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“You can’t handle the truth!”

Honesty has clambered its way through a barbed, unkempt wilderness and into the forefront of my mind.

I should make it clear- I am not possessed with a compulsion to be honest. It is merely the concept of honesty that is pinging about in the ol’ brain case. To suffer a bout of veracity would be fatal to my career, most of my cabin crew earnestly believe I’m a real pilot (can you imagine? With this eye patch?!) and I’m sure they would make some minor protestation should they realize that I am, in fact, a small wooden figurine of a moth sneezing.

I joke.

I jape.

I pull your leg.

To sharpen the blunt point-

I lie

But these falsehoods reveal a serious point-

How much do we rely on lies?

The word ‘lie’ is used almost exclusively in an accusatory manner. A mainstay in the nomenclature of the pious, with their arsenals of stones stowed far away from anything that could be described as a glasshouse. ‘To lie’ is to deceive, and to deceive is to be amoral and malicious. To deliver an inaccuracy  in such a way that it is considered objectively positive is called being ‘tactful,’ a quality regarded glowingly. Surprising, when you consider that the latter is the clone of the former, at least in composition. All the same motives, ingredients and skills are active and both fall under this absolute definition-

‘A lie is that which is believed to be false but is portrayed as true’

So, imagine both the statements below are untrue-

“I am not cheating on you”

“Your horn compliments your speech impediment in such a way, that neither are noticeable. Like when you use white wine to remove a red wine stain. Those people must be looking at some other monstrous frog beast.”

Intuitively we feel that the former is black and the latter ‘white.’ Why exactly? How do they differ?

They both aim to preserve peace. To renew tranquility. The lie protects both parties. The intention is to euthanize misgivings. Whether out of kindness or cowardice is up for debate, but neither motive is ontologically clear from the statements themselves, and we come no closer to meaningfully distinguishing the two.

But still- the disingenuous sycophant is accepted and the adulterer ostracized (unless i’m wrong about that?). So we must accept that duplicity is a morally grey area, it’s usage can render one both selfish and altruistic in the same motion. Akin to hitting a nail with a hammer twice, the first time the nail is embedded into the wood, with the second it is retracted.

Apparently, we think it appropriate to lie as a kind of social lubricant that can be seen as ‘white’ or altruistic. (More about that and supporting studies here)

By Mark Parisi
By Mark Parisi


When do we think lying is ok?

  • Job interviews are riddled with half lies. It’s an ensconced exchange. You’re expected to lie, the test is how competently. I.e.

Q. “What’s your greatest weakness?”

A “I have a tendency to work too hard”


Q”Are you competent enough to have prepared a reasonable answer to this standard question?”

A”Yes, I used google and found 1000 blogs suggesting ideal answers, one of which i used”

  • We are expected to lie out of politeness. Politeness is an ingenious construct that provides us with a collective camouflage for truth. The more unimaginatively we perform these hard-wired protocols the thicker the veil.

Q. “Are you all right?”

A “Yes, fine thanks”.


Q “We know each other so it is customary for me to acknowledge you with a perfunctory pleasantry”

A “Although I have innumerable concerns, there is no compelling reason to reveal them. In fact, i don’t have any data that, after analysis, suggests it is possible to safely reveal anything to you that could make me potentially vulnerable.”

Ok, maybe that’s a bit too clinical but you get my point.

  • Another pervading lie is the ‘public image lie’. I’m willing to accept that we all vary in the concentration of bollocks in our self projection, but I firmly believe that we all have this concept of the ultimate ‘Me.’ The ideal you might be a wit, or a thug, a hard worker, a laugh, a comic, a spiritualist, well-traveled, strong, sexy, independent, wise, tortured, confident, intelligent, caring and so on. We are guilty of trying to convince ourselves and to convince those around us of these attributes.

A common example of this is when we try to make ourselves seem impervious, which gives way to that most reactive and throwaway statement:

“I don’t care”.


“I care”.

Am I making my point here? I don’t mean to suggest that every utterance is shrouded in smoke and mirrors. Only that we are constantly juggling a lot of abstract ideas and expectations that make us stretched and fallible.

If in doubt, make a list (section 2.1.314 of the bloggers manifesto). Here are some other lies I would label as-


“I can’t remember”

“I love …”

“I’m sick”

“I will never hurt you”

“I promise…”

“It wasn’t me”

Just some examples of the perfect balance between fight and flight. We do not flee, nor do we fight, we compromise, we give the most acceptable answer, we dress up the truth and push out the hastily doctored version- scantily clad, as inscrutable as it is unsatisfactory, ready for consumption.

But the disguise is obvious, tellingly so. Picasso put it better (I don’t mind telling you)-

“We all know that Art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize truth at least the truth that is given us to understand. The artist must know the manner whereby to convince others of the truthfulness of his lies.”

Succession Picasso / ProLitteris, Zürich. Pablo Picasso. Le sauvetage, 1932. The Rescue

Naturally, some fabrications are entirely self-serving. “I didn’t steal your money” is a pretty one way street. The problem with the moral decision process that we imagine preludes the creation of all fib-kind is that the arbiter is the most bias, self-serving possible: the benefactor. So those who have pretty lax moral screenings are quite capable of contriving some truly colossal tales (that little fellow with the wolf to name but one). Anyway, I’m sure that many have felt their own nonsense justified and other people’s reproachable. But the commonplace, reactive approximations we churn out endlessly are not so easily explained.

Why say “I’m fine” when you are not? Why pretend you know what you don’t? Why subscribe to this communal inhibition? Why pretend, act and appear?

For the answer to this I refer to Picasso’s far more succinct summation above.

We know it is not truth.

The words we have are simply not adequate to portray the complex, unknown nature of the thing. Lies are comfortable and, a really heart-wrenching one, can tell us more about reality by the shadow it casts across the gaps between thoughts than the bravest attempt at earnest eloquence. The absence of light is at least proof that something is missing.

So have respect for a fiction that’s crafted especially for you, keep and scrutinize it like you would a love poem or portrait. Study the movement of the shadows and guess, like a product of Plato’s cave, at its meaning.

DISCLAIMER: I’m not a pilot.

“Yeah, well, you know, that’s just, like, your opinion, man.”

We open today’s diatribe with a quote from ‘The Big Lebowski.’ I think Jeff Bridges is cool. Here’s my evidence- The Dude Perhaps you feel differently? After all- for every opinion there seems to be a counter out there. We may think we are in safe territory with an apparently self-evident statement such as “murder is wrong” but there are all kinds of ways of scratching away the validity of a statement. What defines murder? ‘Is’ implies the absolute, and is murder always wrong? What is wrong?

Semantics aren’t a particularly jolly subject and you may find my comments to be hackneyed and self-congratulatory. Bear with me, I may weave a joke or something in. Well done me.

It’s ‘Pride’ season in the UK.  No, I don’t mean the country is awash with large groups of lions- you silly billies, I mean Gay pride. I came across this story online-



Now, I should say here that I feel proud to say that I don’t think being gay is wrong. Although, Bernie Ecclestone and Vladimir Putin would have us think differently-


A classic case of a differing of opinion. Here are some more opinions of mine-

-Bernie Ecclestone is a dick

-Vladimir Putin is an ambitious axe man


Now for an opinion we can all relate to-


“I think it’s wrong” We all say / think this about something. We hear people say it all the time. We either agree, disagree, are indifferent, ambivalent or confused. But what does the statement actually mean? I propose that it means very little, if anything. Here’s my reasoning-



Here ‘I’ refers to oneself. Surely there is no subject that we are baffled by more and no individual we can trust less. We change almost unrecognisably from year to year, we constantly surprise ourselves by doing and saying bizarre things (I once smoked a grasshopper, for example), we disappoint, abuse, delude and confound ourselves daily. My mother once knew a man who believed himself to be Rudolf the red nosed reindeer- an opinion held as firmly as any other, I’m sure.


To think is to… well what is it? I’m not sure. I’m thinking about it and the thought process I am having can’t even conclude what it itself is. Is it my brain? Presumably? So how does consciousness spring from grey matter? All questions… no definitive answers.

I like what Emily Dickinson thought though-

“The brain is wider than the sky.” Emily Dickinson


Depends on the subject I guess. If we take ‘being gay’ as an example- it’s certainly not black and white, it’s a wide spectrum (OPINION ALERT). I’ve kissed boys, does that make me gay? Was Elton John gay when he was married? Are dogs gay when they shag their male owners leg? Who can say?


The fact that opinions differ at all tells us that this concept is as difficult to pin down as a very slippery thing (my use of metaphor amazes even myself). If murder is wrong why do our taxes pay for war? And so on.


All of a sudden the simple statement “I think it’s wrong’ is rendered ridiculous. It seems insanely arrogant that we act so confidently upon the most flimsy of perceptions.

There is only one thing that I am totally certain of- nobody, especially me, knows what the fuck they are talking about. We are all entitled to our opinions but it is conceited in the extreme to suggest we are correct. And I’m probably ‘wrong’ about that too, and everything else.

So, that’s it.

DISCLAIMER: Lions aren’t Gay… often.

“No, I don’t think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly”

I’m strolling and I get a whiff of something. Not unusual in of itself, I consider, for I live in a shit hole. But no, this is not the mingled stench of bluster, tears and tarmac but a more questioning, allusive vapour. It pulls my gaze. I look about with forced nonchalance, hoping to catch its source…

 “When I saw her standing there”

I’ll drop the dense, 1st person style employed above, I think we’re all a bit bored already.

Flirting is what I’m thinking of here. Everyone does it.  But it doesn’t always seem to do the trick… I thought I was flirting today as I was walking home from work. Here is what happened, let me know if you can relate:


I see girl.

Girl see me.

I like girl.

I smile at girl.

Girl attracted to me?

Girl gone.

(it may be necessary when envisioning the scenario above to replace both gender and gender roles dependent on personal preference)

There are 3 ways of looking at this aren’t there?

  1. I’m another pervy guy staring lustily at women.
  2. It’s a mutual attraction.
  3. She’s indifferent.

Occasionally, when option 2 occurs, a conversation will spark up and, consequently, all kinds of idyllic things will happen- a collage made up of daisy chains, staycations, white dresses, crying babies, box sets and secretions. Or so I’ve read.

It seems to all start with a flirt though (I really should have said something to that girl).

The Plan

Now, call me an old romantic but-

To maximise my chances of finding a suitable partner with whom to secure the continuation of our race- I have categorized different forms of flirting, based on context, and anyone may choose which method suits them best.

I know- who said that romance is dead, eh?

Basically, here are the different types of flirting as I see them (let me know if I am missing any).

Street Flirting

Definition: My sad experience from earlier today, and any other day for that matter.

Pros: Easy and free.

Cons: Hard to follow up on.

Cyber Flirting

Definition: Dating sites and social networks.

Pros: Inhibition, choice.

Cons: Fake profiles and credit cards.

Institutional Flirting

Definition: The kind you do over a hot photocopier i.e. workplace.

Pros:  Prolonged exposure. Occasional bonus forbidden fruit stirrings.

Cons: Disciplinary hearings.

Indirect Flirting

            Definition: You meet someone through friends of friends.

            Pros: Less leg work.

            Cons: They already know your secrets.

Inappropriate Flirting

            Definition: Your best friends husband et al.

            Pros: Forbidden fruit stirrings.

            Cons: Sticky ending. Lol.

Organised Flirting

            Definition: Clubs, pubs, discothèques (what are they?) and the like.

            Pros: Everyone is there for the same reason.

            Cons: Everyone knows why you’re there.


I like the categories but I am sure I have missed a few. Could you let me know if any occur? Do you agree with my pros and cons? Do you care?

All will be answered in next week’s installment of-


DISCLAIMER: No questions will be answered at any point.

“You talkin to me?”

“I’m going to show my vulnerability to you Mirror…”


“You know, it’s not entirely appropriate to do so, me being a queen n’all, but I must admit I feel a little insecure and I am craving reassurance…”

“I’m sorry to hear that, I’ll certainly do my best to please you.”

“Don’t dice your words Mirror, despite my insecurities I am very much opposed to word dicing in all its manifestations; needy? Perhaps… but advocator of word dicery? Not even for a second.”

“Understood ma’am.”

“Ok here it goes- am I the fairest in the land?”


‘Ugly fuckin’ beauty’ is an installation in a gallery in Dublin featuring top Irish models this December. I can’t claim to be an expert on art (although I secretly suspect I probably am or will be) but I expect the general point will be to, in some way, subvert publicly held perspectives of female beauty and inject some 3d emotion into an often 2d profession.

Anyway, the title is catchy and it sparked me a’thinkin about mirrors. (By the way- here is a link to the website http://www.mox.ie/ I enjoyed looking through it).

The focus in the story I allude to above is on the wrong character. Snow White is exceptionally boring, her absolute ‘fairness’ is sleepy in the extreme. But the queen?! What a dinner guest! Utterly riddled with all the neurosis that we (by which I mean I) lug around our necks all day like a weighty bag of offal fed slugs slurring insults up at your slack-jawed face. But she asks the wrong question and hilarity ensues. Well something ensues anyway, I forget what… it may have been anti-Semitism.

Walt Disney
Walt Disney

Here’s what she should have asked:

“Will I do?”

“Well, yeh you’ll do queen, it’s fine, don’t murder anyone”


Ah, a title we all covet. And I’m not about to suggest some trite notion that it’s what’s on the inside that counts- for all I know the meaning of life might lie in ridding yourself of that humpback. What I am saying is those of us who are fixated on ‘appearing’ in a certain way are chasing their metaphysical tails.

Unlike fairy tales, there are no absolutes in reality.


Instead of asking the mirror- “Do I look good?” what about…

“Do I look bad?”

I’m going to try it. Maybe then I can finally get over my addiction to vanity and take off this cat suit. The codpiece chafes but my God I look amazing.


DISCLAIMER: Mirrors can’t talk.


“We’ve run out of wine, what are you going to do about it?”

We’ve all been there haven’t we? The mind wanders. You become vaguely aware of a fluttering somewhere in your chest. You’re dissatisfied. Is that a clenching of the jaw? A knee bobbing of its own accord? This feeling demands attention… but what is it?

A craving.

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I am just another hopeless member of that sorry underclass: ‘The ADDICT.’ Each a slave to their chosen poison. Could be booze or crack or chocolate or coffee or porn or hugs from mother. But, like the vampire or monotheistic deity, we have the ability to change form to suit our audience. We range from the loveable to wretched. From the harmless human to the shit smeared pig rat, it doesn’t matter- your card is stamped mate.

Here’s a theory for ya:

We’re all on the spectrum baby. Like one big decadent melting pot (apologies to the abstaining chocoholics out there for the fondue imagery). Smile and talk big all you like but the reality is that you are more closely related to the hopeless junky than you let on- even if you’ve lucked out on a less noticeable lover (apologies to all the serial adulterers out there for oblique sex reference).

Still not convinced?

A recent pole threw together the top 10 modern addictions. Seems times are changing but our propensity towards vice is holding true. Surely you are guilty of being a bit too fond of one of the below?

The top 10 modern addictions in the survey are:

1. Coffee

2. Chocolate

3. Facebook

4. Beauty products

5. Checking bank statements

6. Junk food

7. Celebrity gossip and reality TV

8. Exercise

9. Retail therapy

10. The BlackBerry/ iPhone



I think the ‘Blackberry’ in at number 10 might bring some doubt to my claim that this survey was recent (ok fine- it was 2009) but the point still stands. I dare you to tell me with a straight faced emoticom that your lives aren’t guided by anything mentioned so far (o I forgot drugs, sex/ masturbation, lying, work, cleaning and TV).

SO WHAT’S THE RUB? (Apologies to any masturbation addicts)

A little self-indulgence makes the world go round. Let’s be easy on ourselves and each other. In other words: eat the fucking cake.

And if you really do think you’re that squeaky clean I have only one thing to say to you.


DISCLAIMER: Don’t smoke crack.