We were told to expect a unifying, chastened Donald Trump at the Republican National Convention. It seemed just barely possible, especially if you had just emerged from a coconut tree, unburdened by what has been. And for about 20 minutes Thursday night, accepting the Republican nomination (Is “Republican” the correct name still, after the total transformation the party has undergone in his image?), he delivered a very different speech than he ever does, recounting his assassination attempt in Butler, Pa.
Then for the next 70-odd minutes — making this the longest acceptance remarks on record, I believe — he gave the exact speech he always gives. It was as full as ever of hatred toward immigrants, contradictory pronouncements about the state of the economy, accusations of stealing the election, complaints about witch hunts, and misplaced nostalgia for an era I could have sworn was just four years ago and not a newly unearthed Golden Age of Mankind. It mentioned “the late, great Hannibal Lecter.” If this was indeed a new Trump, he was the same as the old Trump. It was like watching a New Year’s resolution unravel in real time.
Suppose for a moment that it really was going to be different. Sometimes after a particularly sobering moment, you can decide to become a new person. Change is possible. With effort, you can become someone else, with new thoughts and a new point of view.
But generally, if you decide to do that, the thing to do is to go somewhere no one knows you. If you are Donald Trump, say, and you want to become someone different — someone chastened and unifying — a bad place to start would be the Republican National Convention, amid all the people waving “MASS DEPORTATION NOW” signs.
The atmosphere is all wrong for it. Here are people wearing your face on their pants, who have dressed their babies like you, who have bandaged their ears in solidarity, who are hanging on your every word. You are being introduced by Hulk Hogan and Kid Rock. Everyone worships the water you walk on, and each evening begins with a video of a spotlight shooting your name into the night sky. Here, you aren’t just God’s chosen; you’re also Batman. Here, why would you want to be anyone other than Trump?
No, there was never a chance of anything different. But you would think we might stop believing there was.
Credit: Source link
