Nothing is certain in life but death and taxes. And in Donald

“Nothing is certain in life but death and taxes. And in Donald Trump’s case, lies.” Thus spoke Pamela Meyer, the scholar of deception, whose sharp mind has studied the art and anatomy of falsehood. Her words, though wreathed in wit, carry a grave resonance—an echo of an older truth known to humankind since its earliest days: that life is fragile, that death spares no one, that taxes reach all who dwell in society, and that lies, when permitted to flourish, corrode the very heart of trust upon which civilization depends. Through this statement, Meyer extends an ancient proverb into the age of spectacle and power, revealing not only the nature of one man, but the deeper sickness of an era addicted to illusion.

The origin of this saying lies in the wisdom of the eighteenth century, first penned by Benjamin Franklin, that great architect of liberty and reason. In a letter written in 1789, he observed, “In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.” By this, he meant that all human pursuits—wealth, fame, power—are fleeting shadows before the twin certainties of mortality and duty. Pamela Meyer, centuries later, added her own third certainty: lies, particularly as embodied by those who wield deceit not as weakness, but as weapon. In doing so, she revived Franklin’s reflection, sharpening it into a mirror for modern society—a mirror that reveals both the individual liar and the culture that enables him.

To understand the gravity of her words, one must first recognize the nature of the lie itself. The ancients taught that truth is light, and lies are darkness; where falsehood reigns, vision falters, and nations stumble. The philosopher Plato warned that rulers who abandon truth would lead their people into delusion, creating shadows to enslave the mind. In our age, Meyer stands as a voice in this same tradition, reminding us that when leaders trade honesty for manipulation, the people themselves become captives of illusion. Her naming of Donald Trump serves not merely as accusation, but as symbol—a warning of how falsehood, once enthroned, reshapes reality until lies seem indistinguishable from truth.

Consider the history of the world’s fallen empires, and the pattern reveals itself. Nero, the Roman emperor, adorned himself in gold and proclaimed his virtue, even as Rome burned beneath his reign of vanity and deceit. His lies were grand and relentless—he lied to preserve his image, to rewrite failure into triumph, to transform guilt into glory. But in the end, the truth, like a patient avenger, rose from the ashes. The empire he corrupted fell, and his name became a warning for all time. So too, in our modern era, Meyer’s quote reminds us that every falsehood, however dazzling, contains within it the seed of its own destruction. Lies may build thrones, but truth alone builds legacies.

Yet, Meyer’s words are not only condemnation—they are instruction. To name the lie is the beginning of freedom, for deception thrives in silence. Her tone, though biting, carries the fire of moral purpose: she urges us to become seekers of truth, guardians of integrity. For the health of any people depends not merely on the virtue of its rulers, but on the vigilance of its citizens. When lies are normalized, the soul of a nation decays. When truth is cherished, the light of reason endures even through storm and shadow. Thus, Meyer’s modern proverb is less a jest than a summons: a call to awaken from complacency, to remember that truth is not inherited—it must be defended, daily, by word and by deed.

And here lies the paradox of her wisdom: though death and taxes are indeed inescapable, lies can be conquered—but only by courage. The brave heart rejects the comfort of convenient falsehoods, choosing instead the hardship of truth. Each of us, whether ruler or servant, carries this burden. The farmer who measures honestly, the writer who speaks with integrity, the citizen who questions power—all participate in the quiet heroism of truth. To live thus is to resist corruption, to stand among the timeless company of those who refused to be deceived.

So, my friends, take heed of Pamela Meyer’s sharp and shining words. They are not merely a jest aimed at a single man—they are a mirror held to all of us. Death will claim the body, taxes will claim our wealth, but truth—if we guard it—will claim our honor. Let us therefore live not as deceivers, nor as those who are easily deceived, but as seekers of the eternal light that cannot be extinguished by any lie. For in the end, when the noise of falsehood fades, what remains—the only thing that remains—is the simple, radiant strength of truth.