What's this? I'm supposed to tell you all about my deepest and darkest secrets that I would not share with anyone, no matter what! Lotsa luck, folks!
Maybe I'll share my thoughts about what I'd do if I caught one of those groundhogs who have been biting my cucumbers in half just before they're ripe. But then again, maybe I wouldn't. I'd probably have the vegetarian members of this on-line community calling for my immediate execution.
Or maybe I'll share what I'm thinking of when ... Well, maybe I better not. This is not supposed to be an X - rated web site.
Or maybe I'll share the story about several years ago when I ... No, that'll hafta wait for another time.
There's something uniquely paradoxical about writing about sharing stuff with you that I would never share with you. I mean, the easiest way to keep a secret is to pretend you have no secrets. Like, if you do strange things to dead salamanders by the light of the new moon, just don't make a big deal out of salamanders and new moons and strange things, and nobody will ever guess.
If I've ever trusted someone else with my secret, that implies that I couldn't trust myself with my secret first. How could I ever trust anyone else more than I trust my own self? And if I blab my own secret, how can I expect somebody else to keep from blabbing it? Therefore, if I've ever been betrayed, I've betrayed myself first. Now how can I accuse someone else of an offense when my own guilt is greater than theirs?
Of course I've never lied to cover my secrets. I have no secrets. And I know where you can get a good deal on some waterfront property on one of the moons of Jupiter, too.
