So, Lance Armstrong lied about drugs, Manti T’eo lied about having a dead girlfriend and Subway lied about its foot-long subs. I don’t know who to trust anymore. It’s like Gregory House said, “Everybody lies.”
Like most people, I can’t stand a liar. If I can’t trust you, we don’t even need to share the same air. This probably dates back to the first great betrayal of my life, when my beloved brother T-Bob gave me a glass of water spiked with iodine and told me it was Tang.
I drank it and threw up, he became hysterical with remorse, and Mother beat him like a rented mule. It was epic. (Eventually I forgave T-Bob, but to this day I’m skeptical of any orange-tinged drink.)
Ever since, I’ve always been a little leery of the spoken word. When you have a choice of believing what someone says or what someone does, take the actions every time. That’s where the truth lies. (Note: I tend to still believe the printed word over electronic media, if only because print media has more forgiving deadlines and thus more time to actually get it right. In comparison, a CNN reporter has, say, eight minutes to report, identify and explain another air strike in Afghanistan.)
Back to the latest lies.
Armstrong, meh. He always struck me as a self-righteous ass. Not surprised he turned out to be a nasty piece of work. But I do feel sorry for everyone he embarrassed by association, including the Livestrong staff and his kids. (I also believe it was his doping that gave him cancer in the first place, but that’s just me.)
The Manti T’eo saga is like a bad movie featuring Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. (I know he doesn’t bill himself as “The Rock” any more, but I just love it.) How does a smart, tech-savvy college student date a beautiful woman for a year without Skype or Facetime coming up? I know someone who Skypes her DOG when she travels for business. For that matter, how does Teo’s beloved girlfriend die and he DOESN”T ATTEND HER FUNERAL?!?
He’s either shockingly stupid—by which I mean he could drown in a rainstorm, like baby turkeys—or a shrewd manipulator. I smell a scam that was milked for Heisman sympathy votes. If, and this is a stretch—IF he was truly duped, maybe Notre Dame should be investigated for academic fraud, because there’s no way this guy is smart enough to be in college.
Speaking of smell, who doesn’t love the aroma of fresh-baked bread? Which brings us to the Subway scandal. Turns out most of their foot-long subs are only 11 inches. The horror!!!
It all started Jan. 16 when a guy in Australia measured his foot-long at a disappointing 11 inches and posted the resulting image on Subway’s Facebook page. Life as we know it imploded.
The “New York Post” actually ran an investigative piece (!!!) and found short foot-longs to be the norm. Four out of seven types of 12” Subway sandwiches measured only 11 or 11.5 inches. The mind reels!
So far, Subway has offered three explanations: 1) The bread is being improperly baked at some of its 38,000 locations worldwide. 2) Toasted bread shrinks. And 3) “With regards to the size of the bread and calling it a foot-long, "SUBWAY FOOTLONG" is a registered trademark as a descriptive name for the sub, and not intended to be a measurement of length."
If a foot-long doesn’t actually mean 12 inches, then maybe their anemic, prefab sandwiches aren’t actually food.
Makes perfect sense.
Julie R. Smith, who lies about her height, can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.