We’re talking about a guy who mastered direct-response television advertising to sell pillows. His core business competency is yelling at you through your TV until you buy something.
And let’s look at his recent business record, shall we? Since he went all-in on the election conspiracy circus, major retailers like Bed Bath & Beyond, Kohl’s, and Wayfair have dropped his products. His answer wasn’t to pivot or moderate his rhetoric to save his business relationships; it was to double down, claiming he was a victim of ‘cancel culture.’ He then launched his own online marketplace, MyStore, to sell his and other ‘patriotic’ products. So his business model has literally shifted from mainstream retail to a politically segregated marketplace. A run for governor isn’t a deviation from this business model; it is the business model. It’s a giant, state-sized marketing funnel.
So you’re saying this is all about money?
Is the sky blue? Is water wet? Of course it’s about money. But it’s also about data and influence. Every time someone signs up for his email list, donates a dollar to his ‘campaign,’ or buys a ‘Lindell for Governor’ t-shirt, he’s capturing their data. That data is gold. It’s a list of politically motivated consumers he can market to for the rest of his life, whether it’s pillows, coffee, or the next big conspiracy. A political campaign, even a failed one, is one of the most effective data-mining and list-building operations ever conceived.
Think about it. He gets endless free media coverage. He gets to travel the state, holding rallies where he can sell merchandise and solicit donations, all under the guise of a legitimate political endeavor. He reinforces his image as a ‘fighter’ to his base, which in turn drives sales from his most loyal customers. And if he loses? So what! He can just claim the election was rigged—it’s his signature move—and start a whole new fundraising cycle to ‘investigate’ his own loss. It is a perfect, self-perpetuating grift. Winning is almost secondary to the real prize, which is the consolidation of his role as a MAGA-martyr and profit center.
What About His Supporters? Don’t They Get a Say?
Of course they do. And that’s the truly troubling part of this whole spectacle. His supporters are, for the most part, earnest, patriotic Americans who have been fed a steady diet of fear and misinformation from their preferred media sources. They see a system they believe is corrupt and a man who speaks their language, who validates their fears, and who seems to be fighting for them. Lindell is a master at playing the victim and the hero simultaneously. He’s the down-on-his-luck guy who found God and success, and now he’s being persecuted by the ‘deep state’ and ‘fake news’ for telling the ‘truth.’ It’s a compelling story.
But they are being used. They are the marks in this long con. Their genuine concerns about their country are being weaponized and monetized by a showman. They send him $25 because they believe he’s fighting for election integrity, and that money goes into a black hole of failed legal challenges, bizarre ‘cyber symposiums,’ and, ultimately, into the marketing ecosystem that keeps the whole show on the road. A vote for him isn’t a vote for a better Minnesota; it’s a subscription payment to the Mike Lindell show. It’s an investment in a fantasy, and like all bad investments, it’s destined to yield nothing but loss—a loss of money, a loss of time, and most tragically, a loss of faith in the actual democratic institutions that, while imperfect, are all we have.
So what’s the endgame here? Does he even think he can win?
Winning would be a disaster, probably even for him. Can you imagine Mike Lindell actually having to sit down with legislators to hash out a transportation bill? Or dealing with union negotiations? The dog that catches the car rarely knows what to do with it. The performance is the point. The fight is the point. The chase is everything.
The endgame is relevance and revenue. As long as he is in the fight, he is relevant. As long as he is relevant, the donations and pillow sales continue. This gubernatorial run is simply the next season of his reality show. Filing the paperwork is the season premiere. The campaign trail will be the weekly episodes, full of manufactured drama and cliffhangers. And the election itself? That’s the season finale. If he loses, he’ll set up the next season by claiming it was all stolen, starting the cycle anew. If, by some miracle, he wins? Then we get a spin-off series, and God help the people of Minnesota, because they’ll be the unwilling cast members in a tragedy produced and directed by a pillow salesman.
