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Jon, Joe, Bill, Bob And Jayson |
| It's a sin to tell a lie, but somewhere between the birth of television and "I’ll call you," we’ve become acquainted with a new kind of sinner—the lovable liar.
There was Jon Lovitz sneering "Yeah, that’s the ticket" on Saturday Night Live. And remember Joe Izusu, the fictional car salesman? For jaded drivers, Joe Izusu's "trust me" was just the ticket to an inside joke we all could share. Sometimes the lie is more offensive than the offense it’s covering up. Remember "I did not have sexual relations with that woman"? The President shook his finger for emphasis as he struggled to remember her name and without being asked volunteered that he "never asked anyone to lie, not even once." Twice maybe, three times perhaps, but never once. Then it got down to what sex is, and finally what is is. Which raises the question: why bother to parse a lie? Lying is an equal opportunity affliction. Richard Nixon said "I’m not a crook," but the flop sweat covering his face told us otherwise. There are no good liars, but some are worse than others. No crocodile tears rimmed the eyes of Baath Party comedian Baghdad Bob, held over for three hilarious weeks of his inimitable brand of "can you believe he just said that?" optimism. Bob's routine was so over the top that TV producers started showing him on split screen denying exactly what the rest of the world was watching. Bob could tell so many lies with a straight face in a five-minute period that our communal disgust with him morphed into amusement. The audience connected with Bob because we knew deep down he didn’t believe it either. Had Bob been able to hightail it to L.A. before all those pig-iron Saddams came tumbling down, he would have his own un-reality show on Fox and a 30 share. Instead, he's just a joker in a deck of cards. Which brings us to Jayson Blair, the liar du jour. In recent interviews, Jayson is letting on how miserable he was filing datelined stories while holed up in his lair on Brooklyn's Clinton Hill. But now that the jig is up, he's figured out that the truth will make you free. (If he's telling the truth now, that is.) He can’t believe anymore than we can that he got away with describing non-existent tobacco fields in West Virginia. And, he asks, why should he be the one cast as the dimwit affirmative action hire when the New York Times editors who hired him can’t distinguish West Virginia from Kentucky from North Carolina, in that expanse beyond West 57th Street we call America. Jayson may be the proverbial taco short of a combo plate, but at least seems to understand that if you’re going to be a liar, don’t try to be pious about it — leave 'em laughing. Rich Acello is a syndicated columnist; you can reach him at richace@cox.net
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