Eskewpades

Pulling Your Own Leg   ’Tis brave of me to say it but, like Erma Bombeck, I often wondered what I was doing in the pits. Surely but surely, I didn’t deserve to suffer the slings and arrows of such outrageous fortunes. As I muddle through my exemplary life, I’m proud as punch that I’ve never drunk alcohol, smoked cigarettes or indulged in recreational drugs. Even more commendable––I’ve been celibate for decades. Scouts honor! My only vice? I tell lies.  At ease, at ease, it’s not what you think. But,  come now, don’t we all suffer occasional bouts of liarrhea? The truth lies within the lie of the beholder––or something like that. Take two of my heroes, Martha Stewart and Bill Clinton. Were they punished because of their initial infractions? No way, cliché. They fell from grace because they denied being naughty. I’m a different kind of liar––I lie only to myself. Mostly. Granted, as I grow older, my nose grows longer, but I’m actually a noble warrior, I tell ya. Among other fake virtues,