In his long speech at the convention on Thursday night, Donald Trump — sweaty and with a bandage covering his right ear after surviving an assassination attempt — did what he does best. He talked, and talked, and talked. And talked. And talked. And talked.
Facing a captive audience—both the crowd of true Republicans in Milwaukee and those still glued to Trump’s show at home—the 45th and likely 47th president said relatively little about what he might accomplish after another four years in office. But Trump has never been one to let details get him down. What mattered was the spotlight. Trump preached to America through his favorite medium: television. And with the camera focused on him again after a long absence, did it really matter that he spoke extemporaneously? For 90 minutes of rambling storytelling, filled with confusing asides, Trump seemed to relish revisiting a bygone era—when he lived a much simpler life as a reality TV star.
In my new book, “Intern in Wonderland,” I recount the hours I spent with Trump after he left the White House, during which he conducted a series of extensive interviews with me during a period when he was largely out of the public eye. The subject matter of my book helped me gain access: Trump loved talking to me—and he often reached out to me. in Me – About how starring in Mark Burnett's NBC reality TV series “The Apprentice” made him famous.
In our time together, Trump was more interested in gossiping about the Kardashians, Joan Rivers, Jeff Zucker, Omarosa, or Dennis Rodman than in thinking about any of his accomplishments as president. But it made sense: Fame, for Trump, is the ultimate currency. He once marveled that some of his wealthiest friends couldn’t get reservations at famous restaurants. What good, Trump wondered, is all that money if you can’t even get a good seat at dinner?
The Republican National Convention seemed designed by Trump to take the country back to the days when he was a “ratings machine” (as he likes to call himself). It felt like it was produced by Mark Burnett — the business executive who helped make Trump’s name when he built “The Apprentice” around his persona. Earlier this week, Trump turned his vice presidential search into a spectacle, finally choosing J.D. Vance as his running mate at the last minute on Monday before the media circus began. Convention candidates traditionally appear on the final night of festivities; Trump entered the arena that night, a bandage from Saturday’s attack on his life plastered over his right ear. Cameras tracked his appearance from backstage as if Trump were a boxer entering the ring.
This was good publicity. But for Trump, the concept of “bad publicity” does not exist—it’s all publicity. On Thursday, Trump took his nomination acceptance speech to Herculean proportions. It was another bizarre performance in the eyes of the audience—and yet it seemed to embody the chairman who once dreamed of winning an Emmy. (Trump was still angry, on our post-presidency afternoon together, that “The Apprentice” kept losing to “The Amazing Race.”) For his convention speech, he took the stage, against a neon sign with his last name in bright lights. It was not unlike the giant stage set in the Broadway musical “Chicago,” in which Roxie Hart sings, “The name on everybody’s lips will be Roxie.”
Nothing gave Trump a greater thrill than exploiting a personal tragedy to top the Nielsen ratings. Trump brought props and photos as he recounted the most traumatic experience of his life—surviving an assassination attempt Saturday afternoon in Butler, Pennsylvania—and turned it into a story worthy of Barbara Walters, with him playing interviewer and interviewee. This was the first act of his convention speech, and it was Trump at his most coherent and compelling. He teased the audience about how he would tell this story for the first and last time on the convention stage. In stark, moving language, Trump described how bullets whizzed past his head while he narrowly escaped death.
“I said to myself, ‘Wow, what is that?’ It couldn’t be anything but a bullet,” Trump declared dramatically. The bullet had grazed his ear. “There was blood everywhere, and in a sense, I felt safe. God was on my side.” He then walked a few steps to the stage to kiss the costume of Corey Comperatore, the firefighter who was shot and killed at the Trump rally. (Like most props from “The Apprentice,” the costume was likely just a TV replica, as it included a typo in the firefighter’s last name.)
Without the structure of the apocalyptic event, Trump lost some of his power as he went along—indeed, he seemed to go off script. This is a familiar Trumpian mode. It’s often hard to follow the former president’s train of thought as he rambles on about everything from Covid to his hatred of Debra Messing, Martha Stewart and other celebrity friends who turned their backs on Trump as president. On the convention stage, Trump recited a favorite rally line about illegal immigrants invading America from asylums—before delivering a rambling rant about “the late, great Hannibal Lecter,” who lived in a mental institution.
Trump would say lines like, “I am the one saving democracy for the people of our country,” before bragging about how a judge had thrown out his case over classified documents in Florida. Trump also told his favorite lie about “Democrats cheating in the election.” He promised to cut taxes, reduce inflation and help the auto industry. But his platform had no rhythm or precision. There was no style or bravado. This was an actor who seemed tired of delivering the same lines night after night.
As the speech wore on, Trump grew tired, and so did the audience. Throughout the convention, Trump dozed off during some of the speeches. But on the stage, as midnight approached for East Coast viewers, Trump was completely inactive. The media loves to speculate about how Trump might be “different” or “changed.” But at his own convention, Trump made the case that the next season of his presidency will be just like the last one; the only difference is that he wants to give himself more screen time. The message became boring and redundant, and it should have inspired Democrats to push back. Trump’s speech proved many things, but one thing more than anything else: There is a window here. Based on Trump’s recent performance, there is a chance he will not be renewed.
