The Tariffman's Toll
Chapter IX:
The Confidence Man Ascends a Hill of Claims
In Which Bravado Is Mistaken for Balance, and Quantity Substitutes for Truth
High upon the Hill he stands—well-coiffed, red-faced, and brandishing binders labeled “DEALS,” though their pages are mostly blank and frequently upside down.
He speaks not in paragraphs but in pitches:
- “5 Trillion in Investment!”
- “The Greatest Trade Deal Ever Signed!”
- “Factories are flooding back—believe me!”
There is no proof, but much paper.
No ledger, but many logos.
And the crowd cheers, not because they’ve seen results, but because they’ve seen a show.
Act I: The Math of Miracles
The figures arrive in convenient roundness:
$5 trillion, $10 million, 100% - numbers that fit on hats, but not in budgets.
Asked for sources, the Tariff Man refers to “people,” “a guy,” or “the media,” depending on the weather.
No receipts, but an abundance of repetition.
“If I say it enough,” he once whispered to a frightened intern, “the market believes it, and then it’s true.”
Thus, the prophecy fulfills itself - until the bills arrive.
Act II: The Infrastructure of Impressions
All things become marketing.
A ribbon cut becomes a renaissance.
A shovel in a field becomes a factory.
An unsigned memo becomes a signed deal, pending, in principle, under review, contingent upon nothing happening to the contrary.
Atop this hill of claims sits the Tariffman, nodding gravely at graphs no one else is allowed to read.
He has climbed a mountain of slogans and declared it a summit of substance.
Act III: Of Gullibility and Gilding
Economists protest. Analysts demur.
But none of that fits in a chyron.
Better to print: “Trump Delivers Historic Investment”—and let the footnotes fend for themselves.
In this new order, performance is policy.
And so long as the spectacle continues, who dares question the script?
It is a confidence game, yes.
But the audience has paid admission.
And, God help us, many are still applauding.
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