My almost friend John was duplicitous by nature. If you asked him where he came from, he’d tell you Natick once and Framingham the next time. When confronted with the duplicity, he’d calmly explain that he was born in one but grew up in the other—sincerity dripping from his replies. We liked him otherwise, so we avoided asking questions like which way was north or where the sun went after sundown.
Why did we allow him to hang around? Well, being a crooked grifter, he knew the lines of other crooked grifters. Sitting around watching the evening news with him was an absolute howl. A clip of a politician would come on, and Senator Stilldumb would speak about his new anti-something initiative. John would simultaneously translate what he truly meant and how the senator’s nephew would profit from it. Some beer and chips, and you had an evening’s entertainment.
We lost track of John during the Nixon years; a senator hired him as a speech writer. The evening news has never been the same since.
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Great story! I’m not lying.
Martha! I am hurt! Would I dissimulate, tell an untruth or otherwise deviate from truthful transmission..in blatant terms condescend to lie…to you?!!!!!! It is true that I sometimes skate the edge of the Abyss in cogitative delight while expanding upon the boundaries of mere reality. But then it is the true meaning of ART that I seek, and mere facts can not contain it. so there.
Well, as we know Plato had a thing about art being deception. I took that as envy. Anyway, don’t be hurt! I wasn’t accusing anyone of dissembling or lying or prevaricating or any other synonyms that might wander through this brain that needs to cook dinner but has no ideas WHAT. 😀
I remember now what my favorite english lit professor at BU called it now, Creative Confabulation. That might have given Plato Pause.
Dinner? Boston Baked Beans and fishcakes!