"Can I lie to the government?"
Well, yeah. Just don't get caught, and bear in mind that doing so will involve telling further lies, and then lying about those lies to cover the fact that you've lied; soon, what began as a wee fib has become a great big hurricane of bullshit, and so many lies are flying out of your face every minute that your brain has long since checked out. Before you know it, lying has just become a routine, a ritual, and you've been doing it so long that it's become too much effort to stop, but it's all okay because you can just lie about that as well.
Me, I gave up on telling lies around the same time as I stopped snorting cocaine - both of which no doubt played significant role in the general stagnation of my career, and being the reasons why I'm mostly doing the same thing now as I was doing twenty years ago, only in an even shittier country and for even less money. I don't worry about money though, because I move suitcases of krugerrands to offshore holding facilities and drink heavily all the time.
I'll tell you what else I don't worry about: is truth; that thin veneer of believability spackled over the raging hurricane of bullshit we spoke about earlier - ever deluding the dullards of the world into throwing their weight and their wallets behind the presently-popular piece of branded pap that's being served up at the mental soup-kitchen that is the mind of the mob. Welcome to the world, jackass, we live in a society wonderful fucking disaster, and we've all gotta take a bite.
So by all means, lie to the government - if that's your thing. I know better than to burn the hours or the energy on trying to tell you how to live your life. Such is the wisdom of experience, you see. I've been down that particular road before, and it always turns out to be a cul-de-sac, with some ugly-ass bastard sat on the hood of his shitty car giving you the stink eye; yeah asshole, I see you - mow your fucking lawn.
Say, while you're lying to the government, perhaps tell it to come down to the docks this evening. Tell it that Billy Chang's stood under the pier again, clutching a molotov and wearing naught but an angry expression.
That's how you get 'em, you see? Then, while they stand on the shore arguing with the naked hobo; that's when you come up out the water - like a fucking fish, graceful-like - with a half-brick in your hand and you just... you just sneak up and...
Right in the back of the head.
Y'dig?
Anyway, that's what I would do, were I the doing sort. But I don't test the myths; I just tell the myths.
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