From Gumbo to Impeachment: A Pattern of Bad Judgment from Bill Cassidy

There are plenty of ways to evaluate a politician. Voting records. Policy positions. Coalition building. Leadership.

And then there’s judgment.

In 2026, you don’t need a deep dive into white papers or committee transcripts to get a sense of someone’s instincts. You can just open their social media.

In the case of Senator Bill Cassidy, what you find is… something else entirely.

Let’s start with the now-infamous gumbo post.

Cassidy proudly shared a photo of a bowl of gumbo — complete with collard greens and tomatoes — attributing the recipe to a “Shreveport pastor.” Now, Louisiana has plenty of regional variations when it comes to food. We can argue about potato salad vs. rice. We can debate roux color all day.

But collard greens and tomatoes in gumbo? That’s not a “regional twist.” That’s a red flag.

And the reaction was immediate. Cajun grandmothers, food purists, and everyday Louisianans all seemed to agree: something about this just wasn’t right.

That moment might’ve been written off as harmless — if it weren’t part of a larger pattern.

There was the recent St. Patrick’s Day parade appearance, where Cassidy showed up wearing brown instead of green, looking like a guy who had been briefed on the holiday in the car ride over.

Not a scandal. But another data point.

Then there’s what has quietly become a signature piece of the Cassidy brand —

The Red Shirt.

If you follow his social media, you’ve seen it. Over and over. The same slightly dated, oddly stiff red button-down. At this point, it’s less an outfit and more a uniform. His unofficial “campaign jersey,” whether intentional or not.

Again, none of this is disqualifying on its own.

But taken together, it paints a picture.

Consider the eclipse photo — a bizarre, tightly cropped shot showing little more than the top of Cassidy’s head and a pair of glasses. It looked less like a U.S. senator sharing a historic moment and more like someone accidentally hit the camera button mid-scroll.

Or the fishing post — a proudly displayed bass that, by Louisiana standards, barely qualifies as a story. In this state, people know fishing. They know what’s worth bragging about. That wasn’t it.

And then there are the videos.

Cassidy has made it a habit to post selfie-style videos that are consistently shot from below — not slightly off, but fully angled upward — so that viewers are quite literally looking up his nose as he talks.

Every. Single. Time.

It’s become a pattern. A strange, almost inexplicable one. The framing is off, the delivery is meandering, and the overall effect is less “authentic connection” and more “accidental front-facing camera.”

This isn’t about production value. Voters don’t expect polished studio content.

But they do expect basic awareness.

There’s a difference between being relatable and being oblivious to how you’re coming across.

Even Cassidy’s attempts at humor tend to miss.

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In a recent tele-townhall, he joked that he was “famous for my lectures on diarrhea and hepatitis” during his time at LSU Medical School. It was intended as self-deprecation. Instead, it landed as awkward and oddly crude — the kind of line that makes people stop and ask why it was said at all.

Which brings us back to a line that has aged remarkably well.

Years ago, Cedric Richmond summed up Cassidy with a blunt assessment:

“Dude Is Weird.”

At the time, it sounded like typical political rhetoric. A throwaway jab.

Now, after years of watching Cassidy’s public persona — especially online — it feels less like an insult and more like a diagnosis.

Because this isn’t just about quirky posts.

It’s about judgment.

And the proof isn’t just on social media. It’s in the decisions that actually matter.

This is the same senator who voted to impeach President Trump — a president who remains one of the most popular figures among Louisiana Republicans.

It’s the same senator who later said he would not support Trump and confidently predicted Trump would not be the Republican nominee in 2024 — at a time when it was increasingly obvious that he would be.

Those weren’t small misreads. Those were major failures of political judgment.

Misreading your constituents. Misreading your party. Misreading the moment.

And that’s the throughline.

From the gumbo to the videos to the votes, there’s a consistent pattern: a lack of instinct, a lack of awareness, and a lack of sound judgment.

In politics, style isn’t everything. But it often reflects substance.

And right now, the picture Cassidy is painting — online and off — is one of someone who is out of step, out of touch, and out of sync with the people he represents.

The dude is weird.

And more importantly, the dude keeps showing he doesn’t have the judgment Louisiana needs.