Three stories about Donald Trump have swirled these last few days. The first (and primary) narrative has to do with him whining about being outmaneuvered by [crscore]Ted Cruz[/crscore] in the delegate race. This is the overarching story that will likely be with us for weeks or even months.
The two additional temporary subplots involve the fact that two of Trump’s kids didn’t bother to register to vote in the Republican primary, and thus, they cannot vote for him in New York—as well as new revelations that Trump’s recent charitable contributions haven’t come out of his own personal pocket.
Patterns emerge. All three stories involve sloppiness. More revealing, however, is a sense that Trump believes certain rules apply to the little people, not for him (or his family).
For example, when one considers the fact that two of Trump’s children didn’t bother to register as Republicans, it’s important to juxtapose that with the sacrifices Trump expects from the rest of us.
“If you’re sick. If you’re really like you can’t move. You’re close to death,” he said. “Your doctor tells you it’s not working. Your wife is disgusted with you. She said, ‘I’m leaving.’ [Vote] no matter what. She says, ‘Darling, I love you, but I’ve fallen in love with another man.'”
So we’re supposed to vote on our deathbeds, but his kids can’t bother to register?
Again, there’s a pattern. Giving wholesale speeches is glamorous, but wooing delegates is tedious and messy. So Trump skips it. … The hoi palloi can give personal charitable contributions to satisfy their naive souls, but smart people use other people’s money through foundations for such charitable works. … Regular people can talk themselves into believing that their vote matters — that voting is a civic responsibility — but we know it’s a waste of time. Better to write a big check.
One week, of course, is just a snapshot. But we’re beginning to see a clearer picture of who Donald J. Trump is.
By their campaigns you shall know them.