Donald Trump has whetted my appetite for more.

Now that he’s pardoned Jon Ponder (former bank robber, now a God-fearing, cop-supporting, Trump-backing helper of ex-cons) as a feature of night two of this year’s Republican Convention, hope springs eternal that Trump’s just warming to the task and will pardon still more people on nights three and four. Too bad he can’t pardon Roger Stone again, but how about Paul Manafort and Steve Bannon (who may not be convicted yet, but a proactive pardon could cover a multitude of sins)? Or Michael Flynn? And in the spirit of Christian charity, how about pardoning himself? If nothing else, it would boost the convention’s sagging ratings.

The convention is now clearly barreling down two very different tracks. The first is aimed at inflaming Trump’s base and those susceptible to his racist, nativist appeals. For those militia-heads yearning for civil war, Trump’s son Eric sounded the tocsin last night. America, he noted, had "defeated fascism, defeated communism, and in 68 days will defeat the radical left," which has seized whole quadrants of Joe Biden’s mind.

The other track appeals to those who yearn for the kinder, gentler Republican Party of yore—mythic though it may largely be. (Recall that George H.W. Bush, who promised such a party, also deployed the racist Willie Horton ad to defeat Michael Dukakis in 1988.) For those who seek signs of sensitivity from the Trumpified Republicans, the party rolled out its sole sensitivity spokesperson last night: Trump’s wife Melania.

If these two strategies coexist only uneasily, well, a campaign whose standard-bearer is down by ten points is in no condition to be hemmed in by consistency. Like Walt Whitman (in this if nothing else), Trump’s Republicans unabashedly contradict themselves. My favorite contradiction of the evening came from Florida Lt. Gov. Jeanette Nuñez’s depiction of life under Joe Biden, who would lead us, she said, down "the dark road of chaos and government control." The specters of wild riots and authoritarian regimes can each be invoked, but not if they’re bound together.

The evening also doubled down on what is supposedly Trump’s strongest point: the economy. In so doing, it managed to erase the time period between March 2020 and today. Trump economic adviser Larry Kudlow apparently has issues of time and tense, mixing up mythical pasts, presents, and futures. He spoke of the pandemic and its accompanying economic collapse in the past tense, noting gleefully that "Americans are going back to work" now that those dark days are over.

Yesterday, more than 1,100 Americans died from the virus.

If one goal of the convention is to stoke the passions of those Americans whom Fox News summons to dubious battle every night, most recently by turning Joe Biden into Joe Stalin, the other goal is to allay the anxieties of those once-reliable Republican voters who abhor how divisive the party has become. To that end, the convention has created counter-messaging: OK, lady, you don’t like the thuggish tweets and policies the president puts out? Look, here’s his hitherto concealed human side, his passion for justice. See, he’s naturalizing immigrants, talking to frontline workers, being validated by people of color.

I doubt any of that really works. It runs headlong into Trump’s every public action. The humanizing project was dead as a doornail, until Melania came down to the Rose Garden. Hers was the one speech that actually suggested someone in the White House is aware of a world beyond the one that Fox News creates.

Unlike any other speaker so far, Melania noted that the pandemic still exists and expressed sympathy not just for its direct victims but for all who struggle with its myriad dislocations. She acknowledged the ubiquitous pain. She spoke directly to mothers. She sounded tolerant, speaking of "the three great religions: Islam, Christianity and Judaism." (Fortunately, she wasn’t refuted by a Trump backer pulled from the speaking schedule at the last minute due to her tweet about the Jews conspiring to take over the world.) Unlike Trump’s children, his aides, and his stooges, she didn’t sound like she wanted to cast the Democratic half of the country into the burning pit. It’s worth noting that Melania rejected the assistance of campaign speechwriters and had a top aide work on the speech.

Whether true or not, it was a convincing depiction of who Melania is. Well, almost convincing. Melania may well believe, as she said, that "helping children is not a political goal; it’s a moral imperative." How she squares that with her husband’s policy of separating toddlers from their parents and putting them in cages, however, isn’t easy to understand. Nor is squaring her characterization of Islam as a "great religion" with her husband’s Muslim travel ban. Perhaps her speech was a quiet critique of Trump’s policies, her way of saying she didn’t like the cages or the travel ban. Then again, perhaps it was the greatest act of cynical misdirection of this entire repulsive convention.

Either way, while Melania went a long way toward establishing a separate public identity for herself (not for nothing did she walk in unescorted), I don’t think she succeeded in altering Donald Trump’s public identity, which is, after all, one of the convention’s goals. I assume it was one of her goals, too, but who knows? Maybe, like Trump’s sister and niece, she’s had it with him, but has decided to stick it out.

More important, I doubt the public can be made to believe there’s a kinder, gentler Trump, and I don’t think his strategists believe that’s possible either, save among a handful of white suburbanites seeking some excuse to vote for the guy. The bulk of his voters will come, they believe, if he can summon them to join in civil war.