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I routinely am less than forthcoming about a variety of things in an effort to maintain at least a marginal level of plausible deniability when it comes to where I work.  There are a variety of topics I would love to write about, but don’t feel I can.  There are also some things I could probably get away with, but choose not to take the chance.

When it comes to purely personal things, however, I see no reason not to be open about things.  Deliberate falsehoods, ethics and morals aside, serve no purpose.  So it was with a certain amount of embarrassment that I realized this morning that I lied yesterday when I said there were no moonshiners in my family within living memory.

Technically, I guess “moonshiner” is not quite accurate.  My dad tells a story about a 2nd or 3rd cousin of his who did time in the penitentiary.  It seems the cousin and a couple of other guys were making some money as bootleggers during prohibition and one night they were sampling (heavily) the product and got into a fight.  Dad says the details were always a bit hazy as to whether they were fighting about money or the women they were with, but one of them ended up dead and the cousin and the other guy buried him in a barnyard, which didn’t work out so good.  I guess the body was found within a few days.

I’m positive there were no meth cooks, though.

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