This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here.
In some corners of the internet, Kamala Harris is the main character. Will her viral moment serve her?
First, here are four new stories from The Atlantic:
J. D. Vance has a point about Mountain Dew.
Kamala Harris’s diversity hire
Adrienne LaFrance: American fury
The party is not over.

The first Deadpool film, released in 2016, broke lots of rules. It was R-rated and hyper-violent, but it was also self-aware in the Family Guy way, frequently puncturing the fourth wall and mocking the seriousness of the superhero genre. Deadpool, played by Ryan Reynolds, knew he was in a movie—and a dumb one, at that.

This is an edition of The Weekly Planet, a newsletter that provides a guide for living through climate change. Sign up for it here.
Last month, at the start of hurricane season, I invited my inner circle to a hurricane-preparation dinner. Over a supreme pizza and a bottle of wine, my girlfriend, our roommate, my best friend, and I discussed how we would evacuate together from New Orleans with our three dogs and three chickens.

Maybe you’ve seen the joke permeating the internet this week, as Vice President Kamala Harris begins her 100-day campaign for president. In one variation on X Sunday, someone wrote “Kamala’s VP options” above a lineup of Chablis and Chardonnay bottles on a grocery-store shelf labeled “Exciting Whites.” Another user posted a picture of Harris and a saltine cracker, with the caption: “This will be the ticket.

“Democrats say that it is racist to believe … well, they say it’s racist to do anything,” J. D. Vance proclaimed during a campaign rally this week, after bringing up the need for voter-ID requirements. “I had a Diet Mountain Dew yesterday and one today, and I’m sure they’re going to call that racist too,” he said, adding, “But—it’s good.” His audience laughed, and Vance laughed before punctuating the moment: “I love you guys.”
The clip has spread widely, mostly because it seems absurd.

This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here.
Now that President Joe Biden has dropped out of the race, Democrats have about 100 days to mount an entirely new campaign. Biden’s endorsement of Vice President Kamala Harris made her the heir apparent to the Democratic nomination, but much about the Democrats’ next moves remains unsettled.

The documentarian Matt Ornstein interviewed two young Latino men in Long Beach, California, at the midpoint of the Trump presidency. They were both strong Donald Trump supporters. Why?
One answered, “Trump’s smart. He knows right from wrong.”
The other one scoffed, “No. No he doesn’t. He’s dumb as shit. But he’s got balls.”
In 2016, Hillary Clinton lost to Trump among male voters by 11 points. In 2020, Joe Biden ran about even with Trump among men. Clinton lost. Biden won.

So, about that age issue: It’s now officially a Republican ailment, as of 1:46 p.m. yesterday, the moment President Joe Biden quit his reelection campaign and was supplanted by Donald Trump, 78, as the oldest presidential nominee in American history.
Democrats are ecstatic to be rid of this distinction. Since Biden’s debate debacle on June 27, the preoccupation with Biden’s age, fitness, and, yes, decline had become their crushing, almost incapacitating, burden.

When Ezra Pound said “Make it new,” he was not talking about teen soaps. So much of their appeal lies in their predictable storytelling and immediately recognizable characters: the beautiful girl group with the just-complicated-enough underbelly, the standoffish and misunderstood boys who’ll fall in love when the right girls come their way. Even Beverly Hills, 90210—which popularized, and arguably remains the apotheosis of, the genre—was bound by the formulaic demands of network television.

All successful modern presidential campaigns are years in the planning. They officially launch well before the first primary vote is cast for a reason: Time is the one asset that every campaign is allocated in equal proportions. I have been involved in five presidential campaigns and helped elect Republican governors and senators across the country. While waiting for returns on Election Night, I’ve never worried that we started too early.