Like everyone else on this planet, I don’t like to admit I was wrong. I have been. I won’t take complete responsibility, though: I can’t report the truth if I’m being recited a lie. But in fairness, I should’ve been better about validating sources, simply because — as I know, and you do as well — everyone lies. It’s easy, isn’t it? We used to call them “white lies,” as they would be minor lies of commission, but I think today using the word “white” in front of anything would be tantamount to being charged with a hate crime.

There comes a time, though, when you’ve placed your life, your reputation, into something and discover that, well, you were wrong on so many levels — and it’s not unknown to lash out at those that seemingly attempted to deceive you. Then comes the thought of whether the deception was intentional or not. Unless you’re a professional investigator, it’s almost impossible to discern without direct evidence. Even those with impeccable credentials have been fooled — a lot.

And that’s what I’ve been trying to do myself — attempting, anyway. To be better at vetting what I think I know before I put it in a post, or hold forth on it to anybody. To actually do the research, and have the information down as best I can, instead of spouting an opinion out of thin air — or out of thin information, which amounts to the same thing. Knowing all the while that even the best research can turn out not to be that good, because the sources weren’t that good. You do the best you can with what you can find. Then you own it if it’s wrong.