The art of lying comes easy

There are a number of politically correct terms for the word "lie."

One can "spin" an issue, "distort" the truth, "misrepresent, misstate, perjure," and the list goes on. Yet, there is no better term for a deliberate, falsified counterfeit statement that seeks to manipulate by masquerading as fact.

Such was the case in New Hampshire, when a stoic Senator from New York shed her steely exterior and shared a tender, touching, emotional moment with an audience when she answered the question "&


"How did you get out the door everyday? I mean, as a woman, I know how hard it is to get out of the house and get ready. Who does your hair?"

The Breakdown

I can see how this inquiry would cause a presidential hopeful to choke up, tear up and open up. I'm about choked up right now. There are a couple hundred thousand volunteers serving the current president in foreign lands where fear is their constant companion. How do they get out the door everyday to challenge death to another duel? Perhaps the satisfying thought of knowing who does Hillary's hair!

Here's a question: Are we really that stupid?

Likely, there are at least a couple thousand intelligent, thoughtful people in New Hampshire with real concerns about real issues, who somehow ended up standing in line behind a woman who &

while looking for the nearest Starbucks &

wandered into a campaign venue and was given a microphone. Her question bored me to tears.

Hillary Clinton answered with a lie.

Years ago, before I jettisoned my television, I learned a valuable lesson by turning off the images and reading the transcript. The dog and pony show &

that we call campaign season &

takes on a whole new dimension when dripped slowly through the filter of the written word, rather than poured voluminously over the thimbles of our eyes to flood our senses.

Venue De Facade

Scene, Act 1: Coffee shop overflowing with reporters and a dozen or more "real people."

Presidential candidates on the campaign trail often visit places they would otherwise never have an occasion or desire to see. We find them carousing with kids at elementary schools, walking around in factories and even crowding an entourage of more than 100 people into a tiny coffee shop. After all, it's good to step down out of the ivory tower once in a while to say hello to the little people.

And oh, while you're amongst them having a cup of java &

pretending that it's a strain on the emotions just to make it through the multi-million dollar door in the morning and find a place to park the limo while the hairdresser curls your toes with juicy gossip &

don't forget to let them know how much you feel their pain. Now, let's see where have I heard that before?

Same scene, Act 2: Soon-to-be-famous coffee shop. Clinton prepares to answer a ridiculous question. The crowd is hushed. You can hear a pen dropped by a clumsy reporter.

Clinton (voice strains, cracks, tears well up): "I just don't want to see us fall backward as a nation. I mean, this is very personal for me. Not just political. I see what's happening. We have to reverse it. It's about our country. It's about our kids' future. It's about all of us together."

Playing the Sex

Well, I can see why this "impromptu" speech would have had me wiping away the tears of pity for the supremely gullible purchasing more than coffee in that shop. But, at least Hillary had the forthrightness to admit this is all about her. After that, she said nothing &

well, nothing that anyone could interpret.

What does Hillary see? She didn't say. Who are the "we" who must reverse what she sees happening, and how would this phantom team do such a remarkable task? The rest of her response is filled with clich&

233;s. It's about this and that.

It's about time America got a clue.

Same scene, Act 3: Coffee shop filled with journalists and one little old lady &

having an obvious bad hair day ""looking for a referral to a hairdresser. Clinton cries on her shoulder. Thunderous applause from sobbing journalists. Jaded columnist in shock and awe, standing in the back looking around with mouth agape. Shop owner rushing to get mop. Floor flooded with tears.

Fade To White

Enter Rod Serling.

Serling: The pretentious politician. They seemingly mean no harm. They just want to be favored in the polls and rule the world. They come complete with counterfeit personalities, canned speeches and ulterior motives. But underneath, they are the most diabolical enemies of the state. They are not genuine. They are barely human. They are masters in the art of lying here in the Campaign Zone.

is a columnist, author and the Content Editor of the Ashland Daily Tidings. He can be reached at .

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