The New-ish Donald Trump

Peak Trump at the RNC

“Rambling. Too long. Not enough of the “unity” we were promised. A very good night for the Democrats.”

Breaking news: Trump haters did not like Trump’s speech. Stop the presses.

But for me and many millions of longtime Trump appreciators, last night was Peak Trump. We got the greatest hits, lots of jokes, and the deft charm of how he handles his crowds. We got emotion. His poignant kissing of a dead man’s fire helmet. And a riveting story about his insane brush with death. We got ‘80s movie references (to the since-canceled "Silence of the Lambs,” which is now transphobic), and we got sweet shout-outs to his family.

Was it a long speech? Yes. But why rush off the stage when you came a whisker from certain death? This could be your last time. This was his last time—his last-ever nomination speech. People wanted to see him. It was Proof of life. Proof of Trump—proof that he was still here and it was still him.

And the best part: he was still the same.

Sometimes There’s a Man

Americans tend to fall into three categories when it comes to Donald Trump: First, the people who hate him. To them he is Satan and Hitler. He could reveal himself as the son of God and they would still persist in this belief. Don’t hate these people too much—it’s not nice to mock the mentally challenged.

Next are the people who used to hate him but have since come around and either love him or reluctantly support him. This is a large group. These are normies for whom Trump was a jolt to their endocrine system that took several years to get used to. It includes J.D. Vance and most of my trad Catholic mom friends. These people should never be shamed for their previous opposition to him.

And then, there are people like me. People who had already had their innocence violated by years of lying politicians and government deceptions. People who had eaten their red pills early. People who were looking for someone to “disrupt” the system, which badly needed disruption. People who saw or felt something they’d never seen before when they first encountered Candidate Trump; maybe something they hadn’t seen in many decades, but somehow recognized him as just the right medicine for what ailed us.

I admit it: he had me at “only Rosie O’Donnell,” his iconic rejoinder to Megyn Kelly in his first debate when she said he’d once called women “pigs.”

When Access Hollywood “Pussygate” happened, even my husband was like “oh, he’s done.” I peered inward: Was he done? Was it over already? Did a dirty joke about the legions of starf*cking women he’d had to contend with over the years make me mad? I knew celebrities—they really do let famous men do anything they want. Just ask Gavin Newsom’s wife.

I immediately told Mr. Keenan he was wrong—this would not hurt Trump’s chances. It was not going to offend people who already liked him. I already liked him and I didn’t care. Once you were on board the Trump Train, it was very hard to get off. You had to be forcibly pushed. Once you had tasted Trumpamania, it was very hard to quit.

I bet a bunch of money on Trump in 2016 on PredictIt. I won bigly.

On The Speech