by Jenny Braddock, Politics Editor, Reluctantly
Kamala 2028: God Help Us All
Yeah, we know. We don’t want to talk about it either.
But here we are. It’s 2025, and Kamala’s just been standing there — smiling, blinking, and waiting for us to say her name like Beetlejuice.
Here goes nothing.
Kamala… Kamala… I shouldn’t do it, should I?
KAMALA!!!
Poof — there she is.
After Joe Biden’s withdrawal from the 2024 race, Kamala Harris stepped up as the Democratic nominee, only to face a significant defeat against Donald Trump. She lost all key swing states and the popular vote, with the Electoral College tallying 312 to 226 in Trump’s favor (Wikipedia). It was a stunning loss — and one that the country may never fully recover from.
But let’s rewind.
To that night — you know the one. The CNN studio in Atlanta. The first presidential debate of 2024. Joe Biden waddled out like a centenarian Donald Duck with a teleprompter full of sentence fragments. He froze, he stammered, he glitched like a corrupted Zoom call. It was excruciating. And it never got better. George Clooney published a New York Times op-ed begging him to step aside. Democratic donors threatened to close their wallets. Jill Biden tried to hold the line. But eventually, even she had to see the writing on the West Wing wall. Joe bowed out. History exhaled. And suddenly, Kamala was it — mostly because James Coburn’s ghost told the DNC she wasn’t to be skipped over. (Maybe we don’t ask him next time.)
And for one brief, shining, completely misleading moment — it worked.
The DNC in Chicago was glorious. Democrats rallied, pundits wept, and Kamala Harris gave the speech of her career. She hit every note — hope, grit, competence, history — like it was written by a young Aaron Sorkin during a coke binge. She picked Minnesota Governor Tim Walz as her running mate and barnstormed the Rust Belt like she meant it. For four to six magical weeks, it looked like a lock. Trump was reeling. Kamala was rising. Walz was folksy. What could go wrong?
Where Kamala was careful — sometimes painfully so — to minimize media exposure, especially unscripted appearances, Trump operated on pure media osmosis, meaning that he never stopped talking. He called into morning shows, crashed rallies, live-streamed himself eating Filet-O-Fish while ranting about windmill-powered fentanyl drones. He thrived in the chaos, weaponized the spotlight, and made every moment a headline whether it helped him or not. It was a circus, but it was constant — and it worked.
Kamala, by contrast, rarely ventured off-script. Every appearance was vetted, every answer calibrated. There’s still debate about whether she was invited to The Joe Rogan Experience — some say the offer was made and declined, others say it was quietly ghosted — but either way, it never happened. It clearly wasn’t a big priority for Kamala — and all things being equal, that pod alone may have swayed the election. (Related: The Rise and Fall of Joe “I’m Just Asking Questions” Rogan)
The night itself wasn’t even dramatic. Not like 2016, not like 2000. Just a slow, cold recognition setting in by the third drink. The early states came in as expected — California blue, Florida red — but by 9:30 p.m., things started to feel off. Too many counties in Georgia reporting too fast. Too many margins in Michigan just… stalling.
By 10:15, Arizona was leaning red. By 11:00, Pennsylvania had started to slip. MSNBC tried to stretch the tension, but it wasn’t suspense — it was surrender. They cut to commercial as CNN called Wisconsin for Trump. By midnight, the whispers were done whispering. Kamala Harris had lost.
The final map: 312–226, Trump over Harris. Same number he beat Hillary with — almost as if to laugh in the face of the Democratic Party elders. Told you so.
Kamala gave her concession just before 2 a.m. It was composed, gracious, historically aware — and completely beside the point. Trump had already been on Truth Social for an hour, crowing about the “Mandate of the Century” and promising to fire the FBI, shut down the EPA, and “unban every American wronged by globalist tech tyrants.” His followers were dancing in the streets of Miami and Dallas. Hers were closing tabs, texting therapists, and looking into New Zealand’s residency requirements.
In the end, what mattered was the scoreboard. And the scoreboard said: the system had failed. Again.
My job had ended the Friday before and so I was free to do something, so I went and hiked Stone Mountain. With all of its complicated racial history, it made sense as a place to seek answers. I didn’t find any. Just granite and silence. And the feeling of something old, shifting. Maybe something in Stone Mountain was moving. It’s hard to comprehend — and this was stone sober, in broad daylight.
The week that followed was a haze of blame and exhaustion. Democratic operatives fled to Europe or Substack. Donors ghosted. Think pieces bloomed like toxic algae. Chris Murphy quietly scanned his yearly calendar, while AOC’s people denied any plans. Buttigieg held a “private thank-you reception” in South Bend that looked suspiciously like a reboot. And I’m pretty sure James Carville was having the hangover of a lifetime — you know, the one that we’re still living with.
So where now, Kamala?
She’s back in California, orbits circling a potential run for governor in 2026. She’s still doing the occasional roundtable, still drawing crowds at tech conferences and soft-focus donor retreats in wine country. She hasn’t said much about 2028, but she doesn’t need to — it’s there, in every headline that still uses “trailblazer” without irony and every cautious nod from a party too scared to move forward and too ashamed to look back. (The Times)
Maybe she’ll make history again. Maybe she’ll surprise us. Maybe she’ll quietly fade into a think tank and help draft the next Voting Rights Act that never passes.
But please.
Please.
Please.
Don’t run for President again.
We need this memory to be in the past.
Kamala…
Kamala…
KAMALA!!!
Harris’s Scorecard
(As scored by Jenny Braddock, using a mix of resignation, iced coffee, and blunt-force political memory)
Name Recognition: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Everyone knows her. The question is whether that helps. Being a former VP and presidential nominee guarantees she’s never starting from zero — but the associations aren’t all warm. A known quantity with known drawbacks.
Charisma: ⭐⭐
In theory, historic. In practice, cautious. Her biggest moments come from scripted speeches, not off-the-cuff energy. There’s always a sense she’s holding back — and voters feel it. Charisma shouldn’t require this much calibration.
Policy Depth: ⭐⭐⭐
She’s fluent enough to check the boxes but often struggles to convey ownership or vision. Sometimes it feels like she’s delivering someone else’s homework. Smart, experienced, but rarely persuasive at scale.
Media Game: ⭐⭐½
Disciplined to a fault. Rarely generates real momentum. Declining Rogan didn’t cost her the race, but it summed up her strategy: control over connection. It showed.
Enemies Within: ⭐⭐⭐⭐
The left never trusted her prosecutorial record. Moderates doubted her 2020 chops. And post-2024, no one’s sure what lane she fits in anymore. The applause has been replaced by silence — and that may be worse.
Enemies Without: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Trumpworld turned her into a caricature early and never let go. She’s a target for every culture war boogeyman — and still polls like it. The GOP wants her to run again almost as much as they want to destroy her.
Vibe: ⭐⭐½
Capable, cautious, and a little haunted. She radiates pressure instead of presence. When she smiles, it often looks like she’s waiting for a better line to read. Still standing. But you can feel the weight.
Wildcard Factor: ⭐⭐
She’s not done. A run for California governor in 2026 could rebuild her political identity — or deepen the fatigue. If the primary gets messy, she might re-emerge. But at this point, a comeback feels more like inertia than destiny.
Filed from the edge of a Stone Mountain overlook, trying to hear the future in the granite.
