Quote of the Day, Jr.

"Does Paul Ryan even know what a mountain looks like? Is Paul Ryan even a congressman? Paul Ryan is now the guy from your high school who said he ran a 4.5 40 but didn't want to go out for the team because he pulled his hammy. Paul Ryan is the guy from your work who told you he played D1 ball but seems suspiciously short and out of shape. Paul Ryan is the guy at the bar who keeps telling you he could "probably" beat Usain Bolt in a race, "if I was in better shape." Paul Ryan's ex-girlfriend looked like a cross between Lindsay Lohan and Katherine Heigel. Paul Ryan was at the very first Train show. Paul Ryan once took on three guys in a fight and won. Paul Ryan's dad has a go-kart track in his attic but he locks it when other kids come over because he doesn't want to get sued."

-- Gawker's Max Read on Paul Ryan's claim that he's made "close to 40 climbs" of Colorado's 14,000-foot peaks

Here's a fun little game: Take that now officially done-to-death "Chuck Norris Facts" meme and swap out Norris's name for Paul Ryan's.

For example:

"If you can see Paul Ryan, he can see you. If you can't see Paul Ryan you may be only seconds away from death."

"Once a cobra bit Paul Ryan's leg. After five days of excruciating pain, the cobra died."

"Paul Ryan can slam revolving doors."

"Superman owns a pair of Paul Ryan pajamas."

"Paul Ryan has to maintain a concealed weapon license in all 50 states in order to legally wear pants."

"Paul Ryan once visited the Virgin Islands. They are now The Islands."

"Death once had a near-Paul Ryan experience."

"Paul Ryan sleeps with a night light. Not because Paul Ryan is afraid of the dark, but the dark is afraid of Paul Ryan."

Quote of the Day, Jr.

"The good news is that the Romney-Ryan campaign has likely created dozens of new jobs among the legions of additional fact checkers that media outlets are rushing to hire to sift through the mountain of cow dung that flowed from Ryan’s mouth."

-- Sally Kohn, of all things a Fox News contributor, in a column which claims that Ryan may have set the world record for the number of blatant lies in one political speech

I'm not sure how many times or ways this can be said: There's a difference between political spin, which all campaigns engage in, and outright lies, which the Romney camp has been almost breathtakingly audacious about dispensing and repeating, even in the face of a mountain of contradictory evidence.

If this kind of staggering detachment from reality were being displayed by anyone not trying to win a political campaign, you'd call that person a sociopath.

To dig back to an old and appropriate Saturday Night Live reference, at this point the perfect Republican campaign slogan would be, "Romney-Ryan 2012: Yeah, That's the Ticket."

Quote of the Day (Early Edition)

"So there he is, the Republican vice presidential nominee and his beautiful family there. His mom is up there. This is exactly what this crowd of Republicans here, certainly Republicans all across the country were hoping for. He delivered a powerful speech, Erin, a powerful speech. Although I marked seven or eight points I'm sure the fact-checkers will have some opportunities to dispute if they want to go forward, I'm sure they will. As far as Mitt Romney's campaign is concerned, Paul Ryan on this night delivered."

-- CNN's Wolf Blitzer, following Paul Ryan's address at the RNC a few hours ago

Oh, just seven or eight potential factual errors. No big deal as long as he delivered a "powerful" speech, right?

Erin Burnett quickly responded, incidentally, by admitting that "there were some problems with the facts, but it motivated people."

I knew my sudden soft spot for CNN and the belief that it could be something truly special in television news wouldn't last very long. (Also see today's upcoming column in the Daily Banter.)

As for Ryan's speech, here are four separate articles that pick apart the lies upon lies upon utter bullshit upon shameless hypocrisy he dispensed while up there at the podium, proving once again that the entire Romney campaign is just daring somebody to stop it:

Salon: Paul Ryan's Brazen Lies/8.29.12

New York Magazine: Paul Ryan Bets on the Ignorance of America/8.29.12

Bloomberg: Paul Ryan's Hypocritical Attack on Barack Obama/8.29.12

TPM: Five Misleading Claims in Paul Ryan's Convention Speech/8.29.12

Ryan may as well have been saying in that picture above, "And on top of all that, my cock is this big!"

Where the Truth Lies

Steve Benen over at the Maddowblog has been doing God's work over the past few months by chronicling, item by item, Mitt Romney's various lies. We're not talking about fudging the facts or engaging in political spin -- we're talking about saying stuff that flat-out isn't true and can be proven so with a couple of mouse clicks. His record, I think, is two-dozen whoppers in the span of a single week.

Well, today he takes a look at how the Romney campaign is getting away with abandoning all pretense of caring about actual facts -- and what it means for our political process from here on out.

Here's the salient quote, in response to the Romney camp's assertion that it keeps going with the thoroughly debunked claim that Obama is removing the work requirement from welfare because it's been really effective for them and, besides, it's "new information":

"The claims are 'new,' of course, because the Romney campaign made them up. Sure, it's 'new information,' in the same way it would be 'new information' if Obama said Mitt Romney sold heroin to children -- when one invents a lie, its 'newness' is self-evident. Romney pollster Neil Newhouse added, '[W]e're not going to let our campaign be dictated by fact checkers.' ... It's important to realize there is no modern precedent for a presidential candidate rejecting the premise that facts matter. Mitt Romney is trying something no one has ever seen -- he's deemed the truth to be an inconvenient nuisance, which Romney will ignore, without shame, to advance his ambitions for vast power. If you don't find that frightening, you're not paying close enough attention... Romney is, in effect, issuing something of a dare -- he will ignore facts, thumb his nose at reality, and taunt truths with a childish question: What are you going to do about it?"

We're indeed in very dangerous territory when a man running for President of the United States and the people aiding him have zero compunction about lying outright if it means there's a political benefit to be reaped.

The same article quotes Greg Sargent, who makes a similar point to one I've made here many, many times:

"In this sense, the Romney campaign continues to pose a test to the news media and our political system. What happens when one campaign has decided there is literally no set of boundaries that it needs to follow when it comes to the veracity of its assertions? The Romney campaign is betting that the press simply won't be able to keep voters informed about the disputes that are central to the campaign, in the face of the sheer scope and volume of dishonesty it uncorks daily."

You may remember, I asked the same basic question but aimed it at news organizations like Fox News: What do you do when a supposedly respectable member of the news media refuses to play by the rules and simply airs whatever kind of thoroughly propagandistic nonsense it feels like? Fox has been doing that for years -- and maybe it was only natural that eventually the Republicans that the network speaks for in an official capacity got the hint and started doing the same.

The Lying Game (Complete)

The Full Text of Yesterday's Piece at the Daily Banter

I’m always amazed at just how stupid and gullible the rarefied within our culture think the rest of us are. I’m talking specifically about those we’ve inexplicably elevated to the rank of “celebrity” -- although the definition could easily be broadened to include a good portion of the so-called 1%.

I know there are more important and personally detrimental examples of somebody standing far more than an arm’s reach away from the masses and lying to their collective face, expecting nobody to notice, but believe it or not I haven’t seen one as egregious in quite a while as the case of, well, Madonna-gate. Yeah, I know it’s kind of trifling in the big picture, but bear with me.

Over the weekend, Madonna made a “surprise appearance” at the Ultra Music Festival in Miami. For the uninitiated, Ultra is America’s largest showcase of electronic dance music, a three-day party featuring some of the best DJs and electronic acts in the world. And always eager for any opportunity to wrap her Crypt Keeping hands firmly around the brass ring of cultural relevance, Madonna was there -- because nothing excites a crowd of late teens and 20-somethings like the sight of a perimenopausal woman in fishnets pandering to its tastes. To wit, during her introduction of Swedish DJ Aviici just before his close-out set on Saturday night, Madonna shouted to the audience, “How many people in this crowd have seen Molly?” Again for the unfamiliar, “Molly” is street slang for MDMA, or ecstasy. Translation: Madonna asked how many people were on drugs.

Granted the audience reaction was, shall we say, positive. But not everyone appreciated Madonna’s hackneyed attempt to appeal to the lowest common denominator among the dance music fan base through a staggeringly obvious applause line -- among them, one of electronic’s biggest stars. Not long after the appearance, Deadmau5 — AKA Canadian DJ Joel Zimmerman -- took to Facebook to write: “That’s your big contribution to EDM? Thats your big message to ultra attendies? hipsterspeak for looking for drugs? fuck off you fucking IDIOT.” He followed it up with, “very classy there madonna. ‘HUR DUR HAS ANYONE SEEN MOLLY???’ such a great message for the young music lovers at ultra. quite the f’n philanthropist. but hey, at least yer HIP AND TRENDY! fucking cant smack my head hard enough right now,” as well as a few choice tweets aimed in Madonna’s direction. Mau5′s main contention throughout his social media fusillade was that the electronic dance scene had seen enough casualties from drugs and, while there’s no denying that they remain a major part of the lifestyle for many, it was irresponsible for Madonna to indirectly promote the use of them -- particularly not in a somewhat pathetic attempt to endear herself to “the kids” at a time when she’s also promoting an album.

But here’s where things get interesting. Rather than simply taking her online beating like a very grown woman and ignoring Deadmau5′s insults, Madonna, attuned to any attempt to generate publicity for herself, responded via Twitter -- posting a quarter-century-old picture of herself in mouse ears with a thought bubble over her head that read, “From one mouse to another, I don’t support drug use and never have. I was referring to the song called ‘Have You Seen Molly’ written by my friend Cedric Gervais who I almost worked with on my album.”

See? She wasn’t asking people if they were doing ecstasy. She was referring to a friend’s as-yet-unreleased song.

Well, that settles that then.

Except that it doesn’t -- because of course Madonna is lying her ass off. What’s more, she’s doing it with the expectation either that everyone will believe her or that no one will bother questioning it because we’ve all become so to used to being lied to from on-high like we we’re fucking idiots anyway. To recap, Madonna, whose new album -- the one she was presumably going to be working with Cedric Gervais on -- is called MDNA, again an obvious reference to MDMA, but she wasn’t talking about drugs and doesn’t support drug use. Actually, on that last point she’s probably right -- I don’t think Madonna supports the use of ecstasy so much as has no problem exploiting the youth culture’s fascination with it in an attempt to sell records; doing ecstasy would probably kill a 53-year-old. Throw into the mix -- if you’ll pardon the DJ metaphor — the fact that Cedric Gervais is stepping up to defend his friend Madge by claiming that, indeed, his song Have You Seen Molly? isn’t about drugs but is about a girl named Molly who “makes me want to dance” and you’ve got an almost astonishing amount of bullshit coming from one general direction -- and a more-than-insulting expectation that no one will bother to call it out.

Earlier this week, Lindsay Lohan once again claimed she was an unfairly put-upon, angelic homebody and was merely escaping paparazzi when she hit a guy with her car -- even though surveillance cameras showed no paparazzi anywhere near where the collision happened. Years ago, Bill Clinton looked America in the face and said, “I did not have sexual relations with that woman.” Mitt Romney does it in TV ads. Jon Kyl famously did it when talking about Planned Parenthood. In the immortal words of TV’s Dr. House -- everybody lies.

And we simply take it. Because we’ve apparently been trained to. Because these people think we’re too stupid to notice or too lazy to care.

Although I suppose an argument can be made that we made someone like Madonna a star. We gave her the authority to bullshit us. Maybe when you’re capable of that, you get what you deserve.

Tuesday Is Recycling Day

I've been obsessing quite a bit lately over the notion of the truth. For me personally, the internal debate over what's real and honest and what's complete fabrication is ancient history; it's not something I need to concern myself with anymore, even though at one time it was an all-consuming, paranoia-inducing proposition in my life. But a few things have happened recently to cause me to revisit a question that I once pondered endlessly and feverishly: If the entire life you know is an elegantly spun, nearly impenetrable lie, is it better to simply take the blue pill and go about your business, or is it a moral and intellectual imperative that you know the truth -- even if that truth will devastate you? I'm not sure I know the answer at this point in my life, but at one time I furiously staked out a position of absolute certainty on the pages of this site. Over the next couple of weeks, you'll probably see a number of reposts of pieces that touched on this subject, as well as a few new ruminations.

I was once so sure. Now I'm learning that, as William Goldman famously said, "Nobody knows nothin'."

"Where the Truth Lies" (Originally Published, 11.11.07)

"There will be time, to prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet."

-- T.S. Eliot

"THE TRUTH CAN BE ADJUSTED"

-- Poster for Michael Clayton

In the pantheon of exceptional lies ever told, it probably doesn't even merit a seat. The Great Teacher's Note Cover-up is initially noteworthy insofar as it was the first time I attempted to put one over on anyone -- in this case, my mother and father -- in such a grand fashion. It obviously wouldn't be the last.

When I was a first-grader at Miami Lakes Elementary, my teacher Miss Feingold made a hobby out of issuing lengthy written diatribes decrying my lack of attention, lack of respect for authority and general lack of interest in anything she had to say. I remember she would give me a look which I now know to be the bitter snarl of the miserably undersexed, then tuck the official teacher-parent document into my backpack and send me on my way -- safe in the misguided knowledge that, perhaps because she was an adult and in a position of some power relative to my own standing, her silly little rant would reach its intended target unscathed. Believe it or not, her missives actually did find their way into my parents' hands most of the time. This had almost nothing to do with a desire to do right by Miss Feingold and everything to do with the fact that, as a child, I fully believed that my father could read minds, see through walls, be in seven or eight places at the same time -- invisibly -- and make me disappear from the face of the planet as if I'd never existed, should the mood strike him. I never wanted to run the risk of not giving his omniscience its due, and wind up paying dearly for it.

Well, almost never.

The timing of one specific note was such that even the threat of filicide wasn't enough to keep me from ensuring that my parents would never lay eyes on it. It was opening day of the big Miami Lakes carnival -- an annual event that I awaited with the same kind of desperation that a death row inmate waits for that last minute call from the governor -- that Miss Feingold apparently realized it had been some time since she'd pointed her resentment for a 20-something-year tradition of failure in my direction. She penned a nasty note detailing my supposed unwillingness to complete my assignments as instructed -- what she called "lazy" I called "unchallenged" -- and as usual sent me home, this time with what amounted to a ticking time bomb sure to destroy my hopes of going to the carnival once it reached the hands of my father. (In hindsight, I'm almost certain she picked that particular day deliberately.)

Needless to say, I had to take decisive, deceptive action to save my dream of ferris wheels and cotton candy -- so I torched the thing.

It's really a testament to my belief in the investigative abilities of my father, who at that time was a Miami-Dade cop, that I felt the need not only to hide the offending letter but to literally obliterate it. I figured wherever I hid the note, he would find it. Whether I dumped it in a 7-11 trash bin or buried it in the next door neighbor's backyard or mailed it to Alaska, one way or the other he'd sniff it out, track it down and pull it out of his ass one night at the dining room table, just to see the look on my face. It was with these superhuman powers in mind that, later that afternoon, I grabbed a book of matches from the aforementioned 7-11, then ran to an alley near my house, set Miss Feingold's words on fire and -- just to be absolutely sure -- buried the ashes in a field a few blocks away.

Later that night, I went to the carnival; I had a great time.

By the way, I fully expect a phone call from my father at any moment informing me that I'm grounded.

As I said, The Great Teacher's Note Cover-up was not by any means the most impressive lie I ever told nor was it the most creative instance of my burning and burying the facts; what was significant about it though was that it marked the first time I realized that lying, despite the admittedly considerable risk involved, had the potential to yield immeasurable benefits. Even more significant was that I suddenly understood that it was indeed possible to do it and not get caught and, most edifying or troubling depending on your point of view, that I could do it without so much as a word of protest from that underdeveloped thing supposedly known as my conscience.

So do it I did -- over and over for a period of my life that I can now say, in retrospect, lasted far too long for me to be able to consider myself a decent and worthwhile person when the totality of my existence is taken into account.

There were times that I simply bullshitted. There were times that I outright lied to people's faces. There were times that I rationalized what I knew to be insincere behavior: I told myself that the truth would hurt too much, so really why bother with it? (In the end, you're doing someone a favor by not telling the truth; it would only cause unnecessary trauma, right?) Providing the ultimate irony was the fact that I worked as a journalist; my job was to tell the truth, and yet in my personal life I told lie after lie after lie. Even when the lies occasionally unraveled, I told more -- at times forgetting what was real and what was nothing more than my own personal pageantry.

I lost track of who I was; I damn well became something I never wanted to be.

Here's the thing, though: In spite of the lies I told myself about why I was lying in the first place -- the things I said in the hopes of calming my conscience once it finally did begin putting up a fight -- I somehow always understood that the truth mattered, and that I had no excuse for what I was doing.

I'll say it again -- the truth matters.

It matters, despite what we've come to believe.

At the risk of sounding grandiose, we for some reason now accept that the truth is like anything else in our society: fleeting, malleable, up for debate, at the whim of democracy or subject to adjustment by whoever shouts the loudest. We're expected to believe that all supposed "truths" are equal and are therefore deserving of equal consideration. This is a lie in and of itself.

Not only do we seem to not mind being lied to, we've come to expect it. Bill Clinton can take you for an idiot by forcefully declaring his lack of sexual contact with a chunky White House intern; Dick Cheney can insult your intelligence by literally trying to make you believe that your eyes, ears and gut are, ironically, lying to you about what's going on in Iraq; Paris Hilton can claim, with a completely straight face, that she doesn't do drugs. The fact that they each have the ability to do it isn't a surprise; the fact that they think no one will care enough to call them on it -- their firm belief that they can get away with it -- is just fucking deplorable.

We're willing to seriously debate the concept of "intelligent design," despite there not being a shred of proof to back it up; we give it creedence simply because there are enough morons out there who believe it, as if reality is subject to the whims of whomever. The problem with this kind of debate is that if we consider all so-called facts to be equal, if pick and choose what we hold up to evidentiary standards, we render the truth worthless.

One more time -- the truth matters.

It matters, because it's a standard by which we measure a lie.

Chuck Klosterman's written a lot over the years about his fascination with questions of reality -- what's real and what isn't, and how can we tell the difference. He makes no apologies for his populist references, and I won't either in this case. In one of his better essays, Klosterman waxes philosophical on the movie The Matrix. One of the underlying questions posed by the movie -- one of the more subtle aspects of the film that's tough to spot in between crap being blown up and Keanu Reeves turning in yet another mannequin-like performance -- is whether it's preferable to live a comfortable lie or a harsh reality. His argument, and it's a damn good one, is that if nothing about your life is real -- if it's all a lie -- then that lie becomes the truth. Once again, there's no standard by which to measure the fakery, so it makes no difference either way.

But what if only one part of your life isn't real? Is it better then to be comfortable, despite not being aware of what's really happening? Is there genuine bliss to be found in ignorance? Better yet, is a lie that hasn't been discovered really a lie? The answers to these questions of course are no, no and yes. Bullshit is bullshit regardless of whether you personally can smell it.

The truth matters.

It matters because any decision made without all the facts can never be the right decision.

If my father had received that letter from Miss Feingold all those years ago, he likely wouldn't have allowed me to go to the Miami Lakes carnival -- or maybe he would have.

I'll never know, because I never gave him the chance.