
ANNAPOLIS — What began as a tongue-in-cheek offshoot of Maryland’s state-shark enthusiasm is quietly evolving into something more familiar, more strategic, and somehow more Maryland: a political party with a steering committee, a recruitment plan, and a shortlist.
At the top of that list: Chris Van Hollen.
According to organizers, the emerging Megalodon Party isn’t just about prehistoric branding anymore. It’s about style, instinct, and what party leaders describe as “apex political behavior in a hostile media ecosystem.”
And few current figures, they argue, embody that better than Van Hollen.
“Watch the Tape”
At a closed-door strategy session in Annapolis — attended by former staffers, policy consultants, and at least one person who described himself as a “brand anthropologist” — Megalodon Party recruiters reportedly rolled clips of Van Hollen on cable news.
The room went quiet.
“When he gets going,” said one organizer, “you see it. The jaw sets. The tone sharpens. The body language changes. He doesn’t nibble. He bites.”
Party materials describe this as “camera-activated predatory posture.” When pressed, another strategist put it more plainly:
“He thrashes. Not wildly — purposefully. Like a shark correcting course mid-strike.”

A Platform Built for Modern Combat
Unlike its earlier satirical drafts, the Megalodon Party’s revised platform is surprisingly conventional — if aggressively framed.
- Foreign Policy: Strong deterrence, clear lines, no circling endlessly before making a point.
- Domestic Policy: Big programs, defended loudly, with zero patience for incremental pushback.
- Media Strategy: “Engage directly. Apply pressure. Do not disengage once contact is made.”
One internal memo describes the ideal Megalodon candidate as someone who can “enter a hostile interview environment, sense weakness, and apply sustained rhetorical force until the segment ends or the host changes topics.”
Supporters say Van Hollen already does this instinctively.
Why Van Hollen?
Party leaders insist this isn’t about ideology so much as energy.
“Politics right now rewards people who look like they’re willing to fight,” said a recruiter familiar with the outreach. “Voters don’t want consensus builders. They want someone who looks like they might actually bite a microphone if necessary.”
Van Hollen’s critics have long accused him of being overly aggressive on camera. Megalodon Party leaders see that as an asset.
“In the ocean, hesitation gets you eaten,” one organizer said. “He understands that.”
Is He Interested?
So far, Van Hollen’s office has offered no response to the Megalodon Party’s overtures, formal or otherwise. Sources close to the senator downplay the idea, noting that he already belongs to a party with ballot access, donors, and functioning caucuses.
Still, Megalodon organizers remain optimistic.
“This isn’t a defection pitch,” said one strategist. “It’s a rebrand opportunity. Same senator. Bigger silhouette.”
Not a Joke — Just Maryland
Despite its origins, the Megalodon Party now insists it is “policy-serious, media-savvy, and evolutionarily inevitable.” Its leaders are quick to clarify that the name is metaphorical.
“No one is suggesting lawmakers should literally eat their opponents,” one spokesperson said. “We’re saying they should look like they could.”
In a state where symbolism regularly becomes law and performance often matters as much as substance, the Megalodon Party may be tapping into something real — even if its mascot has been extinct for millions of years.
As one Annapolis veteran put it:
“Maryland politics has always rewarded those who know when to glide, when to circle, and when to strike. They just finally gave it a name.”
And teeth.
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