Donald Trump Lied 600 Times in Last Thursday's Debate. When Those Lies Are Subtracted, What Is Left?
A Dramatic Re-enactment
In his recent post, Seth Abramson does a commendable job of documenting Donald Trump’s 600-plus debate lies. But why not tally his truthful statements instead? I count about 25 such statements, most of which involve stating the obvious: Wars in Ukraine and Israel should never have happened. Covid stimulus money was spent to avoid another Great Depression. DT took a cognitive test. (Twice!) Biden ended (bad) immigration policy. Roe v. Wade was decided 51 years ago. And there is an ocean separating Europe and the US.
Who knew?
Look, Joe Biden was inarticulate and doddering. But reading the transcript of his performance reveals he made some cogent, reality-based claims. While he won’t win any style points (especially when describing his opponent as having the morals of an “alley cat”), he has a laudable record.
Far fewer of Donald Trump’s “truthful” debate statements describe policy successes: He mentions that his special Black friend, Senator Tim Scott, proposed opportunity zones. That he (Trump) instituted “catch and release in Mexico, not catch and release here,” and President Biden later revoked it.
That, “Apple and all these companies, they were bringing money back into our country.”
And that to increase border security, “We got great equipment. We bought the certain dog. That’s the most incredible thing that you’ve ever seen, the way they can spot it. We did a lot.”
In Trump Speak, “a lot” means fewer than ten tangible accomplishments in four years, embellished and spun into a glorious, utopian age of peace and prosperity. And one of those accomplishments is the deployment of a very talented, drug-sniffing canine.
While the punditocracy laments Biden’s gaffes and disjointed responses, the remainder of DT's debate rhetoric was a foul stew of conjecture, counterfactual, magical thinking, and professions of belief. “X” shouldn't have happened (and wouldn't with him behind the Resolute Desk). Y should have been fired. Z is a "disaster.” If re-elected, he'll free Russia's captives, sh*t golden pellets, and usher in world peace.
Would You Have A Beer With This Guy?
Read out loud, Trump’s remaining pronouncements sound less like remembrances of a glorious age, and more like the musings of a bitter, fat old drunk.
Forget enjoying a George W. Bush-era beer date. Imagine having the bad fortune to be seated next to this unlikeable guy at your crowded, local pub. Shorn of his boastful tall tales and meager accomplishments, here’s what remains.
Biden, he says, launching into a long-winded, dark monologue of streaming bullshit, “should have fired those generals.”
“Look, this is a war that never should have started.” “It would’ve never started ever with me.”
“These are wars that will never end with him. He will drive us into World War Three and we’re closer to World War Three than anybody can imagine.”
“And Kim Jong-Un, and President Xi of China—Kim Jong-Un of North Korea, all of these—Putin—they don’t respect him. They don’t fear him. On the military. It’s a disgrace.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s doing. And it—it’s really coming back. I’ve never seen such anger in our country before.”
You get up to leave. Tell your unwanted, self-adsorbed companion,
“Nice talking to you, bud. Have a good night.” But he tugs on your shirt and pulls you back down. “Just sit with me and have a final drink,” he implores. “I’m buying.” (He will soon pretend he dropped his wallet and stick you with the bill.)
“I call it Biden migrant crime.” Migrant criminals, “are raping and killing women. And it’s a terrible thing.”
“They’re taking our jobs. “It’s already started. It’s a disaster.”
I’ve won golf championships, he proclaims, his barstool creaking under the weight of his shifting, rotund posterior.
“To do that, you have to be quite smart and you have to be able to hit the ball a long way.”
“I think I’m a very good shape. I feel that I’m in as good a shape as I was 25, 30 years ago.”
“He should have fired every military man that was involved with that Afghan…”
“And I don’t think—we just can’t let it happen.”
“Just you understand, we have polling.”
“Whatever,” you say. “Gramps. Can I call you a cab?”
“No, I mean it,” he continues, menacingly raising a single, impossibly tiny index finger towards your face.
“Like Ronald Reagan…. I am a person that believes.”
“We had the largest crowd size ever on January 6th “and I will tell you, nobody ever talks about that.”
If I’m elected, I will have that young Gershkovich guy “out very quickly, as soon as I take office, before I take office. I said by literally as soon as I win the election, I will have that reporter out. He should have had him out a long time ago.”
He starts to shout, building towards an unwelcome crescendo.
“I’m going to make America great again. We’re going to make America great again.” “It’s not going to be failing anymore. We’re going to make it great again.”
“And if I’m given another four years, I will be the best. I think I’ll be the best.”
Who’s with me?
Trump gets up and stumbles towards the door. But not before several of your neighbors stand up to applaud. At the door, he turns and bellows,
“What’s happened to our country in the last four years is not to be believed.”
More people clap. And while you pay the tab, you reflect on his last statement, nod your head, and mumble in agreement. That old guy, you say to yourself, really has a point.