Tuesday, June 2, 2009
1. Of illegitimate birth
2. Not genuine: false
Just because 95 percent of my memoir "never actually happened" does not give Oprah Winfrey the right to call it spurious.
My mother used to call me a "storyteller" which is a much nicer word, in my opinion, than liar. A storyteller is someone who wraps you in a mohair blanket and snuggles next to you by the fire, relaying tales of unsung hero's who save little (Caucasian) kittens from burning buildings. Where as liars tell you that cats cannot understand English and care not if you rescue them or let them go to kitty hell.
Story tellers lull you to sleep with tales of little (Caucasian) girls confined to wheelchairs---who, because of the power of love--stood up on her own two legs (with a Journey song playing in the background, obviously) and went on to win the Olympics for long jump. On the other hand liars will tell you that they once had a friend who had MS and she died, not from her disease, but because she lied about what she had for breakfast and the Lord struck her down.
I have always been of the opinion that reality is sweeter with a little bit of sugar involved; you can replace the word sugar with ignorance or gullibility or whatever your pathetic fad diet accepts but honestly isn't life so much sweeter when you believed anything is possible? When you are sweet and naive and susceptible to everything and oblivious to the dangers which engulf everything from your tap water to your daily commute?
Yes, unicorns don't exist and the concept of something as magical as a horse with an added super power of a ummmm....horn, is beyond our frame of what can exist in reality. Because, seriously if we all believed in the possibility of adding a pointy, permanent weapond to our person, the world would fucking EXPLODE. Cause if it's a permanent attribute, you can't have a law against having it. That why penises are still legal right?
I guess my point is that I believe in honesty when it's important but when it's not why not substitute importance for utter entertainment and the art of lifting spirits? Why not tell your manic dinner mate that you saw a woman lift a disheveled car off of her crushed pittbull with one finger while blowing the biggest bubble gum bubble EVER...instead of saying...the truth...that you saw a sad woman with a pittbull almost get hit by a car but she didn't...and then you got a cup of coffee and they put sugar in it even though you told them you were diabetic. Bor-ing!
If you can give your pathetic friends a moment of hope or something which entertains or inspires them, then why not? I believe in photo shopping my stories in order to make them more entertaining, easier to swallow and in the end, easier to digest. I guess if I had kids I would puree their vegetables and put them into cupcakes, understand?
Which reminds me...today I saw a pink elephant getting evicted from his apartment and he was getting tasored by a bunch of exotic white tigers....but at the last moment the elephant put on a multi-colored tutu and started playing Claire de lune on his magic harmonica's and all the tigers put down their tasor guns and joined hands and....
Never mind. Fuck it. You don't give a shit.