Untrue in My Heart

The next sentence I write is a lie. I am lying. Now, if that first sentence is to be believed, it is untrue. Or, maybe it is the second?

I don't remember.

It happened in my carefree youth, in the days when my parents set the tone for my behavior. Can you blame my tendency for exaggeration? For mistrust? Can you seriously question my veracity, or inability to render accurate retellings of ancient history?

I've been lied to since my birth, after all! Seriously, it all began with the most insidious lie of all, that "Mommy loves you!" Really? She nurtured me from sperm and egg to mewling infant, only to push my unprepared self into this horrid world of bright light, loud noise and very real danger? That doesn't sound very loving to me! I've suffered grave bodily harm: grievous injuries, broken or sprained bones, cuts, scrapes, scratches, contusions, bruises, rancid food, near drownings, burns, bites, battery, illness, sickness, plagues and even have been put, against my will, into vehicles whose sole purpose is to accelerate my frail, tiny body to obscene speeds, just to placate some drooling old woman who pinches my cheeks without my permission!

Don't even get me started about all the fucking lies I've been told about the Dentition Fairy, the Rabbit of Easter, (colored eggs!), and the nefarious burglar and thief, 'Saint' Nicolas! Saint my ass! He took all of my best toys with him, after scarfing our meager offering of charred dough and bovine excrement! Oh, you doubt me? Then, where is my goddamned pony?

Deep, calming breaths... I must relax, after all. My doctors tell me I must do so, because my blood pressure is too high. I am assuming they aren't lying, either, yes? The same charlatans and snake-oil salesmen who wrenched me, kicking and screaming, from my dear Mother's womb, putting me on a path of desolation, disappointment, disillusionment and dental hygeine! Those fuckers! What possible reasons do they have to care about -my- health, I ask you? Am I to be their indentured servant, paying indefinitely for their inadequate, antiquated, infirmary remedies, their wizened fingers scrawling out arcane potions from apothecaries of doubtful repute? It surely seems that way, of late.

I would turn to our leaders for justice. But, even there, nay, especially so, there, in the hallowed halls of government, is there no room for Truth. Justice is not only blind, but her orifices are stuffed full of the turgid members of political hacks, her fingers pushed into the holes of a Parliament of Whores*, themselves no better off than she!

Why, even the Supreme law of the land can't recall whether he is a raving alcohlic loon of fantastic proportions, or a generic fraternity scion, sowing his wild oats across the delicious, voluptious bottom of a future Intelligence Operative and Dean of Psychology!

How, then can we mere mortals be held to account for anything? Oh, you suggest we turn to one of the myriad of illusory, evasive and poorly documented Sky Wizards or Underworld gods, from 'mythology'? I assume you understand the irony of such a statement...

In the absence of evidence, I will simply continue to live my lief. The rest of you may choose to do as you please, as well, so long as you steer clear of my path. It would bode ill for you to question whether or not, in any event, and, at any time, I am merely a liar.

Honestly.

*Thanks to PJ O' Rourke!