Monday, November 24, 2003

Taking friendly deception to a whole new level

Every once in a while I like to drive M2 crazy by telling him a lie. For some reason he thinks that I am entirely trustworthy and will believe almost anything I say, as long as it's not too outrageous. I can't tell him that there are purple sheep, but I could probably get him to believe russet if I worked at it. It's a special kind of power.

Okay, now imagine that you're me, and you're surrounded by an entire country of people who will believe not only russet, but purple and plaid and five-legged, as well.

You're a little bit tipsy with the power now, aren't you? Admit it.

It's a constant struggle not to make up huge lies about America and then convince my kids they're true just because I think it's funny. I mean, I could totally get 20 15-year-olds to believe that Thanksgiving started as a pagan festival where the pilgrims ate the hearts, tongues, and livers of Squanto and the other Native Americans. I don't, but that doesn't mean I don't think about it frequently.

But even more tempting is just not doing research completely and telling small lies. I mean, if I say that Robert Burns was born in Glasgow, are any of them really going to check to see if I'm lying? Because I totally would be. (He was born near Ayr, if you're curious. It's on the west coast of Scotland.)

At some point, probably near the end of May, I'm totally going to stop being good and tell a whopping lie in class. I'm just trying to think of one that's big enough. Suggestions?

No comments:

Blog Archive