don’t pull the wool

Unless, of course, it’s over my eyes.

In a literal sense, if I were cold, more specifically, if my eyes were cold, having wool pulled over them might feel good.  But we all know what the idiom means.

Why bring this up?  Because I kind of follow cycling with wool over one eye.  And the biggest name in cycling has been all over the news lately.  Lance A, one of the most prolific wool pullers in the sport.  Although not officially proven, 11 teammates have sworn so, along with various others who worked on the team during the years that LA made himself famous.  He might just save what is left of his backbone and stop pullin.

LA is yet another in a long list of those who have risen to the top of their career, with a little help from wool.  Strive, at all cost, to get to the top and deceive the public in the process.  What kind of satisfaction can there be?  But I guess one gets to the point of being such a fine wool puller, one could conceivably pull the wool over one’s own eyes.

I remember years ago not liking the French who accused LA of being a doper.  Disdain I had for them.  I, and most others, had the wool pulled.  The French were right.  Sorry Frenchies.

Too bad, the guy did incredible things.  He had ball cancer and then won the Tour de France.  Seven times.  Now all the arrows point to the fact that he cheated to win.  The only person who defends LA is the lawyer he pays.  (the tea kettle on the stove is furiously whistling and steam is gushing out its snout, but I swear the water isn’t hot).  It would have been amazing enough had he just participated in the Tour seven times post cancer.  But he had to go and pull wool to prove he was a super, duper man  (super doper man).

someone please, pull the wool over my eyes

I was fortunate enough a few years ago to have gone on a ride with George Hincapie.  It was a large group ride.  I looked up to GH, he being a New Yorker with Colombian roots, and having ridden in more Tours (de France) than anyone else and rode with LA during all his wins.  He was one of the 11.  Little did I know that GH was such a professional wool puller himself.  Both guys used their wool pullin expertise to make additional success outside the cycling world building brands for themselves.

It’s something we all have got to deal with in everyday life to some degree.  It may sound corny, but one of the most valuable assets we own is our integrity.  Pullin wool greatly depreciates that value.

A couple of days ago, my neighbor called to inform me he had an extra invitation to a private opening at the Guggenheim for Picasso’s Black and White show.  When he asked if I wanted to go, I asked him if he was sure he wanted to go with someone with a swollen, lopsided face.  He said that we were going to see Picasso after all.

As we were walking there, he was telling me about his divorce process.  He said that his lawyer counseled him to flat out deny things that may true. Her instructions to him, “even if your wife catches you with another woman, outright deny it.”  That’s the world we live in.  We are counseled to pull wool.

One may or may not like all of Picasso’s work, but the guy laid it all out there.  No wool pullin possibility when your work that transparent.

And, maybe it’s a good thing that we are surrounded by a certain quantity of wool pullers.  We’d like to think we could believe most people most of the time, but we need to lean on our gut instinct.  So knowing there are wool pullers among us keeps us on our toes.  It might feel better standing on wool rather than having it pulled over our eyes.

I’m not pullin any wool.  I swear.

Note: This was written prior to today’s front page New York Times article.

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