"Officer, this man is not drunk."
"He isn't? Oh, goodness, sir, my apologies. I thought you were drunk..."
The police officer believed Mark because lying was unheard of -- ever. Mark had invented lying. (And yes, when they got back into the car, Mark drove.)
Can you imagine what a dull world it would be without lying? There would be no fiction, no art, everything would be what you see is what you get. In Mark's world, he was a screen writer, but there were no movies, only incredibly boring lectures of the truth.
We have all told fibs on occasion, sometimes to save our own skin, and sometimes to save other folks. I have always believed that lying is not necessarily a bad thing, especially if it is used to protect someone else's feelings. We cannot always admit to someone that their new dress makes them look fat, or that the watery, gristly beef stew they cooked is horrible.
"Yum, this is delicious."
What purpose does it serve to be brutally honest in instances like that? Do you think God would be mad at us if we have actually spared someone else pain? I don't think so. That is a whole different type of duplicity than the type used for our own gain -- monetary or otherwise.
In "The Invention of Lying", Mark invented lying as a tool for kindness, and it worked. He made people feel incredibly happy, just by telling them "little white fibs". I think all of us have done that at some point in our lives, and when it works, it actually makes us feel good too. We have eased someone else's life in just the smallest way. Truth can often be unnecessarily brutal.
On what occasion do you
(The winner of the almost-mascot from my previous post will be announced Saturday morning...)