Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, the newly selected running mate to Democratic presidential candidate Vice President Kamala Harris wasted little time endearing himself to supporters filling Philadelphia’s Liacouras Center at Temple University.
"Donald Trump sees the world a little differently than us. First of all, he doesn't know the first thing about service," Walz said. "He doesn't have time for it because he's too busy serving himself again and again and again … he mocks our law. He sows chaos and division, and that’s nothing to say of his record as president. He froze in the face of the COVID crisis. He drove our economy into the ground."
"And make no mistake, violent crime was up under Donald Trump — and that's not even counting the crimes he committed," he added, to roaring cheers.
Walz’s firebrand attitude, mixed with a touch of "Minnesota Nice," played well to a Philly crowd that was already rabid for Harris. He dropped a few lesser swears — "In Minnesota, we respect our neighbors and the personal choices that they make … there’s a golden rule: mind your own damn business!" he said to great applause — and sought to devastate his GOP rival to the vice presidency, JD Vance.
"Like all regular people I grew up with in the heartland, JD studied at Yale, had his career funded by Silicon Valley billionaires, and then wrote a bestseller trashing that community," Walz said. "I got to tell you, I can’t wait to debate the guy — that is, if he’s willing to get off the couch and show up," he said in a reference to a debunked joke at the Ohio lawmaker's expense, to the kind of cheers most often reserved for battle rappers scoring a first-round knockout.
Though the event included knocks at Trump and Vance -- primarly by Walz, who rose to prominence in recent weeks for his media appearances stumping for Harris and is particularly noteworthy for branding the Republican ticket as "weird" — it mostly served as a rollout of Harris’s hopeful second-in-command.
While Harris spent the better part of 20 minutes introducing her new running mate — covering his career in the Army National Guard, his high school teaching and football coaching career, his time in Congress and his years as Minnesota’s governor — Walz stood behind her, clapping, smiling to the crowd, and occasionally offering an audible "wow!" to the 10,000-plus in the arena.
)
Harris commanded the audience, leading them to lines designed for cheering and laughter. "Hear me when I say — I know Donald Trump’s type," she said, drawing cheers as she again posing the race as her Prosecutor against Donald Trump’s Felon. (However, neither she nor Walz would revel in "Lock Him Up" chants, instead calming the crowd before moving forward.)
The crowds have become comfortable with the call and response to cries of "when we fight, we win" and "we won’t go back." And Walz was overjoyed to find his "mind your own damn buisness" briefly turned into a chant.
The Walz introduction ensures that the ticket has a Middle America counter to allegations that Harris is a member of the so-called "west coast elite."
Walz, Harris noted, is a proud gun owner, sharpshooter and hunter (with campaign-branded woodland camouflage hats already on sale), in favor of "common sense" gun laws. He’s a military veteran with decades of service in the Minnesota National Guard Army Reserves. (While Harris said Walz served holding the rank of sergeant major, Task and Purpose reported that he retired as a master sergeant because he didn’t complete required coursework.) He’s a championship high school football coach who advised his school’s Gay-Straight Alliance. In Congress, he voted to approve the Affordable Care Act, and as Minnesota governor, he stewarded legislation to provide free breakfast and lunch to school children.
Harris’s partnership with Walz hasn’t gone ignored by supporters. Since the pick was announced Tuesday morning, the campaign said has picked up more than $20 million in donations in less than a day.
Now, with Walz selected and Harris confirmed as the party’s presidential nominee, the sprint to Election Day begins.
"So we got 91 days. My god, that’s easy," Walz said. "We’ll sleep when we’re dead."