MANY OF MY LOYAL READERS, it appears, are, as might be expected, confused. (By application of the principle of contraposition, I conclude that many of my disloyal readers are confused as well, just not as much so — and one can only imagine where this leaves my first-time readers.) I come to this conclusion of confusion because I am continually being asked: "Is what you write true or not?" The short answer: yes. But as you might figure, it's more complicated than that.

To help in this confusion, here are several essential principles for distinguishing fact from fabrication. If a story seems so outrageous that it couldn't possibly be true, it probably is. Truth is stranger than fiction. So, in order to keep a spoof credible, one must often tone down the truth. For example, if I had run a spoof suggesting that George Bush actually got better grades at Yale than John Kerry, who would believe that? (And since it is true, imagine how bad off the country would have been if Kerry had been elected!) Anyway, last week's story seemed particularly problematic to my readers as indicated by this succinct email (an actual letter from an actual reader): Dear Gary: Please confirm that your article is a parody. The narrative is so close to the truth that the distinction is without a difference.

Ralph Heinz

While this letter could refer to any number of my top-notch columns (e.g., "Hooters Carrboro encounter" or "UNC's cure for political incorrectness," or "Duke discovers it's in North Carolina"), it in fact references "University of North Carolina to hire

Republican."

Dr. Heinz appears to be one of my few readers who understands what I am trying to do. Something I often don't myself. Unfortunately, while I would like to confirm that this story is a parody, I cannot. My stories are not generally parodies.

My columns are usually premonitionary news stories based upon certain suppositions. As such, they might be more accurately called suppositories. With the exception of names, times, dates, spelling and grammar, they detail what almost certainly is exactly what would happen if my suppositions were to come to pass. (It is worth acknowledging that it is doubtful, however, that in our lifetimes, Duke will ever discover that it's not in New Jersey or that UNC will knowingly hire a Republican.) Nevertheless, my readers demand: "How can I tell which of what you write is spoof and which is true?" Very easy, consult Wikipedia. If it's not in Wikipedia, it didn't happen. Granted, for some localized truths, this may not work. For example, how many plays I played in a particular game for a high school JV football team (Go Cardinals!) 40 years ago may not be in Wikipedia — yet. (Gimme a chance, guys, I'll get to it!) For now, you're just going to have to trust me on my JV football career — not that I would myself. Many of my columns should include a tagline disclaimer that says: "To the best of my recollection."

Still, I might note that even my lovely and trusting wife did not believe all of my claims about high school until she went with me to my 30-year class reunion and observed the behavior of some of the people I am happy to call my former classmates. I had told my wife, for example, that I kissed every girl I wanted to in the school, with the exception of Jeanne Russell. The more the darlings of the class of 1969 drank, the clearer it became to my wife that this certainly could have been true.

Further note, to the deacons and elders of my church: my high school years were before, repeat before, I became a Christian. And, my lovely classmates, not me, were the ones becoming progressively inebriated. In fact, the entire experience was very sobering to me.

To tell the truth, despite the protestations of my supposedly question-laden readers, I'm not sure anybody is really interested in The Truth. I doubt either Dr. Heinz (whose name adorns the list of "Friends of Duke University") or Mike (whose email came suspiciously from @duke.edu and who requested an electronic version of my story), cares one wit about The Truth. They both merely wish to ridicule my beloved alma mater. The very thought of which incites me to say: "Hey, that's my job!"

Finally, relax, guys, don't you remember, up here on the Chapel Hill, and over by Mr. Duke's Chapel, we stopped believing decades ago in such out-dated, out-moded, obscenely obsolete, pre-post-modern concepts as "truth"?

Gary D. Gaddy says that every word in every biographical blurb that has appeared in this space is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, more or less.

A version of this column was published in the Chapel Hill Herald Thursday, June 7, 2007. Copyright 2007 Gary D. Gaddy