On prevarication.

[madbaker]

I have a certain reputation among my friends as a prevaricator. Simply because I will tell people that "wassail" comes from the Anglo-Saxon phrase "Was hael", or "What the hell."

Or because I "documented" the Hlafclaenness Dom, or Anglo-Saxon "Bread Purity Law" of 1047.

Or because I submitted a cooking competition entry for "Theatre Viewing Dinners", or "TV Dinners" for short - an Elizabethan trencher containing roast meat in brown sauce, creamed yellow peas, and an apple tart. With an aluminum foil top (a substitute for the original lead foil).

Or... but you get the idea.

Now, I generally don't do this at work. A) It's a bad idea; B) They generally wouldn't appreciate the effort.
So it's a little odd when a cow-orker is moaning about how his orange tree produces bitter fruit, and I tell him to amend the soil with (among other things) manure. And he and everyone else in the room don't believe me.

The thing is, it's entirely the truth and they have no pattern of deception to twig to. Am I just emitting a visible lie-smithing field?

Comments

[gaudete1066.livejournal.com]

Prevaracatory past or not, shame on Cow-orker for not knowing even the basics of gardening. Manure (among other things) is gold. Eejit. I should send the Soil Police to his door. I would give (almost) anything to be able to raise oranges where I live.

[finickynarcane.livejournal.com]

Clearly, he's too stupid to even grow good weeds. Confiscate his tree and move him to a condo.

[blkeagl.livejournal.com]

Either that or it's a Seville orange tree.. in which case, I require that he turn it over to me!

[cvirtue.livejournal.com]

Sounds like he doesn't know shit.

(idea from the wife)

[madbaker.livejournal.com]

No, they don't think I know shit.