Donald Trump has a weird and ominous little secret

We were up in the Dells this weekend, where I almost went on a slide that had been closed the last couple of times we were there. It is one of the most extreme slides at the Kalahari resort, and the sign said you had to be at least 54 inches tall to ride it. I am at least 54 inches tall, so that didn't concern me. It concerned me a little that the sign also said riders couldn't be wearing jewelry, because I had my wedding band on, but I figured it probably meant, like, Apple Watches or mobster-style big gold chains or enormous pinkie rings. And I don't have an Apple Watch, and I had already left my big gold chain and pinkie ring in the locker.

But then I got up the first flight of stairs, and another sign repeated the "No Jewelry" warning and yet another said you couldn't have anything in your pocket, either. And I had my debit card in my swimsuit pocket.

And most likely, everything would have been fine. But one of my parents' friends did strip all the flesh from his finger when he jumped off our pontoon and his wedding band caught on the railing, years ago. (If you ever see me at the lake and I don't have mine on, this is why, so don't run up and start trying to make out with me because you think I'm single.) And although I wasn't super worried that the debit card might slice open my femoral artery if I landed on it wrong, that did seem like the sort of thing that could happen to me. Also, I'm almost 50 now and in the worst physical shape of my life, so I had to wonder if a waterslide could be so extreme that it gave you a heart attack. Between that and not wanting to walk all the way back to the locker, put my stuff away, and then walk all the way back to the slide, I decided I would just save it for next year, after I've done more exercise.

"It would have been kind of on-brand for you to die on a waterslide," Julia said. She was right, and it made me disappointed I hadn't done it. I imagined old classmates at our next high school reunion: "Did you hear Wimmer died on a waterslide?" Everyone would nod, and hopefully some people would shake their heads and laugh a little bit too. Goddamn, that crazy bastard went and died on a waterslide. I could do a lot worse. Like, there's gotta be a timeline where I choke on a graham cracker covered in Nutella, and that's too embarrassing, so Julia just tells everyone it was autoerotic asphyxiation.

You're probably expecting this charming vignette to resolve into some kind of moral or larger point. I was hoping it would too, to be honest. Anyway, I plan to keep going on waterslides, so there's still hope, it can still happen.

Good to Know

Donald Trump held a rally at Madison Square Garden in New York City last night. It was a big deal for the guy, a homecoming celebration of sorts, with a list of speakers that included all the usual suspects (plus David Rem, "childhood friend of former President Trump"). Nobody was paying a ton of attention to it, until a comedian who was warming up the crowd made a joke about how Puerto Ricans are garbage. The conventional wisdom is that Republicans have been making inroads with Latino voters, and traditional political strategists would recommend not insulting millions of them a week before what's supposed to be a close election, especially in a city where so many of them live, they have their own special name. Anyway, Bad Bunny and Ricky Martin and J.Lo instantly endorsed Kamala Harris—like so fast, it's possible the Harris campaign had checked out the comedian's material ahead of time and planned for this—releasing information about her administration's plans for Puerto Rico to literally hundreds of millions of followers. Republican politicians with Latino constituents, like Senator Rick Scott of Florida, currently running for reelection, rushed to disavow the comments. Even the Trump campaign threw the guy under the bus.

(Here's a video of Tim Walz and AOC watching it. They'd been playing video games on Twitch together for a campaign event before this.)

The other item of note from the rally is Trump's ominous comments about his "little secret" with Mike Johnson, the Republican Speaker of the House. Johnson had spoken already, and was in the audience when Trump looked over at him and said:

I think with our little secret we’re going to do really well with the House, right? Our little secret is having a big impact. He and I have a little secret—we will tell you what it is when the race is over.

Johnson has refused to answer any questions about what the secret is, but it's almost certainly about getting the House to refuse to certify the election results if Harris wins. It might seem stupid for Trump to be so open about it, but for one thing, we all know he's going to try to pull some hinky bullshit, and even he must know we all know. Beyond that, though, I suspect Trump called out Johnson publicly because he wants his supporters to know whom to blame if he loses. (He loves to blame Mikes.) It's a real mob boss move: Mike's gonna help me, everybody. Aren't you, Mike? I wouldn't panic about it, though. For one thing, Johnson might not even be the speaker by then. And even if he is, Trump doesn't appear to have a ton of leverage. If Mike Johnson has to choose between (a) sparking some kind of civil war by blatantly illegally interfering with the election, or (b) just…not doing that and letting Donald Trump go to jail, I dunno, I don't think Johnson and the rest of the GOP are quite that loyal.

On Friday, the Washington Post announced it would not endorse either Harris or Trump for president, which—pardon my French—set off a real shitstorm. Most voters don't care about newspaper endorsements, at least in national races, but it turns out they do care when a newspaper's reason for not endorsing is that its billionaire owner doesn't want to upset Donald Trump. The Post's editorial board, correctly, didn't want to endorse Trump, but Amazon chairman Jeff Bezos, who owns the paper, didn't want them to endorse Harris either—because that would make Trump mad, and if he won, he could use the powers of the presidency to hurt Bezos's businesses. So the Post's publisher tried to spin the decision to endorse neither one as "returning to our roots," but nobody was buying it. When you make a big show of putting "Democracy Dies in Darkness" under your newspaper's name, readers expect you to take a stand against the presidential candidate who says he wants to dismantle democracy, it turns out. Humor columnist Alexandra Petri wrote a very funny piece about the whole deal. (She was one of 21 Post columnists to call it a giant mistake.) And more than 200,000 people—about 8 percent of the Post's readership—have canceled their subscriptions now.

Lastly, ballots were set on fire in two drop boxes in the Pacific Northwest. Hundreds of them were destroyed by an incendiary device (a firebomb) in Vancouver, Washington, but a similar device used in Portland, Oregon damaged only three. I know Washington voters will have the chance to submit new ballots, assuming they learn about the fire, and I assume the three Oregonians can too. Both states are very blue, so this isn't going to affect the presidential election; people online were saying the Washington firebombing might have been about the congressional race in a swing district. Probably the main takeaway for most of us right now is that if you haven't voted yet, either mail your ballot or wait till Election Day, but maybe don't use a drop box.

The Fun Part

Shout-out to Buttons, who got tutored today. Buttons, I know it wasn't what you were expecting, but I underwent a similar procedure after the twins were born, and I think you're going to find it does wonders for your peace of mind. (He appears to be totally unfazed by the experience, for the record.)

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