Fog of War
Current nominee for Guinness Book of Records: Biggest Lie Ever Told
“It’s frankly ridiculous that anyone in this room would even suggest that President Trump is doing anything for his own benefit,” Leavitt said. “This White House holds ourselves to the highest of ethical standards.” — White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt,
The Trump fortune was supposed to be finished—picked clean by debts, indictments, and the final cold breath of power lost. But like any good grift, it just changed form. The empire didn’t die; it slipped into something darker. Now it hums in the static of the blockchain, flickering across borders, untraceable, unaccountable, and far more dangerous than slot machines and hotel room tabs ever were.
The old scandals—the lobbyists in the hotel bar, the foreign dignitaries booking deluxe suites—those were just warm-ups. Back then, at least, you saw the money change hands. Now, in the crypto underworld, where identity is a costume and the ledger tells no tales, cash flows like bourbon in a back alley: quiet, dirty, and always with a price.
From this digital fog, the Trump dynasty rises again—not built on steel and glass this time, but on secrecy and silence. And as the wallets fatten, the White House begins to look less like a monument and more like a pawn shop: for sale or rent, gently used, no questions asked.
And speaking of questions—none will be asked next week, when Mr. Trump sits down for tea and photo ops with the same Saudi prince who, according to U.S. intelligence, signed off on the bone saw that silenced Jamal Khashoggi. Just business, of course. Always just business.