Trump’s rambling two-hour speech — although “exercise in performance art” probably fits better — in front of an adoring throng at this year’s CPAC gathering was beyond vintage fare from the guy. Disjointed and inarticulate. Angry. Jocular. At times utterly incomprehensible — it was Trump-on-steroids. He literally hugged the flag (the first sign of a fraud), patted backs (namely, his own), settled scores (against Comey, Sessions, Clinton, etc.), name-called (“Shifty Schiff?”), tossed around a vulgarity (the DoJ investigations are based on “b*llshit!”), exaggerated and fabricated (attendance at his rallies, gave Gen. Jim Mattis his nickname), tossed in some partisan extremism (“We have people in Congress that hate our country”), and finally, extolled the “love” he felt in the room.

And, oh yeah — there was love. The crowd lapped it all up and might have been able to sit through another 120 minutes. The greatest love, of course, was Trump’s for himself, and the sounds made from air being squeezed through his vocal chords.