Lies, Lies, Lies...Yeeeeaaaaah.....

When I was a teenager, my sister used to feed me books…all of her hand me downs and I am grateful for her kindness. One that I remember vividly, for some reason, is Jay McInenery’s, “Story of my Life.” The novel wasn’t anything, well, novel. It was a good read…when I was 17. But there has always been one passage that stuck with me.

What are the three biggest lies in the world?

1. The check is in the mail.
2. I promise I won't cum in your mouth.
3. I love you.

I do not know what it is about life on the internet that leads people to believe that they are anonymous, untraceable and have the ability to create whatever personae they wish. Maybe the internet is a safe haven for head cases. Maybe people are so disappointed with the mediocrity of their own existence that they feel compelled to spew bullshit like a lawn sprinkler attacking a parched yard. Maybe people are sociopathic. Who knows for sure?

I could be lying right now. I could not be a Purchasing Agent Extraordinaire. I could have never visited Europe. I could be driving a Yugo. I could be living in Idaho. How would any of you know (ok…how could any of you who have never met me know)? I could be a boy, a burro or a bank robber for all anyone knows (and cares).

None of this matters, in the grand scheme of life, unless you’re the victim. And then…there is no worse feeling than discovering that someone you invested a significant amount of time and energy in is nothing more than a fictitious entity. No worse feeling than knowing that someone thinks so little of you that they ooze the untruth through their pores and cover you in their filth and deception. Nothing is worse than being conned…until you end up being accused of lying, too.

Case in point:

I spent a good amount of time, energy and emotion on one fritter over the past few months. Because I lean towards believing that people are good, I accept what people tell me without questioning. I do that because I do not wish to insult the person with whom I am conversing. I do that because I cannot comprehend that people actually lie. I do that because I am a decent person.

Long story short…I was fed a line of excrement which is the equivalent of the sewage leak at the Swift Creek pumping station or whatever floated about New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. When I grew weary to the antics and wise to the holes, my character, in turn, was assaulted. I really, really do not like that. Subsequently, that person has been banished from my existence. That old adage rings true, “phuck me once, shame on you…phuck me twice, shame on me.” Phuck me three times, baby…..oh wait, I hate The Doors.

I guess all of these ramblings beg the questions, what leads people to lie? Why is so much time and energy consumed in crafting an existence that isn’t real? What do they expect will happen when people discover the betrayal? Do they feel good about themselves? Do they feel badly? Do liars feel…at all?

What people who lie fail to understand are the ramifications of their actions. What people who lie do not understand is how much work it takes to create an alter ego, an alterna-existence. What people who lie lose is everything. It all comes out in the end and they will forever be known as, “the bald faced liar,” “the numpty,” or, possibly, “the douche bag.” “The douche bag” is my favorite because I can turn that into a noun, “douchebaggery.”

When a person chooses spin tales (not the little white lies that get you through the day, like saying to your boss, “you are correct, sir….”), when a person chooses deceive, that person forever tarnishes his image in the eye of the beholder. That person forever damages his credibility. There is little a liar can do to make things ok. The only things he can really do are slink away with his tail between his legs and [hopefully] learn from his deplorable actions. Chances are…he won’t though. He will just move on to the next witless victim and continue the cycle.

It’s much easier to lie than admit that you’re just an average Joe or Jane, driving an average car, living an average life and having an average intellect. It’s much easier to do that when you are envious in nature and lacking the security within yourself to accept yourself for who you are. And that’s too bad, because a lot of people out there would accept you…for who you are; not what you have, not what you do, not from where you came. If you cannot find people who accept you for the basic, fundamental traits of your character, why in the hell are you trying to impress them, anyhow?

Liars. They are, as Mel says, emotional vampires. They leech, they drain. They should do humanity a favour and fall off the face of the earth. They won’t, though. They will prey. They will prowl. They will spin tales of woe, tales of seduction, and tales of grandeur, which are not befitting their actual existence. And they will do this at the expense of those who are genuine. There is no numpty deflect-o shield to keep the genuine safe, either.

The problems liars create go way beyond their immediate existence, as well. It impacts all of us. It makes everyone suspicious. It changes outlooks. It makes us bitter. It makes this world the insufferable twat that it can be.

I have been sans muse for a month or so now, having killed the rogue cupcake. But, I believe I have discovered a new one. I may be introducing tales of Fictitious Frank (or whatever I name him) in the near future. Stay tuned.

And yes, it goes without saying that my shit stinks. I know this, as I had to hand over a stool sample for analysis earlier this week. So don’t think of anything cute to say about my apparent self-righteousness. I know my foibles. I just don’t lie about them. I try to correct them.