Former Vice President Kamala Harris is back—or at least her social media operation is. On Thursday, Harris re-launched her campaign account as a self-described "Gen-Z led progressive content hub" called "Headquarters," rebranded under the handle @headquarters_67. The rollout landed with the cultural force of a corporate training video about synergy.
The reaction was swift, merciless, and bipartisan in its amusement.
According to Fox News, in a launch video, Harris delivered the kind of word salad that became a hallmark of her vice presidency, and her failed 2024 presidential campaign:
"Well, I'm so glad you asked. I have good news. So, Kamala HQ is turning into 'Headquarters,' and it's where you can go online to get basically the latest of what's going on, and also to meet and revisit with some of our great courageous leaders, be they elected leaders, community leaders, civic leaders, faith leaders, young leaders. I'm really excited about it. So stay engaged and I'll see you out there. Thank you."
Read that again. That is a former Vice President of the United States explaining a social media rebrand. Elected leaders, community leaders, civic leaders, faith leaders, and young leaders. Every kind of leader except the kind who actually wins elections.
Conservative commentators treated the launch less like a political event and more like a gift. FCC Chairman Brendan Carr offered a deadpan response:
"Haven't been this disappointed since Beyonce didn't perform."
Journalist Chris Rufo brought the generational critique full circle, noting that the very audience Harris is courting has already moved on:
"My children have informed me that '67' is already old, tired, and cringe, so once again, Kamala is coming up short."
The account handle, @headquarters_67, appears to be a reference to an internet meme—though Harris's office has not confirmed this. Fox News Digital reached out and received no immediate reply. Conservative commentator Stephen L. Miller captured the uncertainty with a knowing jab:
"6 7.. Do you get it!"
When even the handle requires explanation, the Gen-Z branding strategy may need a rethink.
The deeper question isn't whether the rebrand is cringe—it is—but what it signals about Harris's political future. She lost the 2024 presidential election. She subsequently decided not to run for California governor, a decision widely interpreted as a sign she's positioning for a 2028 presidential bid rather than rebuilding through a statewide race.
So instead of doing the hard work of governing, winning over skeptical voters, or demonstrating executive competence in Sacramento, Harris is launching a content hub. This is the political equivalent of a failed restaurateur opening a food blog.
GOP advisor Nathan Brand argued that both Republicans and Democrats can agree that Harris's time has passed—the news just hasn't reached her staff. That assessment stings precisely because it rings true. The 2024 loss wasn't a narrow defeat in a hostile environment. It was a rejection by an electorate that watched Harris operate at the highest levels of government and decided they'd seen enough.
The Republican Jewish Coalition struck the most telling note of all:
"On behalf of every Republican in the country: run, Kamala, run!"
That's not an insult. It's a strategic prayer.
There is something deeply instructive about the "Gen-Z led progressive content hub" framing. It reveals a theory of politics that the modern left cannot seem to abandon: the belief that messaging failures explain electoral losses. If only the vibes were better. If only the memes were sharper. If only the content were more relatable.
This is the same thinking that produced the original Kamala HQ account during the 2024 cycle—an operation that generated plenty of engagement and cultural buzz while the candidate herself hemorrhaged support among the working-class voters who actually decide elections. The coconut tree memes were fun. They did not translate into a governing majority.
Now the theory is being tested again, with even less justification. Harris isn't a sitting vice president with institutional power behind her. She's a defeated candidate with a content strategy. The rebrand assumes that what went wrong in 2024 was aesthetic rather than substantive—that voters didn't reject Harris's record, her positions, or her inability to articulate a coherent vision, but simply needed better digital packaging.
Commentator Comfortably Smug crystallized the absurdity by adopting a satirical persona:
"I am a moderate Democrat voter in a swing state. Everyone in my community is asking for Kamala Harris to run again."
The sarcasm barely qualifies as exaggeration. Social media strategist Greg Price responded to the entire affair with a SpongeBob SquarePants gif—a cartoon fish yelling, "How many times do we have to teach you this lesson old man?" It's juvenile. It's also apt.
The assumption embedded in this rebrand is that Harris remains a viable national figure. The assumption deserves scrutiny. Defeated presidential nominees sometimes come back—but they come back by demonstrating something new. They win a governorship. They build a policy portfolio. They transform themselves in some visible, measurable way that gives voters a reason to reconsider.
Harris skipped the governorship. She's building a content hub instead.
This isn't a political comeback. It's a digital vanity project dressed up as movement-building. The "Headquarters" account will presumably generate clips, amplify progressive voices, and keep Harris's name in circulation among the online left. None of that addresses the fundamental problem: voters in Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin watched her campaign and chose someone else.
A preview video dropped the day before the official launch, suggesting a coordinated rollout with all the sophistication of a product reveal. And in a sense, that's exactly what it is. Harris isn't offering policy. She isn't offering governance. She's offering content—the political equivalent of a subscription service nobody asked for.
The most charitable interpretation is that "Headquarters" isn't really aimed at Gen-Z voters or swing-state moderates. It's aimed at Democratic donors and party insiders—a signal that Harris intends to remain relevant, that she's building infrastructure, that she should be taken seriously as a future contender. In that narrow sense, it might serve its purpose.
But the mockery matters, because it reveals how the broader public—and not just conservatives—perceives the effort. When the FCC Chairman is dunking on your launch, and a journalist's children are calling your handle outdated before the first week is over, the brand is already underwater.
Harris's launch video mentioned leaders five times in a single breath. Elected leaders, community leaders, civic leaders, faith leaders, young leaders. The word was doing a lot of heavy lifting and accomplishing very little. Leadership, in the end, isn't declared through repetition. It's demonstrated through results.
Harris lost a presidential election. She passed on a governor's race. And now she's asking America to follow her on a rebranded social media account.
The content hub has launched. The leaders have been summoned. The memes are already stale. And somewhere, a Republican strategist is quietly hoping this is exactly what 2028 looks like.