After almost a decade in the political limelight, it takes quite a bit for Donald Trump to do something bizarre by his own standards. He succeeded last night.
WaPo (“Trump sways and bops to music for 39 minutes in bizarre town hall episode“):
The town hall, moderated by South Dakota Gov. Kristi L. Noem (R), began with questions from preselected attendees for the former president. Donald Trump offered meandering answers on how he would address housing affordability and help small businesses. But it took a sudden turn after two attendees required medical attention.
And so Trump, after jokingly asking the crowd whether “anybody else would like to faint,” took a different approach.
“Let’s not do any more questions. Let’s just listen to music. Let’s make it into a music. Who the hell wants to hear questions, right?” he said.
For 39 minutes, Trump swayed, bopped — sometimes stopping to speak — as he turned the event into almost a living-room listening session of his favorite songs from his self-curated rally playlist.
He played nine tracks. He danced. He shook hands with people onstage. He pointed to the crowd. Noem stood beside him, nodding with her hands clasped. Trump stayed in place onstage, slowly moving back and forth. He was done answering questions for the night.
Characteristically, the NYT downplayed the incident, shaving an entire 9 minutes off the dance: “Trump Bobs His Head to Music for 30 Minutes in Odd Town Hall Detour.”
Donald J. Trump was about 30 minutes into a town hall Monday night in suburban Philadelphia when a medical emergency in the crowd brought the questions and answers to a halt. Moments later, he tried to get back on track, when another medical incident seemed to derail things, this time for good.
And so Mr. Trump, a political candidate known for improvisational departures, made a detour. Rather than try to restart the political program, he seemed to decide in the moment that it would be more enjoyable for all concerned — and, it appeared, for himself — to just listen to music instead.
Mr. Trump had his staff fire up his campaign playlist, standing on the stage for about half an hour and swaying to songs as his crowd slowly dwindled.
He bobbed his head through the Village People’s “Y.M.C.A.,” his usual closing song. He swayed soberly to Rufus Wainwright’s version of “Hallelujah,” watched a Sinead O’Connor video, rocked along to Elvis, watched the crowd during “Rich Men North of Richmond” and then, finally, left the stage to shake hands on his way out during one last song.
The Atlantic‘s David A. Graham characterized it as “Trump Breaks Down Onstage.”
Is Donald Trump well enough to serve as president?
The question is not temperamental or philosophical fitness—he made clear long ago that the answer to both is no—but something more fundamental.
The election is in three weeks, and Pennsylvania is a must-win state for both Trump and Kamala Harris, but during a rally last night in Montgomery County, northwest of Philadelphia, Trump got bored with the event, billed as a “town hall,” and just played music for almost 40 minutes, scowling, smirking, and swaying onstage. Trump is no stranger to surreal moments, yet this was one of the oddest of his political career.
[…]
To watch the event is to see signs of someone having a breakdown. Like Joe Biden’s disastrous debate against Trump in June, when the president’s fumbling performance and struggle to get sentences out made it impossible to believe he was up to the task of serving for four years, Trump’s rally last night would force any reasonable person to conclude that he is not up to the grueling task of leading the world’s greatest nation, handling economic crises, or dealing with foreign adversaries.
Which isn’t to say that some people didn’t try to reason through it. Reporters still seem unsure of how to deal with Trump’s stranger behaviors. Journalists are trained to take information and make sense of it, even amid chaos. The problem is that doing so conjures logic where none exists.
I continue to doubt that there’s anything, at this point, that Trump can do to alter perceptions of his fitness for office. But this was, to coin a phrase, weird.
