Trump walks out like the doddering, vicious old fool he so obviously is. He slouches out, a cross between a corpse and a sullen teenager, a half dead thing made youthful by its bitter jealousies. He wears his insecurities like he wears his clothes: badly and ostentatiously. His face is darkened by the ugly thoughts which motivate him. He grips the lectern and rotates through the four stock expressions he seems capable of, none of them bearing any connection to his words, all of them motivated by vanity, or egotism, or mendaciousness, or bile.
This description of Trump is one of the best I've seen, from @iandunt.bsky.social :