The Moment

Dear Reader, I would like to take you back through recent past, because some serious shit has happened in America, and, given that the “Facts don’t care about your feelings” crowd is now obsessing about the pet population of Dayton, emotions might be the way to process it.

Let’s go back to June 27, 2024. I wrote specifically about my personal reaction (https://medium.com/@patrickkmc10/the-five-stages-of-grievance-politics-a-clip-show-f195d8dac1aa). Biden’s debate performance wasn’t only horrifying because it portrayed a man in cognitive free-fall, but it marked the disappearance of 2020 Debate Biden. I could NOT wait to vote for THAT guy, simply because he pointed out that Emperor Don had no clothes:

I have never felt so seen by a politician. That very basic affirmation of an objective truth — that Trump was basically insane was deeply reassuring to me, in that it affirmed that my perception of Donald Trump as a bizarre con-man with some screws loose — was personally comforting, and assured me that Biden knew the ridiculous, feral danger Trump posed, and he, Biden, knew what he was doing, and Biden had a plan to defeat The Donald, and, critically, he was not afraid of the Donald. That was the day I stopped telling family members to look into moving to Canada.

That moment of calm, measured, objective reality in a Presidential Debate was sorely missed in the debate of June 27. As I’ve written, the instantaneous, grim uncertainty that Biden introduced when he somehow pivoted from a question on abortion to Trump’s imaginary “Migrant Crime” motto. It was, to say the least, a deeply uncomfortable experience that left me feeling like the politician I voted for four years ago had been replaced by some geriatric pod person. It was not only dismaying and demoralizing, but like an experience Stephen King would find too unbelievable and disturbing to write about. Then came the awful SCrOTUS ruling that American Presidents are always and forever above the law. That week really did feel like Anschluss in Amerikkka.

In what I can only begin to describe as an extraordinary turn of events, in less than a month, the DNC has pulled the plug on the moribund Biden Campaign and launched the Harris-Walz Campaign.

Last night, less than two months in to the new campaign; Harris gave me her version of Biden’s “I see you” moment:

I’ve infrequently considered how deeply in grief The Donald is about the change in candidates. At several moments in the past months, it’s seemed as if The Donald was inadvertently campaigning for Joe Biden. And, look; as a Democratic Party voter with a long history of frustration and aggravation about the fundamentally anti-democratic way the DNC picks candidates, I kind of agree with Donald about how unfair it is. Traditionally, I’ve worked through those stages of grief before August. Trump is still out reliving the glory days of June 27 and the subsequent RNC coronation ceremony; to the point where I’ve pondered if someone shouldn’t stop by Mar-a-Lago or Bedminster and check in on Donald, now that his best friend is moving away. Kamala Harris somehow saw my own concern for Donald’s mental health, and pointed out that, perhaps, Trump (and America) should consider therapy. The Donald responded to that narcissistic injury like any other diagnosed narcissist, and spent the remaining hour in what I can only begin to describe as a verbal version of Wile E. Coyote, Super Genius, trying — and hilariously failing — to convince us all that he is a very stable jeenyus. I don’t feel like debating or belaboring the point, so, to any of Trump’s stalwart defenders; please watch that 2 hour psychotic break, and tell me; which minute, precisely, would you tolerate from an elderly relative at Sunday Dinner. Would it be the complete inability to focus after a verbal insult? The inability to coherently express any sentiment adjacent to reality? The sudden, Biden-esque pivot from an issue he was perceived as owning (immigration) to a bizarrely-detailed accusation about the size of Harris’s campaign events? Using noted humanitarian Viktor Orban as a weird character reference? The incessant, impotent whinging about when the DOJ will investigate the FBI (which seems like an obscure crossover episode of CSI and a real-crime podcast)? What, exactly, did Trump do that would not make a sane, responsible family member quietly call a cardiologist to ask about the side effects of Uncle Don’s new heart meds?

The hard-bitten “chattering classes” are now wisely questioning whether this debate will have any impact on this presidential election. It may or it may not; but it’s damning that the commentators apparenty went into hibernation on June 28 and only woke up last night, because a single — and singularly — awful debate performance has already claimed one candidate this quarter. The pundits are absolutely correct in that we’re living a new, nonlinear political reality in which cause and effect don’t always come in that traditional order, and each hour seems completely disconnected from the preceding ones. Who knows? Maybe Trump will continue his anemic in-person campaign events and Zoom meetings with Vlad the Invader, and he’ll win. Maybe he’ll continue that campaign, and the American people will take Harris up on her offer of a new generation of political leadership that doesn’t boast about a dementia test. And, of course, my favorite options, “All of the above,” and, “None of the above.”

I would like you, dear reader, to remain in your nostalgic headspace of March, 2024, when it appeared that American politics was inextricably linked to objective reality, and political decisions were based on that reality, not bizarre Internet urban legends that ̶d̶i̶r̶t̶y̶ ̶n̶e̶e̶d̶l̶e̶s̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶c̶i̶n̶e̶m̶a̶s̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶s̶p̶r̶e̶a̶d̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶H̶I̶V̶ v̶i̶o̶l̶e̶n̶t̶ ̶g̶a̶n̶g̶s̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶t̶a̶r̶g̶e̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶v̶i̶c̶t̶i̶m̶s̶ ̶b̶y̶ ̶f̶l̶a̶s̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶i̶r̶ ̶h̶i̶g̶h̶-̶b̶e̶a̶m̶s̶ ̶a̶t̶ ̶p̶a̶s̶s̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶c̶a̶r̶s̶ undocumented immigrants are eating pets in Ohio and Colorado. Operating from that naive, sane headspace, here is what I would predict would be the definitive effects of last night’s gladiatorial combat/debate/family intervention:

1. Policy will never be discussed before 2025. Between Harris’s ability to cite the page and paragraph of her specific policy goals and proposals, and Trump’s flat refusal to comply with his advisors and discuss policy, any discussions of policy — apart from favorite feline recipes (I’m sorry; Trump’s bizarre free-association of Caribbean refugees and eating pets is so far beyond weird that nobody with an ounce of sanity can let it go — should I be worried if my pets are being around elderly Republicans, Haitians, or politicians?); there’s absolutely no point in even mentioning policy. The Harris Campaign will e-mail a 90-page outline of a policy agenda, and Chris LaCivita will publicly burn a copy of Project 2025 and feign amnesia. Trump will try to convince passersby that “policy” is an adjective used to describe the constabulary’s official actions.
2. The Harris Campaign will release a torrent of brutal new attack ads. If there’s one thing Trump proved every single, grueling second of the debate, it’s how easy it is to burrow under his thin, papery, wrinkled skin. If I were employed by the DNC, I’d simply try to run unedited five-minute segments of the debate with the chyron, “You have a choice, America,” because that is like getting a time-share in The Donald’s mind. Forget calling dibs on which office staffers should get; Jen O’Malley Dillon should focus on which of Trump’s remaining brain cells she wants to live in. Trump is incapable of playing defense; and the logical, savvy political move is to put him on permanent defense. Thanks to last night the Harris-Walz Campaign has hours of footage to play with. I’d personally select moments when Trump was moaning about Joe Biden or the Death of America, because he’s clearly needled by accusations of weakness or incompetence.
3. Stop interacting with friends and allies. Earlier this summer, allegations emerged of Donnie alienating megadonor and political ally, Miriam Adelson. Recently, Trump’s handlers were lauded for shoring up Trump’s notoriously fraught relationship with the GA Secretary of State, Brad Raffensperger. I haven’t kept up with Trump’s drama with the Adelsons, but, even if he convinces her to come back and make Trump a real billionaire, that’s time not spent campaigning, strategizing, or raising donations. As someone with his own neurological issues, arguing for isolation seems like a cruel and unusual punishment, but, I can vouch from personal experience that you can not spend as much time repairing existing relationships as one spends building new ones. Trump’s base might be stalwart and loyal, but the people funding and organizing his campaign simply don’t have time to organize an intervention every time Trump feels lonely. We have less than two months before the Election, and Trump does markedly better in the public light when he’s safely locked in his golf club, and not publicly feuding with his alleged frenemies. Which is all he knows, so, just keep him in a crate and buy ads in Swing States. It was a winning strategy before June; it may be time to return to that strategy, rather than read about Trump’s personal cloud of insanity that follows him around. As the Harris Campaign texts to remind me, every second of each day is now absolutely precious, and Chris LaCivitas’s Trump Comeback Tour is predicated on the hypothetical framing, “What if Trump had a competent political operation in 2020?” (Source: https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2024/07/trump-campain-election-2024-susie-wiles-chris-lacivita/678806/). I’ve never heard of a political operation that consists of letting the alleged candidate savage supporters and donors, and then mending those social wounds on the fly.
4. Cut off Trump’s Internet Connection. I’m not even in the first wave of writers who recommends this. I pomise you; prominent people have tried to confiscate Trump’s tiny phone from him every day of the week since he rode down that marble-encrusted escalator in 2015. What’s different, this week, is that Trump is so far down the Internet that even his bizarre, QAnon conspiracies no longer make sense. If I weren’t deeply immersed in American Politics, Trump’s nonsensical tirade about Haitian immigrants eating dogs would have put me on an emergency call with my therapist, because it was so far beyond accepted reality, it’s barely racist. Don’t get me wrong, Trump meant it to toss some red meat to his perceived base, but I don’t know who, apart from people who are on an IV drip of Reddit subthreads, would understand the reference. It would be like me saying that all Mexicans are selfish, mediocre lovers. The veracity and even intent would be debatable because it’s so far beyond established, mainstream racism, that viewers would be forced to do some bizarre deep-dive to see which Mexican hurt me (Danny Trejo; he knows why). Identically, Trump’s followers now have to do homework to decode his unintelligible dog-whistles, and we all know if there’s one thing bigots love, it’s book reports. A better use of Team Trump’s time would be reworking his “Build a wall” slogan into something that didn’t require a five hour lecture on immigration issues in Battleground States.
5. No more Trump Rallies. Ever. I know this is controversial, because Trump loves being surrounded by disoriented fans who thought they were in line for the early bird special at Golden Corral, but, after Harris’s damning endorsement of Trump’s personal safe spaces, they just seem pathetically desperate. This is the biggest emotional change for me, in the last 24 hours. In 2016, there was a sinister, “Mr. Reich Goes to Nuremberg” quality to them. In 2020, they seemed like an odd, 19th century campaign relic in the 21st century. Earlier this week, I viewed them as a somewhat outdated way to galvanize grassroots support and signal that a candidate had not abandoned an electorally-viable district. That was before Harris’s perfect description of every Trump rally. Roll tape!

After that blisteringly accurate description of post-2020 Trump Rallies, I honestly can’t bring to mind a single image of a Trump Rally without hearing, in my mind; a drunken asshole screaming, “Freebird! Wooh!” It’s quite possible that Gassolini’s cult followers will still get a thrill from the classic hits like, “Build a wall!” or, “Immigrants are voting!” or the multiplatinum classic, “Lock her up!” But, really, when your own political opponent recommends attending a specific campaign event, and provides the script; maybe don’t ever do those events. Or maybe hire some writers and write some new, non-pet-related hits.

Again, these are all suggestions written for a campaign that understands basic politics, and that elections are traditionally won at the ballot box, not by jackbooted thugs threatening voters, and by politicians who understand the basic principles and ideals of democracy. As of this writing, Trump needs a Thorazine prescription, a nap, and an intervention more than he needs political operatives and campaign managers. Because this is Donald Trump, he won’t get any of that; he’ll get Susie Wiles telling him he did wonderfully, and all of the people laughing at his performance are actually laughing at his hilarious jokes about Haitians terrorizing animal shelters in Ohio.

The horrible, sad truth of the matter is that Donald Trump is a symptom of America’s declining democratic institutions, and, while we still have six hyper-partisan, all-powerful Supreme Court Justices who can literally legislate from the bench, America will continue to be vulnerable to authoritarian kult leaders like The Donald. Last night, however, Harris masterfully pulled back the curtain on the Wizard of Oz, and revealed an incompetent, barely functioning octogenarian whose capacity for fear and malevolence is impaired only by his inability to remember the date. The pundit class liked to frame the pre-debate political landscape as a place in which Trump didn’t have much to lose. Post-debate, I would argue that Trump now has to persuade voter that he knows what most Americans have for dinner, before he can prosecute his case that he’s the better candidate. And, there’s a certain irony in the fact that, just as Trump demonstrated Biden’s fundamental inadequacy to be President in a single debate; he now spent several hours personally making it inescapably obvious that he can’t be trusted to get a takeout order correct. And Americans need to stop treating Don like a political candidate; we need to view him in the same light that we would a disturbed elderly neighbor who needs in-home living assistance. He’s menacing and dangerous behind the wheel, but he would be harmless if someone took the and credit cards away. America already did that for J. Biden; it’s time for a national intervention for The Other Guy. This is no longer a case of “We’re not going back,” it’s a case of, “We’re ready to do better, for ourselves, our country, and even Donald Trump.” And that starts with defeating Trump by such large margins that the Insane Asylum Wing of the GOP — funded by freaks like Elon Musk, Peter Thiel, and Harlan Crow — learn that politics is a cost-prohibitive hobby.