I could lie before I could walk. (I made that last line up, by the way.)

When I was a kid I was taught honesty by way of a story called "George Washington and the Cherry Tree." It went like this:

Mom: You shouldn't lie about stealing cookies, Michael. I'm not mad because you stole the cookies. I'm mad because you lied about it.
Me: Oh.

Mom: Let me tell you a story about George Washington and the cherry tree. When George Washington was...
Me: Who's George Washington?

Mom: He was the first president of the United States. You didn't know that?
Me: I'm only 12.

Mom: Uh-huh. Anyway, when George Washington was a little boy he chopped down a cherry tree and...
Me: Why did he do that?

Mom: I don't know. Can you let me finish the story? Please. (Pause as she glares me into submission.) When George Washington was a little boy, he chopped down a cherry tree. His father found out and asked him, "George, who chopped down the cherry tree?"
Me: Was he standing next to the tree with a hatchet in his hand?

Mom: MICHAEL, SHUT UP AND LET ME FINISH THE STORY! (Bigger pause followed by a sigh.) George Washington said, "Father, I cannot tell a lie. I chopped down the cherry tree."
Me: He couldn't tell a lie or he wouldn't tell a lie?

Mom: THAT'S IT. GO TO YOUR ROOM!

I learned a very important lesson that day: Don't fuck with mom when she's on her period. That and George Washington was an idiot. He couldn't tell a lie? What a simp.

By the way, the story about George Washington my mom tried to tell me to point out the value of honesty? It's a lie.

The other story my mother told me was called "The Little Boy Who Cried Wolf." In this story, a little shepherd boy pulls a practical joke on a mountain village town by yelling, "Wolf! Wolf! Wolf!" just to get the World War II generation off their lazy asses and out into the fields. He pulled this trick twice, much to his delight and amusement. I didn't interrupt my mom during this story, cause I liked this boy. I wanted to be this boy.

After the second false alarm, the shepherd boy really did see a wolf approaching and cried out, "Wolf! Wolf! Wolf!" The town's people ignored his lying ass and the wolf ate the boy. Moral of the story: If George Washington had handed the shepherd boy his hatchet, they both would have gotten away with their lies.

The truth is, you can cry wolf many times and people will still believe it. I know for a fact that you can get away with a lie at least -- let me check the column number -- 98 times in a row before anyone catches on.

But lately a lot of my negative mail has revolved around my lack of veracity, especially as it pertains to women. And most of my negative mail has been from women, because women appreciate honesty more than men. Provided it's the honesty they want to hear.

"You're the prettiest woman I've ever seen." I don't get questioned about that lie very much.

Of course, if you lie about something important, it's a different story.

"I'm not mad because you fucked 13 women in a three-week span. I'm mad because you lied about it."

Right. It's both, believe me. I learned that back when I was stealing cookies.

Last week I got an e-mail that read, "So you feel there is no moral or ethical distinction between honesty and dishonesty. That's quite self-serving, innit? Especially for spineless jerks who refuse to take responsibility for their own actions."

Yeah. I fuckin' hate those guys. Stupid, stupid spineless jerks. And I loved your work in Spinal Tap.

But where did she get the information to form this opinion? One of my columns, right? So... how does she know I wasn't lying when I wrote it? Truth is, you can't really do comedy of any kind without lying, unless you're Michael Pritchard or Argus Hamilton. Who are they? I rest my case.

"I'm not mad because you killed Ron and Nicole, O.J., I'm mad because you lied about it convincingly enough to get acquitted."

Most people lie every damn day because we don't want to hurt people's feelings. It's called tact, and to employ tact you either have to lie or keep your fuckin' mouth shut. That's why I try not to leave the house or answer the phone.

"Do I look fat in this outfit?"
"Yeah. But you're pregnant, right?"

Of course, sometimes we lie because we don't want to hurt people's feelings or get our ass kicked. Late in my last marriage, I once (only once, I swear) came home drunk and freshly laid. The wife was watching Saturday Night Live and Jon Lovitz was performing The Liar Guy. Life soon imitated art:

Wife: Where were you?

Me: At the bar.

Liar Guy: Ahhh, surfing in Afri-- noooo... Madagascar.

Wife: Did you go anywhere else?

Me: No, just the bar.
Liar Guy: And I caught a wave so big it carried me to Scandin-- no, Hawaii. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Wife: Were you with someone else?
Me: Fuck no. You want to smell my dick? You already smelled my breath for booze.
Liar Guy: And there I made love to super model Kathy, ahhhh, Elizabeth Taylor. Yeah, that's what happened.

Look. Men don't really want to lie. Women force us into it by asking us questions.

"What do you want to do tonight?"
"Am I getting bags around my eyes?"
"Were you looking at that girl's breasts?"
"Do you know where you're going?"
"Are you sure you can lift that sofa?"

If men asked women that many questions, we'd be fed a pack of lies too. But men only ask women one question, so women are able to tell the same lie over and over. Where's the art in that?

Of course, the one question men ask women is... ahhhhh, never mind. You know the question.

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STANDARD DISCLAIMER: This column aims to be funny. If you can read anything else into it, you're on your own. Copyright 2000 by Mike Jasper.