Convention planners may wind up recruiting famous figures from outside of politics to fill the void. Trump raised that prospect two weeks ago, but to mortifying ends. He said that he wanted a lineup of “winners” like his buddy Ben Roethlisberger, the Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback, who has been accused repeatedly of sexual assault. Roethlisberger promptly told a reporter that he had not endorsed Trump, barely knew him and would not be in Cleveland. Perhaps Trump should aim lower and hit up an offensive lineman with an even more offensive past.

What a total, utter freak show this promises to be, and not in the manner that Republicans feared just months ago. They wondered then if the convention would be contested, with Trump and Ted Cruz dueling for delegates. Now they’re looking at four excruciating days that will be light on appropriate speakers, short on cash and long on God-knows-what other than the music of Trump’s voice and the shimmer of Trump’s hair.

He’s in a bind. He has expressed the desire for an event incorporating more show business than usual (shocker!), but bling doesn’t come cheap, and neither corporate sponsors nor individual donors are coming around in their usual numbers to contribute.

Will Tightwad Trump foot the bill himself? That’s hard to envision, given how many vendors he’s stiffed over time. And how loath he is to paying taxes. And how grudgingly he’s been known to follow through on a charitable donation. And how exultant he’s been about not pumping huge sums into his campaign.

The pall over Cleveland reflects an animosity between him and other Republicans that’s only getting worse. There’s no way to overstate how extraordinary all of this is.