Word: fib
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That the camera never lies has long been proved to be an untruth. Photographers know how to make the machine fib, setting up shots that feign spontaneity, cropping out context. And, anyway, most people stop being themselves and start acting if they discover that the third eye is on them. Once "captured," an image can be bent again. I know a newspaper snapper whose moody scene of a desert under a full moon was challenged by an astute reader: my friend had moved the moon to enhance his shot ... and turned it upside down. This decades ago in a darkroom...
...smooth face on the affair by telling a local TV station he was relaxing with "comrades" and sipping coffee. Nothing, it seemed, could shake his expert skills as a liar. Later, seeming more desperate, he vowed to a police commander that he would not be taken alive. Another fib...
...phrase: "complete hand counts already begun in Palm Beach County, Dade County and Broward County." This was a virtual fib - apart from some exploratory counts in a couple of precincts, Palm Beach isn't counting yet; Dade declined to start; and Broward was forced into it by the Democrats. But "already begun" was worth the risk, because it makes Bush sound like he wants to silence something "the people" have already started. And Gore closed it with exactly the words all Americans want to hear: "I would also be willing to abide by that result and agree not to take...
...police officers and poker players, there are few things worse than a cool liar. While most of us have little trouble coming up with a good fib when we need one, no sooner do we start to tell it than we give ourselves away, exhibiting all sorts of facial tics and nervous mannerisms that reveal just how uncomfortable we are with the story we're telling. Truly gifted dissemblers, however, reveal very little of this, lying so easily and skillfully that even the most well-trained eye wouldn't notice a thing. If cops and card players can be fooled...
...tall are you? FM: About five-six. S: A wee bit shorter than me. I'm five-seven. Sign? FM: What? S: Your sign, what you were born under. FM: Virgo. S: How old you be this year? FM: 19. S: Have you got a boyfriend? FM: Yes. (fib) S: How tall is he? FM: About six-one. S: That's...ok. FM: So can you tell me some stories of drunk people? S: I've got a fucking lot of those. But I have...