Today, it appears every inch of print, sound and sight space is filled with lies.
Conversations and analysis abound, “Why do people lie? Why do people continue doing business with people they know are lying to them?”
Well, my layperson, non-professional observations include:
Some like to play close to the flame. It's a mental, as opposed to physical way of engaging in a dangerous sport like ice climbing in a G-string, with a can of gas and box of matches.
They're stuck in stupidity denial, as in: "I'm too smart to get screwed!"
They want something for free.
P.T. Barnum said, "You can't cheat an honest man." Think about that inside out. It’s very true.
They become a staunch defender of the one who screwed them; as in: "Yes everyone warned me that Billie Bob was a rotten crook. But he was soooooooo nice and cute when he miraculously ended up with all my money."
No one should stay a second beyond the first lying word or fist of abuse, in either a business or personal partnership. But we do.
We think the liar is nice.
For examples, more than one smart, high level, well known person has said to me, "Man is cook'n the earth, because Al Gore's said so, and he’s nice.”
Or they justify Bill Clinton's placement of an M-16 in the hands of infants (Forced the finite of sex onto children who’d yet to acquire the mature intelligence or skills to handle such.) with, “He’s so cute...charismatic...nice.”
And avert their eyes from the accurately documented as corrupt activities of Harry Reid because, “He’s really nice.”
I tell them, "I've never met a con-artist who wasn’t nice."
A couple heard me say that and jumped, "That's not true! We BOTH know Bernie Madoff, and he's a real bastard, jerk!!!"
There I stood...corrected.
We launch into that surreal little mission of trying to "convert" the con-artist into something they're not; like honest.
We try even though to do so is as impossible as training a lesbian cow to grow a damn good milk producing udder.
Speaking of cows, because we're into about a third generation of people raised on the teat of "a Sesame Street- 15 second-rapid fire sound bite” form of messages, we now have few people with an attention span longer than a shrimpy night crawler.
It’s as though we’ve strolled through a Barstow California sand storm, and got our critical thinking stripped down to a skeletal vessel full of unstable emotions that stumble along in a chronic state of angst.
Because we don’t want to get left behind the fad du jour, we multi-task and do many things fast and sloppy.
We gulp. We don't savor.
We’ve placed our life's emphasis on "entertainment,” and worship at the footed alter of any celebrity.
The world view by Sesame Streeters is a detached, "everything I read, see and do should entertain me...and quickly...because in 15 seconds I'll be bored, then panic and run until I find the new entertainment that feeds me.
Good grief, if we're not fed entertainment 24-7, we scream, kick, bite, spit, pout, whine and spew words from the new slang dictionary of home-boy meets proctologist meets bureaucrat meets gynecologist.
We have reality shows that are so slick, glossy, perfect, they're anything but real.
And I'm sorry folks, but whining and crying on camera doesn't reality make!
Can you picture John Wayne collapsing in a slobbering mess of tears in a manured corral everytime a calf kicked him in the balls?
Yeh right. I can just see Big John sitting on the perfect log, near a perfectly lite campfire, his perfect little camera ready color sweat band peaking out from under his perfectly wrinkled and dirtied cowboy hat, having a long, meaningful emoting session with a real camp cook and cowboys.
Our culture is now an un-reality based mentality of: Dismissing or embracing gross negligence, cheating, bullying, lying and stealing, as "innocent mistakes.”
We shirk responsibility for our own actions. Raulo George Lynoise Brown of New Jersey U.S. blames Joe Tipperacanery's poodle in Ireland as the reason he "haz ta" wear crouch dragging on the sidewalk pants; The Vagina Monologue author poets about, "Man makes globe too hot for polar bear and too cold for human woman to survive;” William Burroughs's talking ass holes have leaped off bars and taken residence in homes everywhere.
Those fairly grounded in doing what's right, instead of chasing expedient cash or emotional fixes, are now punished, coerced and mandated by governments, to spend their personal time, talent, and money cleaning up after those who chose to engage in otherwise.
We give our children everything, except the opportunity to experience those delightful "butterflies in the tummy" that grow only in an environment of anticipation, dreaming, and waiting a long while to receive that which is wanted.
We give our children everything except the confidence, independence, and problem solving skills that come with figuring out how to work for and through something, and honestly earning what they want.
We give our children everything, except the directions on how to be a likable person.
We give our children everything, except honest, decent, respectable role models.
We give our children everything, except clearly defining the differences between right and wrong, fact and fiction, truth and lies and showing them how their actions not only impact others, but come back to them.
We give our children everything, except a mirror that will accurately reflect their actions.
We’ve given our children everything, except time to be a child.
Yes, so desperate ourselves to be parented, we want them to grow up right this minute and raise us.
We've conceded the job of parenting to our children. Reversing the roles, children now struggle along alone, trying to raise themselves and us adults.
And then we wonder, “why all the lying?”
Mostly I think it's because we don't.