By David Glenn Cox
Not since Joseph Smith lost the golden tablets entrusted to him by an angel, have we been so inundated with whoppers. Personally, I never believed that “lost tablet” story and would have been checking all the pawn shops from here to Provo. God chose Smith to be his prophet, despite his handicap of losing incredibly rare and expensive items. How do you lose golden tablets? They must have been worth a million dollars not including revenue from sacred underwear sales. For best results when lying, invoke religion. You can say anything with god by your side. “So, there I was at the Red Sea fishing when this whole group of homeless people comes walking up. Ragged? They looked like they’d been lost for years. I was trying to get them to keep it down they were scaring the fish. Then this big guy holds up his staff and yells, “Yo god! Do that thing!” and the Red Sea parted.”
Where are we going Jesus? “I’ll tell you when we get there.” Are we there yet? “Not funny Peter!” Are we going to score weed Jesus? Cause, if that’s the case, we really don’t need to climb this mountain. I know a dude in town. “No, were not scoring weed but give me the guys name just in case.” You know Jesus as a fisherman in sandals I’m not really dressed for mountain climbing so this better be important. “I am going to transfigure myself!” What’s that mean J-man, that’s not sexual is it? I’m really not into the freaky stuff. “Behold!” Oh shit! Dude! Stop! You are freaking us all out. Promise me you won’t ever do that again! That was just creepy! I’m glad the rest of the guys didn’t see that.
“Noah, build me an Ark.” Why me lord, I’m 600 years old with no boat building skills of any kind. No power tools or materials. You know, there’s a marina over by the lake. Have you tried them, I bet they could build you a boat? “Gather up all the animals two by two I’m going to destroy the world!” You’re high, aren’t you? First, take it down a notch. Is this about the apple again? You really have to learn to get over that. Learn to let go and everyone will be happier, even you. “Noah, build me an Ark.” Now you wait a You damn minute. It’s gonna take at least eighteen months to get the plans down on paper. Then there will be contracting issues and labor issues. It won’t be easy finding shipwrights in a desert country you know. Me? You want me and my sons to build it? And you want it when?
When I was in school, I played the trumpet for a short time. My sister thanked me, explaining she never understood how one man with a trumpet could make city walls fall until hearing me play. It’s one of those Biblical mysteries like talking snakes. You’re walking through the woods looking for a Starbucks, when you see a tree and on the tree is a serpent. Instead of saying, “Oh shit, a snake!” you show the snake respect and then the snake speaks to you. “Listen up my brother, don’t be a slave to the corporations. Five bucks for a cup of hot swill with a cum shot of cream. Apples are all natural and are high in antioxidants. You got to stop being such a country ass boy and wise the fuck up! “Is this the tree of knowledge?” No, this is the tree of apples, what you’re thinking of is the library downtown.
You look at the snake, and you say to yourself, “Wow, I’m having a psychotic episode. I’ve read about stuff like this before but never thought that it would happen to me. They made that movie about the mathematician that saw things that weren’t there. I guess they were right about the acid trips after all. I suppose it could be the devil, but why would the devil take so menacing a form? Why not a beautiful woman? You’ll sell more apples with honey than with vinegar. A beautiful woman in tight blue jeans might get that whole tree picked before sundown. That’s always the first tip off when something doesn’t make any sense. Then step two add fantastical, “The sky opened and an angel said, have another beer! It’s alright, she said. Your wife won’t mind!”
Outside of Washington this country has no competitive liar’s association. As a freelancer, Tucker Carlson has become the Hulk Hogan of competitive lying. He’s crossed over from cartoonish professional wrestler into the mainstream. A generation ago he might have been a homeless man in Chicago’s loop standing on a street corner warning us of the J-man’s imminent return. Today he’s Lonesome Rhodes, top liar of all liars on the liars’ network.
It’s the eleventh hour and all the meticulously planned strategies with Kanye West running as a third-party candidate have come to naught. A convention of epic failure and according to Don Junior, good drugs. Behind in the polls after paying Rudy Giuliani millions to drink Bourbon and chase hookers in the Ukraine. And in his free time look up the countries shadiest characters and see if they have any fraudulent info on Hunter Biden. Returning with a laptop and a story so speculative Faux News felt it didn’t quite come up to their high journalistic standards.
What does Tucker do next? It’s fourth down and ten and the clock is running out. Breaking News! Carlson announces to his audience they had him. Stop the presses! We’ve got the smoking gun right here! Proof positive but oh, where did I put that? It was right here on the desk. Hang on, I’ll find it. Carlson claimed the incriminating document was shipped via commercial carrier and lost! Tucker couldn’t explain why they shipped the only copy rather than say scanning and e-mailing it. They could have blown the dust off the old Fax machine in the closet but no, they shipped the only copy, and it was lost in transit.
God Damn Super Hillary! Carlson invoked conspiracy in the loss. That someone surreptitiously broke into the transit center and amongst millions of packages stole the contents. But Tucker adds the fantastical, “The company is investigating.” Anyone who’s ever had a package lost before knows how long that investigation will last. “It’s lost,” investigation over. But I’m insulted and dissatisfied. Tucker Carlson had weeks to prepare and as the preeminent liar in America today much more is expected than my dog ate my homework or an angel gave me golden tablets that god wanted me to have…but I lost them.
“My complaint simply concerns the decay of the _art_ of lying. No high-minded man, no man of right feeling, can contemplate the lumbering and slovenly lying of the present day without grieving to see a noble art so prostituted.”
― Mark Twain