Posts Tagged ‘lies’

More Mendacious Misadventures

The march of the memes continues on Facebook. Two of my closest friends, Glenn Hauman and his lovely wife, Brandy, posted the invitation for fraudulent first-encounter tales in their status updates, and these are the flights of fancy I fabricated for them.


You had just stepped off the stage at Pedro’s Bijou after receiving a standing ovation for your matinee performance, and I stopped you so I could shake your hand. “That was amazing,” I said.

“Well, thank you. You wouldn’t happen to have a spare Pepsi, would you?” I fished an ice-cold can from the mini cooler under my seat and handed it to you. As you popped the tab, you sighed. “Gracias.”

In awe, I watched you guzzle the entire can in one pour, and then you ate the can. “So, you’re a method actor.”

You nodded as you finished chewing. “Yup.”

“Well, I have to admit, that was amazing. Until tonight, I’d never have believed a man could take the place of a donkey in one of these shows.”

Shrugging with feigned modesty, you replied, “Well, I’ve been his understudy for years. I just had to wait for him to get sick.”

“With what?”


My brow furrowed with confusion. “Whose mouth?”

“Carmelita’s.  She bit down and refused to let go.”

You started to leave, so I followed you out into the teeming, sewage-stinking streets of Tijuana. “Where you headed?”

“Terceira Axila. An after-hours club on Via Barranca. All-you-can-drink two-dollar pitchers of Chango.”

“Isn’t Chango just bottled piss?”

“Yeah, but it’s all you can drink for two bucks.”

I nodded. “When you say it like that, I guess it is a bargain.” A stray thought skittered through my consciousness. “Do they have a show?”

“Best in Tijuana. If you like orangutans, that is.” You glanced my way. “But we’d better get you a poncho. I’ve got front-row seats, and it gets messy.”

And with those words, I had a new best friend.


I knocked on your door and stood on your back porch, shivering like a monkey fresh from the sea.

It seemed an eternity before you opened the door. I admired your mint-condition, vintage 1950s French Navy frogman wetsuit, accessorized with a strap-on rubber phallus. From behind your SCUBA re-breather, you mumbled, “Yebth?”

Lifting my hands, I showed you the police handcuffs that bound my wrists. “Can I borrow a hacksaw?”

You plucked the re-breather from your pouty lips. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet. I’m Dave.”


“I’d shake your hand, but…” The cuffs’ chain jangled as I waved my hands.

“Hang on.” You turned away, the flippers on your feet slapping your kitchen floor. “Glenn!” Over your shoulder you added, “My husband should be able to help you with those.”

“Thanks.” An awkward moment stretched out between us while we waited for your Brobdingnagian lummox of a spouse to extricate himself from the upstairs toilet. I offered up a nervous wrinkle of a smile. “What’s with the, um…”

“It’s a sex thing.”

“I figured.”

You pointed to your living room, wherein I caught a glimpse of a children’s wading pool overflowing with $240 worth of pudding and flanked by some Klieg lights and a video camera on a tripod. “Care to come in?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” I followed you inside and shut the door behind me.

You shot a suggestive leer my way. “Mind leaving the cuffs on a bit longer?”

“I don’t see why not.”

An approving nod. “Like pudding?”

“Does Michael Jackson like little boys?”

“I don’t suppose you know how to run a video camera.”

It was a stroke of amazing good fortune. “Are you kidding? I have a degree from NYU Film School.”

“Dave,” you said, wading into the pudding, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship…”

Mendacious First Meetings

A curious meme making the rounds on Facebook finally found it way last night to me. Here was the text I saw in a few friends’ status updates:

I want you to comment on this status about how you met me, but I want you to lie. That’s right. Just make stuff up. After you comment, copy to your status so I can do the same.

I was intrigued by this notion, as it’s essentially a community challenge in creative writing. I posted a few snippets for friends, and then, when reposting the challenge to my own status, I tweaked the text slightly:

I want you to comment on this status about how you met me, but I want you to lie. That’s right. Just make stuff up. After you comment, copy to your status so I can ignore it and you can feel like we’re socializing.

So far, so good. I’ve even seen a few of my acquaintances propagating my version of the challenge.

This is where it starts to get fun. (more…)

Joe the Plumber

After watching last night’s presidential debate and then seeing the poll results afterward, I guess it should come as no surprise that John McCain has suddenly become fixated on the work of a man whose career is based on making things go down the drain.

ETA: The more we learn about Joe “the Plumber” Wurzelbacher, the worse this looks for McCain.

First, Joe might not be a struggling middle-class workman, after all. In fact, his family might already have stakes in several businesses.
ETA: Item #1 has been debunked.

Second, he’s not just an avowed McCain supporter who was looking to land a “gotcha” moment on Obama in Toledo a few days ago. According to a prominent conservative blog, he’s apparently related to Robert Wurzelbacher, one of the Keating Five, and indirectly related by marriage to Charles Keating himself.

ETA: Item #2 has also been debunked, by Keith Olbermann, no less. Apparently, the state of Ohio is knee-deep in Wurzelbachers. Who knew?

Third, he apparently misrepresented the financial prospects of his plumbing business, which will probably earn less than $250,000 per year, which means Obama’s tax plan would actually be the smarter choice for him.

Ready for the kicker? This guy who’s so worried about having to fork over an extra $0-900 per year of his quarter-million-dollar income in taxes already seems to have trouble paying his taxes. He has had tax liens filed against him for nonpayment of state taxes. Real upstanding role model there, Senator McCain. “Cogratulations, Joe! You’re a tax cheat!”

Sarah Palin’s speech

There is one line in particular from Sarah Palin’s speech tonight that really got my dander up:

“It’s easy to forget that this is a man who has authored two memoirs but not a single major law or reform – not even in the state senate.”

BULLSHIT! Have a look at his legislative accomplishments, Sarah!

I’ll put up his accomplishments against hers any day. As mayor of Wasilla, she took a town with no debt and chalked up more than $20 million in debt to build an ice rink that she said would pay for itself; it never has. She got her town sued by the owner of the land on which it was built, which she’d had seized under eminent domain. The town lost the case and had to pay $1.7 million to the land owner. She tried to ban books in the local library.

Her “executive” record at the state level is even worse. She was for the bridge to nowhere before she was against it and let Alaska pocket the money; supported a pro-Ted Stevens 527 before she “took him on” as a “reformer”; and abused her power to a possibly criminal degree, in recorded calls and e-mails.

Her personal judgment is equally lacking. Pregnant with a Down’s syndrome baby, upon entering premature labor, she got on a plane in Dallas, made a connection in Seattle, flew home to Anchorage, then took another flight to Wasilla. All while leaking amniotic fluid and having contractions. She didn’t have an abortion, but she behaved as if she was trying to kill that kid through negligence.

She wants to tussle? Bring her on.