One of the great things about my job is I get to be right – a lot. I like being right, its not quite a hobby, but a past time I enjoy. Therefore when I am right I roll with it and make the most of it, often at the expense of reason and professionalism. I can also be quite conceited, and therefore I hate when stupid people think I am dumb, or have pulled one over on me. Combine the two and we have a volatile blend. Take today for instance. We were in a van, where the kids must wear seat belts, buckled up and over their shoulder, in the conventional normal person manner. They struggle with this. Any excuse to not wear one and they take it. They all try and pretend they are wearing one, when they of course are not. They just hold it at their side. This always strikes me as more work than just putting one on. I digress.

We do this every trip. Ten times a week, normally more. Each trip there is always someone that can’t work their seat belt. They have a script of excuses that they run through. Nothing to clip it in to, Not working, to fat, shoulder injury, stomach problems, what ever. So today a stupid youth pretends the seat belt is on. I can see it is not. The kid says it is broken. I can see it is not. I tell the kid to clip it in, he says he has. He has lied to me three times and been caught in the lie each time. There is no hiding what has happened I think dedicated readers know where this is going. I call the kid on his lie, surprise, he denies it. He sticks to his story so I take pleasure shooting holes in it, showing him he’s a idiot, showing the world that i am really petty and a little pathetic, but i care little, there is no denying I am right so there can be no backing down. I know I need therapy, but who doesn’t. He still denies he is lying. He tells me I am wrong that I am mistaken, that I am now the liar. I am getting pissed. I know I am right, there is no question I am right, so I get out the van to put the seat belt on him like I am his mother. Shock horror the seat belt suddenly works and he gets it on before I open the back door. Miracle. So I get back in my seat. He is now defensive, I am on the attack. I ask why he lied. He said he didn’t. I point out that, half-truths, falsehoods and omissions when used to deceive, are lies. QED the kid is a liar. I call him a liar. This may be a little much. I don’t know, but it felt good. Then He tries to defuse the situation. “ASM you can call it what you want, but I know it’s not a lie. I am telling you the truth it was broken.” I point out that after three brutal lies why would I believe him now. He says I should all same, that he never lies and he’s not a liar. Then comes the first part of the Naughtistic tri-factor. The last gasping attempts to tell the world that you are honest and trust worthy gangster. “I ain’t Lying – for real” he says. ‘For real’ is special. ‘For real’ is gangster code. It means that though I have lied in the past. This time you should believe me. These words wash over me. I care little. Then comes part two. This is a gangster on the edge. “On everything I own, on my mother I ain’t lying“ Oh. Well if you’re willing to stake your word on everything you own, which my tax payer’s dollars bought, then I should take you at your word for you wouldn’t want to lose everything, so you must be telling the truth. Wrong you’re still a liar. But I miss heard him. He also swore on his mother. Even a gangster has a mother that loves him. A mother whose heart he broke when he offended and weeps at home now he’s doing time. But I have to believe him, he would never disrespect his mother. Though he would sell her into slavery or pimp out his sister, he would never mean disrespect by it. You just have to do what you do to get by. No kid you’re still a liar. Then it comes. I knew it would. The Piece De La Resistance, the crowning moment in our chat. The last ditched chance to show his honesty. The final proof that I am wrong. He says”real rapp Dogg.” Well holy fuck. Real rap. I am sorry I totally didn’t believe a word that came out of your mouth, but now you have said real rap. I know it’s true. I am sorry. Forgive me. I didn’t realize it was real rapp. I thought it was fake rap or forged rap, or pretend rap or glad wrap. But no it was a real rap. Awfully sorry my mistake. Get the fuck out of here. Somehow they actually think that by saying real rapp all the bull shit, all the lies vanishes, suddenly its real rap and everything changes, two words and they are a living saint again. Can you imagine. “Mr Hitler did you kill all the jews?” ‘No.’ ‘But there are 7 million bodies. and 7 million missing jews. And your signature on the execution order. Are you sure it wasn’t you?” ‘I didn’t do it. I swear.’ “Mr Hitler you’re a liar.” ‘Real rapp dogg it wasn’t me.’ “Oh I’m sorry my mistake go about your business.” Real rap my ass. At least have the balls to admit your wrong just once. The worst part of it; the other kids respect real rapp. “he didn’t do it, he said real rap.” Please.