If you’re anything like me, a sentient human in the prime of life, you must sense that things are likely to go pear-shaped rather quickly. Of course, we’re going to pretend that everything’s just peachy, so as not to frighten the children, and continue to do the lambada on the deck of the Titanic. I appreciate your help in maintaining a festive atmosphere until we inevitably resort to cannibalism.

Paul Reznyk doesn’t exist

My name is Paul Reznyk. I’m the author of this blog, and I’m also a liar of the worst kind. Consider yourselves forewarned. The good news is that I don’t exist. I’m a fictitious character. Like Tarzan, Robin Hood, or Tinker Bell.

Every piece of fiction is a contract. So, in order for me to entertain you, you need to agree to suspend a portion of your rationality. This is what we call the willing suspension of disbelief. It’s what allowed you to accept that Superman could fly, that Frodo could tread the soil of Middle-Earth with his hairy feet, or that Christian could tantalize Anastasia with his nighttime ice cube.

So, let’s get this straight once and for all: the stories you’re about to read here are products of imagination. If they occasionally reference real events, places, or characters, it’s solely to provide context. Don’t worry. It’s all pure invention.

I know what you’re thinking: this smart aleck began by telling us he’s a liar. So, maybe these stories are true. You have a devious mind! Good. It’s for people like you that I write.

So yes, maybe these stories are true. That’s a possibility. And frankly, it doesn’t really matter. Just understand that I’m covering my backside. I wouldn’t want this saga to land me in prison, or worse, in the graveyard.

So, when in doubt, be kind: keep this to yourselves. It might save us from unpleasant surprises. Let’s not air our little secrets. I work for The Company, and they don’t appreciate indiscretions. Fancy ending up at the bottom of the Seine in a weighted suitcase? No? Good, me neither!

So, now you know who you’re dealing with, and you can’t complain.

Ah. And I almost forgot one important thing about our contract.

I’m going to tell it like it is. We’re all grown-ups here, aren’t we? We’re not going to pretend this world spins without sex, without violence, without drugs, without discrimination, without vices.

Are you frightened by a heavy-handed slap, an eye burnt with a cigarette, a soaked pussy, or an erect penis? I’m sorry, but it’s not my fault if reality is rated X.

That’s the deal: the raw truth. My raw truth.