The fine art of lying

What is the world’s ultimate pastime? One...two...three...time’s up! You’d be lying if you didn’t guess that it’s lying! I’m not talking about "lying down" on the bed doing nothing (although this may qualify as one of the top five pastimes in Third World countries), but the verbal and bizarre act of lying.

I say this with confidence: Everyone has lied at least once in his life! It’s a human quality we don’t want to acknowledge but it does exist no matter how much we deny it. Like excreting waste, passing gas, burping or picking our nose — lying is something we do to relieve some discomfort. It’s not right but we do it anyway. The wrong things we do in life make us human, but they don’t get us off the hook.

First, I should define lying. There are things I wish would lie, like the camera (die, double chin, die), the weighing scale, the boss (my editor), the bank account balance and most importantly (in my case), the bra size. Of course the truthfulness of these elements gives me an indication of where I stand in the world. It keeps me real.

A lie is defined as something that misleads and deceives. If the truth can be awful, imagine how scandale a lie can be. A lie can temporarily assuage a potential pain or implosion.

A white lie is usually said to protect someone, which more often than not, doesn’t work because:

1.
The truth revealed is always better than any attempt to conceal it.

2.
The lying person is usually found out in the end.

3.
Lying is like scratching a rash one shouldn’t be scratching in the first place.

There’s a certain irony in the concept of a white lie. It’s using deceit to protect. Its paradoxical nature is romantic. But at the end of the day, a lie is still a lie, no matter how noble the intention.

Then there are the poseur liars. They lie about lineage, monetary value, the clothes they wear, their talent, and sometimes, ever so curiously, they lie about sleeping with non-existent partners. They are pathological liars. They embellish their lives with imaginary sequins of fabness. These insecure, sad and desperate liars are really good people with a myriad of chips on their shoulder. In their attempt to secure approval from their chosen cluster of friends or colleagues, they put people down. Or they do a Lara Croft and assassinate their foes’ characters. This behavior is slightly based on the practice of white lying. Except in this case, the person they are protecting are themselves. It’s tragic, and if taken to a dangerous level, diabolical.

True blue liars are something else. They’re out to jimmy your pockets, your zipper, your trust and often times, they break your heart. They do it with intent to hurt or for vested interests. They have total disregard for the consequences the lie would wreak on unwitting people. These lies are driven by greed. There is not much more to say about these evil antagonistic liars except that hell was created for them.

As they say, everyone is a used car salesman unless proven otherwise. They can say a lot of things but it’s really up to you if you’re going to take it as the truth or call it for what it is — crap. Figuring out a liar is like checking whether a used car salesman is giving you a good deal or selling you a lemon.

The used car salesman speaks in a sweet-n-low voice. He mesmerizes you with speeches on how this car purrs, dismissing the fact that its owner decided to sell after only six weeks. It’s easy to spot a liar; it’s also easy to jump to conclusion. A thin line separates being prudent and being paranoid.

How To Spot A Liar:


Broken speech patterns. Lots of uhs and ums. Stuttering is a dead giveaway but then again the person may just have a speech impediment.

Avoiding eye contact. The eyes really are the windows of the soul. An untruthful person shifts his irises in fidgeting intervals. This is especially obvious when he gets to the heart of a lie. It’s almost like he’s shifting to the beat of the stutter.

Uncomfortable body movements. Fists clenched, legs twisted, limbs contorted. A liar stands away from you or too close to you. There’s just something unnatural about the body movements that discredit whatever the liar is saying.

Conflicting stories: A liar tells you one thing one day, and another thing the next. This can be innocent if the story told is under an innocuous context, but if it’s sort of life-threatening, be very afraid.

A good liar can mask all four giveaways with a syrupy voice, a poker face, a tender touch and a solid alibi. He can fool the most sensible and sagacious of characters. With a little charm, he can break your heart, violate your trust and liposuction your bank account.

The best liars are: parents, politicians, lovers/spouses, celebrities and spokespersons — people we are programmed to trust subconsciously. The worst liars are: stupid people, best friends, agents for modeling agencies (too fat, they say without a whiff of concern) and lovers/spouses — people blatant in their self-indulgence.

So what’s the point of this article? That lying is a sad part of living in society. It may have a purpose but no matter how magnanimous its design, it can never be justified. And so I end this article feeling human as the next person reading this. A person who tries to avert such an awful exercise but nonetheless finds herself doing it anyway. Am I a better person for admitting this? Perhaps. But at least I’m not lying — for now, at least.

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