Sometimes, President Nixon liked to say, “Some have counseled that I take the easy way. But I have chosen the harder, better way.” Something like that.

William Safire joked that he and his buddies on Nixon’s staff should counsel, every once in a while, that Nixon take the easy way. This would allow the president to speak truthfully.

I give you Donald Trump: “Everyone always said I have the best temperament.” “People are amazed at how much I know about the military.” “I’ve always heard people say, ‘Donald, you have the most beautiful hands.’”

First of all, who talks that way? What grown man talks that way? Someone who ought to be president?

Second, maybe Trump staffers should follow Safire’s joking suggestion. Manafort or others in Trump Tower could say, “Mr. Trump, you have the best temperament.” “Mr. Trump, I’m amazed at how much you know about the military.” “Mr. Trump, you have the most beautiful hands.”

What a year, what a country, what a . . .

‐I will quote a news story:

Mike Pence chastised President Obama on Friday for indirectly referring to Donald Trump as a demagogue, saying — perhaps ironically — that “name calling” has no “place in public life.”

I hope that Pence was at least partly self-aware. His running mate is name calling itself. “Lyin’ Ted,” “Little Marco,” “Crooked Hillary,” “Pocahontas,” and so on. (By the way, it should really be “Fauxcahontas.”)

A great example for America’s young, for sure.

I pity Governor Pence, to a degree. He has always been a free-trader. And a foreign-policy hawk. And a social conservative. Now he has hitched his wagon to Donald Trump.

Pence likes to say, “I’m a Christian, a conservative, and a Republican, in that order.” And now he has hitched himself to … well, you know.

Most vice-presidential nominees have to do some fast dancing, to get in harmony, or at least semi-harmony, with the top of the ticket. But when it comes to criticism of name calling, Pence should really button it.

Besides which, if Donald Trump is not a demagogue, who is? He is the dictionary definition: “a person, especially an orator or political leader, who gains power and popularity by arousing the emotions, passions, and prejudices of the people.”

William F. Buckley Jr. nailed Trump as a demagogue. Also as a narcissist. (See this.) But WFB shouldn’t get too much credit. Those are exceedingly easy calls.

One last thing, while I’m on the subject: When Obama calls Trump a demagogue, it falls under the category of Takes One to Know One.

‐Like many others, I admired Khizr Khan’s speech to the Democratic convention. I thought it was a splendid rebuke of Donald Trump, and a splendid reminder of American values. Also, it was moving.

If I’d had my way, however, there would have been one thing different about it. One addition to it. I think Mr. Khan should have found a way to say,

“I realize that we have a terrible problem with the global jihad. My wife and I realize that better than most! Americans and others are trying to cope with this jihad, and obviously there will be errors along the way. But Americans are rightly alarmed by Islamic extremism, or whatever we choose to call it. I understand. Sometimes, people act like ‘Islamophobia’ is our great problem. In truth, the jihad is.”

Something like that. But that’s me. Khan is entitled to give his own speech, as the rest of us give ours.

I learned a fact about the Khans, and it is just about my favorite fact about them: Their dead son came out of the University of Virginia ROTC, and, once a year, the Khans invite students in that program to dinner. In the course of the evening, they hand out copies of the Constitution.

Would that there were more Americans like that.

‐In my previous Impromptus, I had an item involving opera and Election 2016. Let me excerpt it:

The family of Luciano Pavarotti has complained — because the Trump campaign has been using a recording by the late tenor. The music is “Nessun dorma,” from Puccini’s Turandot.
La famiglia Pavarotti says that Trump is offensive to them because he does not share their man’s values. Um, I can say that The Donald and Pavarotti have a lot in common: particularly as it regards marriage and brawds.
I think Pavarotti would have liked Trump a lot, and probably did.

Yes. Last week, Slate published an article linking Puccini and, in particular, “Nessun dorma” to Mussolini’s Fascism. I think this is baloney. Rather than write pages, I will make a single point:

Toscanini was possibly the leading anti-Fascist in Italy, or from Italy. He was famous for it, around the world. And he was the great champion of Puccini, and of course conducted Turandot’s premiere. Famously, he laid down his baton at the point where the composer left off (because he died).

Was Toscanini championing Mussolini and Fascism? Cripe.

#share#

‐I was in Cleveland the other week, not for the Republican convention but for social reasons. (Actually, political conventions are social for a great many.)

Cleveland has come back up in the world, which does my heart good. When I was growing up (in nearby Michigan), Cleveland was often the butt of jokes. The lake caught on fire. Or was it the river? In any event, the city was “the mistake on the lake.” Etc.

But now the place is rumbling, not least in sports. They are NBA champions, you know. Damnedest thing I ever saw, that comeback by LeBron & Co.

‐The city is named for its founder, Moses Cleaveland. They lost an “a” along the way. I wonder what the founder would say? “Thanks a lot”?

Would he appeal to Vanna? (Vanna appeals to practically everybody …)

‐I see something heartwarming outside the Cuyahoga County Court House. That’s how it’s written on the building, by the way: “Court House.” Not “Courthouse.”

In our written language, the pattern is this: two words, hyphen, one word. E.g., “wild life” becomes “wild-life” becomes “wildlife.” Sometimes, words skip the hyphenated phase.

Anyway, what is heartwarming is that Jefferson and Hamilton flank the entrance to the building. They belong there.

You have Jeffersonians in life and you have Hamiltonians. I love all the Founders, however, considering them a package. I am not much interested in the (continuing) Jefferson-Hamilton wars, for example.

It’s like, “Who’s your favorite composer?” Well, to me, they are a package, largely: Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, all those boys. I would not sacrifice any of them. Nor would I want to pit any against the others.

You know? (I know you do.)

‐Also heartwarming — and stirring — is a Hungarian Revolution memorial. The city remembers the boys of ’56, crushed by the Soviets. “Freedom Is Not Free,” reads the memorial. There is also a stirring quotation from JFK.

Nearby, there is a monument to Cardinal Mindszenty, that heroic and great man. Imprisoned by the Nazis, imprisoned by the Communists. Tortured, of course. Granted asylum in our embassy, where he lived for 15 years.

What a man.

‐Euclid Avenue must be one of the great avenues in America. Still a kick to walk down, or up.

The grand downtown banks usually don’t serve as banks anymore. A bank in Kansas City is now the public library — a magnificent edifice. Well, on Euclid Avenue, the Cleveland Trust building, erected in 1908, is now … a grocery store.

That, I have never seen.

The Civil War memorial is outstanding. One of the best I have seen. But it is in terrible shape, all dingy. This ought not to be. It ought to be cleaned up, pronto. The city should spend money on nothing else — not water, not lights — until this is done.

It’s important: to memory, to respect, to self-respect, and surely to other things. If young people see the memorial all neglected and grimy, they might well conclude it’s not very important.

And it is, that war, and its dead, and its meaning.

‐I see a name, which I like a lot: “Rascal House.” What could that be? It’s a pizza joint. “Rascal House” might work for any number of places …

‐What do my wondering eyes behold but a young man in a Kaline jersey: the jersey — No. 6 — of Al Kaline, the legendary Detroit Tiger. Here in Cleveland, home of Lou Boudreau? Yes.

A bonus, just for me, a die-hard Tiger.

(I have a friend who was taught to play ping-pong by Lou Boudreau. I really do. I’ve told that story in this column, I’m sure.)

‐You want a little music? Okay, I have two posts for you, from The New Criterion: The first is on a Bach album (organ); the second is on a recording of a Debussy ballet, La Boîte à joujoux. Knock yourself out …

‐End on a little language? You got it. I’ve noticed something about the word “feature” lately — the verb “feature.” People confuse it with “include.” Let me illustrate.

I was at a performance recently, and, at the beginning, a young man announced, “Our show will feature a ten-minute intermission.” No, not feature — surely not feature. Merely include!

Later.