I'm only a half block out of the store when I see Ronald, the Rice-Haired Milquetoast who works at the coffee shop around the corner, approaching. "Hey Carrie," he says, looking down at my video. "What'd you get?"

I hate to give this speech again.

"I can't tell you," I say, "and there's a reason I can't. You see, someday, I might want to rent something embarassing, and I don't necessarily mean pron. It could be a movie that's considered too childish for my age or something violent or maybe Nazi progragans - for research purposes, of course - and even though the movie I have in my hand is considered a classic, and nothing to be ashamed of, if I show it to you this time but next time I can't, then you'll know for sure that I'm hiding something next time. But if I never tell you what I've rented, it puts enough doubt in your mind that I'm hiding something, so I can feel free to rent porn or cartoons or fascist propaganda or whatever I want without fear of having to reveal what I've rented..."

Ronald stands there blinking for a second, then leaves.

     - Caren Lissner, Carrie Pilby