Democrats had a great Saturday night. First, the Selzer poll dropped a dream scenario in which Vice President Kamala Harris was up three points ahead of former president Donald Trump in Iowa, of all places. Then news broke that Harris would make a surprise appearance on Saturday Night Live, which was probably annoying news to Joe Rogan.

During the episode’s cold open, Maya Rudolph’s Harris yearned privately for guidance during her campaign’s final stretch. “I wish I could talk to someone who’s been in my shoes,” she said, before sitting in front of a “mirror” that held the beaming vice president. The crowd’s laughter stepped over Harris’ first attempt at line delivery, and then both women sat there marveling at each other, waiting out the audience’s nearly minute long ovation.

If the pretend Harris needed a pep talk, she got a helluva one. “I’m just here to remind you that you got this,” said the real Harris. “Because you can do something your opponent cannot do. You can open doors.” (For women, for history, for garbage trucks.) Oh, these two had a good old cackling laugh. “Now Kamala, take my palm-ala…” said Rudolph. There was something honestly tender and warm flowing between these two during their marvelous exchange, like Rudolph was pouring all her reserves of energy and goodness into the 60-year-old candidate to take on this last leg. “Keep Kamala and Carry On-ala,” they promised each other. Then Harris joined Rudolph on stage, and the two women stood arm in arm, in matching black blazers and loose curl and very demure, very mindful two-strand necklaces. Rudolph couldn’t have had a better role to play, and Harris couldn’t have had anyone better play her.

SNL had forests of low-hanging fruit from which to contrast the athletic joy of Harris’ campaign with Trump’s increasingly cirrhotic final days. James Austin Johnson played Trump in his orange vest, weaving at a MAGA rally about his right to protect women from themselves. “That’s right, when you’re famous, they let you protect them,” he said. Johnson captured Trump’s disgust with having to work, with his crowds, with his schedule, with the Midwest, with the microphone he couldn’t decide if he wanted to take to bed or knock out. “The last time I hated a mic this much I tried to have him killed. Pence!” he bellowed. “Who cares, you don’t care, nobody cares.”

With election anxiety turning everyone’s nerves into razor blades, John Mulaney’s monologue offered a breezy if unmemorable reprieve. Our six-time host is now a father of two young children, living with short people, feeling his ripe old age of 42. “My brother called me in April. ‘Mom fell.’ I fell! It hurt. I also bit it at an outdoor restaurant. I also have a band aid on the top of my hand.”

The sharpest sketch of the night was What’s That Name?, which featured the unlikeliest of star turns. Michael Longfellow played a stoic game show host testing Mulaney’s smug liberal contestant. Mulaney quickly identified Second Gentleman Doug Emhoff and Special Counsel Jack Smith, attributing his knowledge to the urgency of these unprecedented times. But then he drew a blank when faced with Hillary Clinton’s running mate. (And truly, when Tim Kaine first took the stage, I thought for a second it was Emhoff with a little bit of campaign pasta weight.) “At the time, you said it was the most important election in American history and that democracy was on the line,” said Kaine. “It’s been less than eight years.” Kaine’s pleas became almost existential in quality. “My name is still Tim. I exist. I’m a senator representing Virginia.” Longfellow cooed back to him, “Of course you are.” If nothing else this Sunday, take a beat to actually #remembertheirnames.

In a terrifically stacked episode—looking good, Pete Davidson—Chappell Roan still managed to break through in epic fashion. In a great Bride of Frankenstein-style red wig, she opened not with her ubiquitous single “Good Luck, Babe” but her early, anthemic farewell to her old life in Tennessee. She seemed a little nervous at the start of “Pink Pony Club,” but grew more powerful with every verse. By the final chorus, the studio audience was singing right along with her, and she took her own opportunity to yell “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!” And then what did this tender firecracker do? She debuted a new country song, which the internet quickly and lovingly rebranded as cuntry. “All you country boys think you know how to treat a woman right. Well, only a woman knows how to treat a woman right!” What was the name of Roan’s new song on this last episode before the most important election in American history? “She Gets the Job Done.”