Everything that follows actually happened. I’ve changed the circumstances and identity of the people involved significantly, but the gist of the story is true. It’s at once proof of the old adage, ‘The truth will out’.
Sara and Tom have been friends since they worked on a successful advertising campaign for a major spirits producer. In their ten years as friends they’ve shared a lot: Holiday gatherings, the breakup of Tom’s marriage and their dreams of opening a music venue. Sara’s husband Bill was also good friends with Tom and supported their idea of opening the night club, up to the point pledging property he and Sara owned free and clear in San Francisco to secure start up money.
Because of their connections in the advertising and corporate worlds, Tom and Sara knew a lot of inside stuff. For example, they found out that a coastal city was pouring millions into a waterside development and had attracted several X Games type events to the area to take place in about two years time. Knowing this, the pair secured a lease on a large space in the heart of the development, negotiating a six month delay in rent payments.
If you’re like most people, lying makes your heart race. It makes you pant. It drives up your blood pressure and makes you drip sweat. A polygraph machine detects lies by looking for signs of these physiological changes.
A Letter from Rupert Murdoch
Where I Stand on the News Corporation Scandal
As details of the scandal surrounding my company, News Corporation, have emerged in recent days – including employees hacking into mobile phones and bribing the police – my defense has been consistent: I had no idea what was going on.
Now, I’m sure many of you are wondering, how could I, Rupert Murdoch, one of the most powerful men in the world, have no idea what is going on? The answer, my friends, is simple: I get all of my information from my own newspapers. If you relied on News of the World, The Sun, and The New York Post for your information, I can assure you that you wouldn’t have a clue what was going on, either.
“He makes a bee line to me right after the talk, in front of everybody,” West says. “He just lets me have it. He says, ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself, saying I’m not a progressive. Is that the best you can do? Who do you think you are?’ I smiled. I shook his hand. And a sister hollered in the back, ‘You can’t talk to professor West. That’s Dr. Cornel West. Who do you think you are?’
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