[True Story] Everything Jack Grisham Tells You Is a Lie

Categories: True Story

Jack Grisham
[Editor's Note: Jack Grisham is an author, hypnotherapist, T.S.O.L. front man and all-around troublemaker. This column is his weekly excuse to tell you a story that may or may actually not be true, with characters who may or may not be real.]

By: Jack Grisham
I've never not told stories. I was a burglar when I was 5, an arsonist by the age of 6. My father was killed in a house fire. My mother abandoned me on a carnival midway of woe. I carry the circus in my head--freaks, animals and oddities whispering nighttime stories through gray, monotone walls. I was in the third grade when I met my first counselor--a child psychologist.

"Do you like games?" she asked.

What child doesn't like games? I played along. "No," I answered, "I don't like games."

I guess I misunderstood her question; I thought she wanted to play.

They don't teach lying in school, but they do force it, putting children in positions in which the truth isn't good enough, in which only a lie will suit them and a world of escape is eagerly sought by twisting truth through small, sweaty-handed ringers. My natural ability flourished under their guidance. I'm a master of looking you in the eye and reading what you want to hear.

A few weeks ago, I was contacted by this paper and asked if I'd like to write a column for a bit. My friend Exene Cervenka had been giving advice, and she's perfect for it--gentle and intelligent, charming with just a touch of left-handed wit. But I'm more of a talk-you-into-a-dangerous-corner guy who'll see how long it takes for you to get out. I wouldn't take advice from me.

"I'm sorry," I replied. "As much as I love to entertain, I don't give advice, but I do lie--how about that? How about a weekly story instead, or a cliff-hanging tale that weaves its way through an issue or two."

"Well," was the response, "that sounds interesting, but what would you write about?"

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I'd love to hear or read anything Jack has to say.  TSOL was one of the great classical punk bands, at least until they went mainstream.  But you have to find somebody else to advertise there, that Bud Light shit is not only a weak and dishwatery excuse for beer, but the minute your cursor even so much as touches it, you're whipped out of the column and into another stupid blah ad.  As for lying, I liked what he had to say about little kids.  Sometimes that's the best way to get to the truth.

Ricardo Früstöckl
Ricardo Früstöckl

Just what the OC Weekly needs. Welcome Jack Grisham you crazy fuck.:-p Hopefully will see you at the Fairplex this weekend!

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