She was only in the Third Grade, but with all the poise of Hillary herself, she defied me before the whole class.

"George Washington did so tell lies!"

I was shocked at this historical heresy coming from the lips of presumed innocence (now slightly enlarged by an enhancement of bright orange Kool-Aid).

I drew myself up to my full height of Dinosaur-from-the-age-of-moral-absolutes, prepared to do ideological battle with this impertinent usurper.

I replied with all the dignity and certainty of one who speaks from the unimpeachable source of one's own Third Grade teacher;

"Did not!".

"Did so!"

"Did not!"

"Did!"

It was now obvious this kid was not only misinformed, she was too immature to have the cool detachment and objectivity required to handle a seasoned debater of my stature. So I took pity on her and let it go.

To tell you the truth, I was afraid she might get into the silver dollar thing with Washington, and I've always been a little shaky on the credibility of that particular incident myself.

Besides, I figure it's only a matter of time until they do a TV docudrama of George's life. Given the moral turpitude of most producers, the "I can not tell a lie" phrase has all the chance of survival of wooden teeth as the dentures of choice in our time.

I can just see my little mini-debater, sitting on her couch, watching TV as they do a hatchet job on the Father of Our Country. She's secure in the knowledge, if it's on the Tube, it's got to be true. A Kool-Aid cocktail is in her hand, simultaneously satisfying her thirst and refreshing her cartoon lips, as she gleefully says, "I told you so!"

It's enough to make you want to kneel in the snow and pray for our country.