Jane Tanner, an Oxymoron

Jane,

Today, I’m going for the impossible: try to tell you something. Although not that of a difficult message, as you've been told so many a time, yet it seems to be it’s an incomprehensible concept for you to understand.

So here it goes: you’re the most thick-skulled human being I’ve ever had the displeasure to have seen.

Yes, do put on that fake smile of yours, that one that with which you grimace whenever you see yourself clueless about the reality that surrounds you.

Not wanting to baffle you, or anybody else, let me clarify the intent with which I used the word “oxymoron”.

No, I don’t think you’re a bittersweet contradiction in terms. I just think that you’re a stupid cow. Now, do call David and ask him to explain.

Whenever you intervene in this process, you have the rare ability to stick your foot in your mouth. Infallible you are.

Now, you did it again with this far-fetched piece of fiction which was that constitution (to be a reconstitution the events had to happen beforehand which definitely was not the case) which you once again tried (or will try?) to manipulate the public perception of all of this issue.

This time you guys had the bright idea of filming someone crossing the street carrying a child as per your description. And stupid as only you’re capable to be, you’ve provided the world with the living proof of what everybody thinks of you: a lying twat.

No, I’ll not get into the difference of clothing or the illumination of the whole theatrical scene. I’ll get into hard, plain facts.

And the fact is that you had a grown-man, crossing a street from one end to another, with a four-year old across his arms. Its on tape, and too late to do anything about it. Now, look at the difference between your description and what really happens when what you describe really happens.

First difference is the unnatural way of carrying a child. Any parent, or anyone who has carried a sleeping toddler, knows that one carries a sleeping infant vertically much the way Gerry came down the airplane stairs, or was seen by the Smiths.

Nobody, I mean nobody carries a child the way you describe. Why? It just breaks your back. Look at the evident discomfort with which the poor guy is walking…

And I’ll remind you that he just had to jump through a shuttered down window. Ridiculous thought, isn’t it? It would, were it not so serious…

How far do you think he went? Exactly to where he was paid to go: just across the street, where he dropped the child after having fulfilled his role.

If he went any further, his grunt of relief would have been audible everywhere in Praia da Luz.

Now look at the man’s back. The inclination of the man’s body to compensate the weight of the he carries, which you forgot to remember at the time of your fake description. And the inclination of the child’s legs, in natural accordance with inclination, just mentioned, of the man’s body.

No, don’t appeal to too little of a detail. You’re the one that saw the little flowers on the pajama pants… A type of detail that is typically added by liars, like yourself, whenever fibbing, in a useless attempt of convincing their listeners that the bullocks coming out of their mouths is the truth, by introducing bigger and bigger details to a story.

You know exactly what I mean.

And the child’s body. On tape, folded, head naturally lying against the chest of the carrier. On paper, the result of evident lies out of a guilty conscience with a very little lucid imagination. Lastly, claiming that you saw what is now on tape, and realizing just a mere ½ hour later that a missing 4 year-old child of a friend of yours was missing from her room, the linkage between the two events is immediate, obvious and natural.

Not even your stupidity would avoid the connection.

There would never have been a missing child even for a minute. A conscious friend would have warned the police, and with a clear direction on where to focus their efforts, they would have been down that street looking for the bloke. And not for a little girl who had wandered away…

And weren’t you stupid enough to come back to the scene of the crime (which welcomed you the way it did) and produce self-condemning evidence?

Well, if there were a Nobel Prize for stupidity, and were I a juror, I would certainly have a most difficult time to pick a winner between the lot of you.