A biography may come in any shape or size.
That doesn’t necessarily make it a cretin.
Some people like biographies, in general.
It seems that way to me, in any cases. But
I say take heed. Rule number one: everybody
lies. Rule number two: most people are
generally good people. Are you with me so
far. We have just used the deduction of a wise-
ass to prove that lies are ubiquitous and maybe
just fine. What is truth, anyway? So herein
comes one of my primary rules for living a
healthier life: just don’t make the lies the
problem. Treat them how my mother (and
countless others) used to always find a
way to slip into any day whatsoever: have
them simply roll like water off a duck’s
back. So the next time you have the
occasion to run into someone with whom
you are acquainted (or even if you can’t
recall their presence beforehand)—that is,
when beginning any type of engagement, be
it high or low, short or incredibly long in
the wind department, before speaking,
draw in a breath, try to allow any pre-
conceptions to float in some other direction,
and do yourself the favor of giving the whole
honest thing a nice long vacation. Because
let me be clear, honesty, it’s just not a thing.
Just remind yourself (silently is best) that
you are happening upon a liar. Because you
are. And, especially if this seems like it’s too
big of a problem for you to begin with, you
might disturb the issue altogether away by
making it interesting. For example, I tend
to use as a general means of learning a lot
about people I meet, know and/or sleep with
by playing the game of Hm, I Wonder What
THIS Dude Lies About? Navigate through
the whens and the wheres of the missing
pieces until they begin to find logic, reason.
There are, I find, one or two basic reasons
that an individual chooses his or her person-
al line of dishonesty. We’re basically simple
folks, leading pretty simple lives, no matter
how we might even fool ourselves into be-
lieving otherwise [the number one most
common lie, as it turns out]. Dishonesty
and hypocrisy are the real deal, people. Hon-
esty is just plain bogus. It is, as some say
of more specific hypocritical schemes, a
ludicrous construct. I’m not suggesting
that being truthful isn’t a direction toward
which we should aspire, in the same way
that some do toward the ideal of nirvana.
All I am saying is that the notion of com-
plete transparency or of being totally truthy
is bogus (extra hint: check out any compen-
dium on etiquette to discern the moments
in life when truth is purportedly inappropriate).
And not that it is my job in life to point out
all of these whizz-bang discrepancies inside
of which we like to take residence, but when
this subject arises, my mind tends to migrate
toward the paranoiacs who believe Big Brother
is (or might be) watching, and that making too
much out of striving for privacy is a means to
get him off your back (and let’s face it, there are
massive swaths of folks who get piping hot
about the idea that someone is or may be watching,
or [even] recording them). Whether this find
is a subversion of exhibitionism or a (sub-
conscious) subversion of just plain wishful
thinking, allow me a moment where
honesty might be the appropriate response.
I submit for our consideration that spend-
ing precious time on this bedeviled, beguiling
and beautiful planet worrying too much
about such nonsense is a waste of time,
and that it surely becomes for a lot of us
a means to eliminate no small percentage
of our youth. Furthermore, as far as I can
currently tell, we are not experiencing an
apocalypse (not yet, anyway). And I’m pretty
sure, as well, that the inevitable mob of zombies
has yet to make its stiff-walking appearance.
However. Good people. We are sprinting
into the heart of the 21st century and al-
ready well into the post-Big Brother Era:
get over yourselves. We are, each and all,
being watched. You are not having a night-
mare in which you are the star of a Lifetime
movie about a stalker. There aren’t even
any infomercials. You are being watched.
Either in real-time, or via recording. May I
therefore offer that perhaps rather than walk
around in a constant state of paranoia, that
we each take for granted that all the world
is, indeed, a stage (and that the surveillance
crew is just beyond the audience)? Can’t we all
just take that piece of news and slip it into our
worry-free pockets? Or, better yet, let our
crocodile tears roll down our backs as if
it were a downy duck’s and worry about the
bigger problems in life; the problems that
can literally be adjusted? And then, I say,
take a little bit of that extra time that
you’ll soon find you have on your hands
and milk every ounce of joy you can out
of every minute you can; out of each
turnip of a day in which you wake up to
find yourself. It’s just a suggestion.
But it seems to do pretty well by me.
ludicrous construct. I’m not suggesting
that being truthful isn’t a direction toward
which we should aspire, in the same way
that some do toward the ideal of nirvana.
All I am saying is that the notion of com-
plete transparency or of being totally truthy
is bogus (extra hint: check out any compen-
dium on etiquette to discern the moments
in life when truth is purportedly inappropriate).
And not that it is my job in life to point out
all of these whizz-bang discrepancies inside
of which we like to take residence, but when
this subject arises, my mind tends to migrate
toward the paranoiacs who believe Big Brother
is (or might be) watching, and that making too
much out of striving for privacy is a means to
get him off your back (and let’s face it, there are
massive swaths of folks who get piping hot
about the idea that someone is or may be watching,
or [even] recording them). Whether this find
is a subversion of exhibitionism or a (sub-
conscious) subversion of just plain wishful
thinking, allow me a moment where
honesty might be the appropriate response.
I submit for our consideration that spend-
ing precious time on this bedeviled, beguiling
and beautiful planet worrying too much
about such nonsense is a waste of time,
and that it surely becomes for a lot of us
a means to eliminate no small percentage
of our youth. Furthermore, as far as I can
currently tell, we are not experiencing an
apocalypse (not yet, anyway). And I’m pretty
sure, as well, that the inevitable mob of zombies
has yet to make its stiff-walking appearance.
However. Good people. We are sprinting
into the heart of the 21st century and al-
ready well into the post-Big Brother Era:
get over yourselves. We are, each and all,
being watched. You are not having a night-
mare in which you are the star of a Lifetime
movie about a stalker. There aren’t even
any infomercials. You are being watched.
Either in real-time, or via recording. May I
therefore offer that perhaps rather than walk
around in a constant state of paranoia, that
we each take for granted that all the world
is, indeed, a stage (and that the surveillance
crew is just beyond the audience)? Can’t we all
just take that piece of news and slip it into our
worry-free pockets? Or, better yet, let our
crocodile tears roll down our backs as if
it were a downy duck’s and worry about the
bigger problems in life; the problems that
can literally be adjusted? And then, I say,
take a little bit of that extra time that
you’ll soon find you have on your hands
and milk every ounce of joy you can out
of every minute you can; out of each
turnip of a day in which you wake up to
find yourself. It’s just a suggestion.
But it seems to do pretty well by me.
