This past weekend, there was a story in the Cleveland Plain Dealer about an Internet hoax rooted in Northeast Ohio. Apparently a young woman created a very elaborate fictional family going through a horrible medical crisis. “JS Dirr” was the handsome husband of the family – who happened to also be a total playboy. This fictional family, along with 70+ fake friends and relatives with full back stories and profiles online and in social media, captured the attention of many people with their saga of a child with cancer.
They also captured some money from unsuspecting readers inspired by their tale.
The truth began to unravel when the “mom” was killed in an awful accident with a semi truck. Apparently, the creator of the hoax should’ve picked a less traceable method of killing off a character – one that would be suspiciously absent from news media websites around the Canadian town the family supposedly lived.
Now that the truth is out, readers who were duped into believing the story (which traces back more than 12 years!) are understandably upset. The ones who gave money for a fictional cancer patient are really upset. Some even said that they’d never donate money again to charities. That’s a real shame.
Reading that story got me thinking about this blog. Am I being truthful? Am I duping my readers? Am I manipulating the truth for my own personal and financial gain?
So, it’s time to do some soul searching and come clean about a few things. Here it goes:
The mules didn’t really write that postcard a few posts back. Their handwriting isn’t that great. I’m thinking that Molly the horse (their cousin) wrote it for them.
For that matter, Queen Nala didn’t write her post either. Queens don’t stoop down to menial tasks like typing. She dictated it to the dog.
When I wrote that The Country Boy and his brothers would spend five hours in a car together and not say more than 10 words, I wasn’t being fully truthful. They’d really only say 5 (“hey” “lunch?” “let’s go” and “bye”).
I have run exact one time since running that half marathon. I have eaten chicken wings at least 5 times since that race (including that actual day). My backside is getting to be such that my jeans and shorts are wondering which one will be next to fall victim to my penchant for busting seams.
We didn’t really find a time machine at the Carnegie Science Center. Had I really found a time machine, I would’ve gone back to a point when I had money and land was still cheap because fracking wasn’t invented yet and bought a bunch of acres. Then Country Boy could do all of his hunting close to home. And I’d be a millionaire. (oh, that’s right, I’m not a fan of fracking. Pickles. I guess then I’d just take it back to the night I completely face planted in front of the entire college and tell myself to watch that first step.)
I don’t think that the Country Boy really is the most handsome guy in any room we walk into. I really think he’s the most handsome guy in the world.
The scars from Dinosaur Day will need more than counseling to cure. It’ll probably take lots of dark chocolate to exorcize it as well.
I really enjoyed firing that .22 rifle. I just wish I could have a gun that makes what I call the “Beverly Hillbillies” noise – a sort of “pe-chew” sound from ’70s TV shows that guns firing off seemed to always make. It reminds me of bullets hitting tin cans.
I still feel guilty at least once a day about something I have done – or didn’t do – as a parent.
I have gained financially from this blog. A good friend saw me walking by Starbucks today (I had a couple of hours free while the girls were at a camp) and bought me a chai latte. A Venti sized one to boot! Had I not wanted to post something today, I would’ve missed out on the gifted drink.
Darn it. This is supposed to be the “truth” post…I wasn’t “walking by” Starbucks, I was really walking towards it with full intentions of walking through the doors and plopping myself down squarely into city world for a few hours. But, trust me, around this area going to Starbucks is a networking activity. I’ve run into about two dozen people I know this morning.
I consider myself to be a fairly strong and independent woman, but I couldn’t have Maddie it without a great deal of help from my family and friends. Seriously, I’d have crumbled faster than a gluten free cookie had it not been for them.
So, that’s my confessional. I really do try to just give you what’s real. After all, when you put city girls out on a farm so many crazy things happen that you don’t need to make stuff up.
Meow…Indubitably, my dear subject.