Mayor Wants to Outlaw Lying -- Yeah, That's the Ticket
MOUNT STERLING, Iowa — The mayor of this tumbledown town of liars wants his neighbors to stop fibbing -- and he's proposed a law to keep them honest.
A big, blustery man fond of blue-and-white-striped overalls, Mayor Jo Hamlett says he wants to start fining anyone who dares stretch the truth. There are only 53 folks in town -- make that 52, since a jilted boyfriend took to the road -- but if his ordinance passes, Hamlett figures the violations will mount quickly.
Just the other day, he watched as a local by the name of Bob strode into the tavern, boasting he'd just shot a mighty big turkey, 27 pounds if it was an ounce.
Hamlett hauled the bird out of Bob's pickup and plopped it on a kitchen food scale. It registered 24 1/2 pounds. "You see," the mayor said, with a hint of glee, "he added 2 1/2 pounds to that bird." He figured it would be up to 29 pounds the next time Bob told the story.
That's how it's always been in Mount Sterling. Turkeys gain a few pounds with each telling of the hunt. Fish stretch a few inches in the recounting. And don't even ask about the size of the morel mushrooms gathered around here this time of year.
The way some in town tell it, Hamlett, 69, is the biggest prankster of them all. He insists he's simply an honest man. In any case, he sprang his startling proposal on Mount Sterling during the annual budget meeting last month.
The town was debating whether to fill a vacant council seat (an election would cost $230, not to mention the salary of $6 a month). Quite off subject, the mayor stood up and declared it was time to turn his beloved home into a beacon of honesty.
"It would make Mount Sterling a more reputable town, refined and respected worldwide," Hamlett said.
His proposal made the local paper. Soon, Hamlett was talking to reporters from all over -- even Australia.
Along Mount Sterling's six dirt and gravel roads, folks began to wonder whether they could live on the level.
"The town will dry up. That's what it lives on: Bull," said Linda Kennedy, 45, a part-time bartender cleaning the counter at A.J.'s Bar and Grill. She bit into a piece of red licorice, scowling. "The ordinance is the most preposterous thing I've ever heard."
She was warming to a lecture, but Harry Hoffinger interrupted: "How can you tell if someone in Mount Sterling is lying?"
Hoffinger, 60, didn't wait for an answer. "Their mouth is open," he said, chortling. And shut his tight.
