Miserable Lying Bastards

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I really wish I could just lie to people's faces.

It must make life easier in some respects, but truth be told, I'm not a great liar.

Perhaps it was the nuns who beat the honesty crap into me, but I just marvel at a guy like Lance Armstrong. I remember marveling at Bill Clinton too when he was being deposed all those years ago.

What happens with a lie? Do you really start to believe it? Lance said that he didn't think he was cheating.

That's a lie, isn't it?

You know what's funny, but my wife had the line of the weekend this weekend, and she wasn't even in Boston.

She had hooked up my travel arrangements and when I called home to check in after the author panel she had one question:

"How's your room?"

"Small," I answered, "And the bed might be too small for the after-the-ceremony-threesome."

"I would imagine," she answered. "With the two 250-pound women you'll be with."

Caught me by surprise. I tried a funny lie and she smothered me with a lightning quick comeback.

And that's the thing about lying.

You have to be good at it.

You not only have to convince the person you're talking to, you also have to convince yourself so that you can keep saying it.

My boys got a good lesson from the Lance crap. Matt defended him at all costs. Our text exchange went like this:

Me: "What did you think of your boy last night?"

Matt: "If he helped one person with cancer, I'm still with him."

Me: "Not the point. Just want you to get, as you get out there, that there are people who will lie to your face and not feel a moment's remorse. They are all about themselves."

Matt: "I hear ya'."

I hope he does because the more you listen the more lies you hear.

Damn, I wish my old nuns were around to beat some sense into these people.

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