The Orange Fraud Felon Assaulting Liar told 30,573 confirmed lies during the four years he was in office. I did the arithmetic. That’s 20.9 lies a day, counting leap year.
That’s assuming a 20-hour “work” day. Let’s say he was up half the night wandering the residence in his pajamas tweeting invectives against his enemies and only got four hours of sleep a night. He does claim that he doesn’t need much sleep, some kind of MAGApower.
So that’s roughly A LIE AN HOUR. More if he got, say, eighteen hours of sleep.
So the rest of that hour: how much time did he spend working out the next lie? One minute? Fifteen minutes? So when did he do his job? ‘Cause during that hour, he still had to eat more burgers or order more Sharpees or call Fox News or do some other thing that’s essential to running the US government.
Or was it some kind of genius fabricator instinct at work delivering those untruths on the fly while he’s yelling at Rex Tillerson or one of his fifteen television screens? What an amazing dis-creative mind! That’s MAGApower.
But he is the Prince of Lies, after all. The stats prove it. Can anybody claim to be more untruthfully prolific? Do you know anybody who tells a lie an hour? Where’s Guinness when you need them?
And I’ve already explained where he gets this prowess: he’s sold his soul to the Father of Lies. Met him at the crossroads, somewhere between the Sea of Deceit and the Lagoon of Lies, near Mar-a-Lago’s ninth hole, where 2,213 of his golf balls lie buried in the sand pits from before he signed the devil’s contract to flip them back out again on impact.
But sometimes he’s hands on with those balls. When the people he’s playing with see him pull a new one out of his pocket and toss it out on the grass, he says, “No, you didn’t see that. Don’t believe anything you see. And anyway, I don’t cheat. I don’t have to. I’ve won eighteen club championships. I’m the best golfer any club’s ever seen. I win bigly.” Hey, that’s six lies right there, in, what, thirty seconds? MAGAPOWER!!!!!
They say his nose got so long, he couldn’t turn a corner in those narrow White House hallways, and his pants kept setting off the fire alarms.