I’m a really, really good liar. Seriously, I am. When I was growing up, I learned at home how to do it right, even though the same person who taught me how to do it so well would punish me for lying to him.
From a very early age, I learned to answer the phone when my father was dodging certain phone calls. I was coached in exactly what to say to which people, completely without regard to the truth, of course. I was frequently told casually of which lies had been told so I could be sure to back up one of my father’s deceptions if it came up in conversation.
For instance, we were one time on the way to visit my father’s boss when he told me to say that my foot was fine if I was asked about it. He had needed an excuse to leave work one day, so he claimed that I had been injured by having a lawnmower blade hit my foot. (He had read a tiny news item about it happening to another boy, so he just transferred the story to me when it was convenient.) Things such as this were common for me.
As I said, though, lying to him was strictly forbidden. If I was caught doing it — and I was, from time to time — I was severely punished.

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Pop culture creates overgrown kids in adult bodies who won’t grow up
The more I understand humans, the less I believe we’ll ever all get along
When it comes to politics and race, double standards are everywhere
To stay sane and fight life’s battles, we aliens need places of sanctuary
Let’s quit trying to force others to choose our shopping preferences
If you accept that you’re a fool, being wrong is a lot less scary
FRIDAY FUNNIES
Some of us feel rage at authority, even as disobedience can hurt us