Deleted Tweets From Nate McMurray, D-N.Y.

My My brother just texted the Secret Service agent who we worked out logistics with when we picked up Joe Biden at the Buffalo Airport. We haven’t talked to him since. He texted, “We did it!” He got a thumbs up back.

My brother lives in Japan now. He’s trying to get a drivers license. It’s apparently super difficult in Japan. He just told me, I’m gonna write them a letter and say are used a drive the President of the United States. Technically true.

To be honest. I’m sad. I know I would’ve helped President Biden. I would’ve done a good job. I’m not sad for me so much though, as I’m sad for Western New York. Sorry to say that sounds arrogant, but I am. I know we lost out on part of this. But I will hope. It’s the only way.

To be honest. I’m sad. I know I would’ve helped President Biden. I would’ve done a good job. I’m not sad for me so much though, as I’m sad for Western New York. Sorry to say that sounds arrogant, but I am. I know we lost out on part of this.

Joe Biden is not a saint. Joe Biden and I disagree on many things. But I know, as I have always said, that Joe Biden is a good man. And boy do we need a good man right now. With hope, always with hope, Nate https://t.co/T3rQaE9AFQ

He told me the most important thing was loving my boy, no matter what, always.

And then he said hello to my son, Moses. He tussled his hair. Commented on how tall he was. And then Joe, put his arm around me, and walked me to the back. He told me about his sons, the one he lost and the won he almost lost to despair.

At the end of our discussion, his wife called. It was the day the insane Trump supporter put a pipe bomb in her mailbox. I saw him talk to her. I saw tears well up him his eyes. I heard him reassure her, express his concern—real emotion, love. My eyes tear up now as I remember.

I told him, “You should run for President. We need you.” His eyes sparkled.

He then blew me away with a detailed discussion of international affairs, as good as anyone I have seen do in politics. I always laugh when people told me he wasn’t sharp. The guy is sharp.

We talked a lot about my experience in Asia, he put me on the phone to call his team to check my language abilities. “Pretty good kid,” he said, as I hung up his phone.

I shared breakfast, one one one, with Joe. He asked me about my race, but he really wanted to know about me. He put blueberries on my pancakes, whip cream. He was calm, and smart.

But he doesn’t get impressed by politicians too easily anymore. But Jim was impressed by Joe. The President looked at him, pointed up, and said without a pause “If I had hair like that, I would have been President.” Jim blushed. I’ve used that line 100 times since.

And Joe said hello to Jim Sharpe, my dear friend and my former Deputy Supervisor on Grand Island. JIm is also Joe’s peer in age. And Jim spent his whole life in local politics, gathering signatures, running for office. He is a loyal soldier—literally, a vet.

He listened to her about her health concerns, made some subtle recommendations, and shared her french fries. By the end, she hugged him like she was hugging her own son at graduation.

I saw how Joe talked to an reserved elderly woman with a sea of brilliant white hair. At first, she too wanted no part of it. But that changed quick. She was probably not much older than Joe, but in that interaction, Joe became the earnest youth.

But Joe slid right into his booth, and said, “How you doing man?” The large man blushed, and said in a meek tone, “Good Joe.”

And he talked to everyone. I mean everyone. Selfies and stories for all! I won’t forgot how he put his arm around this mountain of a man in a camouflage hunting jacket. The guy knew who he was, had a Trump hat on, wouldn’t make eye contact.

The guy is as kind and warm as a dog and an electric blanket on a Christmas Eve. And he talks like that too, like an older man to be sure, with a reassuring folksy charm—like a wandering storyteller jumping freight trains.

Joe was quiet, smiling eyes in the rear view mirror. He took him to meet me at a diner in Lancaster. Joe was going to speak at a the University of Buffalo that night. I was told we would have ten minutes with him. But we got a few hours. What can I say? The stories are true.

He picked him up at the Buffalo Airport. Joe walked out, without a huge entourage, and got in the car. My brother said it was like picking up a family member. No fuss. My brother also said he kept his hands locked at 10 and 2, stiff as steel.

He looked like John Wick. “Take those gloves off! You look like a hit man!” I yelled. “I was trying to look professional,” He yelled back.

They had a few demands—we needed a car and a driver. The Ford Fusion would not do. We rented an SUV like they asked. But we had no budget for a driver. So I asked my brother, He showed up, jet black hair slicked, black tie, black suit, white shirt, white gloves. Yes gloves.

The New York Times was calling. The Washington Post was calling. And Joe Biden was calling. I had no control on where we would meet or what we would do. His team told me, in a series of cryptic emails. We were sworn to secrecy.

They saw me enough. I cared about the rural committees and rural towns, maybe because I felt some kinship, felt as taken for granted and abandoned as they did. And even before the indictment, the crowds at my little rallies were getting bigger.

But I got a break. Chris Collins got arrested. Suddenly, my throw away race in a Gerrymandered district was at least an interesting special interest story—even if the Washington elite still thought I didn’t have a chance. But more people were with me then for sure.

Not to help me, to curse me. They told me they “washed their hands of me.” I just started and I was already a failure. I spent the next six months wandering across Wester New York, handing out t-shirts out of the back of my Ford Fusion—alone.

I was a political novice, in way over my head. And no one was there to throw me a life preserver. I remember after my first fundraising quarter we raised $42,000—most of which was my own money. I was proud. The local party leadership, however called me.

Open Letter: The Day I Met Joe Biden I’m not even sure how it happened. But it happened. The former Vice President of the United States, now our 46th Vice President, Joe Biden. spent a day with me, helped me, an underdog candidate, in the reddest district in New York State.

When they told me to be quiet, When they told me it would hurt my “career,” When he attacked me with robocalls and lies, I fought Trump. Look around. This is what it looks like when you overthrow a tyrant. Dance America. Sing. https://t.co/p0gpExvDJP

America has a history of sweeping its ugliness under the rug. And then we live with the pain of a wound that was never treated correctly, never healed. This is not a normal time. End Trumpism. Prosecute. This isn’t politics. It’s justice. Let the jury decide their fate.

America has a history of sweeping its ugliness under the rug. And then we live with the pain of an wound that was never treated correctly, never healed. This is not a normal time. End Trumpism. Prosecute. This isn’t politics. It’s justice. Let the jury decide their fate.

WNY, We rewarded Jacobs. Like many, he defended Trump. Like some, he’s now lying low. I don’t what place he will have in DC. He will likely try and reinvent himself, pretend he never stood for such hate. Who knows. Maybe you’ll help try and rewrite history But I won’t.

Speaking of liberal tears

Two years ago, when I couldn’t even get local officials to call me, the former Vice President United States came to visit me, a long shot candidate. He hugged my family. Showed kindness to all. And I told him, “Run for President Joe!” His eyes sparkled. Bless you @JoeBiden ❤️ https://t.co/OewSSyCyNH

I don’t know @AOC But I can see what she stands for. She ain’t bought, owned, or afraid. I’ve seen behind the curtain. I know how rare that is. If she stays strong, decides to run for something else, and needs votes in red upstate... We will find them. #FightLikeHell

Yes. We’re all Americans. Half want a more equitable society, do the hard work required. The other half is ready to roll up their sleeves to find out what REALLY is going on Wayfair and make sure Hunter Biden finally faces justice. But we’re all Americans. That’s the problem. QT @ZackBornstein: At the end of the day, we are all Americans. Sure, we may have our differences on policy. One side wants to give ev… https://t.co/MBZu8p6vxE)

When you sell, buy, and wear official merchandise, maybe you should get used to people referring to you as such. It is what it is. Or as has been said, “F - - k your feelings”? Too much? Snowflakes? Heart bleeding? How you think those kids in cages felt? https://t.co/8xJ5KSjzub

Sigh. Merica. QT @auchter_ellen: @StableGenius33 @ElliAdventurer @Nate_McMurray Goooo bro. But be careful 😎😎😎😎)

There were only two votes in 2020. For Trump. Against Trump. And we all know what Trump really represented. Think about it. What was the core idea? Fear and hate. Of change. Of other people. Of challenges. Of introspection. Of the world itself.

The right-wing media doesn’t really care. They just want people to stay scared, stay tuned, stay dumb. Make cash. I’m thinking. Thinking of raising some cash. WNATE? QT @BuffaloYangGang: @Nate_McMurray NPR interviewed the guy that claimed Canadian healthcare was a disaster for the last 30 years and wo… https://t.co/yZ1PHxUD2L)

Election night, I was full of dread. I always knew NY27 was tough, but 4 more years of Trump? I worried—for my kids: Multi-racial, beautiful, with a dad who had picked a fight with this insane President, his son, their gang. What was our fate? Now I feel hope now. Infinite hope. https://t.co/2qHxLp8vo3

Trump tore us apart. And he made the world both pity and loath us, like an upstairs shut in neigbor, with heavy feet and a TV that blares Judge Judy and Wheel of Fortune all night. We need to restore what used to represent. Joy. Hope. Optimism. https://t.co/SWFGte6RiE

The damage Trump did to us internally, is magnified by the damage he did to our image abroad. Where we once represented hope, to many he now represent the Proud Boys, screaming Kimberly Guilfoyle, the desperation of Florida Panhandle MAGA life. https://t.co/SWFGte6RiE

The damage Trump did to us internally, is magnified to the damage he did to our image abroad. Where we once represented hope, to many he now represent the Proud Boys, screaming Kimberly Guilfoyle, the desperation of Florida Panhandle MAGA life. https://t.co/SWFGte6RiE

I spent countless hours in rural living rooms and backyards. I heard a lot. Let me explain what “going to the center” means. It means: BLM is dangerous Women can’t control their own bodies. Accepting some don’t deserve healthcare. There are no limits on the second amendment.

Stop worrying about messaging or winning strategies. Stop worrying about winning over the Trump hats. @JoeBiden should have one singular goal: Service. Find wars to help people right now. Get things done. The rest will follow

Trump is losing it. He needs a Brando style smack down, ala the God Father. You lost. “Be a man.”

I used to think that if I met enough people, worked harder, my merit with shine. I could win any race. I realize now that I am subject to national trends and powers. I’m judged as a Democrat first. That’s why we need to all influence the national party. Push em. It’s our party.

The single biggest problem we face in rural America is right-wing media and misinformation. The Democratic Party needs a national strategy. Fund radio stations. Develop content. Stop so much money on political ads no one cares about.

My My brother just texted the Secret Service agent who we worked out logistics with when we picked up Joe Biden at the Buffalo Airport. We haven’t talked to him since. He texted, “We did it!” He got a thumbs up back.

My brother lives in Japan now. He’s trying to get a drivers license. It’s apparently super difficult in Japan. He just told me, I’m gonna write them a letter and say are used a drive the President of the United States. Technically true.

To be honest. I’m sad. I know I would’ve helped President Biden. I would’ve done a good job. I’m not sad for me so much though, as I’m sad for Western New York. Sorry to say that sounds arrogant, but I am. I know we lost out on part of this. But I will hope. It’s the only way.

To be honest. I’m sad. I know I would’ve helped President Biden. I would’ve done a good job. I’m not sad for me so much though, as I’m sad for Western New York. Sorry to say that sounds arrogant, but I am. I know we lost out on part of this.

Joe Biden is not a saint. Joe Biden and I disagree on many things. But I know, as I have always said, that Joe Biden is a good man. And boy do we need a good man right now. With hope, always with hope, Nate https://t.co/T3rQaE9AFQ

He told me the most important thing was loving my boy, no matter what, always.

And then he said hello to my son, Moses. He tussled his hair. Commented on how tall he was. And then Joe, put his arm around me, and walked me to the back. He told me about his sons, the one he lost and the won he almost lost to despair.

At the end of our discussion, his wife called. It was the day the insane Trump supporter put a pipe bomb in her mailbox. I saw him talk to her. I saw tears well up him his eyes. I heard him reassure her, express his concern—real emotion, love. My eyes tear up now as I remember.

I told him, “You should run for President. We need you.” His eyes sparkled.

He then blew me away with a detailed discussion of international affairs, as good as anyone I have seen do in politics. I always laugh when people told me he wasn’t sharp. The guy is sharp.

We talked a lot about my experience in Asia, he put me on the phone to call his team to check my language abilities. “Pretty good kid,” he said, as I hung up his phone.

I shared breakfast, one one one, with Joe. He asked me about my race, but he really wanted to know about me. He put blueberries on my pancakes, whip cream. He was calm, and smart.

But he doesn’t get impressed by politicians too easily anymore. But Jim was impressed by Joe. The President looked at him, pointed up, and said without a pause “If I had hair like that, I would have been President.” Jim blushed. I’ve used that line 100 times since.

And Joe said hello to Jim Sharpe, my dear friend and my former Deputy Supervisor on Grand Island. JIm is also Joe’s peer in age. And Jim spent his whole life in local politics, gathering signatures, running for office. He is a loyal soldier—literally, a vet.

He listened to her about her health concerns, made some subtle recommendations, and shared her french fries. By the end, she hugged him like she was hugging her own son at graduation.

I saw how Joe talked to an reserved elderly woman with a sea of brilliant white hair. At first, she too wanted no part of it. But that changed quick. She was probably not much older than Joe, but in that interaction, Joe became the earnest youth.

But Joe slid right into his booth, and said, “How you doing man?” The large man blushed, and said in a meek tone, “Good Joe.”

And he talked to everyone. I mean everyone. Selfies and stories for all! I won’t forgot how he put his arm around this mountain of a man in a camouflage hunting jacket. The guy knew who he was, had a Trump hat on, wouldn’t make eye contact.

The guy is as kind and warm as a dog and an electric blanket on a Christmas Eve. And he talks like that too, like an older man to be sure, with a reassuring folksy charm—like a wandering storyteller jumping freight trains.

Joe was quiet, smiling eyes in the rear view mirror. He took him to meet me at a diner in Lancaster. Joe was going to speak at a the University of Buffalo that night. I was told we would have ten minutes with him. But we got a few hours. What can I say? The stories are true.

He picked him up at the Buffalo Airport. Joe walked out, without a huge entourage, and got in the car. My brother said it was like picking up a family member. No fuss. My brother also said he kept his hands locked at 10 and 2, stiff as steel.

He looked like John Wick. “Take those gloves off! You look like a hit man!” I yelled. “I was trying to look professional,” He yelled back.

They had a few demands—we needed a car and a driver. The Ford Fusion would not do. We rented an SUV like they asked. But we had no budget for a driver. So I asked my brother, He showed up, jet black hair slicked, black tie, black suit, white shirt, white gloves. Yes gloves.

The New York Times was calling. The Washington Post was calling. And Joe Biden was calling. I had no control on where we would meet or what we would do. His team told me, in a series of cryptic emails. We were sworn to secrecy.

They saw me enough. I cared about the rural committees and rural towns, maybe because I felt some kinship, felt as taken for granted and abandoned as they did. And even before the indictment, the crowds at my little rallies were getting bigger.

But I got a break. Chris Collins got arrested. Suddenly, my throw away race in a Gerrymandered district was at least an interesting special interest story—even if the Washington elite still thought I didn’t have a chance. But more people were with me then for sure.

Not to help me, to curse me. They told me they “washed their hands of me.” I just started and I was already a failure. I spent the next six months wandering across Wester New York, handing out t-shirts out of the back of my Ford Fusion—alone.

I was a political novice, in way over my head. And no one was there to throw me a life preserver. I remember after my first fundraising quarter we raised $42,000—most of which was my own money. I was proud. The local party leadership, however called me.

Open Letter: The Day I Met Joe Biden I’m not even sure how it happened. But it happened. The former Vice President of the United States, now our 46th Vice President, Joe Biden. spent a day with me, helped me, an underdog candidate, in the reddest district in New York State.

When they told me to be quiet, When they told me it would hurt my “career,” When he attacked me with robocalls and lies, I fought Trump. Look around. This is what it looks like when you overthrow a tyrant. Dance America. Sing. https://t.co/p0gpExvDJP

America has a history of sweeping its ugliness under the rug. And then we live with the pain of a wound that was never treated correctly, never healed. This is not a normal time. End Trumpism. Prosecute. This isn’t politics. It’s justice. Let the jury decide their fate.

America has a history of sweeping its ugliness under the rug. And then we live with the pain of an wound that was never treated correctly, never healed. This is not a normal time. End Trumpism. Prosecute. This isn’t politics. It’s justice. Let the jury decide their fate.

WNY, We rewarded Jacobs. Like many, he defended Trump. Like some, he’s now lying low. I don’t what place he will have in DC. He will likely try and reinvent himself, pretend he never stood for such hate. Who knows. Maybe you’ll help try and rewrite history But I won’t.

Speaking of liberal tears

Two years ago, when I couldn’t even get local officials to call me, the former Vice President United States came to visit me, a long shot candidate. He hugged my family. Showed kindness to all. And I told him, “Run for President Joe!” His eyes sparkled. Bless you @JoeBiden ❤️ https://t.co/OewSSyCyNH

I don’t know @AOC But I can see what she stands for. She ain’t bought, owned, or afraid. I’ve seen behind the curtain. I know how rare that is. If she stays strong, decides to run for something else, and needs votes in red upstate... We will find them. #FightLikeHell

Yes. We’re all Americans. Half want a more equitable society, do the hard work required. The other half is ready to roll up their sleeves to find out what REALLY is going on Wayfair and make sure Hunter Biden finally faces justice. But we’re all Americans. That’s the problem. QT @ZackBornstein: At the end of the day, we are all Americans. Sure, we may have our differences on policy. One side wants to give ev… https://t.co/MBZu8p6vxE)

When you sell, buy, and wear official merchandise, maybe you should get used to people referring to you as such. It is what it is. Or as has been said, “F - - k your feelings”? Too much? Snowflakes? Heart bleeding? How you think those kids in cages felt? https://t.co/8xJ5KSjzub

Sigh. Merica. QT @auchter_ellen: @StableGenius33 @ElliAdventurer @Nate_McMurray Goooo bro. But be careful 😎😎😎😎)

There were only two votes in 2020. For Trump. Against Trump. And we all know what Trump really represented. Think about it. What was the core idea? Fear and hate. Of change. Of other people. Of challenges. Of introspection. Of the world itself.

The right-wing media doesn’t really care. They just want people to stay scared, stay tuned, stay dumb. Make cash. I’m thinking. Thinking of raising some cash. WNATE? QT @BuffaloYangGang: @Nate_McMurray NPR interviewed the guy that claimed Canadian healthcare was a disaster for the last 30 years and wo… https://t.co/yZ1PHxUD2L)

Election night, I was full of dread. I always knew NY27 was tough, but 4 more years of Trump? I worried—for my kids: Multi-racial, beautiful, with a dad who had picked a fight with this insane President, his son, their gang. What was our fate? Now I feel hope now. Infinite hope. https://t.co/2qHxLp8vo3

Trump tore us apart. And he made the world both pity and loath us, like an upstairs shut in neigbor, with heavy feet and a TV that blares Judge Judy and Wheel of Fortune all night. We need to restore what used to represent. Joy. Hope. Optimism. https://t.co/SWFGte6RiE

The damage Trump did to us internally, is magnified by the damage he did to our image abroad. Where we once represented hope, to many he now represent the Proud Boys, screaming Kimberly Guilfoyle, the desperation of Florida Panhandle MAGA life. https://t.co/SWFGte6RiE

The damage Trump did to us internally, is magnified to the damage he did to our image abroad. Where we once represented hope, to many he now represent the Proud Boys, screaming Kimberly Guilfoyle, the desperation of Florida Panhandle MAGA life. https://t.co/SWFGte6RiE

I spent countless hours in rural living rooms and backyards. I heard a lot. Let me explain what “going to the center” means. It means: BLM is dangerous Women can’t control their own bodies. Accepting some don’t deserve healthcare. There are no limits on the second amendment.

Stop worrying about messaging or winning strategies. Stop worrying about winning over the Trump hats. @JoeBiden should have one singular goal: Service. Find wars to help people right now. Get things done. The rest will follow

Trump is losing it. He needs a Brando style smack down, ala the God Father. You lost. “Be a man.”

I used to think that if I met enough people, worked harder, my merit with shine. I could win any race. I realize now that I am subject to national trends and powers. I’m judged as a Democrat first. That’s why we need to all influence the national party. Push em. It’s our party.

The single biggest problem we face in rural America is right-wing media and misinformation. The Democratic Party needs a national strategy. Fund radio stations. Develop content. Stop so much money on political ads no one cares about.