With so many politicians, provocateurs and punks to dislike these days, it’s a target-rich environment for a dispirited columnist.

I’m torn among the alarming array of possible Republican running mates for Donald Trump, the near-certain GOP presidential candidate; the pro-Palestinian campus protesters who make one nostalgic for the draft; Stormy Daniels, “adult entertainment artist,” a.k.a. porn actor, who testified this week in Trump’s hush-money trial; and Trump himself, who is a human windfall of grotesquerie and arrogant mediocrity.

But first, a brief mention of flags and fraternities. It’s been a while since college fraternities could claim bragging rights for much beyond their members’ ability to drink copious amounts of beer and still hold open the door for coeds.

All this recently changed in a sterling display of New South patriotism, when members of the Pi Kappa Phi fraternity at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill rushed to protect the stars and stripes from pro-Palestinian demonstrators who had replaced the American flag with a Palestinian banner in the campus quad. I say New South because Old South patriotism would have featured a rush to protect the Confederate flag.

The UNC chancellor and police officers restored Old Glory to its rightful place, but protesters again tried to remove it. Viral videos show the fraternity members holding up the U.S. flag so that it wouldn’t touch the ground.

The members have said in interviews that they weren’t trying to editorialize about the Israel-Gaza war. Alex Jones, a fraternity member (not the disgraced conspiracy monger) said, “It was simply about the importance of our country and the values we believe in.”

Their demonstrations have brought praise — and money. A GoFundMe page, created by a third-party not affiliated with the fraternity, titled “UNC Frat Bros Defended their Flag. Throw ’em a Rager,” has raised more than $500,000, which buys a lot of beer. Ultra Right Beer has committed to supplying an “unlimited” amount of beer, while several musicians have offered to play for free at the party, now called “Flagstock” (flag and Woodstock, get it?). As a bonus, South Carolina Sen. Lindsey Graham (R) had his favorite restaurant, Chick-fil-A, deliver dinner to the fraternity chapter house.

What will they do with all that money? GoFundMe organizer John Noonan said he’ll be faithful to the more than 12,000 donors’ intent and throw a “party they deserve, a party worth of the boat-shoed Broleteriat who did their country proud.” Also, some of the funds will go to charities to be selected by the fraternity.

Which brings us unceremoniously to the roster of possible Republican vice presidents, who are deserving of no charity whatsoever. Given space restrictions, I’ll limit myself to two of the top contenders based upon “central casting” qualifications as Trump sees things.

First up is South Carolina Sen. Tim Scott. Few politicians have been so sickeningly sycophantic or so transparently transactional as Scott, who, after pulling out of the presidential race himself, quickly endorsed Trump over fellow South Carolinian Nikki Haley — even though Haley, while governor, gave him his Senate seat. In public settings, Scott has barely contained his effluvious affection for the former president.

In one memorable display, after Trump said to him, “You must really hate her,” referring to Haley, Scott blubbered, “I just really love you!” (I knew I should have saved those airsickness bags.) Then in January, out of the blue, the lifelong bachelor suddenly became engaged to a “lovely Christian girl” (his words), Charleston interior designer Mindy Noce.

One needn’t be psychic to surmise that someone whispered in Scott’s ear that, if he wanted to be vice president, he’d need a wife. Voilà! Scott has said they’ll marry after the election. Uh-huh. And if Trump loses? No one would be surprised if the nuptials were suspended.

Scott’s performative transformation from the nicest guy in the South to just another hustler has been a heart-chilling disappointment. But no one who’s been around politics as long as I have should be surprised. I blame Kristi L. Noem, the South Dakota governor and vice president hopeful who has been making TV rounds lately to promote her book and explain why she killed her dog.

That sentence should suffice to disqualify her, but she, like Scott, checks a lot of boxes for Trump. For starters, she loves him and has defended him. Her loyalty exceeds a dog’s to her mistress, not that Noem, who wrote that she “hated that dog,” Cricket, would care. She shot the 14-month-old pup because, she said, he was untrainable. Whose fault is that?

Okay, so it was 20 years ago, but Noem is unrepentant. Bottom line: You don’t get to shoot your dog and live to be vice president of the United States. Also, you shouldn’t kill your goat for being a goat, which Noem also did, inhumanely, according to her own description in her book, the title of which doesn’t bear mentioning here.

Of one thing one can be certain: When a politician writes a book and gets veneers, something Noem did, while also advertising her dentist, she’s probably hoping to do some victory smiling as sidekick to a reality-show scowler who pays hush money to porn stars. They’re a match made in the tanning booth.

And when a 58-year-old man suddenly decides to get married while gushing love to His Royal Ludicrousness, you can bet he’ll do anything to win. The soon-to-be Mrs. Scott might want to keep her powder dry.

Kathleen Parker’s email address is kathleenparker@washpost.com.