The Art and Practice of Lying
“The Loch Ness Monster ate my homework.”
That was the first lie I can remember telling, my introduction to lying. I told it with the most splendiferous sincerity I could muster, which is paramount to successful lying, to my 5th grade teacher, Mrs. Franz. She was a really nice lady, and I hated lying to her. Which is always the downside to lying. But I could tell immediately she didn’t seem to buy it. Boy, what a dope I was. You have to be kind of smart to lie, or at least cunning ..well, dishonest, even willing to humiliate yourself. I wasn’t any of those. Still that way today (HeHeHe ...).
“The dog ate my homework” was already popular vernacular and was fast becoming an overused idiom in the lower grades scholastic lying lexicon. Obviously a lie. But in my simple, innocent, untainted mind, I figured the other way -- if someone bought it that the “dog” ate homework, then they would unquestionably buy that the Loch Ness Monster would of course and obviously, voraciously, eat homework. My mind worked that way then, and sometimes still does now. Bigger is always better, right? It was more creative, more cunning, not to mention, totally smarter.
I totally missed the point, however, that it was also totally unbelievable. I mean, what was I thinking? This was Brooklyn, New York. How could the Loch Ness Monster have conceivably eaten my homework? He was all the way over in Ireland somewhere! Scotland. Whatever. We even had a dog that I could have framed. His name was Jughead. My Marine dad named him and brought him home from Guam after the war. But that’s another story.
In retrospect, this lying business is probably why I embarked on a career in communication. Journalism, then the juggernaut, Advertising. It turned out Mrs. Franz seemingly bought my story hook line and sinker and I have been lying ever since. Note to self ...they’ll buy anything. I knew she really didn’t believe the Loch Ness Monster ate my homework. But I knew she loved the story, especially, the way I told it.
Gravitas, baby.
Today, sixty some odd years later, I can say with a fair degree of confidence and accuracy, and despair, that our entire culture is based on, or better, drowning, in lies.
Lies, stories, jokes, faith in what may or may not be lies. All guilty until proven innocent.
As the story goes, George Washington chopped down the cherry tree, and when confronted by his father, said, “I can’t tell a lie, Pa, I did it.” Great story, but a lie ...about the truth. If you have to lie to promote the truth, where does that leave the truth?
Lies. We’re surrounded by ‘em. Every day, everywhere, on all levels. To some it’s a sport, to some business as usual, to many a way of life. To many more it’s entertainment. And then there’s politics. The comedian turned politician, Democratic Senator Al Franken of Minnesota, has written several books, some regarding lies and truth. He’s a politician so this subject is vital to him. One book is titled, “Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them: A Fair and Balanced Look at the Right” (2004), then a year later he wrote, “Truth (with jokes)”. Both books are hilariously funny, if you think Al Franken is funny, with some truths between the jokes. The point is truth and lies make the world go ‘round and it’s something we have to recon with every day.
If freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose, then truth is just another word for something to lie about.
Lies, sadly, have become such an accepted part of our culture that we expect less from our leaders, and even ourselves. “I did not have sexual relations with that woman...”, “If the president does it, that means it’s not illegal.”, “If you like your doctor you can keep your doctor.”, “I have nothing to do with Russia.”
Lying goes way back. Back to the very beginning. It’s a basic human survival instinct, as legitimate as any other. “Look over there, Lothar, what is that, a tiger? You go find out, I’ll stay here and protect the women.” Lying works both ways. Gullibility is a willing accomplice. But put a business suit on it, or a robe and gold chains, or lipstick on that pig, and it can become an art form and livelihood. Ethically, lying is the difference between working together to solve a problem, rather than flocking together to point the blame at someone for causing the problem, often not fixing it.
The ‘Ten Commandments’ wasn’t just an epic, religious 1956 film by Cecil B. DeMille. They are a set of biblical laws straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak, regarding ethics and worship. As the story goes, God spoke to Moses on Mount Sinai through a burning bush, at which time he gave Moses the Ten Commandments on plates to translate to the world. The ninth commandment is ‘Thou Shalt Not Lie’. Ninth position out of of the ten relating to other things like stealing, adultery and murder may be cause for some concern regarding importance, and apparently taken that way by most of us, but nonetheless it’s as or more important than coveting your neighbor’s new F-150 which holds the tenth position.
If we all followed and practiced the Ten Commandments what a wonderful world this would be. Maybe not as much fun, but wonderful in a euphorically wholesome, clothes on way. I’m going to be sorry I said that, even joking, so let me finish with ...If we don’t follow the Ten Commandments, we are doomed to a life of pain and loathsome sorrow.
...and we won’t be able to blame it on the Loch Ness Monster.
John Kushma is a communication consultant and lives in Logan, Utah.
https://www.linkedin.com/in/john-george-kushma-379a5762
http://newsbout.com/a/John+Kushma
