Donald Trump acts not like a front-runner but someone trying to claw his way to the top, as reprised in Paul Solotaroff's Rolling Stone piece just out. Many women admire Trump's scrappiness as strength ("I'll hit back twice as hard if anyone hits me") that implies a robust military. Somehow, his bravado would scare off ISIS?
Media criticism has simply reinforced to Trump's groupies that Donald is The Anti-Establishment. Now candidates ganging up on Trump before the next debate only seem desperate. Why, then, is Trump so negative, as if at the bottom of the pack? Trump's attack on Carly Fiorina's appearance provided her with an opportunity to exemplify class and stature before the CNN forum on Wednesday. Solotaroff says Trump's aides showed no concern when Trump ridiculed Fiorina's face because they cannot dissent. Do we want a president who hires only sycophants?
It all makes you wonder: Would Trump run against Hillary if she looked like Heidi Klum?
Trump continues what ultimately may be judged a self-destructive frenzy. After Trump has made the sale, he keeps talking. He pounds a candidate, then hits again, while the candidate is down. Trump's relentless attacks on Jeb Bush as "no energy" have resonated. But if they don't stop, Jeb will get a sympathy vote. Trump has set expectations so low for Jeb that he could become the Comeback Kid, probably not, though -- since Hillary remains Exhibit One against Dynasty, and not because of selfies in her email.
Trump's opponents have criticized him, with little effect, as someone who flip-flops on important matters and "not a real conservative." If you buy into Trump's persona, issues seem trivial. And right-wing talk show hosts who harshly judge any other candidate's minor deviation from conservative orthodoxy, give Trump a pass.
Bobby Jindal just attacked Trump personally, viscerally ("a narcissist... who believes only in himself... a weak person"). The brainy and capable Jindal will finally make the Sunday talk shows, but he merely paves the way for a Ted Cruz or John Kasich who stays above the fray.
Ben Carson explained this week how he derived strength from "fear of the Lord." But in discussing humility but arguably suspending it, the understated Carson appeared to question Trump's faith. Although Carson apologized the next day, the tactical damage was done. He can uniquely probe Trump's ego and his consequent temperament at the Reagan Library, but Carson now must regain the high road, and, most importantly, he lost the element of surprise.
Meanwhile, Trump deprecates the internationally renowned neurosurgeon as just an "O.K. doctor." He suggests that Carson's faith, a cornerstone of his life's work, is expedient. The pundits keep saying that Trump's insults appear inconsequential. Actually, their cumulative effect lies dormant, buried within voter consciousness, as if the voter, repeatedly exposed to an allergen, seems immune. At a threshold or breaking point, the overwhelmed voter becomes hypersensitive. Engaged in cognitive dissonance, they have rejected anything contrary to their infatuation. But once these voters turn against him, perhaps later than sooner, they suddenly will remember "all this stuff" that supposedly meant nothing to them.
Trump only knows upward momentum, but there is downward. Like the stock market, in which the bull can turn quickly, and the bear can be vicious, a candidate can collapse, in reinforcing waves.
Is all this inevitable? Trump has brilliantly articulated what troubles America and appeared as a charismatic leader. Perhaps Trump could still get serious and read up on issues. He could remain authentic and politically incorrect, yet he could stop calling people names. He could hire some adults for his campaign to go beyond adulation and tell him what he needs to hear. And what he needs to hear is to stop saying "I" and stop talking about himself. A president decides weighty matters that can bring war. If he does not settle down, he will be seen, at 69, as immature.
After all, we can judge a future incumbency by the campaign for it.