There is no truth to be found in these words. Every post and every picture is a baldfaced lie. The depth and breadth of the lies is both complete and shameless: there is everything from smudgy white lies, to great big whopper lies to lies that will burn the eyes of your soul just to glance at them. Facts are shunned, dates are changed willy-nilly, persons are invented from whole cloth and and the truth is turned out and tricking under the overpass

Who am I? I am a large-breasted media girl looking forward to blaming it on the chardonnay. I am a call center in Bangalore. I am a smooth jazz impresario named Abdul. I am an associate marketing director who really appreciates a perfectly trimmed goatee. I am a jaundiced shut-in whose stacks and stacks of the Sacramento Bee (June 1, 1968 – current) are slowly closing in. I am the only one in the whole world who gets me and am pinning a Subhumans patch to my duster. I am Officer Mike and I have decided on a name for my new catamaran (Sea-nanigans II). I am a Model Railroader subscriber who hopes his lawn is as green and lush as last year. I am the god of hell-fire. I am experiencing painful chafing. I am here for the free buffet.

I am probably lying right now.

June 8th, 2008