tell me lies. tell me sweet little lies.

For whatever reason, I’ve somehow never been lucky enoughlying-to-me to meet a really fine lady and get married, hence I have no kids.    I should like to think, though, that I should have been the type of father who would never have lied to my impressionable young charges.    By that I most certainly don’t mean that I should have never lied to them about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy.   Those are such especially nice lies.    I could never possibly be expected to countenance lying, in the sense of telling someone a lie lie, especially to a kid.   My sister has three kids.  I can’t remember ever having lied to either of my nephews or to my niece.    My nephews are both in their twenties now anyway so they’re outside any real danger zone.   If by now they still can’t figure out when they’re being hoodwinked that reflects very poorly on them.   My niece, though, is still a minor.  She will be seventeen years old next month.    It would be especially evil of me ever to dare to lie to her in any significant way.   Since I’m not a teacher, and don’t deal with a significant number of minors in any other context either, the risk of trouble like that doesn’t usually come up with me.   I can imagine it must be quite an intimidating experience for someone who has to deal with a wide variety of youngsters on a regular basis.    People are so hypersensitive these days.   Our leftist culture and government deliberately encourage people to deceive and to distort things for the sake of short term gain.    Of course there are certain topics of conversation that should, at all times, be utterly off limits to anyone except the kids’ parents anyway.   That’s why I’ve always been entirely against sex education in school.    Lying never works out to anyone’s advantage anyway.   In the long run it’s much smarter to give everyone, regardless of age, the satisfaction of a straight answer at all times.







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