Donald Trump became a sweaty reality star at the Republican Convention

In a lengthy conference speech on Thursday evening, Donald Trump – sweaty and with a bandage over his right ear because he had survived an assassination attempt on his life – did what he does best. He talked, and talked, and talked. And talked. And talked. And talked.

Before a captive audience — both loyal Republicans in Milwaukee and those still glued to the Trump show at home — the 45th and soon-to-be 47th president said relatively little about what he could accomplish with four more years. current. But Trump has never been one to be fooled by details. What mattered was the spotlight. Trump preached to America through his favorite medium: television. With the camera focused on him again after a long period in the wilderness, did it really matter if he spoke spontaneously? Throughout 90 minutes of stream-of-consciousness storytelling consisting of tangents and confusing asides, Trump seemed to enjoy revisiting a bygone era — when he lived a much simpler life as a reality TV star.

In my new book ‘Apprentice in Wonderland’ I talk about the hours I spent with Trump after he left the White House; he gave me a series of extensive interviews at a time when he was almost completely out of the public eye. The subject of my book helped me gain access: Trump liked to talk to me – and often bee 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 reflecting on his performance as president. But it made sense: fame is Trump’s ultimate currency. He once marveled at the fact that some of his wealthiest friends could not get reservations at popular restaurants. What’s the point of all that money, Trump asked, if you can’t even get a good seat for 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 describe himself). This was a convention that played as if it were produced by Mark Burnett — the impresario who helped make Trump’s name when he shaped “The Apprentice” around his personality. Earlier this week, Trump turned his search for a vice president into a cliffhanger and finally chose JD Vance as his running mate at the last minute on Monday, just before the media circus began. Traditionally, nominees appear at conferences on the last night of the festivities; Trump entered the arena that evening, with the bandage from Saturday’s attack on his life on his right ear. The cameras followed his rise backstage as if Trump were a boxer entering the ring.

This was good publicity. But for Trump, the concept of “bad publicity” doesn’t exist – it’s all publicity. On Thursday, Trump took his nomination acceptance speech to enormous proportions. It was yet another strange feat in the public eye – and yet it seemed to channel the boardroom boss who dreamed of one day winning an Emmy. (Trump was still furious, during our post-presidency afternoons together, that “The Apprentice” continued to lose to “The Amazing Race.”) For his convention speech, he took the stage, against the backdrop of a neon sign with his last name. on it in bright light. It was not unlike the gigantic stage apparatus in the Broadway musical “Chicago,” where Roxie Hart sings, “The name on everyone’s lips will be Roxie.”

Nothing gave Trump more excitement than exploiting a personal tragedy in the interest of topping the Nielsen ratings. Trump brought props and photos as he went through the most traumatic experience of his life — surviving an assassination attempt on Saturday afternoon in Butler, Pennsylvania — and turned it into a Barbara Walters-worthy tell-all, playing both interviewer and interviewee. This was the first act of his convention speech, which showed Trump at his most coherent and convincing. He teased the audience with how he would tell this story for the first and only time on the convention stage. And in stark and harrowing language, Trump recounted how gunfire whizzed past his head as he narrowly escaped death.

“I said to myself, ‘Wow, what was that?’ It can only be a bullet.” Trump announced it dramatically. The bullet grazed his ear. “The blood was flowing everywhere and in a way I felt safe. I had God on my side.” He then walked a few steps to the podium to kiss the uniform of Corey Comperatore, a firefighter who was shot at Trump’s rally. (Like most props from “The Apprentice,” the uniform was likely just a TV replica, as there was a typo in the firefighter’s last name.)

Without the structure of a shocking event, Trump lost some steam as he went along — in fact, he seemed to go off script. This is a familiar mode for Trump. In our time together, it would often be difficult to follow the former president’s train of thought as he rambled on about everything from COVID to his hatred of Debra Messing and Martha Stewart and other famous friends who turned their backs on Trump as president. On the convention stage, Trump recited a favorite campaign line about how illegal immigrants are invading America from asylums — before delivering a non sequitur about “the late, great Hannibal Lecter,” who lived in a mental institution.

Trump would say something like, “I am the one who saves democracy for the people of our country,” before gloating over the way a judge dismissed his case over classified documents in Florida. Trump told his favorite lie about “the Democrats cheating in the election.” He promised to cut taxes, reduce inflation and help the auto industry. But there was no rhythm or finesse in his platform. There was no style or swagger. This was an actor who seemed to get tired of playing the same lines night after night.

As the speech continued, Trump began to tire, and so did the crowd. During the convention, Trump had fallen asleep during some speeches. But on stage, as midnight approached for East Coast viewers, Trump was less than energetic. The media likes to speculate about how Trump is ‘different’ or ‘changed’. But at his own convention, Trump made the argument that the next season of his presidency would be exactly the same as the last; the only difference is that he wants to give himself even more screen time. The message became so annoying and unnecessary that it should inspire Democrats to fight back. Trump’s speech proved many things, but one above all: There is a window here. Based on Trump’s latest performance, there is a possibility he won’t be renewed.