The Art of the Lie

Posted on May 30, 2025

On May 29, 2025, Donald Trump’s press secretary stepped forward—eyes alight with borrowed fury, lips heavy with overburdened grievance—and offered not so much a political statement as an act of dark alchemy.

She said:

“Three Judges of the US Court of International Trade disagreed and brazendly abused their judicial power to usurp the authority of President Trump to stop him from carrying out the mandate that the American people gave him. The courts should have no role here. There is a troubling and dangerous trend of unelected Judges inserting themselves into the presidential decision making progress.”

This was no mere misstatement. It was a masterclass in misdirection.

Not the kind of lie that blushes or stammers.

No. This lie salutes.

It sings the national anthem while picking the constitutional lock behind your back.

It is The Art of the Lie.

Let us peel the layers:

First, the judges “abused” no power. They discharged their solemn duty—etched in the parchment bones of the Republic—to oversee the legality of executive acts. Their ruling was not an overreach, but a reminder: no President, no matter how worshipped or reviled, is above the law.

Second, the most insidious trick: invoking a “mandate from the American people.”

Not a single ballot conferred permission to break the law.

No voter consciously endorsed the dismantling of judicial oversight.

Trump was given a mandate to pursue his vision within the bounds of law—not beyond it.

To claim otherwise is not a misunderstanding. It is heresy against democracy.

And yet—the spell works.

Why?

On page 38 of Fort Knox: The Greatest Heist of All Time, Kim’s gospel of manipulation is revealed:

“As the salt tax had once stoked the fires of revolution in 18th-century France, so too did Kim and Mephisto fan the flames of discontent among the forsaken of America. The more brazen the deception, the more eagerly it was swallowed, because for these masses, the lie was not deception—it was redemption. Fact-checking was an amusement for the privileged. Hope, however misplaced, was the last refuge of the desperate, and Kim knew how to cradle it like an ember…”

That is the dark magic:

Not the denial of the crime, but the erasure of its significance.

Not “He broke the law,” but “That doesn’t matter, because he fights for us.”

In this passion play, the courts become villains.

And the desperate don’t crave justice—they crave vengeance draped in the garments of hope.

“The courts should have no role here.”

This line contains its own venom:

It isn’t just false.

It’s an incantation, meant to make the audience forget that judicial review is a pillar of the Republic, not a footnote.

It’s a lie that hopes to rewrite the script, mid-performance.

The Art of the Lie is not just deception. It is narrative.

It is the subtle rearrangement of memory.

It is hope’s forged twin, walking through fire with a counterfeit crown.

And somewhere, Kim is smiling.

Holding the ember.

Watching it glow.