Listen, I've seen some shit in my time covering politics, but nothing—and I mean nothing—quite prepares you for the moment when a sitting Commerce Secretary decides to hop on a podcast like he's shooting the shit at a dive bar and casually drops the bombshell that Jeffrey fucking Epstein was "the greatest blackmailer ever." The audacity. The sheer, unfiltered stupidity of it all makes my blood boil hot enough to cook an egg on my forehead.

As Simone de Beauvoir once observed, "One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman"—and apparently one is not born a bumbling dipshit, but rather becomes one through years of practice and a Commerce Secretary position. Howard Lutnick, Trumpty MouthAnus's hand-picked guy to oversee American commerce, sat his ass down for an interview with the New York Post and proceeded to shit all over the administration's carefully constructed wall of denial. The smell of desperation and cover-up hangs thick in the air, like rotting garbage baking under a July sun.

Picture this: It's a Tuesday morning in the White House. Coffee's brewing, that bitter, burnt smell permeating the halls. Senior staffers are gathered in the chief of staff's office, probably nursing hangovers and ulcers in equal measure. The morning briefing should be routine—schedule review, maybe some crisis management about whatever diplomatic shitstorm needs handling. Instead, they're all staring at their phones, jaws on the fucking floor, because their Commerce Secretary just went rogue on a goddamn podcast.

Lutnick didn't just dip his toe in the water—he cannonballed into the deep end wearing concrete shoes. "That's what his MO was, you know, get a massage. Get a massage. And what happened in that massage room, I assume, was on video." The casualness of it is what gets me. The way he tosses off these accusations like he's discussing the weather, not implicating potentially dozens of powerful men in a blackmail scheme involving the sexual exploitation of minors.

John Stuart Mill wrote, "Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing." But what happens when the bad men are in charge and the supposed good men are either complicit or too chickenshit to speak up? What then, Johnny boy?

The taste of bile rises in my throat when I think about those videos Lutnick so casually mentions. Who's on them? How many? Were they traded away like baseball cards during Epstein's sweetheart plea deal back in 2008? The one where he served a measly 18 months—most of it on work release—for crimes that should have buried him under the prison? Lutnick seems to think so. "I assume way back when they traded those videos in exchange for him getting that 18 month sentence," he says, as if this is just common fucking knowledge, as if everyone should understand that our justice system works on a blackmail barter system.

Meanwhile, on the National Mall, a different kind of resurrection is happening. A ten-foot statue—a grotesque monument to the friendship between Donaldo Shitsburger and Epstein—keeps popping up like a horror movie villain who refuses to die. First installation? Gone overnight, broken to pieces by federal officials who handled it with all the tender care of mobsters disposing of evidence. The excuse? It was "out of compliance," a few feet too tall for the permit. Because that's what we're worried about—height regulations, not the fucking message.

As Albert Camus wrote, "The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion." That statue is rebellion made manifest, standing tall despite every attempt to erase it. The artist fixed it, got a new permit, and when they showed up to reinstall it last Thursday, they were met with a convoy of vehicles—unmarked ones included—ready to snatch it away again. But today? It's back up, christened with a new name: "Why Can't We Be Friends?"

The irony is so thick you could cut it with a knife that's been dulled from slicing through bullshit.

Here's where the whole thing becomes a masterclass in governmental incompetence and contradictions that would make Kafka weep. Last month, FBI Director Cash Patel testified under oath—under oath—that there's no credible information suggesting Epstein trafficked young women to anyone besides himself. Read that again. Let it sink in like cold rain soaking through your clothes. The FBI, the premier law enforcement agency in the United States, wants us to believe that a man who owned a private island, flew powerful men around on his private jet (dubbed the "Lolita Express" for fuck's sake), and allegedly kept meticulous blackmail materials, was just some lone wolf predator.

Then along comes Lutnick, contradicting his own administration's official position with the confidence of a drunk uncle at Thanksgiving. "This guy was the greatest blackmailer ever. Blackmailed people. That's how he had money." The cognitive dissonance is deafening, a high-pitched whine that drowns out any attempt at rational thought.

Bertrand Russell once noted, "The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts." But what happens when the fools are running the show and the wise have been silenced or sidelined? We get this clusterfuck of a situation, where a Commerce Secretary spills his guts about blackmail tapes while the FBI plays see-no-evil.

Congressman Robert Garcia, ranking chair of the House Oversight Committee, isn't letting this slide. He's sent a letter demanding Lutnick testify before committee staff, given his "apparent firsthand interactions with Epstein and knowledge of his crimes." Firsthand interactions. Let that phrase roll around in your mind like a marble in an empty can. The Commerce Secretary knew Epstein. They were neighbors. And now he's out here speculating about blackmail tapes and plea deal negotiations like he's got inside information.

What happened to those videos? Who's on them? Did they really get traded away as part of some backroom deal? These aren't conspiracy theories cooked up in some basement forum—these are questions raised by a sitting Cabinet member of the current administration. The stench of corruption and cover-up is overwhelming, like standing downwind from a landfill in August.

John Rawls argued for a "veil of ignorance" when considering justice—that we should make decisions as if we don't know our position in society. But there's no veil here, no ignorance. The powerful protect the powerful, and the rest of us are left choking on the smoke from the evidence they're burning.

Peter Singer wrote, "If possessing a higher degree of intelligence does not entitle one human to use another for his or her own ends, how can it entitle humans to exploit non-humans for the same purpose?" Swap out "intelligence" for "power" or "wealth," and you've got the Epstein scandal in a nutshell. The powerful believed they were entitled to exploit the vulnerable, and when caught, they deployed their resources to minimize consequences.

That statue on the National Mall? It's not just art. It's a middle finger to everyone who's tried to memory-hole this story. It's a reminder that we see what they're doing, that we're not fooled by the misdirection and the contradictions. Every time they tear it down and it goes back up, it's a testament to the fact that truth has a way of resurfacing, no matter how deep you try to bury it.

The White House senior staff meeting that Tuesday morning must have been absolute chaos. Coffee cooling in mugs, the acrid smell of panic sweat, and everyone wondering how the fuck they're supposed to spin this. Because when your own Commerce Secretary contradicts your FBI Director and resurrects questions about blackmail tapes involving God knows who, you've got a problem that can't be fixed with a press release and some carefully worded non-denial denials.

As Isaiah Berlin observed, "Liberty for wolves is death to the lambs." In this case, the wolves have been running free for far too long, and the lambs are finally starting to ask why the shepherds were complicit.

The bottom line? This story isn't going away. Not when statues keep reappearing. Not when Cabinet members can't keep their mouths shut. Not when the contradictions pile up higher than the lies. We deserve answers, and we deserve accountability. Anything less is an insult to every victim of Epstein's predation and everyone who's been gaslit into believing there's nothing more to see here.

Move along? Fuck that. We're staying right here until someone tells the truth.

Citations:

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