The Trump Speech We’ve Been Waiting For

 Trump in Minnesota  

Trump had a night of nights in Minnesota. For a man who supposedly lacks the subtle graces and nuances of tone, behavior, and rhetoric, he proved himself a master of all these today. 

It began long before, in the early morning, when the muslim attorney-general of Minnesota made it clear there was no venue for a Trump rally he would approve without a COVID-impact assessment from a private site owner. Since none was forthcoming, he was limiting Trump’s scheduled Rochester MN rally to 250 people in attendance, equivalent to Biden’s planned drive-in movie rally. Asked about this under the whooshing blades of Marine One as he prepared to fly to Michigan for the first of three rallies across the midwest, Trump hoarsely responded he would still conduct his rally in Minnesota, as scheduled.

As he did. The rallies in Michigan and Wisconsin proceeded as they have of late, stump speech boilerplate enlivened by off-teleprompter riffs and new material, including videos of slam-dunk proofs of Biden lies and missteps. The Trump of the rallies is a friendlier version of Trump the debater, boastful, deliberately provocative and mischievously outrageous, but leavened by theatrical gestures, self-deprecating humor, and generally threefold repetition of key punchlines his army of volunteers should take home to their families and neighbors. Trump the Performer, the man we all think we know. In Michigan he complained of the cold while proclaiming himself Superman (with lapel-spreading gesture) for throwing off the ‘China Plague’ while tossing bouquets to the fleet of doctors who cured him. In Wisconsin he basked in the sunlight and told everyone in the huge crowd he had given up a nice life and maybe a billion dollars to run for President, and it was all worth it. Rock star. Big enough NOT to be cartoon, because he had the unique presidential qualification of having kept his promises and then more than he had promised.

Everyone in these audiences had heard the stump speech he was supposed to give. What varies is when and how long he dives off teleprompter as the mood strikes him, which is often. Sage critics say he should confine himself to a list of his accomplishments and plans. The irony? He has too many accomplishments and plans; reciting them is neither time efficient nor fun. He is so larger than life that even these vital rallies are to him a kind of joyride. No American President in history has been able to entertain so spontaneously as he argues his purposes so seriously. Why, of course, his enemies despise him so. Anybody who can do what he does in the public sphere can’t be anything but a Barnum rogue.

And why, of course, we are supposed to believe everything bad they say or concoct about him, accept boring deadwood Joe as legitimate presidential material despite his obvious moral and mental rot, because being president is about acting the part, the same way they are all always acting their parts, pretending to be something they’re not. Mostly they are lonely, dysfunctional, desperate, confused wannabes with nowhere to go but up the next rung of power or money or both. Trump knows this about them. He even taunts them with it. “I used to have a great life,” he announces wistfully to a crowd of 45,000 souls. “I had everything. Now I have enemies, investigations, impeachments.” He acknowledges a group called “Bikers for Trump” in the audience. They’ve gone everywhere on his behalf, arranged trains and parades, even in Israel. He loves them. “They’re incredible.” They cheer him at the podium. He makes throttle squeezing motions with his right hand. “Love’em all,” he says. “Those Harley-Davidsons — am I right? — were never my thing, I always liked the limousines, but they’re great.” They cheer him some more. Why? Not pretending he’s something he’s not, just indifferent to differences. He mentions Melania, one of the world’s most beautiful women, whom no one anywhere can have, and the crowd erupts in ovations. How can this preposterous man be so belovéd that his rallies now feature at least once per event, “WE LOVE YOU WE LOVE YOU WE LOVE YOU.” He snarks it away, pretending to cry and then telling the attendees he can’t cry because what would Chairman Xi say? He is simultaneously gruff, friendly, apart and next door. Something you can’t do without the Common Touch. Which he has in greater measure than any American politician ever.

He is playing with his people, the way grandparents play with grandkids, which they mostly are to him. He really does love them. They really are the reason he has undertaken this enormous ordeal, personal risk, and scathing hateful gauntlet. Why the people at the rallies love him.

I know. I’ve taken a while to get to Minnesota. Tonight he changed the rules. He showed us ‘President Trump’ at the bleak airport in Rochester. 

Different guy. I’m sure Ellison figured Trump would look diminished, smaller without his thousands. Instead he got bigger when he addressed the 250. He wasn’t defeated, defensive, or dumbfounded. He was just the Trump we know is always there and never get to see, though we know he’s always there. The irreducible Trump. The one you absolutely positively do not want to fuck with. He did not raise his voice. He called no names. Not the inflated persona of his public performances, but an implacable warrior for his mission in life. A contained, unstoppable energy directed on our behalf. No sense of humor. No wasted words. He knows who and what needs to be defeated. His tone was measured, not enraged but resolved, spelling out not acting out. What you’d want in any conceivable life and death crisis.

How many times is he a leader? He could have bailed when Ellison imposed his absurd restriction. He didn’t. He could have instigated a crashing of the gates that contained only 250. He didn’t, because he still believes in the rule of law more than violence, meaning he’s no Hitler. He could have pretended the 25,000 who stayed to see him weren’t there, because their presence was an embarrassment he could not rescue them or him. But he didn’t. So he deliberately went to see them first. He could have given his standard stump speech to the 250, as if they had won the lottery and they were all pretending together. He didn’t. 

And then he spoke. Not 90 or 45 or 30 minutes. About 25. How much do we lose when totalitarians amputate free speech from the populace at large? You do the math. The 250 can’t be allowed to feel like winners. Trump showed them his steely spine, his invincible determination to end this kind of insanity, and he showed both his love for Americans and his expectation that they know their duty from here. 

Make this video viral and the election is over. Wallpaper it. If the character Clint Eastwood always plays were real, his name would be Donald Trump.