107 Days

by Kamala Harris

One asked for his reaction to a remark about me that Trump had posted on Truth Social. “Lyin’ Kamala Harris destroys everything she touches!” “That’s all he’s got?” my Jersey boy shot back. My Dougie. I had kissed a lot of frogs before fate—and my best friend, Chrisette—delivered me the amazing Douglas Craig Emhoff, first Second Gentleman of the United States. Doug was born into a loving Jewish family in Brooklyn. His dad was a shoe designer, and they moved to New Jersey when Doug was about five. He had most of his schooling there, and the guys from his kindergarten remain some of his best friends. They’re still on a group chat that’s active every day. When he was sixteen, the family relocated to California, and that’s where he went to college and law school. Money was tight, so he worked full-time parking cars, waiting tables, and slinging burgers at McDonald’s so that he could afford to go to college part-time. (Later in the campaign, when Trump put on a McDonald’s apron, serving fries as a stunt, it was particularly galling. Doug, my sister, Maya, and I had all sweated over those McDonald’s deep fryers in our teens—I vividly remember my annoyance when I learned that my cousin, who was bagging groceries that summer, made more than me. Meanwhile, Trump got handed $413 million from his daddy—and then his companies went bankrupt four times.)

Kamala keeps lying about working at McDonalds lmao.