Would I Lie to You About a Thing Like This?

This is from the July 15 edition of the Elizabethton Star. Big Red's Produce is just down the road from us - less than half a mile. We love stopping in to check on the produce - and the production!

By Greg Miller, Star Staff Writer

For one group of local residents who meet at Big Red's Produce on Stoney Creek, not telling the truth ranks as a badge of honor.
Every evening, as well as Sunday mornings, members of Big Red's Liar's Club get together to swap their good-natured lies.
According to the owner of the business, Carl Canter, he is "one of the biggest" liars.
"I can compete with the White House," Canter said. "I've been lying all my life."
Nighttime is a good time to create lies. "You just go to bed and sleep on it," he said.
Practicing the lie helps, Canter explained, "but it's better if it comes straight out. That way, you don't stutter."

Lying, according to Cantor, is a form of storytelling. "I'd say we're about as good as Jonesborough," he said. "The only thing is, we can make them believe it."
"We can make them mad over it," he continued. "They don't make nobody get mad, but see, we do. We tell some dillies."
Canter began the club about 18 years ago, but he said he began lying to Barbara, his wife, 42 years ago. "I told her what a good man I was," he said. "I can make her believe anything."
Men are not the only liars to take the opportunity to share a lie. "We've got quite a few women that come in and tell a big one once in awhile," Canter said.
"All of the members are guys, but they have different people that come in and talk, but they're not members," said Barbara Canter. "The ladies come in and join in, but they're not members. They come, visit, talk, cut up and tell tales like the guys do."
Carl Canter said he likes to tell a story about Howard Grindstaff, one of the club's members.
"He had some chickens go all the way from here to Arkansas down to (former President Bill) Clinton's old place," he said. "They called, and he went and got them and brought them back."
"It did happen," Canter continued. "We sold his chickens off out here last Saturday. They were bow-legged and everything, where they had squatted and run under the rocks."
Grindstaff has been a member of the liar's club for about 15 years.
The club, Grindstaff said, "is a good bunch of people."
Being a member of the club, he added, "is a lot of fun. There's no harm intended. We just shoot a lot of bull."
"You've got to shoot bull to have hamburger meat," Cantor observed.
"He's the priest here," Canter said of Grindstaff. "We call him preacher most of the time, among other things."
"I fill in for the regular chaplain," Grindstaff said. "Grant Hardin is the regular chaplain."
Norman Peters said he is a liar in training. "I've been stopping here and learning," he remarked. "I can't keep up with these guys. They just out-lie me. It's hard to lie with the best of them. They are the experts," Peters said. "We just lie when we have to, but we have to a lot, don't we, Red?"
Getting someone to believe a lie gives a person a warm and fuzzy feeling, according to Peters. "If you can tell a lie and get somebody to believe it, that's a good feeling," he said.
The best thing about the liar's club, Peters said, is you don't ever have to wonder if they're telling the truth. "If their mouth is moving, their lying, so you don't have to wonder," he explained. "This is a good group of liars, though. They don't tell dangerous lies."
Peters said he plans to continue his lying ways. "There's no need to change now," he said. "We're too old to change now."
Their fame has spread far beyond Stoney Creek. "Playboy Magazine is wanting us all to join them, but we can't do that," Canter said. "We got a big letter from them. They're wanting us to come to California and live in the Clampett house and all that, but we decided against it. We're going to make Stoney Creek famous."
Canter said anything that is said inside the store must be taken with a grain of salt. "I can't tell the truth in here," Canter said. "You can't believe nothing."
At Big Red's Liar's Club, there is no respect for the truth. "It's all about lying," Canter said. "If you tell the truth, it's a $300 fine. You might even get blackballed out."
Grindstaff summed up his feelings about being a member of the liar's club by his willingness to talk with the Elizabethton STAR. "As long as I don't have to tell the truth, I'll be all right," he said.