Bill Curry, Salon

In four hours over two nights in Miami, 20 candidates sparred over the most vital question facing the Democratic Party: not who it should be for, but what. If you listened hard, you could hear the first draft of a winning platform.

On Wednesday and Thursday, 20 Democratic candidates for president will file onto the stage of a Miami theater for the first formal debates of the primary season. There are so many contenders that the DNC and hosts NBC, MSNBC and Telemundo must platoon them in, 10 per a night. Each debate lasts two hours and has two moderators, three panelists, commercials and theme music, leaving each candidate, on average, nine minutes of airtime. It's not the ideal format for a party desperate for a real debate.

In my dream, it’s 2021. Donald Trump has lost by the biggest popular vote margin in history. (The Electoral College? Unanimous!) Criminal charges rain down on him. As squad cars ring Trump Tower, a nasal voice shouts, “Come and get me, dirty coppers!” From a bullhorn, the reply issues: “Come out with your tiny hands in the air!”

In 1994, I visited the home of Donald Trump. He was a Democrat then, of sorts, and I was the party’s nominee for governor of Connecticut. He’d taken an interest in our state owing to his keen desire to lodge a casino in Bridgeport, an idea I found economically and morally dubious. I had scant hope of enlisting him, but made the trip anyway, thinking that if I convinced him I might win, he’d be less apt to bankroll my opponent.