Remember The Alamo. Then Tell It You’re Coming.

Ken Paxton’s campaign announced that his “Come and Take It” bus tour would finish at the Alamo. By Saturday, the Texas Tribune reported that he appeared to have scrapped that plan: the campaign’s Monday listings instead showed events in Conroe and Allen, with the Allen stop at a restaurant about 300 miles from the landmark.

The campaign did not immediately explain the change. The Alamo Trust said it was unaware of plans for a Paxton event on its grounds, where political events are generally prohibited.

Remember the Alamo. Then, if possible, inform the Alamo.

I understand the appeal of the setting. You are selling defiance. You want a famous symbol of resistance behind you. You want the voters to see a man who cannot be stopped, preferably standing somewhere that has already agreed he may stand there.

That last part is less cinematic. It involves a person with a calendar who does not care how stirring your bus looks.

A campaign can apparently announce its last stand before the people responsible for the last-stand location know they are hosting one. The symbolism has arrived. The logistical information is somewhere between a staff email and a very confident nod.

Was there a booking? Did anybody ask? Did the word “Alamo” appear in a planning document so many times that it eventually counted as permission? We do not know. The Trust’s lack of awareness is not proof of which conversation did or did not occur, and the campaign has not supplied the explanation.

But what a gap between the advertised posture and the available detail. Come and take it. Take what? The event space? There may be a form for that.

The tour’s closing message cast Paxton as the fighter who goes after those who come after Texans. Fine. Fighting spirit. Strong verbs. A man ready to meet the challenge.

The challenge may have been getting the venue on the phone.

And now the published Monday schedule points to Conroe and Allen. There is nothing wrong with campaigning in either place. A restaurant can be an excellent place to meet voters. The problem is what happens when you have built the finale around an epic historical backdrop and the publicly available route appears to end with someone asking whether the group needs separate checks.

I can picture the advance-team discussion. How much defiance fits in the private dining room? Can we move the banner away from the specials? The candidate needs to look as though he is making a last stand, but not in the path the servers use.

Democrats have mocked other canceled or rescheduled tour stops. James Talarico blamed poor attendance and accused Paxton of relying on Elon Musk’s money. Those are his campaign attacks, not a verified explanation for the apparent Alamo change. The reason remains unanswered.

Which makes the absence of an explanation funnier than any invented conspiracy. There is no need to manufacture a secret plot when a campaign has supplied a heroic destination and the destination says, essentially, this is news to us.

For all the tough-guy branding, political events still exist in the physical world. Somebody owns the room. Somebody controls the grounds. Somebody needs a time, a head count and an answer about whether you intend to block the door.

History may remember your defiance. The venue would first like to receive your email.

Next time, perhaps finish the slogan.

Come and take it. Subject to availability. Please do not arrive with the fucking bus until we confirm.