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My Mother likes to remind me of the silly things I did as a kid. Usually in front of other people. Some would mind, but I don\\\'t. What she did teamed with my Dad was amazing.
Two such stories are her favorites. The first is my self-defense mechanism against the man in the black van. I\\\'m sure anyone that grew up in a city was told about this boogie man. He\\\'d lure unsuspecting children into his van with the promise of candy, then molest them.
One day she was wondering how my ass got so big so quickly because then, as now, I was skinny as a rail.
Apparently I\\\'d put on multiple pairs of underwear. When I was asked why, I told her that since I wouldn\\\'t be able to fight the man in the black van, though I would definitely get a shot in of some sorts, if he wanted to molest me he\\\'d have to work for it.
The second was that I would walk around in the summertime shaking everyone\\\'s hand. Our city at its\\\' widest point was three miles, but it had 35,000+ people. When she asked why I told her that I had every intention of being the mayor someday, and if I shook everyone\\\'s hand by the time I did, they\\\'d all know me.
Alas... the visions of the future in one\\\'s youth tend to fade as reality/adulthood creeps its\\\' ugly head into one\\\'s sphere.
The problem is that I\\\'m too honest with people.
\\\"No the pants don\\\'t make your ass look big, you big ass makes your ass look big. \\\"
Maybe it\\\'s a chemical imbalance or unrestrained id. Either way I just see the little white lies as ....still lies!
Honesty has cost me a marriage, many a job, food stamps, etc. And it would most likely be the preventer of the launch of a political career.
The logic of always telling the truth came into question, because it wasn\\\'t really making my life easier, as it in theory should have.
At my grandfather\\\'s wake. The part-time Catholics that are my family had their cards with pictures of Saint Patrick and a written prayer on the back. They lamented the loss of this man, and basically sanctified him.
\\\"This isn\\\'t the man I remember\\\", I thought to myself as he was eluogized. The only person that could stand him for any length of time was the love of his life for 60 plus years. I hear he was a great Dad, which makes me smile. To me he was always grouchy. Not at me, but that was the air he gave off. If a fictional character make the switch to reality he would have been Archie Bunker.
Complete with the full list of adjectives to describe those not Irish Catholic.
But at the eulogy, they lied! Straight up they lied about him. The very people that were making him into something he was not couldn\\\'t stand to be around him while he was alive. I wasn\\\'t one of them. He showed me how to play cribbage, and we played often. He helped alot of people when he felt like it, which was his prerogative, but he certainly wasn\\\'t the Saint he was being made out as.
So there, I resolved to live such a life so that when I\\\'m eulogized they won\\\'t have to lie.



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The following comments are for "Lies, Truth, and Archie Bunker"
by Robert Walker





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