Speaking of things that will go eternally unseen, it’s widely believed that the biggest barrier to Trump actually running is his finances. The short-fingered vulgarian’s brand is built on the insistence that he’s a billionaire, richer than you imagine. The idea that he’s filthy rich is also just about the only justification he’s offered for running—he’s really rich, so he should be president. Over the years, many people have set out to document said wealth. None have managed to find definitive evidence that he’s telling the truth, though they have sometimes found themselves subject to threats of lawsuits. Now, Trump claims he’s worth $9 billion and will release documentation to prove it.
Experts remain skeptical.
Now, Trump theoretically has to file a financial disclosure with the Federal Election Commission, and lying would be a crime. But he has 30 days after filing his candidacy documents, plus he can likely get two routine, 45-days extensions. As Bloomberg notes, “That means it will be mid-October before Trump reaches the put-up or shut-up moment on giving the public a peek at his personal finances.” Don’t bet that Trump will remain a candidate past that deadline unless you’re in the mood to lose.
Earlier this year, my colleague Conor Friedersdorf
railed against covering Trump, labeling it “worse than a waste of time.” He’s right, and too much reporting on Trump has been marked by credulity and a willingness to play along, since Trump makes for good copy. The problem is he can’t be completely ignored. Sure, Trump will never be president, but neither will Rick Santorum.
And under the rules laid out last month, if the first two Republican debates were held today, Trump would qualify as one of the 10 candidates on stage,
using RealClearPolitics’ polling average.
It’s pretty easy to construct a scenario Trump likes: He enters the race and files his papers, but requests extensions on financial disclosures. He squeaks through in the top 10 for at least the first debate, in early August. His blustery mug is all over television, just the way he likes it. He makes some more nonsensical political statements and makes the real Republican candidates uncomfortable. And then, before his time runs out in October, he announces he’s really just too amazing to run for president, drops out of the race, and The Apprentice’s season goes on—just as NBC expects. As the Donald might say, it’ll be the greatest, most opulent, most incredible fake campaign ever.