Considering the Circumstances, Why Shouldn't We See a Revolt at the Convention? Why is anyone surprised that talk of a delegate revolt at the convention in Cleveland is picking up? Donald Trump isn't doing the basic tasks a presidential candidate is supposed to do. He isn't hiring staff; he has about 30 paid staff around the country while Hillary Clinton has something in the neighborhood of 700. He's refusing to spend any money on ads: The Clinton campaign and its allies are airing just over $23 million in television ads in eight potential battleground states: Nevada, Colorado, Iowa, Ohio, Florida, North Carolina, Virginia and New Hampshire, according to data released by NBC News. The Trump campaign? Zero. Either Trump is illiquid, or he doesn't have the money. He's either refusing to fundraise, or seriously slacking in this key component of a presidential campaign: While Trump had promised Priebus that he would call two dozen top GOP donors, when RNC chief of staff Katie Walsh recently presented Trump with a list of more than 20 donors, he called only three before stopping, according to two sources familiar with the situation. It's unclear whether he resumed the donor calls later. He's destroyed existing relationships between the Republican party and corporate America that previously had been beyond the realm of policy differences: Apple has told Republican leaders it will not provide funding or other support for the party's 2016 presidential convention, as it's done in the past, citing Donald Trump's controversial comments about women, immigrants and minorities. Unlike Facebook, Google and Microsoft, which have all said they will provide some support to the GOP event in Cleveland next month, Apple decided against donating technology or cash to the effort, according to two sources familiar with the iPhone maker's plans. He's getting less popular and he's only creating more headaches for everyone else in the party. He's trailing in Kansas, tied in Utah, and Arizona looks shaky. Republican primary voters selected a candidate with very little appeal to the broader electorate. So which is worse? Alienating the 13.8 million voters who selected him in the primary? Or alienating a majority of the 120 million to130 million who will vote in November? There's no good option left; which one is less bad? For those arguing the delegates have no business overruling primary voters . . . What are delegates for if not to avert a disaster like this? If they aren't there to use their judgment and conscience, we might as well replace them with programmable robots. Say this for a ticket out of any two other Republican lawmakers: that ticket will not destroy the party. It's first act after a terror attack will not be to congratulate itself. It will not suddenly call the troops thieves. It will not call an Indiana-born judge "the Mexican." An Anybody-Anybody ticket will stop creating problems for other Republicans and start solving them. The Surprisingly Compelling, Devastating Story of O.J.: Made in America ESPN's five-part documentary O.J.: Made in America is one of the most fascinating and gripping television offerings of the year. It comes a few months after FX's similarly critically acclaimed dramatization miniseries, The People vs. O.J. Simpson. The FX miniseries offered a bit more winking-at-the-camera irony, such as David Schwimmer playing Simpson's late friend and lawyer Robert Kardashian, trying to impart a key life lesson to his young daughters: "In this family, being a good person and a loyal friend is more important than being famous. Fame is fleeting. It's hollow. It means nothing without a virtuous heart." Of course, we all know how the Kardashian daughters turned out. In the past month, ESPN had promoted the bejesus out of Made in America, and I expected a slapped-together effort to follow on the success of the FX series. I couldn't have been more wrong. O.J.: Made in America is as much about the cultural changes going on around Simpson from the 1960s to today and reflected in his fame and demons. The murder trial takes up only parts three and four of the five-part series. If you hate the guy as a double murderer who got away with it (at least for a dozen years), and feared ESPN would glamorize or excuse him, don't worry. The series lays out the evidence in such clear manner that it's hard to believe any viewer will walk away with any doubts. The series shows crime scene photos of Nicole Brown and Ronald Goldman that are not for the faint of heart. You'll walk away from the television hating O.J. for what he did. But you also walk away understanding why the jury reached the conclusion it did. It was a contest of two villains — rage-filled, abusive husband Simpson against a Los Angeles Police Department that had steadily destroyed its relationship with the city's African-American community. Everybody remembers Rodney King. What you probably don't remember, or never heard about, was Latasha Harlins, a 15-year-old girl who went into a South Los Angeles store and got into an argument with 51-year-old female Korean-American store owner Soon Ja Du. As seen on store's the security tape, the customer and store owner had a brief altercation after Du accused Harlins of shoplifting. Harlins turned away, and Du pulled out a gun and shot Harlins in the back of the head from a distance of three feet. The security tape showed the shooting, and witnesses in the store contradicted Du's claim it was an attempted holdup. It was an open-and-shut case; the jury found Du guilty of voluntary manslaughter, an offense that carries a maximum prison sentence of 16-years. But trial judge Joyce Karlin sentenced Du to five years of probation, four hundred hours of community service, and a $500 fine. No jail time. For obvious reasons, Los Angeles's African-American community responded with apoplectic rage; the Harlins' murder occurred 13 days after the videotaped beating of Rodney King. In many African Americans' eyes, the criminal-justice system was sending a clear message: their lives had no value, and executing a black teenager carried the kind of sentence one might expect for petty theft or vandalism. Sure, Johnny Cochran demagogued the hell out of his moment on the national stage, turning O.J. Simpson — a wealthy superstar who had never demonstrated any particular interest in race relations or interacted with blacks outside of his wealthy Brentwood neighhorhood — into a civil-rights icon. But in the eyes of the jury, this was their one chance to tell the LAPD, "no." Finding Simpson not guilty was a declaration that they didn't trust the slur-spitting detective Mark Fuhrman, they didn't trust the police, they didn't trust the crime lab (which did make boneheaded basic errors, like failing to wear gloves while processing evidence) and they didn't trust the prosecutors' evidence. The problem is that this highest-of-profile rebuke to the Los Angeles Police Department and justice system came at the cost of justice for the families of Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman. In such a big-picture view of what the trial of O.J. Simpson represented in terms of large, abstract forces like celebrity, race, and money — Simpson sold $3 million in autographed memorabilia while in jail during the trial — director Ezra Edelman never forgets that the brutal murder of two innocent victims are at the heart of this story. Part Five is about Simpson's life after the trial, and it's easy to forget that Simpson lived free for twelve years after his acquittal; in 2007, he was sentenced to 33 years in prison after being found guilty on 12 charges, including armed robbery and kidnapping. In that intervening decade, Simpson spiraled further into a depressing, debauched, twisted existence, alienating his children and trying to monetize his reputation as That Guy Who Got Away With Double Murder and then hiding the money from the Brown and Goldman families after they won their civil suit. You may want to see Simpson in Hell; he seems to have turned his life hellish in preparation. The documentary is unsparing, as are the accounts of Simpson's former agent, Mike Gilbert, who was at Simpson's side through it all and now clearly feels shame over every moment of it. More than 20 years later, the views of Simpson and his guilt across races gradually converged. One of the jurors is asked whether she thinks she made the right decision today, in light of Simpson's subsequent criminal behavior. "Somewhat," she says, "but deep in my heart, I done what I felt was right at that time." The most infamous criminal of the 1990s has sat in jail for the past eight years, and will be eligible for parole next year. The closing shots of the Lovelock Correctional Center, in Pershing County, Nevada are almost a happy ending. ADDENDA: If you missed it on NRO over Father's Day weekend, Kathryn Lopez kindly interviewed me about Heavy Lifting. It's another day heading up to New York City; I'm scheduled to appear on CNN around the 11 a.m. hour, and Kate Bolduan's "State of the Race" on CNN International at 2:30 p.m. |
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