Has anyone asked you a question you don’t know how to respond to, so you fabricate your version of a reasonable answer? It happens to me all the time. The most common question people ask me is in the “Do you know So-and-So?” class. Like the following:

“Joe said you were from California. Do you know Lindsay Lohan?”

In my mind, I’m thinking, “Sure, you dumb SOB. I see her every day when I stop by the UCLA Rehab Facility’s private loo for a quick pit stop.”

Instead, I reply, “No. I’ve never met her,” deciding not to point out that the present population of California is around 55 million people and my chances of running into her are roughly equivalent to my chances of scoring with Marilyn Monroe, who just happens to be dead.

My earliest experience in fabricating a truth to suit myself happened when I was in the first grade. On the second or third day of class, the teacher required each student to stand in front of class and report on their summertime activities.

I made the mistake of lying instead of telling the truth. I should have said “I just stayed at home” and sat down. But I embellished because I would have been the only male student in class who failed to Boy Up. So, I became creative.

“We went to a Hollywood rodeo and watched John Wayne and the Three Stooges ride horses and rope cows and shoot guns and stuff.”

Kids are not stupid. They are very incisive. My classmates spotted my lie almost before I finished. They responded with a cacophony of hoots, whistles, and laughs, not to mention derisive comments like:

“You did not.”

“Ha, ha, ha. What a joke.”

“Stop kidding around. You’re too dumb to meet John Wayne.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

“Your nose is longer than your *&$#@.

And a few more I can’t repeat here. Even the teacher said something like, “Do you need to visit the Boy’s Restroom, Bobby?” It seems that in the process of concentrating on my story, I hadn’t noticed the odor of escaped gas. The pressure of lying will do those things to kids.

Obviously, the humiliation heaped on me as a result of my lie didn’t affect my lies in the future. If anything they became more preposterous. The only difference between then and later was my motivation. In those days, I was innocent and told innocent lies. Today, I unwind whoppers with great flourish and drama on purpose. I figure anyone dumb enough to believe me doesn’t deserve the truth.

This is what I mean.

An overly inquisitive friend once asked me, “How much money did you make last year?”

Without thinking, I quickly answered, “Ten million. That doesn’t include social security. Or unemployment compensation for the six months I was out of a job. Plus a couple of thou disability payments for a broken neck suffered in a topless bar. Not to mention a seafarer’s union pension for service on tankers out of Dubai. And, oh yeah, I almost forgot. A non-taxable payoff from Jack Abramoff.”

“That’s about what I drew,” the questioner responded.

The lying s-o-b. I know for a fact he never met Jack Abramoff.

But despite the outrageousness of my responses, people won’t leave me alone. Here’s another case study:

“What is the scariest situation you’ve ever experienced?”

You might be surprised to know who asked this one. He is a professor of sociology at a local college. At a seminar on teaching techniques, we had to tell the class about our scariest experience. The first-graded-ness of the project was more than I could take. I snapped.

“Once when I was on Omaha Beach, I was sent on a scouting mission to locate German soldiers in the vicinity. As I fought my way across the beach and through a thicket of hedgerows, I turned a bend in a small country road and I suddenly found myself surrounded by about a hundred German soldiers, all with weapons pointed straight at me. I started shaking and begging them for mercy, crying nonstop. I was terrified that I would never see Lindsay again.”

Then I returned to my seat.

After a long, pregnant pause, an exasperated voice reached my corner of the room. “Well, what happened?”

“They killed me,” I said laconically.

The audience was stunned.

Finally, one guy broke the silence. “Man that is one scary story.”

That’s when I learned one of those immutable laws of human existence.

The more outrageous the lie, the better qualified the liar is for a career in politics.