Kathy Salzberg
Jul 28, 2017 · 4 min read

LIAR LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE

“The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple.” Oscar Wilde

When I watched Jim Carrey’s old flick “Liar, Liar” on the free movies channel one rainy afternoon, it got me thinking about being truthful. In the movie, his son’s wish that Carrey’s Dad character would be incapable of telling a lie for just one day got the rubber-faced comedian in a whole lot of trouble. To be perfectly honest about being honest, telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, would probably wreak havoc in our own lives too.

You have to admit it: lying greases the skids of many social interactions:

“Sure, I’d love some more of that seaweed and tofu dish, but I think I’ll wait a while. I’m really full.”

“No, Grandma, that bathing suit doesn’t make you look fat and it does match your pool umbrella, but are you sure you want to go with neon orange, hot pink polka dots and lime green stripes?”

“I’d love to come to your Tupperware party but I promised I’d visit a sick relative at the hospital that night.”

“When the invitation said Casual Dress, dear, I don’t think it meant those sweats you were wearing while cleaning the garage.”

“I’ve been meaning to call you, Mary Lou, but I lost your number.”

“I’m sorry I fell asleep on our first date, Henry. I suffer from narcolepsy.”

Pet groomers like me have been known to fudge a little when dealing with our clients, too. I did it one Christmas when Mrs. O’Brien gave me that perfume that smelled like bug spray. If I had been really truthful, I would have told her it made me gag, not gushed, “Oh my! What an unusual scent!”

And when that gorgeous young couple strolled in to show me their new baby, I peered into the carriage and cooed, “Isn’t he adorable?” I wouldn’t have wanted them to know I was thinking that either genetics are one big crap shoot or the kid has an ancestor who’s a dead ringer for Mr. Potato Head.

What about that nasty cat belonging to the sweet old clergyman? “How was little Fluffy tonight?” the distinguished gent inquired as he picked her up after her grooming. “She was right out of ‘The Exorcist’,” I wanted to tell him. “I’ve never seen a cat’s head spin around like that before.” But as usual, I wimped out. “Well, getting groomed is not exactly Fluffy’s favorite thing.”

Sometimes I expect my nose to grow like Pinocchio’s when I’m sparing people’s feelings with these little white lies, and I must admit I’m not nearly as tolerant when others mangle the truth with me. I’ve had some employees who were world-class liars. One young woman was constantly requesting a day off due to a death in the family. Her relatives kept dropping like flies but I stopped sympathizing when her grandmother died for the third time in five years.

Another young groomer turned out Poodles that looked like they were wearing bulky leg warmers instead of pom poms on their ankles. When I questioned her about these unusual patterns, she insisted it was exactly what the owners requested. “Oh sure — and did they want that topknot that flopped over one ear like a French beret too?” I wanted to say, instead of my noncommittal “Hmmmmmm.”

Another young lady constantly embellished her past exploits — how she had dated Tom Cruise, how she was once asked to pose for Playboy. Maybe she was suffering from “Pseudologica Fantastica,” a personality disorder that causes people to tell grandiose lies. (I’m telling the truth here. This was actually used as a defense in a Massachusetts murder trial a few years back. The attorney explained that its sufferers are driven by a need for attention. Unfortunately for his client, the jury didn’t believe him.)

My son the police officer says he’s heard some really inventive lies when he pulls people over for speeding:

“I’m on my way to the hospital, Officer. I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“I’m late for my appointment at the blood bank.”

“I’m rushing home because my wife is in labor.”

We need look no further than our Presidents to realize that lying is more acceptable today than it was when George Washington bragged about chopping down that cherry tree. Think Nixon and Watergate, Reagan on the Iran Contra scandal, Clinton’s response to all those accusing women, George W. Bush’s discovery of weapons of mass destruction, or any number of Trump’s tweets. It really shouldn’t surprise us. After all, politicians hire specialists to help them tell better lies. They call it “spin control.”

But things can get ugly when you get caught in your lies, like my neighbor who claimed he had to visit his mother at an out-of-state nursing home one weekend. His wife got suspicious when she found the receipt from the Cuddle & Bubble Spa in his pants pocket, but this guy was good. “Mom’s doctor wanted her to have some hydro-massage therapy,” he explained, “It really did the trick, Honey. She threw away her walker!”

I dropped by their house yesterday and found his wife baking cookies for him to take along on his next nursing home visit. When I asked why she had that bag of DDT on the counter next to the flour and sugar, she flashed a little smile. “Ants,” she said.

Did I believe her? Well, I won’t swear to it.

“U���Y

Kathy Salzberg

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Kathy Salzberg is a lifelong storyteller, (they called it lying back in grade school) author, retired pet groomer and humorist who is enjoying her retirement.