Small men (yes, it's usually men), telling big lies. Mendacious fools pretending be wise guys. These small men are not evil geniuses, they are just easily, casually, corruptible men with no shame, men who think they are smarter than they are, men who are practiced at lying in public without flinching.
Put on a suit. Comb your hair. Polish your shoes. Go to your fancy-title job. Cash those big checks.
They think it's a game they can win. And it's true, for much of the time, it looks like they are winning, that they are getting away with their lies.
Then again, for those of us paying attention, it all looks so transparently false (see previous post). Small lies followed by big lies, big lies leading to more lies. A mad, badly-constructed narrative that makes no real sense. The lies come faster as the reality dawns upon even those small men, that the false narrative maybe can't hold together. The lies come fast and furious when their fear of being found out starts to rise.
For those spinning the web of lies, it gets harder and harder to keep the narrative straight. It's such a shaky, leaky, edifice of lying. It all starts to come apart at the seams. It really is a hollow, soul-less thing. It can't bear the light of day, the light of conscience, the light of intellect.
The truth has a way of dribbling out. It's a substance, like water, or electricity, or light. It permeates spaces. It can't be held back. No, that's not true, it can be held back for a time, sometimes, for years, but the truth will out, as long as attention is paid, as long as good folks, folks living in a world of truth & facts do the good work of deconstructing, dismantling, the poorly-constructed buildings of lies of the small men.