What a Difference a Day Makes
One day, Trump's victory felt inevitable. The next day, a woman from Oakland, CA, rode into town...
Yesterday I began my letter to you with “OK Everyone! It’s time to rise out of our despair!”My subject heading was simple: “Now, We Beat Trump.” President Biden had just announced he was no longer running for reelection and endorsed Kamala Harris to be the next President of the United States. All of a sudden you could weirdly feel the earth move. Tremors permeated our very being. Millions breathed a sigh of relief. Millions more began texting friends and family like crazy. All of a sudden, the somber, sullen mood Americans had been in since Debate Night was dissipating into thin air. People were elated, ecstatic, bursting at the seams with joy. The neighbors above me started blasting the soundtrack from Singin’ In The Rain. A flock of seagulls flew by my window and I swear one of them gave me a thumbs up. Confetti was falling everywhere, and yet there was no parade. Just hordes of Americans who simultaneously knew that we were now going to be all right, that our Democracy would hold, flowers would bloom in the fall, and fear would no longer rule the day, all of us instantly feeling a warm sense of togetherness and love and hope.
Within 36 hours, this happened:
$250 million was donated to the Harris for President campaign — an American all-time one-day record.
On Sunday and Monday, 28,000 people signed up to be campaign volunteers — knocking on doors, making calls, and registering people to vote. The total number of volunteers nationwide who had signed up on Saturday was 230.
A conference call to support Kamala Harris organized by Win With Black Women ballooned to over 44,000 Black women joining in on the call causing Zoom to have to immediately expand the capacity limit before the circuits overloaded. They raised $1.5 million in just 3 hours.
Nearly every Democratic Governor, Senator, dog-catcher, fry cook, urologist, Uber driver, botanist, civics teacher, Wordle-player and Swifties everywhere from sea to shining sea were all aboard the Harris Express. Did you feel it? Could you hear it? Did something in your bones just tell you, “Holy Hulk Hogan! We might actually pull this off!”
Trump’s campaign staff were in shock. “Why is this happening to us?” They couldn’t believe what they were seeing. They had planned, from now until November, to run on a platform that revolved around stories about sharks, boat batteries and Hannibal Lecter. By Monday evening, like something straight out of a Buñuel film, nobody could find their way out of Mar-a-Lago. Nobody could find the campaign. MAGA Nation was dismantled and on its way to being reassembled at DisneyWorld.
As the sun rose on Tuesday morning, just the presence of a possible future President Kamala Harris seemed to fix everything.
Boeing offered every American 2 free flights on a French-made Airbus A320, flown only by Qantas pilots. CrowdStrike suddenly self-corrected and Microsoft lived to see another day. Migrants, long vilified and abused, were now welcomed into the United States, each of them offered one of the 11 million jobs that have been open for the last 5 years. Morning After pills were now available in vending machines all across America. Student debt notices stopped appearing in people’s mailboxes. Mitch McConnell spontaneously combusted while appearing on Celebrity Jeopardy! — only for the public to learn later that he was safe and sound and working as a greeter at the Louisville Walmart.
Just the thought of Trump not returning to the White House had a miraculous effect on the country. Life improved so greatly that cancer was cured, cauliflower had an actual taste to it, and Ohioans happily walked across the Michigan border and safely drank from the Detroit River.
Yes, all of this in just two days. Sure, some of it might have been a dream. But somewhere deep inside all of us, we knew that America was now, officially, Great Again.
Photo by: Nathan Howard/Getty Images
** In order to have a troll-free, hate-free comments section — and because if there’s one thing I know about my crazy haters, they would rather spend an eternity in hell with Marjorie Taylor Greene than send me $5 if forced to become a paid subscriber — my Comments section here on my Substack is limited to paid subscribers. But, not to worry — anyone can send me their comments, opinions and thoughts by writing to me at mike@michaelmoore.com. I read every one of them, though obviously I can’t respond to all. The solution here is not optimal but it has worked and my Comments section has become a great meeting place for people wanting to discuss the ideas and issues I raise here. There is debate and disagreement, but it is refreshing to have it done with respect and civility, unfettered by the stench of bigotry and Q-anon insanity.
ok! This morning we get the goofy (giddy?) Michael Moore.
Thanks for making me smile.
Dream Big, Be aware , Never Afraid . YOU, our friends in US , you got this. What a difference a day makes..... I'm singing that song .