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That's Donald John Trump on the White House South Portico, seemingly looking directly into the sun. At the peak of the solar eclipse. Without any sort of protective eyewear on.

This, from the White House pool report of the moment filed by the Guardian's Ben Jacobs is, um, amazing: "At approximately 2:39, the President initially gesticulated to the crowd below and pointed at the sky. As he did so, one of the White House aides standing beneath the Blue Room Balcony shouted 'don't look.'"

Trump did, eventually, put on protective eyewear -- as did first lady Melania Trump.

what Their son Barron got in on the action too:

Heck, even "beleaguered" Attorney General Jeff Sessions got on the protective eyewear bandwagon (alongside Commerce Secretary Wilbur Ross)!

"The retina may translate light into an electrical impulse that the brain understands, but one thing it can't translate to your brain is pain. So even if you're excited about the eclipse and think one brief glimpse at the sun before it completely hides behind the moon is worth it -- it's not. There's no internal trigger that is going to let you know that you've looked at the sun for too long. Any amount of looking at it is too long.

Even the smallest amount of exposure can cause blurry vision or temporary blindness. The problem is, you won't know whether it's temporary."

Remember, Mr. President: "Any amount of looking is too long."

CORRECTION: This story has been updated to correctly identify where the President was standing.

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Yes, Donald Trump really did look into the sky during the solar eclipse - CNN

"A wound inflicted upon a single member of our community is a wound inflicted upon us all," Trump said at the start of his address -- his first prime-time broadcast on a specific policy issue since being elected President last November. "When one part of America hurts, we all hurt. And when one citizen suffers an injustice we all suffer together."

"I will tell you something," Trump said at that press event at Trump Tower. "I watched those very closely, much more closely than you people watched it. And you have -- you had a group on one side that was bad, and you had a group on the other side that was also very violent, and nobody wants to say that, but I'll say it right now."

Trump -- like most politicians -- will never admit he was (or is) wrong. But Trump -- unlike most politicians -- tends to double down on bad bets rather than trying to limit his losses.

He spent all of last week doubling down on Charlottesville. But in his speech on Monday night, Trump tacitly acknowledged that the only way out of the pit he has created for himself on the Virginia protests is to stop digging.

That Trump announced neither specific troop buildup numbers in Afghanistan nor any sort of end date for American military commitments in the country reinforces that this speech was much more about trying to fix what ails Trump stateside than attempting to lay out a clear direction in Afghanistan or the region more broadly. On Afghanistan, Trump spoke in broad terms only -- insisting that his focus would be on killing terrorists, not nation-building.

There are two main questions for Trump as he attempts to move beyond Charlottesville and the self-inflicted damage he has done to his presidency.

The first is whether Trump, that most bellicose and over-the-top of politicians, can possibly convince a deeply skeptical public that he is a uniter, not a divider.

"Love for America requires love for all of its people," Trump said in a line far more reminiscent of President Barack Obama than his own relatively brief tenure in the White House. "When we open our hearts to patriotism, there is no room for prejudice, no place for bigotry and no tolerance for hate."

That's a meaningful sentiment, well expressed. The question is whether too much water has already gone under the bridge for Trump to be regarded as even a semi-credible messenger for that sort of unifying message.

The second is whether Trump can possibly keep up this call to our better angels for more than the duration of his speech Monday night. We may well find the answer to that one quickly, as Trump has a much-anticipated campaign-style rally in Phoenix, Arizona, on Tuesday night.

Saying the words of unity and brotherhood in a pre-written speech following the nine worst days of your presidency is one thing. Changing the tone of the defining rhetoric of your presidency when surrounded by your cheering supporters is something entirely different -- and much more difficult.

For tonight at least, Trump was in the mood to get beyond Chartottesville with a call for unity. But, his time as a candidate and his six months as President suggest that may be a one-night-only offering.

Read more from the original source:
Donald Trump's Afghanistan speech ended up being all about Charlottesville - CNN

In Michigan and Wisconsin, 64% say they are embarrassed of him while 63% say the same in Pennsylvania. A quarter of respondents in Pennsylvania and Wisconsin said they are "proud" of Trump while 28% said the same in Michigan. (Worth noting: Asking a question like this forces people to choose one of the two feelings; their actual feelings may well be significantly more nuanced.)

Because embarrassment is a very, very strong emotion. (Trust me, I am an expert, having spent most of my teens and 20s feeling embarrassed all the time.) Anyone who's ever been embarrassed, which is all of us, knows just how powerful it can be.

And emotions matter -- a lot -- in politics. For all of the focus on policy issues in the context of the presidency, much of voter motivation and perception is based on how a politician makes you feel. Barack Obama made people feel hopeful. George W. Bush made people feel at ease. Trump made people feel angry.

That anger -- directed at the political establishment, the status quo, the media -- is what drove Trump to victory. That's especially true in states like Michigan, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin, where the collapse of the manufacturing economy was centered. The slowness of the economic recovery in the Rust Belt combined with a sense that the American dream was becoming unattainable made Trump's "Make America Great Again" message incredibly appealing.

But anger is a difficult emotion to sustain -- particularly when you get what you want. Trump won. So, what now?

The answer -- at least among nearly two-thirds of those polled in Michigan, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin -- is embarrassment.

"Embarrassing in the extreme to many Americans who would describe themselves as perpetually appalled ...

"... I've covered politics off and on for 40 years, including writing a thrice-weekly column for the now-defunct Charleston Evening Post in 1980 leading up to the first Republican presidential primary in South Carolina. Never during that time or since have I ever worried that a president's behavior would embarrass the country on the world stage. Trump's most unpardonable offense isn't his implied threat to members of the fourth estate but his minimizing of the nation's stature in the world."

Trump will dismiss this all as fake news covering fake polls. He will note that he won the White House even though all of the so-called smart people in politics -- including me! -- said he had no chance. Which is his right.

But numbers like this -- in which large majorities of people in key swing states call the President of the United States an "embarrassment" -- should concern him. We don't tend to emulate -- or, more importantly for Trump, vote for -- embarrassments.

Originally posted here:
Analysis: Donald Trump is embarrassing to lots of people - CNN

That is why we all need to make clear there is no moral relativism when it comes to neo-Nazis. We cannot allow the slightest ambiguity on such a fundamental question."

Later, he adds: "This is a test of our moral clarity. The words we use and the attitudes we carry matter. Yes, this has been a disheartening setback in our fight to eliminate hate. But it is not the end of the story. We can and must do better."

All fair. And warranted.

But, it's also important to note that politics abhors a vacuum. And that people will, inevitably, move to fill such a vacuum. And that is exactly what Ryan is doing here.

Ryan, in this statement, is moving to fill it -- to show that he understands the stakes of events like Charlottesville and what it means to the country in a way Trump doesn't or can't.

"This is a test of our moral clarity," Ryan declares in a line that it's hard to imagine Trump thinking, much less actually saying. It's a recognition that what happened in Charlottesville is a moment that matters and that leaders step up in just these sorts of moments.

What it is to say is that Ryan recognizes the danger to the long-term health of the Republican party that Trump poses. Whether Trump gets re-elected in 2020 is less important than whether Trump's views (or lack thereof) becoming definitional for the GOP.

When you have a Republican president of the United States who is unwilling to say that the violence in Charlottesville was the work of white supremacists and neo-Naizs who have no analog on the other side of the political spectrum, there is real danger that people -- well after Trump is gone -- associate the Republican Party with those sorts of intolerant views.

Trump, who was never a Republican before he decided to run for president and might not be one after he is done being president, isn't terribly concerned about the future of the GOP. (Trump is concerned first, second and always with Trump.)

Ryan, clearly, is. As I've written before, Ryan isn't actively running for president right now. What he is doing, however, is making sure a party exists in the future that can win a national election if and when he wants to run for president. (And, yes, Ryan is going to run for president at some point in the next 8-12 years.) He is, quite literally, in the GOP brand protection business at the moment.

That's smart. Survival of the brand may well be the best that Republicans can hope for given Trump's unpredictability and the poll numbers -- both for himself and the GOP -- that have resulted from this chaos.

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Paul Ryan is trying to be the leader Donald Trump refuses to be - CNN

As I entered the access code and pushed open the door on Saturday afternoon, I felt a silence envelop me. There was a living room decorated with red-and-gold, Ethan-Allen-ish chairs and couches and a chaise longue meant to invoke a degree of midcentury splendor. Behind it was a dining room table with a large American flag folded across it. (Displaying the American flag on a dining table violates several provisions of the federal law known as the United States Flag Code, said Michael Buss, a flag expert and deputy director at the American Legion.)

And from practically every surface gazed the visage of the adult Donald J. Trump. Photos of Trump, the swinging 80s developer; a framed People magazine cover that says At Home With the Trumps!; multiple paperback copies of Art of the Deal; a Warhol-inspired print of cartoon-colored Donalds; and, next to the flat-screen TV, a life-size cardboard cutout of the man.

As my wife and 12-year-old daughter explored the first floor, occasionally emitting startled yelps, I went upstairs to what another plaque said was likely the childhood bedroom President Donald J. Trump. On the wall was a photo of Mr. Trump with Michael Jackson.

I sat down and closed my eyes and tried to imagine young Donald, a beautiful little boy, very blond and buttery, as his preschool teacher would remember him, taking his first steps, tagging after his older siblings, stealing his younger brothers blocks.

The house, while solid, is a modest affair, especially by Trump standards, with normal-size rooms and a tiny front yard. Fred C. Trump built it in 1940 for his wife and their first two children. It had four bedrooms, possibly only three originally. By the time Donald, child No. 4, was born in 1946, things were getting crowded, and after the youngest Trump, Robert, was born in 1948, the elder Trump, now very wealthy, bought two lots behind his backyard and built a colonnaded 23-room brick mansion where Donald spent the rest of his childhood.

In the small backyard, I looked over the fence at the mansion. I pictured Donny as a teenager looking from the mansions yard back at the house where he used to live and thinking, with a mix of wistfulness and contempt, Thats where I came from, and look where I live now. As made-up insights go, it would have to do.

The doorbell rang. It was a man who grew up in the house in the 1980s and 1990s. I had invited him over to walk through it. The man, who asked not to be named, citing concern for his familys privacy, pointed out the renovations his father had done, including one of the houses few seemingly Trump-like features, a jacuzzi with gold trim. He seemed both amused and chagrined to see his childhood home turned into a makeshift shrine.

Fred Trump lived in the mansion until his death in 1999, and I asked the man if he had met him. Not directly, he said, but I came home from high school one day and there was some sort of a subpoena for Fred Trump taped to the door. The experience may have influenced him: He is now a corporate lawyer.

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In Search of Donald Trump at His Boyhood Home - New York Times