In the heart of Wisconsin’s political scene, where local buzz often revolves around roundabouts and school board drama, something far more sensational recently erupted. The latest spectacle involves two representatives, a naked man in a ski mask, and a relentless social media feud that has taken this state’s political dynamics into uncharted, unhinged territory. This is more than a mere skirmish of partisan jabs; this is a public clash played out online and in person, exhibiting the bizarre, embracing the absurd, and grabbing statewide – and national – attention with the force of a meme-worthy moment.
The protagonists in this surreal saga are Republican Representative Derrick Van Orden and Democratic Representative Mark Pocan, both from Wisconsin, from different districts, bound by fierce rivalry and an apparent willingness to push political boundaries into comedic absurdity. Their feud, long simmering both on social media platforms and within the ornate halls of the U.S. Capitol, has rocked the usual cadence of Wisconsin’s political discourse, shifting it from sober debate and constituent concerns to an unhinged display involving shared images of a naked man sporting only a ski mask, boots, and a sex toy on a stick.
The entire episode began late one Tuesday evening when Representative Van Orden, browsing through the bizarre corners of the Internet or perhaps keeping an eye on viral oddities that might serve as political ammunition, came across an article in the New York Post. The article recounted an incident in Slovakia, where a man — entirely naked apart from a ski mask and boots, with what appeared to be an adult novelty item taped to a stick — wandered around a castle, attracting attention for obvious reasons: the surreal, uncensored absurdity of the image. Strikingly, Van Orden didn’t simply share the article; rather, he added a personal, mocking twist, tagging it with a reference to his Democratic rival: “Looks like Mark Pocan is taking a little European VaCa after his long series of struggle sessions. Enjoy your time, Mark, wear sunscreen.”
That simple quip served to light the fuse. Instantly, the image of the disrobed Slovakian wanderer—becoming a bizarre totem in this Wisconsin showdown—spread across X (formerly Twitter) as viewers and constituents attempted to parse the meaning of the jab. Was it political satire, juvenile trolling, or something more desperate from a motivated officeholder seeking attention? Whatever the motivation, the post succeeded in generating buzz — both hyper-local (within Wisconsin political circles) and beyond, feeding an online frenzy fueled by scandal, humor, outrage, and the surreal perversity of the image itself.
The response came swiftly—or quickly as it does in modern digital warfare. Representative Pocan replied with a terse, sardonic jab: “KKKlassy, Derrick, KKKlassy.” The drawn-out “K” seemed to insinuate a harsh condemnation of tone and content, mocking Van Orden’s attempt at political humor while turning it into a rhetorical strike. The scene expanded from there. Van Orden, not satisfied with a single attack, came back swinging: “So you running around flashing your naked self in Europe with a sex toy taped to a stick makes me a white supremacist? Do you have any idea how ugly this makes you look?” His words dripped with incredulity, as if the naked Slovakian had become a proxy for something far larger, something personal, and something toxic.
Pocan didn’t hesitate to lean into his signature line, a familiar refrain from this ongoing feud: “Are you drunk again?” That question, offered repeatedly in past exchanges, seems to serve double duty. On one level, it’s an accusation of unprofessional—and erratic—behavior; on another, it’s shorthand for “are you even coherent?” with an edge of concern and contempt. In doing so, Pocan solidified the image of Van Orden as the unpredictable, volatile figure in this confrontation, a narrative that thrived on social media platforms hungry for drama, clips, and share-able content.
But Van Orden’s raw performance didn’t falter. Undeterred by his rival’s refrain, he continued sharing the naked Slovakian image, doubling down on the absurdity. In one post, he went further by inserting a photo of Donald Trump shouting from the roof of the White House—an image many might characterize as theatrically bombastic—next to the naked man in the ski mask. He captioned it with the casual mockery, “Mark Pocan wear sunscreen!” The combination of naked absurdity, meme-like remix culture, and a call-out using Trump as a prop produced a surreal, visually jarring post. For viewers, it was both a satire and a spectacle. For Pocan, it prompted another familiar retort: “Are you drunk-posting?”
Then came the segue into cultural commentary. Van Orden waded into the swirling national conversation about actress Sydney Sweeney, her American Eagle brand, and the broader culture battles unfolding in high fashion and celebrity endorsements—when perhaps one least expects it. Yet, true to form, he shared the naked man’s photo again and tacked on a partisan jab: “Mark Pocan does not have good jeans.” In one fell swoop, Van Orden managed to fuse political mockery, cultural commentary, and a bizarre meme into a single, grotesquely nonlinear post. It was as though the naked man in a ski mask had become a symbol, a vessel for jabs at political rivals, fashion battles, and tone-deaf trolling.
Their feud did not remain purely digital. Physical proximity in the halls of Congress proved too tempting an arena for Van Orden and Pocan. Last month, the two actually confronted each other at the Capitol during an interview that Pocan was giving to Spectrum News. Van Orden interrupted, continuing their verbal sparring—which until then had largely been virtual. He suggested Pocan “seek mental health counseling,” upping the personal ante. In response, Pocan, ever his foil, brought out the same refrain: “Are you drinking right now?” Suddenly the feud was no longer an online sideshow; it had entered the territory of live political theater in Washington, D.C., with cameras rolling, capturing the raw, awkward, and unprofessional declaration for constituents and national media.
Then, in the early hours of Thursday, Pocan used X to dismiss the way local media were framing what was happening. A Journal Sentinel headline labeled the spat a “feud”; Pocan pushed back: “It’s not a ‘feud’ if one person is doing town halls in the other’s district to talk about actual legislation and the other one is searching for nude male photos to post on the Internet.” His words wove a deliberate contrast—one of constituents and policy vs. trolling and naked jeering—painting himself as the serious lawmaker focused on substance, while casting Van Orden as playing out a grotesque, attention-seeking performance. Pocan closed with a charge of concern: “I think the ‘gentleman’ from WI-3 has some unresolved issues he may want to get some help on.”
All of this underscores how in the age of social media, the boundaries between serious governance and absurd spectacle have become porous—especially among those elected to serve. The power of a single image—of a naked man, ski mask, boots, and sex toy taped to a stick—multiplied exponentially when wielded as political weaponry. It became local buzz, viral content, fodder for memes, a punchline, and a political drama. More than that, it’s a reality support-tested against the question: what happens when public servants trade policy nuance for naked spectacle?
This bizarre chapter brings to light numerous deeper themes ripe for exploration. First, there’s the role of social media in radicalizing tone, where extreme, shocking, or comedic content amplifies engagement. A simple act—sharing a weird image from Europe—escalates into a national story because of the way it’s framed. Van Orden’s decision to share that image wasn’t driven by policy relevance; it was designed to provoke, to draw clicks, to dominate timelines. That speaks to the age-old political instinct to entertain, now turbocharged with algorithmic amplification.
Second, the dynamic reveals the erosion of decorum in political conversation. What once might have been considered unprofessional, even beneath a politician’s dignity, has morphed into inflation-adjusted standard fare. From relatively polite political sparring to naked meme warfare, Wisconsin lawmakers have brought us to an era where governance and online theater blur, where “satire” often slips into the uncomfortable and the grotesque.
Third, this episode spotlights the double lives many representatives lead: constituents expect them to focus on education, healthcare, infrastructure, constituent services, and policy nuance; but the online world rewards provocation, clickbait, and performative outrage. When Representative Pocan emphasizes his commitment to town halls and legislation, he frames himself as grounded in the real work. Van Orden’s retort with a meme of a naked stranger positions him as the wild card—an unpredictable provocateur trading on shock value. The tension between these two approaches conflicts with public expectations of seriousness and decorum, but ironically makes for headline-grabbing “Local Buzz.”
Lastly, this drama taps into broader conversations about mental health, substance use (implied by “Are you drunk again?”), and the burdens of elected office. Is it fair to ask if a colleague needs mental help when they behave erratically and performatively in public? At what point does political satire cross lines into personal concern or potential slander? Pocan’s insistence that Van Orden may have “some unresolved issues he may want to get some help on” reframes a feud as a cry for accountability or empathy—depending on how one reads the tone.
As of now, neither Van Orden nor Pocan has offered further comment to the Daily Beast when asked. The silence leaves the story dangling in an open loop—will this escalate further? Will constituents react in outrage, amusement, concern, or apathy? Will local media continue to feed the buzz, or will the spectacle fade into the background as new controversies arise? Will the story inspire coverage of policy and governance, or reinforce the belief that politics today is dominated by memes and mockery over substance?
This bizarre high-profile feud between two Wisconsin congressmen—one pushing naked memes, the other pushing policy—exemplifies the strange intersection of local buzz and national spectacle. For those following their work back home in Madison, Eau Claire, or the 3rd and 2nd congressional districts, it’s a reminder that social media war can overshadow town halls, legislation, and constituent service. For those across the country, it’s a case study in the extremes to which political discourse has evolved—where the most unexpected images become collision points for ideology, insult, and identity.
In the weeks to come, if local buzz continues to be fueled by images of naked men in ski masks, sarcastic sunscreen jokes, and drinking accusations, it may be time to ask: what does it take for representation and serious governance to reclaim the narrative from spectacle? And can a return to policy discourse coexist with the modern appetite for scandal-driven, outré content? Until then, Wisconsin’s viral ski-mask saga stands as a hyper-local political case study with national implications, reminding us all that in the digital age, unexpected absurdity is never far from a politician’s tweet.