When Donald Trump appeared at the back of the stage on Thursday to give his acceptance speech as the Republican candidate for the White House and, in the process, to establish himself as the absolute leader of the party, a deafening shout united the thousands of throats that packed the Fiserv Forum floor. For a moment, it seemed that the Milwaukee basketball stadium that hosted the Republican Convention this week was in danger of collapsing.
On one side, the singer of country Lee Greenwood was playing again God bless the USA, the anthem of Trumpism that he composed involuntarily 40 years ago, while Trump said “thank you” chewing the syllables and moved with a thoughtful step. In the background, a projection of the White House and an illuminated sign with his last name. In one corner, the volunteer firefighter’s uniform of Corey Comperatore, a fatal victim of last Saturday’s attack in which the former president was on the verge of losing his life at a rally in Pennsylvania. After a while, the former president approached and kissed the helmet. He also announced that 6.3 million dollars had been raised for the families of Comperatore and the other two injured, David Dutch and James Copenhaver.
After the initial euphoria of seeing their leader back where he used to be, five days after he was nearly shot to death on live television, the delegates, who had spent the afternoon doing their own thing, intermittently listening to the speakers, talking to the press and dancing to southern rock, sank, rising from their chairs, into a reverential silence. And then Trump, who spoke more calmly than usual, began the story of how he experienced the assassination attempt.
With his right ear still bandaged, he warned: “I won’t tell it again, because it’s traumatic for me to remember.” When he said that on the day he narrowly escaped his life, “God was on his side,” an Illinois delegate burst into tears and a woman in the distance shouted: “We love you!” The crowd interrupted him with chants of “We want more Trump!” “US A! US A!” or “Fight! Fight! Fight!” — a tribute to what the candidate said with his fist raised after a bullet grazed his ear. “I shouldn’t be here tonight,” he said, to which his followers responded: “Yes, you were supposed to be with us!”
Once the emotional personal reconstruction of what happened in Pennsylvania was over, the Trump of always returned little by little, with his attacks, his jokes about Abdul, an imaginary jihadist from Afghanistan, his lies, his half-truths and his exaggerations to praise the achievements of his Administration and attack what came after. In short, this ritual of the usual, interrupted here and there by the cheers of the Republican delegates, began to look a lot like one of his rallies, although it had begun with something new: the promise that if he wins in November (and he seemed convinced that he will) he will serve as “president of all of America and not just half of America.”
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Adrenaline in Milwaukee
The candidate’s calm tone contrasted with the adrenaline that possessed the rest of the day’s speakers, a list that included former Fox News host Tucker Carlson, who laughed nervously, made veiled references to Joe Biden when he said that today in the United States even a dead man could be president and also spoke of God.
The mood among the delegates was festive after four intense days in Milwaukee. Gentlemen in suits and orange caps moved through the aisles speaking a language with a single phrase: “He can’t stay here; keep moving.” In the audience, the parade of extravaganzas seemed to have no end, from the cheese-shaped hats of the delegates from Wisconsin (a state proud of its dairy products) to a somewhat famous Elvis impersonator named David Brown, Republican of Iowa, who, when asked if he thought the King was still alive, mysteriously replied: “If he is, he must be lost somewhere in Arkansas.”
One of the most anticipated speakers deserved a separate chapter: wrestling legend Hulk Hogan, an icon of the eighties that Trump seems to miss so much. Hogan did everything that was expected of him: he opened his eyes wide, shouted loudly, practiced his characteristic gesture of bringing his hand to his ear and, in one of the climaxes for which the closing day and the entire convention will be remembered, he tore off his shirt to reveal another one: that of the Trump-Vance campaign, now that, after the incorporation of Ohio senator JD Vance as a candidate for vice president, the ticket is now final.
The appearance of Hogan, a friend of Trump’s “for 35 years,” he said, was a moment as surreal as it was unusual for a political event of this kind. If anyone needed an image to capture the exact moment when this party stopped being the party of Mitt Romney, John McCain or George W. Bush, perhaps Hogan’s gesture of tearing off his shirt would do the trick.
The fighter, who was followed by evangelical preacher Franklin Graham, who melted the public in a prayer for Trump, had a serious rival in terms of testosterone waste in the old glory of the rap metal from the nineties Kid Rock, who performed his hit from almost 25 years ago American Bad Ass,The chorus was altered into another reference to Trump’s reaction to the attack. The lyrics, fist raised, read: “Say fight, fight, fight. Say Trump, Trump, Trump.” Kid Rock, who performed against the backdrop of an American flag and virtual flames typical of a concert, heavy metal,He referred to the former president as the “most patriotic American macho man.”
The guitars and the harshness of the singer, who in recent years has become a star of the MAGA universe, contrasted with another musical selection, the one that accompanied the expected entrance on stage of Melania Trump, “the next first lady of the United States,” as the event’s announcer defined her. The convention had been waiting for four days for the moment of her appearance, for which she chose the adage of the Ninth Beethoven as she made her way to the box where her husband watched the speeches, without her, all week.
This Thursday, the space was taken over by the (almost) entire Trump family. And looking towards that box were Maryland delegates Christopher Anderson and Jerry DeWall, both with a fake bandage on their right ear to show their “respect and admiration for Trump in a fun way,” as they explained.
When the former president finished his speech, the entire clan took the stage and the balloons began to fall in slow motion over the delegates. It was then definitively demonstrated that this convention will also be remembered for having broken records of consanguinity and endogamy (or nepotism, depending on how you look at it). Two of Trump’s sons (Donald Jr. and Eric), a granddaughter (Kai) and two daughters-in-law (Lara Trump and Kimberly Guilfoyle) took to the podium these days in Milwaukee. Only Ivanka and Melania were missing, the latter having been caught off guard by a gesture of affection from her husband at the end of the speech.
The evening ended with more music. Tenor Christopher Macchio performed Nessun Dorma, aria from the last act of Turandot. The delegates then began to leave the stadium for private parties to bid farewell to Milwaukee and a meeting they have experienced with genuine euphoria in view of their prospects at the polls. Meanwhile, Trump remained on stage watching, as if it were the first time (and not the third convention), how the red, white and blue balloons continued to fall in his honour.
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