I was struck by a couple quick, almost throwaway clips of the U.S. president on an episode of John Oliver’s show last week about trans athletes. If I were tech savvy enough, I’d be able to link to them here for you but, unfortunately, such a skill level is beyond me. 
The first outtake was of the president, on the White House lawn announcing his tariff ‘plan’ a couple weeks ago (weeks seem like months, months feel like years, years like decades, and then we’re dead), holding a chart that was a smaller version of one that they had planned on using, according to Trump, but it was too windy, so they had to improvise. He chuckled.
The second featured Trump introducing collegiate swimming also-ran and failed Olympian turned rabid conservative, anti-trans advocate, Riley Gaines. On stage at some conservative conference, 45-47 playfully boasted that his 78 year-old self could best Gaines in the pool because, well, you know, he was a man and she was a woman. He chuckled.
A couple instances where Trump seemed to be in on the joke, entirely aware of the ridiculousness of both the stunt and the statement he was making. As he fought to control the chart blowing around in the wind, he laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Just like he laughed at his claim to be able to swim faster or further than the younger woman standing beside him on stage.
Fleeting glimpses, not of a deluded strongman or shrewd businessman, but of a shameless showman. A guy who loves the spotlight, loves being up on stage, being the main attraction. A performer delivering, and sometimes flubbing, his lines, failing to hit his mark on occasion.
That isn’t to claim that his schtick is all pretend and make believe. That underneath the orange greasepaint and the navy suit/red tie costume there beats the heart of an actual functioning human being. Trump had nearly seventy years before he started playing his presidential role to prove who he really was. A money-grubbing con man. 
A cracked actor.
Selling illusions for a sack full of cheques.
A shill for Trump Inc.
Everything else he does is in service to that role.
Would I go as far to say that sometimes, in those wee small hours in the dead of night, the man is capable of being hounded by the ghosts and spirits of doubt, insecurity and conscience? At this stage, highly unlikely. Too much has been fed into that gaping hole of self-importance and self-aggrandizement for him to believe in anything other than the legend. He has been elected President of the United States twice now. Who’s going to convince him that he isn’t a Mount Rushmore worthy Great Man of History?
The thing about those two moments, the slips, the sly acknowledgments of the preposterousness in his performance in each, is how it speaks to the charm, reptilian as it may be, and the disreputable charisma that his audience embraces. We’re all just having fun out here, aren’t we? Fun at others’ expense, mind you. There’s always got to be a butt of the joke the MAGA hordes are in on. The trans athletes. The immigrants. Snowflake libs. Egghead elitist professors. Why can’t you guys take a joke?
The perniciousness of this, aside from the seething hatred toward everyone who isn’t in on the joke, is that it provides plausible deniability to those who aren’t comfortable wearing the red cap but think they should make an effort to hear both sides. It’s just a joke, right? See. Even the president is chuckling at it. He doesn’t mean it. Not really. The deportations? Just part of his act. Tariffs? Makes for good sound bites. Rah! Rah! America and all that. 
It’s all just a joke. He’s a performer at heart. A stage hog. He’ll do anything, say anything, for the attention and adulation. But when push comes to shove, in the real world of being president, he won’t do any of it, not to the extent he’s claiming he will, not really. Because it’s just a joke, right? Nothing more than a publicity stunt.
So, just relax.
Sit back and enjoy the show.