One little word, three little letters

The Washington Post, which keeps track of such things, announced that Trump has picked up the pace and surpassed ten thousand "false or misleading claims" during his unfortunate tenancy in the house that decent men once called home.  Applying their own complicated formula, they award him at least three "Bottomless Pinocchios," which involves repeating the same "claim" at least twenty times  -- quite a feat for someone who can't remember the name of a man who is standing right in front of him ("Tim Apple") and is clearly in the later stages of dementia.  These porkies cover an impressive range of topics, from trade deficits to immigration to the medical treatment of babies who have no chance of survival, a new addition to the program and apparently a crowd-pleaser.  It's not clear if the register includes such demonstrable howlers as his own high intelligence, superior education, physical fitness, sexual prowess and awesome Aryan genes, which probably would have broken the ten-thousand barrier back in the 1990s.

It happens I've read Pinocchio.  His nose didn't grow because he made false or misleading claims, or  empty boasts, or shared his fantasies and hallucinations.  He lied.  Why is it so hard for these self-regarding newspapers to say that?  A lie is a lie.  One who lies is a liar.  A headline like TRUMP LIES AT WISCONSIN HATE RALLY might even convince me to subscribe.  (The Times just raised its online subscription price, and I'm getting tired of subsidizing crap like this.)  Trump couldn't hate you any more, or lie about you and your owner any less, if you call a liar a liar.  Do it for the English language.  Do it for a Pulitzer Prize, if that's your idea of a good time.  Do it for the children.

Today's reading assignment for the Post editorial board:  Pinocchio (Collodi) and The Emperor's New Clothes (Andersen).  Spoiler alert:  the latter is about a boy who refuses to lie.