How To Lie
[For a few days, at least, I may be be covering events and incidents of the past few weeks and months that I didn’t get to pontificate on in a timely fashion because I was busy producing my literary masterpiece. If you think any of these topics are old hat, so be it.]
So, the Shart Trump (my new moniker for him; it’s perfect, no?) said a couple of weeks back that he saw “thousands and thousands” of Muslims in Jersey City, New Jersey cheering and dancing in the streets as the World Trade Center towers collapsed. The sane among us immediately countered that no such thing happened. A demonstration of this description would have been impossible to have taken place without 1) the rest of us remembering it (which we did not); and 2) without scores, hundreds, even thousands of grief-stricken, revenge-seeking Murricans piling into their cars and rushing into NJ to beat the stuffing out of any Muslims they encountered.
Such was our national mood that day as smoke rose from the WTC site.
Even when Trump was challenged on his fabrication, notably by George Stephanopolous on ABC-TV’s This Week dog and pony show, the Shart stuck to his story.
Open Mouth, Egest Whopper
He has, in fact, learned how to lie in a way most of the rest of us cannot. When we’re caught in a lie, we cast our gaze down and say Aw, shucks. We mumble something and toe at the dirt. We know we’ve been caught.
Trump’ll have none of that. When George Stephanopolous pressed him, Trump simply said “It did happen. I saw it.”
S. (sorry, it’s tiring typing out his whole surname) pressed him further, the Shart held his ground: “It was on television. I saw it.”
That is how one lies. Never give in. Never toe at the dirt when caught.
Do what the Shart does: Double down.
Yeah, I saw it. It was on TV, you dope! Weren’t you watching that day?
This method can be used in a variety of circumstances. Say you throw your pants in the wash and leave your smart phone in the pocket. Your phone, natch, is toast. You retrieve the device, wait for it to dry off inside and out, then march over to the device store and demand an exchange.
The clerk-y geek (geek-y clerk?) says, “Are you sure this didn’t go through the wash?”
He presses. “It didn’t go through the wash?”
You raise your voice. “Absolutely not! I’ve never done such a dumb thing in my life!”
Why, I never!
Now, before the whole store — the whole mall, for pity’s sake — hears what a rotten, lousy cheapskate the geek-y clerk (clerk-y geek?) is, he figures it’s better just to give you a new phone and be done with you.
You’ve lied successfully.
How about this? Let’s stick with the smart phone as our prop. You’re on business in another city and you lose your smart phone. Dang, mang! There’s another five hundred bucks down the drain. Instead, you stomp up to the concierge desk and announce loudly, “Look here, my good woman! I left my smart phone on the bedside table and while I was in the shower, the maid came in and she must have taken it, ’cause it’s gone now! Whaddya gonna do about it?”
“It was definitely on the bedside table?”
“It was. I saw it there.”
“Did you have it with you anywhere else today?”
“No, no, no. It was there. I saw it.” Remember the raised voice here. Make sure, in addition, the lobby is fairly full of people. Having an audience helps. Trump knows this all too well.
You just might get yourself a new smart phone, courtesy d’hôtel, if you stick to your guns.
Congratulations. You’ve learned to lie à la shart.