Dwain Northey (Gen X)

The Great Reveal That Wasn’t

Yesterday brought us the long-teased “release” of the Epstein files, an event hyped like a season finale and delivered like a rerun—complete with heavy redactions and absolutely no new information. It was less All the President’s Men and more Previously On Things We Already Knew.

The documents arrived looking like they’d been edited by a nervous Sharpie with a gym membership. Names vanished. Details evaporated. Context fled the scene. What remained was the unmistakable message that transparency is alive and well, provided you don’t expect to actually see anything.

Of course, we were told this release would finally shine light into dark corners. And it did—briefly—before someone hit the dimmer switch and reminded us that institutional opacity is a cherished American tradition. The public asked for answers; the system responded with a tasteful blackout.

As long as Pam Bondi remains comfortably seated where uncomfortable truths go to die, it seems safe to assume these files will continue their slow metamorphosis from “explosive revelations” into “heavily censored historical artifacts.” Not buried, mind you—just politely escorted out of view.

So here we are, once again reassured that everything has been disclosed, except for the parts that matter. Justice has been served, transparency has been honored, and accountability has been… redacted for clarity.