Honesty is not the best policy, contrary to that classic from my mother’s bottomless bag of pearlescent wisdom. Honesty is a good policy. It’s a very good policy, it keeps you calm, stops you panicking when someone is looking over your shoulder, or when someone notices the facts don’t quite line up, when lies collide and explode in spectacular, destructive supernovae. It’s a good policy, it frees up space in your head for other things, like recipes, or quantum physics, or phone numbers. There are better policies out there, though. I’d advocate precisely the opposite. Lie about everything, bathe your existence in swirls of deep fantasy, elegant cascades of deception, plumes of deceit. Sit and watch the fractal web of mistruths unfurl in front of you, rampant in their treacherous glow. It’s more beautiful that way. And it gets you cookies.