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Anthony Constantino, the Republican nominee in upstate New York’s 21st congressional district, is not subtle in his fealty to Donald Trump. Since 2024, the 43-year-old businessman has given the president a larger-than-life statue of himself, erected a “Vote for Trump” sign massive enough to be seen in satellite images, and dropped an album called “Thank You President Trump” that includes a “Baby Shark”–like track in which he mostly just repeats the president’s name.
Constantino poses in front of a “Vote for Trump” sign on the roof of his printing company, Sticker Mule, in Amsterdam, NY.
Shameless? Yes. Effective? Apparently. This past spring, Trump endorsed the paying Mar-a-Lago member over Assemblyman Robert Smullen, a retired Marine colonel backed by the state party. Constantino—who made a fortune through his novelty company Sticker Mule—defeated Smullen by 19 points. He is now favored to replace the retiring incumbent, Rep. Elise Stefanik.
Such a handoff would be the story of the Trump-era GOP in miniature. Stefanik, who was two grades behind Constantino at Albany Academy, went to Harvard before rocketing up the ranks of the Paul Ryan–era Republican Party. In 2014, she became the youngest woman ever elected to Congress, hailed as a paragon of the party’s supposedly moderate future. After Trump took power, Stefanik tacked hard toward MAGA, only to be rewarded with public humiliation when Trump pulled her nomination to be UN ambassador last year.
Constantino, conversely, says he was “sort of a screwup” as a kid. While Ivy League–educated conservatives have tried to wrangle Trumpism into seminar-table coherence, Constantino—a small-time rapper and boxer—channels MAGA’s gleefully offensive id. During his campaign launch held in front of a wall of free turkeys, Constantino labeled Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez a “perra falsa”—Spanish for fake bitch. He told Gerard Kassar, the head of New York’s Conservative Party, to get “his ass” in a boxing ring, so he could punch him “in the fucking face legally.” In the video for his Zohran Mamdani diss track—e.g., “fuck you bitch,” rapping about the New York mayor’s “boy Osama”—he makes a throat-slitting gesture. In keeping with this thuggish persona, Constantino’s close associates have been accused or found guilty of kidnapping, stealing money from a youth baseball league, and lying to Congress.
Come January, Constantino could become Congress’ most convincing Trump imitator.
According to Skidmore College political science professor Bob Turner, “when you talk to longtime professional Republicans” in Constantino’s district, they say things “like, ‘I hate that guy. I’m embarrassed by that guy.’” But just as the national establishment did for Trump, the New York GOP is now backing Constantino after failing to stop him. Come January, Constantino could become the most convincing Trump imitator in a body already teeming with them.
Constantino was born in 1982 to a prominent family in Amsterdam, a small city about a half-hour northwest of Albany. His father was the founder of a successful local printing company, wrote poetry, and was known for advocating on behalf of Native Americans. He died of cancer when Constantino was 6.
Constantino was a devoted high-school wrestler. Although he lost his first 30 matches, he credits reaching a regional final by reverse-engineering the training of another local wrestler. Today, he is open about imitating Trump. “This is what smart people do,” he says about the president. “We learn from other smart people.”
After high school, he says he was “semi–kicked out” of Stonehill College and transferred to Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, where he left without graduating to work at the family business. In 2010, he co-founded Sticker Mule with a friend of his late father’s.
The new company brought hundreds of manufacturing jobs to a region where other blue-collar work had disappeared, offering a path to the kind of respect his father enjoyed. But Constantino was not the type to follow one of his dad’s key business precepts: “Don’t promote controversy.” That became clear as the Sticker Mule CEO emerged on Twitter as an outspoken supporter of Trump’s 2016 campaign.
Over the next few years, Constantino began spending most of his time in Mexico training as a boxer. His campaign biography boasts of the “chiseled physique” he developed after taking up the sport professionally, when, at the age of 39, he won a 2022 bout against an opponent who, according to boxing records, never fought professionally before or since. His final—and only third—professional match was a loss the following year to another fighter making his pro debut, a recovering drug addict and candy vendor who has said he was meant to be “carne de cañón” (cannon fodder).
As he pursued boxing, Constantino was also trying to launch what he marketed as a “happy” social media company where users were required to verify their identities before posting. On the site, called Stimulus, his persona was lighthearted, if juvenile; he made at least three posts about eating soups containing animal penis. That was tame compared to a 2024 attempt at stand-up in a Manhattan bar where Constantino described a scenario in which women supporting Kamala Harris vomited before and after he put his penis in their mouths. “I had the consent forms,” Constantino joked.
Within days of winning in 2024, Trump announced his plan to send Stefanik to the UN. Constantino promptly filed to run for her seat, self-funding his anticipated special election campaign with $2.6 million (he has now loaned his campaign $12 million in total). According to FEC filings, some of
the money went to Drake Ventures, a Florida LLC affiliated with Roger Stone, the former Trump adviser and convicted felon. Other chunks went to Paul
Antonelli, a Sticker Mule employee who was arrested for grand larceny in 2020 after being accused of stealing from an Amsterdam youth baseball league. (A police report states $47,000 went missing over a two-year period, much of it from a concession stand. Antonelli pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor.)
When Trump left Stefanik languishing in the House, Constantino retooled for 2026—and grew more aggressive. At a June 2025 campaign event, he insinuated that Kassar may have sent a hit man to murder Antonelli. He alleged that Kassar had told him in late 2025 that “we intend to kill you” and that the Conservative Party would “destroy” him. Constantino added that someone later cut Antonelli’s brake line, suggesting without any clear evidence that Kassar could have been responsible for what he portrayed as a failed murder-for-hire scheme. Kassar later launched an ongoing defamation lawsuit that challenges Constantino’s “wholly false and invented series of events.” Constantino and Antonelli did not respond to requests for comment.
If Constantino’s allegations sounded like something from GoodFellas, so too did the criminal charges outlined in a police report and court documents against two of his close associates, who were arrested within weeks of his primary victory in connection with the alleged kidnapping and assault of an accountant who also knows the sticker mogul. Matt Moller, the reported victim, says he was one of three friends who attended Constantino’s 2022 wedding. One of the other two, he adds, was Tommy Marcellino—a former MMA fighter who is now accused of abducting and strangling Moller. The second alleged assailant is Ricardo “Porsche Truck Ruk” Henderson, a rapper whom Constantino and affiliated companies have paid more than $500,000 in recent years, according to invoices and emails I reviewed. (Neither of the accused men responded to requests for comment.)
Constantino was not involved in the alleged kidnapping, but it is only the most recent example of people around him being implicated in serious criminal conduct. In late 2025, Constantino used Antonio Brown as a hype man for his Trump album shortly after the former NFL star was extradited from Dubai to face an attempted murder charge in Florida. Jorge Masvidal, another guest star on the record, is a former MMA fighter who pleaded no contest in 2023 to misdemeanor battery after being accused of attacking another UFC fighter outside a Miami restaurant. A third is Jason “Greatness” Jensen, a face-tattooed Sticker Mule brand ambassador who, according to public records, pleaded no contest to aggravated assault in 2008 before reinventing himself as a Christian rapper.
Anthony Constantino answers questions after defeating Assemblyman Robert Smullen in the Republican Party Primary for the 21st Congressional District on Tuesday June 23, 2026.Jim Franco/Albany Times Union/Getty
Constantino’s antics and associations have hurt his standing. In June, the editorial board of the Albany Times Union wrote that it “can’t recall ever meeting a more unsuitable candidate.” An August survey from a local NBC affiliate found that 42 percent of likely voters had a very unfavorable view of Constantino and showed him narrowly trailing Democrat Blake Gendebien, a mild-mannered dairy farmer who lives near the Canadian border. The Sticker Mule CEO again took a page from Trump, saying that it was a “fake poll” and that the FCC should reprimand the station to the “fullest extent possible.”
A more recent survey touted by Constantino suggested he remains on track to succeed Stefanik. If he does, Constantino has signaled grander ambitions. The word “president” appears only once in his song glazing Trump, at the very end. “Man, I got to say, I love Donald, Donald Trump,” Constantino intones. “Might be president one day, just like Donald, Donald Trump.”
