Donald Trump got a new partner.

Joe Biden got dragged as old and senile.

Republican delegates — and those watching on TV — got an earful about the high price of gasoline and groceries, and a chance to see a conspicuously bandaged Trump arrive to triumphantly claim the GOP nomination.

The Republican National Convention clocked its opening day in Cream City, the most unfortunate metropolitan nickname in America. (Sorry Milwaukee, you’re better than that.)

Republican running mates Donald Trump and J.D. Vance listen to a speaker at the first day of the Republican National Convention in Milwaukee on Monday night.

(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)

Columnists Anita Chabria and Mark Z. Barabak took it all in. Together, they review Day 1 and assess Trump’s selection of Ohio Sen. J.D. Vance as his running mate, a bold tonsorial move ending a decades-long dearth of facial hair on a presidential ticket.

Chabria: So J.D Vance, author of “Hillbilly Elegy” and a guy who once upon a time — like in 2016 — compared Trump to Hitler, is now crowned prince of a hoped-for Trump dynasty. What do you make of that, Mark?

Barabak: You would have to be a churl not to respect and admire Vance’s career path, which, to use a phrase oft-heard Monday might, truly embodies the American Dream.

The rise from an impoverished, dysfunctional upbringing in hard-luck Appalachia to Yale Law School and the U.S. Senate is truly the stuff of political myth-making.

Less admirable is Vance’s elasticity and seeming total lack of any deep-seated, immovable principles. In addition to the well-chronicled “Hitler” jab, he used a whole glossary of words like “idiot” to describe Trump, called himself “a Never Trump guy” and said he “never liked him.”

Republican vice presidential candidate J.D. Vance waves to delegates at the Republican National Convention on Monday in Milwaukee.

(Paul Sancya / Associated Press)

Welp, never mind all of that.

It’s hard to see Vance bringing much to the ticket in terms of broadening its political appeal. The rural and white working-class voters who may appreciate and see some of themselves in Vance are already going to vote for Trump. Twice, if they could.

It seems like Vance’s strongest attribute — apart from the backing of billionaire uber-troll Elon Musk, who pushed for his selection and now promises to pour obscene amounts of money into a pro-Trump Super PAC — is his sycophancy.

At a 2022 campaign event, when Vance was running for Senate, Trump showed up and taunted him for “kissing my ass” in a desperate bid for his support. Vance chuckled right along.

Of course, look where he is now. So maybe Vance gets the last laugh.

Why do you think Trump chose him?

Chabria: I agree with all that, but I see something darker in Vance — and something distinctly Californian, but not in a good way.

As you pointed out, he has Silicon Valley ties (he worked there as a venture capitalist) not just to Musk but also billionaire David Sacks, who has become such a Trump fanboy that he spoke Monday night at the convention. And then there’s Peter Thiel, who gave Vance $10 million for his Senate race and is a longtime Trumper.

These men have world views that seem light on democracy and heavy on their own interests.

To me, Vance represents not only a possible Trump dynasty, but a pathway to power for this rich-are-meant-to-rule ethos.

I think we’re about to hear a lot about the joys of cryptocurrency, deregulation and how abandoning Ukraine is good foreign policy.

And yet, we are still fussing about whether Biden is too old to protect democracy. What are your thoughts on that?

Barabak: Biden’s age wasn’t a major theme of the night’s programming, but when it did come up it wasn’t the least bit subtle.

A video montage claimed the 81-year-old chief executive has trouble walking down stairs and dressing himself. A freeze frame of a frozen-faced Biden — taken from his wretched debate performance — loomed from the big screen in the convention hall like a geriatric gargoyle.

Sens. J.D. Vance (R-Ohio), right, and Tommy Tuberville (R-Ala.) were among Republican lawmakers who traveled to New York City in May to support former President Trump during his hush money trial. Trump named Vance his 2024 running mate on Monday.

(Stefan Jeremiah / Associated Press)

In scathing remarks, Sacks called the president “sleepy and senile” and a puppet manipulated by a deceitful White House staff — which has continuously gaslighted the country by hiding his failing condition.

America needs someone strong, Sacks said mockingly, in case a crisis arises after 8 p.m. — the time Biden suggested he needs to turn in at night to preserve his stamina.

I know we’ve been around and around on this, Anita, but I think that just underscores why Democrats need to replace Biden atop the ticket as his path to reelection increasingly narrows.

Unlike the many false claims made Monday — such as the state of the economy under Trump vs. current conditions — the attacks on Biden’s age are grounded in things he said or did, like doddering his way through that calamitous debate.

But enough on that. What else caught your attention on the first day?

Chabria: I’ve got more convention thoughts, but the most interesting person I spoke with yesterday was my Pakistani cab driver.

He’s voting Trump, but not because he likes him. He thinks Trump is racist — so antiimmigrant that members of his family scrambled for citizenship last time Trump was elected because they were afraid of being deported.

But this middle-aged, working-class immigrant is terrified by rising prices, especially housing. So he’s hoping Trump can lower inflation.

The point is the economy is playing an outsized role in this election, and is far more important to average voters than Biden’s age.

Rep. Lou Correa (D-Santa Ana) argued 80 is the new 60. I’d argue lower rents are the new 60 when it comes to Biden.

But back inside the big tent, what struck me last night was the abundance of God and grievance speeches.

Christian nationalism — the idea that government and Christianity should have little daylight between them — is front and center.

There were tons of mentions of how God saved Trump from an assassin’s bullet. South Carolina Sen. Tim Scott, describing the aftermath of Saturday’s shooting, used the Christian symbol of Jesus as a lion to describe the former president:

“An American lion got back up on his feet and he roared,” Scott said. “Oh yeah, he roared.”

What did you think of the messaging, Mark?

Barabak: The dial-it-down edict following the attempt on Trump’s life sort of worked. Two of the GOP’s wackier, fire-spitting personalities — you know, the kind convention planners needed to keep on eye on — delivered relatively tame speeches.

Yes, Marjorie Taylor “Jewish Space Lasers” Greene leaned into the culture wars with an antitrans rant. But most of her remarks were pretty much in line with GOP orthodoxy on the border and lots of godly invocations.

North Carolina gubernatorial nominee Mark “Was 9/11 An Inside Job?” Robinson talked of his hardscrabble upbringing in a family shadowed by domestic abuse and the effects of foreign trade deals on U.S. workers, steering clear of his usual gun-fetishizing and anti-LGBTQ rants.

Sen. Ron Johnson of Wisconsin seemingly missed the memo, delivering remarks that described Democrats as “a clear and present” danger — then afterward blamed the nameless, faceless person operating the teleprompter for loading the wrong speech.

In fairness, it’s hard to pivot on such short notice, as evidenced by South Dakota Gov. Kristi Noem. (Note: No dogs or other animals were harmed in the preparation of her speech.) She urged Republicans to, “Keep fighting, keep uniting!”

Which does seem a bit of a contradiction, no?

Chabria: There’s definitely a push-pull going on with this new mandate to come across as softer, gentler and more inclusive. Of course, the Republican platform hasn’t changed to reflect that, and is still chock-full of policies meant to curtail civil rights and dismantle safety nets.

But I think we were both struck by the inclusion of Teamsters President Sean O’Brien as a speaker. Teamsters, and unions in general, support Democrats. O’Brien for months has been arguing he doesn’t care which party is in power, as long as his union has a seat at the table.

This, as you can imagine, has caused controversy for many in his 1.3 million-strong union, and angered others in organized labor. Not to mention Biden and the Democrats voted to save the Teamsters pensions in the American Rescue Plan, which not a single Republican supported.

O’Brien gave a pro-labor speech to a largely confused audience, at one point yelling out, “Never forget, American workers own this nation,” which I am pretty sure Musk, Sacks, Thiel and Trump would disagree with.

What did you think of O’Brien?

Barabak: I, too, was taken with his appearance — in a coveted prime-time spot, no less.

Not because it was the first time the head of that beefy union addressed a Republican convention. It was that message you referenced: a fiery, fist-shaking attack on “corporate elites” and “economic terrorism” practiced by greedy corporations and aimed at organized labor.

Not, as you noted, your typical fare at a GOP convention.

Never mind, as you also suggested, that Republican policies — fighting regulations, passing tax cuts that mostly benefit the rich — accrue to the benefit of those corporations and elites that O’Brien so harshly condemned.

If you were a casual viewer, you might have thought, hey, that guy — and by extension Trump’s Republican Party — speaks for me.

It was cynical, but a brilliant bit of political programming.

We’ll see what else is in store.