Here in Toronto, we’ve had a round of American cable news-style “scandal,” which is still sort of going on. There isn’t much salacious intrigue in Canada, so when a whippersnapper candidate (now former-candidate) for Toronto Mayor is caught fudging the truth about his private life, it’s high drama.

Essentially, the 32-year-old whiz-kid city counselor, Adam Giambrone, declared his candidacy for mayor a few weeks ago. He’s also the chair of the much maligned Toronto Transit Commission (subway, buses, streetcars), which has been the subject of a few social media images involving a sleeping ticket-collector and a driver on an extended bio-break.

Anyway, Giambrone announced his candidacy with his live-in girlfriend, replete in politician-wife-looking attire, at his side. One might suppose that the optic was intended to show commitment and maturity. The Toronto Star – the city’s largest paper by circulation – mistakenly described her as Giambrone’s “wife.” (Oops!)

Before the Star could “clarify” that he wasn’t married, one of Giambrone’s other girlfriends read the (incorrect) news of her former-lover’s marital status, and decided to out him about his alleged peccadilloes on, presumably among other places, the sofa of his office. Talk about subway workers sleeping around . . .

Giambrone then made his biggest mistake. He forgot to tell the truth. He gambled, and tried to fudge his way out of the mess by saying the relationship was essentially platonic. He was then outted, and subsequently admitted to his indiscretions, obviously caught in a colossal lapse of good judgment and honesty. Yesterday he quit the race, and his once promising political future is being questioned.

A mantra I live by is one that Mark Twain famously said and my Dad taught me: “When in doubt, tell the truth.”

When in doubt, tell the truth.

Twain was being ironically funny, since there should never be any question in the truthful person’s mind about being honest. But, invariably, when I’m in a quandary about what to say, the truth is the best solution. Confront the truth, deal with it, manage it, learn from it, and improve by it.

We humans are inveterate gamblers. Because we’re blessed/cursed with the knowledge that we’re one day going to unwind this mortal coil (read: die), we take calculated risks all day long. We understand the risk-reward of being a pedestrian, of climbing that mountain, of doing that bungee jump, of playing blackjack all night, of tripping the guy on the other team, of eating that two-day-old piece of pizza . . .

Fudging a story is another calculated risk. President Clinton obviously thought he could get away with declaring he did not have sex with that woman, and President Nixon felt he might not be found out to be a crook. (Interestingly, when caught out, they both resorted to contending they had personal, moral definitions of “sex” and “crook” that differ from conventional interpretation of the words. Right.)

But the repercussions of not confronting the truth are far greater than the problem itself. It’s far easier to forgive a mistake than to pardon a lie and a massive judgment-lapse.

When in doubt, tell the truth.

Besides, as Mark Twain also said, “If you tell the truth you don’t have to remember anything.”