Blondi, Pam Blondi #4

The Art of the Smear

Pam Blondi had never considered herself an emotional person. She preferred control, calculation, and an air of detached competence that kept people slightly afraid of her. It was a cultivated persona—one she had honed over decades of ruthless ambition.

But at this moment, standing in her immaculate office, staring at the Grump Tower paperweight lodged in her broken 75-inch 8KHD television screen, Pam was very, very close to losing her goddamn mind.

She could still hear Caroline Leaveitout’s smug voice echoing in her skull:

     "We have an active investigation into USAID, and the Attorney General will be announcing major indictments by Friday. While previous             claims may have been slightly miscategorized, Pam Blondi has unearthed new charges that will finally expose the full scope of corruption.       The President is so confident in this evidence that he has scheduled a press conference with Ms. Blondi on Friday to detail the shocking           crimes."

Pam’s hands curled into fists.

They set me up.

The White House had thrown her to the wolves, and she didn’t even have a damn bone to toss back.

She grabbed her laptop with both hands and slammed it down onto the desk with a sharp crack. Pieces of plastic scattered across the floor.

The door to her office burst open, and Greg LaCraw, her Chief of Staff, skidded to a stop. He took one look at the shattered laptop, then the paperweight sticking out of the TV, then Pam’s face—

—and turned right back toward the door.

“Greg.”

Greg winced. “Look, Pam, whatever’s happening—”

Pam picked up her phone and started dialing. “I need proof of corruption, Greg. Now.”

By the time Pam hung up her fifth phone call, she was out of patience.

Ted Snooze had given her nothing useful. He kept rambling about how USAID had helped the Taliban decades ago, as if that was somehow relevant to the current crisis.

Rick Schott had congratulated her on “the whole LGBTQ+ / transgender switcheroo,” delighted that the public had latched onto the idea that USAID was funding gender-affirming surgeries overseas (it wasn’t). But actual evidence of corruption? Nothing.

Andi Oggling reminded her that the $6 million to Egypt had been from Grump’s first term—completely useless.

Even worse, her calls were being dodged. She tried three more senators—voicemail. Another—“In a meeting.” Another—radio silence.

And then, the media started calling her.

Her assistant popped her head in, looking nervous. “Pam, you’ve got about fifty journalists calling, all at once.”

Pam narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

Her assistant swallowed. “The $2 billion loss to Midwest farmers.”

Pam blinked.

“What loss?”

Her phone buzzed—Washington Beagle, a top-tier political reporter. Normally, Pam would make them wait. But something was wrong, and she needed to know what.

She took the call.

“Pam!” the journalist chirped, her voice far too eager. “Can you confirm what specific new charges you’ve found against USAID? There’s talk of billions in losses from the Midwest farm industry.”

Pam stiffened. “What do you mean, ‘losses’?”

The journalist didn’t even hesitate. “Since USAID’s funding freeze, the U.S. isn’t exporting grain like before. Farmers were relying on that market. Now they’re stuck with full silos, with nowhere to sell. They already bought their seed, their fertilizer, their equipment— but without export contracts, there’s no demand.

“They’re panicking, Pam. They need to know—was this administration prepared for the fallout? What’s the plan?”

Pam’s stomach dropped.

She had not been briefed on this.

She ended the call without answering.

Greg stared at her. “So... that sounded bad.”

Pam exhaled sharply. “The Midwest is on the brink of a full-blown farm crisis, Greg.” She massaged her temples. “Do you have any idea what that means?”

Greg sat on the edge of her desk. “It means Grump just nuked his entire base.”

And he was right.

Midwest farmers had been Grump’s most loyal supporters—but farming wasn’t just “planting crops and making money.” It was seasonal, with razor-thin margins, and every investment was planned months in advance.

Farmers had already bought:

• Their seed.

• Their fertilizer.

• Their equipment.

• Their water allocations.

And now? They couldn’t sell their crops.

Their silos were already full from last season, and without USAID’s export markets, there was nowhere for the new harvest to go.

If farmers stopped planting, the entire supply chain collapsed:
     ❌ No grain for processing.
     ❌ No feed for livestock.
     ❌ No food for grocery stores.

And worst of all? This wasn’t something the government could fix overnight.

Farming wasn’t flexible. If you missed the season, that was it. You lost everything.

Pam suddenly realized why the journalists were desperate for answers.

If farmers couldn’t sell, they wouldn’t just lose money—they’d lose their farms.

This wasn’t a stock market crash where people lost numbers on a screen. This was livelihoods, generations of family businesses, about to go up in smoke.

And they had two days to come up with a reason why this was happening.

Pam paced her office. They needed a distraction.

“Greg,” she said slowly, “how bad is the news coverage?”

Greg scrolled through his phone, his face growing paler by the second. “It’s the top story on every network, Pam. Even Faux Newz is covering it.” He frowned. “Wait. Shawn Vanity just called it ‘Biden’s Farm Crisis.’”

Pam perked up. “Can we shift the blame to Biden?”

Greg sighed. “No. The USAID freeze was literally Grump’s order.”

Pam gritted her teeth. “Then we need something bigger. Something that will drown this out.”

Greg hesitated. “Like what?”

Pam tapped her chin. “Terrorism?”

Greg blinked. “...What?”

“Think about it.” Pam’s mind was racing. “If we release explosive new allegations—something terrifying—we can change the conversation.”

Greg narrowed his eyes. “Like?”

Pam grabbed a notepad and started scribbling.

Possible distractions:

     ✅ Link USAID to terrorist groups. (Even if it’s fake, let the media run with it.)
     ✅ Say they funneled money to cartels.
     ✅ Claim USAID was used to spy on Americans.
     ✅ Push a fake scandal involving Ukraine.

Greg watched her, looking vaguely horrified. “Pam... we don’t have proof for any of that.”

Pam smiled coldly. “Greg, have you met me?”

Greg exhaled. “You’re going to make it up.”

Pam tossed the notepad onto her desk. “I’m going to give the media a new story.”

Greg rubbed his temples. “Jesus. Okay. Do we have a fall guy?”

Pam’s eyes gleamed. “Melanomia and Insania.”

Greg whistled. “Calling in the crazy cavalry, huh?”

“If anyone can give me something real, it’s them.” Pam picked up her phone. “And if they don’t, well...”

Greg nodded. “We make it up.”

Pam grinned. “Exactly.”

She had two days to fabricate the biggest lie of her career.

But that was what she did best.