The City Council of tiny (pop. 40) Mount Sterling, Iowa, will soon decide the fate of an anti-lying ordinance. According to Reuters, the mayor pro tempore, Jo Hamlet, "has heard one too many tall tales." "People shooting 15-pound geese and catching 9-pound bass and 28-pound gobbler turkeys and over 200-point bucks — I thought maybe we ought to ... tame down a little bit," Hamlet stated. The ordinance would also ban claims of high corn yields and ordinary gossip. Hamlet must have had tongue in cheek when he suggested the possible punishments might include mouth-washings and tongue-lashings. If the ordinance passes, an obvious place of change will be the driver’s license office. Car and truck drivers, actually capable of casting shadows as wide as a barn or a 12-row corn planter, will no longer be able to say they weigh much less than they do. If the law is followed to the letter, Mount Sterling will become a town without childhood myths and legends. It would be a town without a tooth fairy, Santa Claus or Easter Bunny. ‘Your tooth fell out, huh? Well, big deal. Here’s a quarter." "Here, take these bags of candy. Thank goodness I don’t have to spend half the night hiding thousands of jelly beans and marshmallow bunnies under sofa cushions. I’ve got better things to do with my time." "Bah. Humbug." All of the fun would be missing. The new ordinance might also lead to an increased number of guilt-filled confessions. "Hello? Is this the IRS? I think I might owe you guys some money." "Remember when I told you I had never been married before?" Unable to tell even white lies, how will people respond to the challenging questions which surface continually in personal relationships? Armed with the truth and nothing but the truth, men would be unable to heed the advice of Olin Miller, "A man who won’t lie to a woman has very little consideration for her feelings." Truly honest opinions might ruin many marriages. "Honey, does this dress make me look fat?" (If that floral print had to cover any more surface, you would look like one of those 20-acre botanical gardens they’re always showing on the travel channel.) "Why can’t we be romantic like we used to be?" (Let’s face it, after all these years, you’re either looking more like me or your mother. I can’t decide. It’s a toss-up.) "So, how do you like this new recipe?" (Thank goodness our children have grown up and moved out. Collateral damage from this particular disaster should be minimal — just the two of us. It’s kind of funny when you think about it — ours may be the first deaths attributed to bad linguini.) Even if the anti-lying ordinance is passed in Mount Sterling, at least one form of stretching the truth will continue to survive. According to Douglas Malloch, "The biggest liar in the world is They Say." As anyone who has ever lived in a small town knows, They Say is mighty difficult to track down.
