The alliance between the billionaire and the politician is pure strongman politics.

Have you ever watched a crowd go wild for a PowerPoint slide? After a few introductory hellos yesterday in Butler, Pennsylvania, Donald Trump gestured to a screen showing the same graph on illegal immigration that he had been talking about when he was nearly assassinated in July and delivered his real opening line: “As I was saying …”

The audience loved that. The rallygoers had waited in line for hours in the hot sun to get into the field, and this was their reward. They had made it through warm-up speeches by J. D. Vance, Lara Trump, and Scott Presler, the last of these being the founder of Gays for Trump and the March Against Sharia, who promised any Amish people watching that Trump would “protect your raw milk … protect your ability to afford to have 10 beautiful children per family.” (One of the wonders of the MAGA movement is how it absorbs other political positions—in this case, crunchiness and pro-natalism—into one seamless mythology.) After that came the crowd’s moment to rejoice in the defeat of, as Trump put it, “a cold-blooded assassin [who] aimed to silence me and silence the greatest movement, MAGA, in the history of our country.” An opera singer even performed “Ave Maria.”

Famously, the Gettysburg address was just 271 words long. Trump’s speech went on for 90 minutes. The contrast between the bits of the speech he read from the teleprompters, which covered “hallowed places” and monuments to valor, and the ad-libbed sections, which featured digressions about potholes and the Olympic boxing controversy, was stark. How can we say that America has an attention-span “crisis” when people are volunteering to listen to this stuff?

The real highlight of the show, however, was when the former president brought Elon Musk onstage. The billionaire had been posting excitedly all day about his endorsement of the former president—yes, a man who prides himself, Cartman-like, on refusing to cede to any outside authority was positively giddy about the chance to publicly swear fealty to Trump.

Musk used to claim that he was a disappointed Democrat, and that he wanted X to reflect the breadth of American opinion. “ For Twitter to deserve public trust, it must be politically neutral,” he posted in April 2022, as he was in the middle of buying it. Three months later, he argued that Trump was too old to run for president again: “It’s time for Trump to hang up his hat & sail into the sunset.”

The former president took that about as well as you would expect. “When Elon Musk came to the White House asking me for help on all of his many subsidized projects, whether it’s electric cars that don’t drive long enough, driverless cars that crash, or rocketships to nowhere, without which subsidies he’d be worthless, and telling me how he was a big Trump fan and Republican, I could have said, ‘drop to your knees and beg,’ and he would have done it,” he posted on Truth Social in July 2022.

Musk did not drop to his knees and beg in Butler, but he didn’t have to—he has already made his MAGA loyalism very clear on X. Yesterday he capered behind Trump. Honestly, credit to his 53-year-old knees for being so limber. He gamboled. He frolicked, frisky as a spring lamb, fertile as a spawning salmon, executing a series of small jumps behind the ex-president and exposing a few inches of pallid stomach as his OCCUPY MARS T-shirt rode up. “He saved free speech,” said Trump, who nonetheless looked slightly alarmed at Musk’s exuberance. “He created so many different great things.”

Musk took the mic and gestured to his MAGA hat—black on black instead of the usual white on red. “As you can see,” he told the crowd, “I’m not just MAGA. I’m dark MAGA.”

Earlier in the proceedings, Vance had painted Trump as the victim of inflammatory rhetoric rather than one of its main proponents. Musk now tried a similar Uno reverse card, arguing that Trump was the only candidate who could be trusted “to preserve the Constitution, to preserve democracy in America.” He showed no awareness that Trump, as the latest court filings suggest, tried to intimidate his vice president out of certifying the 2020 election results and then reacted with callous indifference when a mob threatened Mike Pence’s life as a result. (“So what?” Trump is alleged to have said.) In between repeatedly apologizing for repeating himself, Musk also managed to say that if Trump did not win, “this’ll be the last election. That’s my prediction.”

After Musk took his seat again, Trump lavished more praise on the billionaire. He had no idea what the satellite network Starlink was, he said, but he had heard from those affected by Hurricane Helene that they wanted it, and he had called Musk. Just like that—while the two men were still on the phone—Starlink was on its way to North Carolina and Georgia. This was the purest essence of strongman politics, implying that anything can be solved by the right guy talking to the right other guy. No holdups, no bureaucracy, no need even for the leader to understand what’s going on. Just simple problems and simple solutions.

At this, the crowd started to chant: “Elon! Elon! Elon!”

This was probably the reception that Musk had hoped for when he bought Twitter. He didn’t find it then, of course: Many of his best engineers have quit, foreign judges have ruled against him, advertisers have deserted him, and prominent people have left the platform. No matter. In Butler, Pennsylvania, was the adoration Musk seems to crave. He must believe that Trump will let him do whatever he wants—including, as the ex-president put it, “reach Mars before the end of my term.” And why not? That wasn’t the most ludicrous thing uttered onstage in Butler.

The pact between Musk and Trump gives both men something they want—a megaphone for their ideas, a conduit to their fans, an ability to shape the political conversation. Yesterday was supposed to be a celebration of the former president’s miraculous survival and a tribute to the brave Americans who risked their lives to help others in the shooting. Instead it marked an unpredictable alliance between the world’s richest man and the politician who has successfully bullied and flattered him into bending the knee.