Lies! Lies! Lies!

What could be further or farther from the truth than lies? Furthermore, or farthermore, can the Father be expectorated to sit and sit, with these lies all foamy and carmichael and full of excuses? I am not sure, but we can surely be sure that the surity and security of this and other weevils will wobble, but will never fall down. I can tell you this: I will only lie when the lying has a "y" in it. You bet.