Anne T. Garcia lies in column about how she never lies

Anne T. Garcia is a friend of our blog. And by "friend," I mean "so batshit stupid that it's like, really easy to make fun of her dumb columns." Today, Anne rallies against lying, and somehow makes herself look dumber than usual.

I've decided to make a concerted effort to give up saying things that are not true, no matter how painful it may be.

I will keep a running count of things Anne Garcia says that are not true. (One)

Being honest is an American tradition going all the way back to the story (never substantiated) of George Washington and the cherry tree.

The cherry tree story was invented by an early Washington biographer. Isn't it kind of stupid to harp on America's truthfulness by citing a complete fucking myth? (Two)

Not that I'm known for telling whoppers. Most people consider me to be pretty much of a straight arrow.

Read my previous entry on Anne Garcia. Count the whoppers. (Three)

But let's be frank, there are times when those little lies drip down from our lips.

Groundbreaking.

"Are you free for lunch?" "Do you like my haircut?" and "Did you remember that today's my birthday?" are questions that might cause an untruth to slip out. Almost without thinking we are inclined to give the socially acceptable answer.

Yes, because saying "fuck you, I don't want to be seen with you in public" or "your hair looks like pubes" or "no, I didn't remember your stupid birthday" is the way to go. Surely, you don't think this is true.

And then there's this question: "How old are you?" In times past, I'd lied about my age so often I actually had to stop and calculate when I wanted to remember my true age.

If I had to guess, I would say that Anne Garcia is somewhere between 130 and 198 years old.

What's the big deal about telling those little white lies?

What? Just what? Could it be something to do with God being pissed at us and the impending doom of mankind?

We are living in a world filled with nukes, terrorism, drug-resistant bacteria, war, famine and earthquakes. In short, we are living at the end of the age.

Movie ad: "In a world full of earthquakes, a newspaper columnist searches for the truth." Other than the nukes, haven't these things been around since like, before man invented the wheel?

The great Apostle Paul encouraged us to escape the wrath to come, the upcoming seven years of tribulation. The Lord will receive us in the air, to spend those seven years safely in heaven with Him.

The great Apostle Paul would probably be creeped out by you, Anne. Fuck, I lost count. Let's call that...(eight).

"For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air" (1 Thessalonians 4:16,17).

Here's how Anne finds these insightful quotes: She gets on her computer (a Packard Bell desktop with a Pentium Processor), sticks her Bible CD-Rom into her 4x speed, read-only drive, waits twelve minutes for it to load up, and types in the search bar whatever is offending her at the moment.

But here's the kicker. The Church that's caught away must be pure. Paul calls it "without spot or wrinkle" (Ephesians 5:27).

Without spot...or wrinkle!?!? I can do it without spot. But damnit...there's gotta be some wrinkle, Anne. Actually, this sounds more like what you would hear on a stain remover commercial.

I've known how to give up lying for quite a while.

(nine)

I heard a great evangelist teach on it several years ago. As soon as you realize you're telling a lie you stop yourself in mid sentence and make the correction. Embarrassing? Yes it is, but necessary to achieve the goal.

"Yeah, Betty. Your haircut looks like my ass...and by that, I mean, really good, because I love my ass."

For example, "Of course I remembered that today's your birthday-let me correct myself, honey. Actually, I forgot it was your birthday, but now that I've remembered, happy birthday."

Shut it! I already gave an example. This one should be "now that you've reminded me, happy birthday. Oh, you're calling me a bitch for forgetting?"

That's what I should have said to my daughter when she called me on her birthday in February. But I didn't-I lied, I said I remembered.

Whoa! Anne Garcia forgot her daughter's birthday. Granted, when you're 183 years old, and your daughter is in her 150s, it can be difficult to keep track of.

Once, when I was in a car accident, the officer asked if I was wearing my seat belt.

Did he really? (ten)

"Yes," I said, without batting an eye.

I wasn't. I should have declined to answer.

Ironically, said accident occurred before cars had seat belts. Thus...(eleven)

Taking honesty to the next level is walking in integrity.

Anne, when I read your columns, I shoot a big load of integrity all over my computer screen. The more I read, the more that shoots out. I'm nipple-deep in it right now. (twelve, because, what the fuck does it mean to "walk in integrity?")

Integrity has been defined as doing what's right when no one is watching.

But you can make yourself look like an old-fashioned, intolerant windbag when your writing is published in a newspaper. (thirteen)

Part of that virtue includes keeping our word. When I was raising my children, I tried to instill that principle in them. If they accepted an invitation and something better came along, they were bound by their word.

Unless "something better coming along" had to do with licking the pages of the Bible.

To help me along in my quest for honesty I have a reminder on my refrigerator: ". . . all liars shall have their part in the lake which burns with fire and brimstone, which is the second death" (Revelation 21:8).

That's the kind of refrigerator decor you want to read when you're thirsty for a Mello Yellow. By the way, Anne, you have lied at least thirteen times in this column. You have some work to do.

It gets awfully hot in Monroe County in the summertime, but not nearly as hot as the lake of fire.

The eleventh commandment, which is not as well-known as the first ten, reads "Thou shall not be tactful."

Honestly, how old am I? None of your business.

You are a 204 year-old bundle of happiness. And here's a quote from the last column of yours that I lampooned:

Then we were told that what people do in their own bedrooms is none of our business.

Anne Garcia's age="None uh yo' bizness!"
What people do in their own bedrooms = public fucking domain

Now, that's a whopper.