Lies are like weeds. TLC not needed for them to take over a field of daisies.

The seven days of Christmas are some of the phoniest days of the year. Countless millions of hypocrites trying to get through the holidays milk past Christmases of every joyful moment; and when need be, they fill in the cracks with lies they tell themselves about the Christmases of days gone by.

Worms from hell surround themselves with the accessories of religion and lead their followers straight through the gates of hell.

I wish I didn’t see inside of every man I come in contact with, but there they are, a miserable little pile of lies and secrets.

I personally believe a person who’d tell little children, their own little children no less, lies about a fat man in a red suit and an egg hiding rabbit will in turn believe the lies out of Washington like little children.

Do you enjoy being lied to? Does it endear you to a person? If not, exactly what makes you, or anyone else, believe that a lie has any less negative effect on the fertile mind of a small child?