Thursday, October 16, 2025

Sports Frenemies

 


In my pursuit of excellence, I've undertaken the necessary steps to prove that I'm smarter than everyone else by getting an advanced degree. When I began taking online courses, I came across one who said that they’d also lived in Utah for a while. That piqued my interest, and I mentioned that it is my current home state. We discovered we had many common interests, ranging from the things we read and like to write, all the way to the fact that we both like trolling Millennials and beating them at their own game. In the course of getting to know this individual better, surprisingly, I learned that they rooted for the University of Utah (U of U)'s football team.

 

That's when I knew the honeymoon was over.

 

For the sake of protecting this individual, I won’t call them by what they claim to be their real name. Instead, I‘ll just call her Amie (did I spell that right? I know she's reading this). As a third-generation graduate of Brigham Young University (BYU), the rival of the school she roots for, it is my sworn duty to uphold the reputation of my alma mater by denouncing the U of U every chance I get. Why, you ask? Just because.

 

Actually, I have a longer (and exponentially more detailed) answer. Hold on to your hats ‘cause we're going for a ride.

 

In sports, they say competition is a healthy thing. I don't know who all belongs in the “they” category, to be honest. Coaches and teammates? Parents and family members? Maybe the opposing player you just embarrassed, who's now crying for Mommy? Whatever. I do agree with that statement, though. You run faster when someone is running in the lane next to you. You most certainly run faster when that “someone” is running after you with the intention of ripping your head off. Such is the beauty of sports competitions.

 

            Having some opposition is good. How else will we know how good/bad we are at something if there's no one else around? What I don't get is this whole concept of rivalries that has gotten intertwined in the mix. When did wanting to do your best transition into hating someone else's guts? And furthermore, why is this such an integral part of our sports culture? What's the point? Bragging rights? Schadenfreude? Being able to write a blog post where you finally get to use the word “Schadenfreude?”

 

            We've all seen rivalries. Michael Jordan vs Larry Bird, Yankees vs Red Sox, Muhammad Ali vs . . . , well, pretty much the entire world. All it takes is a sport where there are at least two competitors and “Ta-Da!”-- instant drama at the expense of hating the other person's guts. And let's not kid ourselves; this stuff can be fun to watch. But have you ever taken the time to really consider what the hell is wrong with this picture?

 

            As I said, I'm a graduate of BYU. I also stated we are in-state rivals of another (supposed) institution of higher learning known as the U of U. This rivalry has been nicknamed the Holy War. Our schools’ combined histories of hate began in the late 19th century with a baseball game that ended with both teams clearing the benches in an all-out brawl. 

 

Did I mention that Utah has a lot of Mormons? That’s supposed to be a peace-loving religion, right? I guess the whole “thou shalt not kill” thing doesn't apply to sports. Funny how many Christian sects forget how to love their neighbor when in the heat of athletic competition. And, for the record, no, the Crusades don't fall into this category. That was just a bunch of bored Medieval guys who didn't want to share their holy land, so they embarked on a useless war (more than once).

 

            Actually, now that I think about it, that last part isn't too far off from the truth. Rivalries are full of people with nothing better to do than engage in useless bouts based on hate rather than honest competition. Some perpetrators of rivalries may claim that the “hate” gives the competitors “focus.” I‘m sorry, but does that sound like Emperor-Palpatine-Dark-Side speech to anybody else? I’m calling out rivalries for what they are--Total BS.

 

            Now, in order to call out this unnecessary practice, I have to confess my participation in its unwritten rituals, and not just my created beef with Amie. My rivalry from college was not my first. Nor was the one in high school. I was indoctrinated in the ways of rivalry back in junior high. Granted, the high schools influenced the junior high atmosphere in the area, but that's where it began.

 

            Like many adolescents, I played sports in school. I don't blame everything that is wrong with me on my meager athletic pursuits, but I can't say they made me a saint either. Each team sport I did was the same. I tried out, practiced with the team, competed, and somewhere along the line was told how to identify the Spawns of Satan that would be the targets of my unholy, venomous wrath. For the sake of fairness, I'll just refer to these people as the “opposing team” whose chief crime was (wait for it--this is the really important part) . . . NOT being on my team.

 

            Now, how did simple-minded me learn that avarice was an acceptable attitude? Why, peer pressure of course! My teammates and classmates were all doing it, and junior high school is the wrong place to try and break with tradition. Oh, by the way, in case you're wondering where we as youngsters learned this behavior, it came from our coaches. That's right. For football practice, they had us take our rival's football helmet (no idea how they got that) and take turns beating the hell out of it (that's called “bonding,” I believe). The cheerleading coach was worse. She got into it by creating specific cheers that called out the breeding choices of our rivals’ mothers (I think that's called “school spirit”). Why, even our principal, when doing announcements, would refuse to say the name of the rival institution, referring to them instead as “that school across the river” (that was what he called “funny,” but knowing our principal, I'm pretty sure that was a lie). 

 

            So, after a few years of this indoctrination, I knew how to handle myself during competition. I'd always do my best, but if a certain opponent wearing a certain color uniform with a certain unspeakable school name printed on it dared challenge me, my path was clear: Beat them. Beat them bad. Then trash-talk them until they wet themselves and run home crying. My preferred opening line was to call them a “poo-poo head.”

 

            This indoctrination works pretty well, that is, so long as you’re winning. None of my coaches or peers had any instructions on how to lose to our rival, and certainly no one had any insights on how to do so with any level of dignity. Yet that was my dilemma during my last year at junior high. During the track and field championships, one of the other team's athletes dared to challenge my rightful place as the dominant runner. Well, not only did he dare, but he wiped the floor with me. Not knowing what else to do after such a humiliating loss, I did what any normal teenage boy would do–I plotted my revenge.

 

            I had a full year until I could get back at this guy, during which time we both transitioned to our respective high schools. This is where a simple rivalry between two academic institutions can transform into a feudal war on steroids. We both did different sports in the fall, so I let myself stew on my revenge plot during that time. Then, without warning, we crossed paths by accident.

 

The setting was an annual Halloween event with a haunted house. Not just any regular haunted house; we're talking the kind where you have to bring a change of underwear. Kids got grey hair early because of it. Anyways, there was a large gymnasium full of other activities to do while you waited for your chance to go through the house and soil yourself from fright. One involved tying a bungee cord to your back, then running at top speed down an inflatable ramp to see how far you could get. Then, of course, physics would take over, and you would be yanked backwards by your spinal cord, hopefully keeping your pants on in the process. It was all in good fun, the adult organizers said, but they would only let victims experience this approved torture in pairs. When I approached to have my chance at this humiliating amusement, there was no one around to join me . . . except him.

 

I'll never forget this guy. He was tall and muscled, tanned, had blond hair and perfect teeth. Imagine the opposite of that, and you have . . . a really dorky-looking loser who in no way, shape or form resembled adolescent awesomeness that was me (okay, fine, you have me at age fourteen). I couldn't help but despise this guy’s perfectness. But I knew better than to try and confront him off the field of competition. Instead, I gave him a pass and agreed to join him in this innocent activity that can only be described as a human slingshot. This is where I learned the unexpected truth--this guy wasn't a jerk.

 

Quite the opposite. He was funny, complimentary, and not at all the fire-breathing demon “poo-poo head” I’d thought him to be. I was floored (both by the realization and the human slingshot thingy). When our paths crossed again months later he remembered me. In fact, I looked forward to when we competed just to be able to hang out with the guy. That's when I really woke up and began to unravel this whole rivalry nonsense. 

 

For some reason, competition put blinders on me. The obvious truth had been staring me in the face this whole time. The team and school I was supposed to hate were full of people I already knew, and I can say (for the most part) they weren't jerks. I’d done performances with these people, attended scout camps with them. Heck, I even went to church with some of them. Why did putting on an athletic uniform change all of that? 

 

The more I thought about it, the more it didn't make sense, and I decided to write off the whole rivalry thing. That is, until, of course, I did something completely inexcusable that made me forget all the valuable lessons from school.

 

 . . . I went to college. 

 

University rivalries make high school look like a children’s playdate with the Montagues and the Capulets. Remember, I attended BYU. My parents and siblings all went there. I was raised in the culture of rooting for Cougar Blue and dissing on Utah Red. Brothers refused to speak to each other if one chose the wrong school. Fathers disowned their daughters if they married someone from the other side. The way I thought was no different. Why? For no other reason than because I thought it was expected of me. Competition is supposed to bring out the best, both in athletes and spectators alike, right? A healthy rivalry should do the same, right?

 

Wrong. In my brief history with the Holy War, I've witnessed the following moments that brought out the so-called “best” in athletes and fans:



·         A BYU fan tackling a Ute cheerleader running across the field with the team flag. 

·         Utah fans dumping beer on the wife of a BYU football player.

·         A Utah Athletic Director going on a public (and televised) tirade after a loss.

·         A basketball player attacking an opponent with an elbow across the face.

·         Cops arresting unruly fans in the bleachers (multiple times). 

 

            And that's just what I've seen. I know for a fact there have been countless displays like this, where folks in this rivalry are at their “best.” To make matters worse, there are dozens, maybe hundreds, of similar pairs of feuding teams in this country, with equally horrible examples of human behavior at its “best.” Some may wonder, “Where does it stop?” I think we should first ask where it begins. The answer to that is simple: Pride.

 

            There's a reason why Pride is one of the Seven Deadly Sins. I believe it starts as Confidence or Self-worth, both positive attributes actually, but when our fragile egos are threatened with experiencing even an ounce of humility, we instead raise our shields with an easier, yet more lethal feeling. The false notion that you are better than someone is the core of Pride's hidden poison. The truth is, eventually, you have to realize that you are not always going to be the best. True winners, in my infallible opinion, have learned to embrace loss and grow from it. The actual “Losers” are those who cannot comprehend a world with setbacks, and their denial of reality leads to an illusion of superiority.

 

            Thus concludes the philosophic portion of this essay. 

 

            Now that we know the cause of this rivalry plague, we can work on a cure. For any athletes in any rivalry, replace your hate with respect. Be content with the fact that the competition will determine who won the day.  Also, learn to be okay with disappointments. Why? Because that's life! Life is not always fair! Neither is competition! Sure, the officials may not have called things your way. Perhaps your opponents had a bit of luck on their side. In the end, it's just a game (I know--Gasp!). Failure is an opportunity for growth. Learn from your mistakes (‘cause we all make them) and move on. 

 

            Now, my advice for the fans is more to the point: Grow the F**K up!

 

            Was that too harsh? Did your feelings get hurt? If so, then you're part of the friggin’ problem! I am sick and tired of dealing with fans who cannot let it go, whether their team wins or loses. I've learned how to humble fans like this real quick. Let me show you how.

 

OPPOSING FAN (O.F.): Your team sucks!

ME: Why's that?

O.F.: Because of (insert whatever blatant nonsense they want to spout)!

ME: And that makes you better?

O.F.: Well, yeah!

ME: Answer me one question--are you a player for your team?

O.F.: Uhhh, no. 

ME: Sooo, you're taking credit for someone else's work?

O.F.: Umm, no, . . . I mean . . . 

ME: Do you have nothing better to do with your life than to live vicariously through a sports team whose performance ultimately means nothing in the outcome of your life?

O.F.: What are you talking about! This team is my life!

ME: Sooo, the answer’s “no?”

 

At this point, the Opposing Fan will most likely be looking for an exit strategy (hopefully one that doesn’t include me getting punched in the face), for they have just been confronted by some truths they don't wish to face. Number 1-- I don't give a damn. And, Number 2--Their fanaticism means nothing in the long run. Indifference is a concept that crazy fanatics everywhere around the world have a hard time accepting. They figure if they spend so much time investing their energy and resources towards supporting their team, that everyone else should automatically grant them permission to obnoxiously tout that team's success all the livelong day. 

 

Ok, fine. Go ahead and celebrate. There was much rejoicing (yay). Your team won. Now what? Oh, wait, what if your team lost? Ok, you have my permission to pout just a little bit. But let me give you a way to measure if your celebratory or grief levels are appropriate. If, after a week, you’re still going on and on about the results of a simple game, you've gone too far. Are you having a hard time finding something better to do, other than finding a reason to point out your rival's shortcomings? If so, then I don't think the opposing team is the real problem. Should your team win, enjoy the win, and then get on with your life. If your team loses, deal with it and find something more productive to do (and quickly for everyone else's sake).

 

Now, the next bit may come as a shocker to you, but I believe there is room for "healthy” rivalries. “Wait!” I hear you say. “There's no such thing!” Perhaps you're thinking all rivalries have to involve hate speech and bloodshed. No, that's what we call “gratuitous violence,” which is what we call in the adult business “stupid.” I mean someone you look forward to competing against, and you can have mutual fun at each other's limited expense. 

 

Let me provide an example. The BYU and U of U football game in 2009. The previous year, BYU lost at Utah. Quarterback Max Hall threw five interceptions in that game, and BYU lost by a lot. This year, both teams had winning seasons, were ranked in the Top 25, and their match-up would determine their final standing. Needless to say, emotions were running high for the rematch.

 

I was in the stands with my wife and her family in the back row. The seat to my left was occupied by a lone Ute fan. Admittedly, I was wary of this man, wearing his bright red in a very blue stadium. I was wondering if he was either brave or foolish as the senior players were being announced. When Hall's name was read, this Ute fan said “There goes our MVP.”

 

Now, at that moment I could have taken offense, maybe decked the guy, or at the very least called him a “poo-poo head.” But dammit, what he said was funny! I even told him as much as I tried to subdue my laughter. It's not like he was slapping me with a glove and challenging me to a formal duel (which would've been awesome--just sayin’). The game began, and we continued talking. As the competition went on, we developed a respectful bond established by our combined appreciation for the game, the players, everything. We complimented and critiqued plays from both teams, and, as fans are wont to, criticized the refs if they so much as scratched their butt the wrong way. We were, against the odds, enjoying a sport we both loved.

 

Then came the end of the contest. As was fitting, the game went into overtime. On the last play, Hall connected with Tight End Andrew George for a touchdown, giving the win to the Cougars (“By George, I think he's caught it!). The home crowd went bonkers, myself included. But my fellow football-loving fan/rival could only look on with disappointment. That’s something we often forget--there's always someone who loses.

 

I didn't have to think twice about what to do next. 

 

Extending my hand, I said. “Good luck with your bowl game.”

 

With a smile, he shook my hand and said, “You too.”

 

Now I could go on and on about the deep psychological happenings here, and how my mastery of human behavior allowed me to navigate the treacherous waters of highly toxic sports rivalries. But I’m more humble than that. Plus, the solution is much simpler. You see, all I had to do was not act like a jerk. You get further in life that way. 

 

This all (finally) brings me back to Amie, my fellow student who has the nerve to root for the Utes. I admit, there is still the urge to tell my favorite jokes poking fun at her team (and some of these are HA-ARSH!). Maybe I'll share a few with her. It depends on if I can tell she's someone who doesn't take the rivalry waaayyyy too seriously. OR . . . maybe I can put aside this rivalry nonsense and make a new friend. Yeah, that sounds more worthwhile. You can never have too many friends. So I think I’ll refrain from calling Amie a “poo-poo head.”

 

Instead, I'll just say she has cooties. 




           

 

Friday, November 22, 2024

 

How I Saved Christmas by Defending the Diehards

Some context first.

I sleep on the train. It’s what I do. I take my seat, put on my headphones, and it’s lights out. It’s not like I have to worry about driving or anything; I just need to be conscious enough to hear my stop announced. This is not always possible given the fact that sleep is my mutant X-power. Anytime, anywhere, I can become dead to the world.

Recently, as I took my seat and began the process of nodding off, I was interrupted by a young gentleman across from me snickering to himself. I did what I usually do in these situations-- I checked to see if my fly was down. Relieved to see no one was making an unwelcome appearance, I became curious as to the source of the gentleman’s amusement. He was glancing to the family on the other side of the aisle, who were in the middle of a very animated conversation, one that others might confuse to be an argument. I happen to be an expert in family squabbles, and noticing the lack of blood, I easily surmised their talk was still on the “conversation” level.

What was the subject of their excited discussion? Christmas films, or rather what films rightfully belonged to this most hallowed of cinema groupings, and which were considered anathema. I could not help but follow their Yuletide debate, and soon realized it was going nowhere, as were my intentions to get in a power nap.

I removed my headphones and stepped in to save the day (because I’m nice like that). I introduced myself and provided my credentials. I told the family that I am currently enrolled at Southern New Hampshire University (SNHU), pursuing a Master’s Degree in Creative Writing. A lot of words that basically meant that I was the closest thing to an expert in their vicinity, so whatever I was about to say was right, and therefore they had no choice but to agree with me. Thankfully, they fell for it.

Like Mr. Spock from Star Trek, I approached their argument logically, hoping that a quick concession would allow me to get some shut-eye. I proposed that Christmas movies were a genre all on their own. The family agreed, as did the young gentleman, as he was now an active participant at this point. I then laid out that for any genre to be established, there must be a list of characteristics shared by all examples of said genre called “tropes.” I politely suggested that perhaps there has not yet been a consensus as to what tropes are universally accepted for Christmas films. For the next portion of our shared train ride, we discussed and agreed upon the following list of tropes that are required for a film to be considered a Christmas movie:

  • The setting of the story must take place during the Christmas season. This is usually the month of December through Christmas Day, maybe New Year’s if you’re generous. The traditional Biblical setting also counts, such as one would see in a retelling of Luke, Chapter 2. Just make sure you’re in a place that could pass for ancient Jerusalem with things like a desert background, palm trees, and bearded men in long dresses.
  • The plot of the story must be affected by the fact that it occurs during the Christmas season. For example, if you broke a leg falling off a ladder, that by itself would be just plain generic. However, if you broke your leg falling off a ladder because you were hanging those cursed lights for the Christmas season, that counts. 
  • There must be consistent use of Christmas imagery throughout the film. This trope is vastly broad, but the truth is there’s a lot of things associated with the Holiday season. Consider the décor-- glitzy trees, wreaths, sleigh pulled by reindeer, Santa Claus, etc. And then the food/drink—Holiday ham, figgy pudding, eggnog, etc. Music is also included here (and if anyone starts singing “All I Want for Christmas is You” by Mariah Carey, you’re fixin’ to get beat upside the head with a fruitcake).
  • There must be a theme related to Christian virtues. This list is broad as well but can be summed up to something along the lines of good will toward men in some way, shape or form. Common themes are Redemption, Christmas bringing out the best in us, and especially the concept of Family (including the bloodied conversations). Oh, and let’s not forget the most prominent—Love. If it can make you feel warm and fuzzy, Christianity probably has tried to lay claim to it.

So, based on that concise list, our Yule-starved group on the train now had the basis we needed. We could definitively state which films are yes, indeed, Christmas films, and which films should be cast aside like the socks Aunt Matilda gave as a gift (again). With this newfound feeling of comfort and joy, I have some bad news for some of you.

Die Hard is a Christmas movie.

“Wait!” I hear the nay-sayers cry. “How can that be?”

“Well,” says the unrepentant me. “I’ll be happy to explain.”

That film checks off every single one of the tropes on our list. Go ahead. Watch it and see. I’ll wait.

(. . . two hours and twelve minutes later.)

Told you. Let’s break things down further. You’ll forgive the gloating tone, but I was right after all.

  • Christmas Setting--We’re in Los Angeles on Christmas Eve. There’s no snow, sure, but that’s over half of the world during December. Get used to it.
  • Plot Affected by Christmas Setting--John McClane is there to visit his family for the Holidays and has been invited to the Christmas Party at Nakatomi Plaza. The fact that the employees are all in one place is the perfect time for Hans Gruber to carry out his hostage-heist plan.
  • Consistent use of Christmas Imagery—Yep, it’s there through the entire film. From the Christmas party, the “I have a Machine Gun, Ho-Ho-Ho” bit, to the happy couple driving off in a busted limo with the background music of “Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!”
  • Christmas Theme Virtue(s)—We mentioned redemption, and McClane is working towards reconciliation with his wife, Holly. He could have easily been selfish, escaped, and the bad guys would have been none the wiser. Instead, he demonstrates tremendous selflessness, to the point of sacrificing his person more than once to save others. Redeemed? I’d say so. A bloodied and foul-mouthed Bruce Willis may not seem like he embodies any Christian virtues, but who said he had to be perfect? Also, ask yourself this: If you went to war against a dozen heavily armed and organized bad guys, would you do any better? I guarantee you’d get beat up too, and most likely would’ve let an expletive or two slip along the way.

There you have it--undeniable proof that Die Hard does in fact belong on the list of Christmas films. You’re welcome. By the way, as I write this, I can feel several of you purists seething at my deduction.

Look, I can admit that Die Hard is definitely not a traditional Christmas film, probably due to the fact it has so many detractors that are akin to your standard action film. We have fight scenes, profanity, dead bodies literally falling everywhere, and the classic humongous explosion at the end. Folks have a hard time finding the whole “good will toward men” vibe from a film with such a high body count. They argue it should be labeled solely in the action film genre instead of the Christmas film category. They consider the idea of forcing these two genres together as absurd. To those folks, I’ve got more bad news for you.

That’s allowed.

Where is it written that one film cannot be represent more than one genre? Is there some sacred tomb that gets to have the final say? Nope! We get to decide for ourselves here. Genre-blending, as it is called, has existed for as long as there have been genres to label. In fact, Die Hard is not the first Christmas story to be blend two genres.

Case in point—A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.

“Oh no you don’t!” the nay-sayers shout. “You are not going to defile a beloved classic!”

I’m not going to defile it; I’m going to define it.

Obviously, this beloved tale that bears retelling every year meets all the criteria for the Christmas film genre. There have been numerous retellings on stage and screen, each of them, though different, still abide by the tropes established earlier. But the thing with great stories is they often hit the spot in more than one way.

What if I told you that A Christmas Carol was also a scary ghost story? I can see you about to argue, and yet you hold your tongue. Got you thinking now, haven’t I? Dickens states at the very beginning of the novella that he is going to endeavor to haunt us with a ghost story. Look up “ghost story genre tropes” and you’ll see his novella hits several of those points. Ebenezer Scrooge didn’t just have a few visits from friendly ghosts. Oh no-- he’s shaken to his very core numerous times by several bed-wetting nightmares. Scrooge was literally scared straight.

Thus was born the Christmas/Ghost Story mixed genre. And that isn’t the only possible combination that’s come to pass. We know Christmas/Action already exists. There are hundreds of Christmas/Romance blends everywhere too. Just look at Hallmark! They’ve mastered (and abused) the romantic holiday combo over and over (and over and over). If you really remove the blinders, you’ll see Christmas films have blended with almost every notable film genre out there.

I’ll save you the trouble of proposing a worthless counterargument--that several of these “holiday” films consist of too many other tropes from non-Christmas genres. So much so that they should cancel out their consideration for a Christmas movie. Go ahead and list them, but at best you are merely pointing out your own personal detractions. A Christmas film is a Christmas film, regardless of what the story may mix in with the basic recipe.

In addition, seeing as I’m the one who took the time to put together this rather splendid and foolproof argument, I get the last say (Nyah!). If you want to refute my points, you are more than welcome to sit your own (insert expletive) keister down at your own (insert expletive) keyboard and type up your own (insert expletive) rebuttal. It won’t make a difference, but you’re welcome to it just the same. Also, if you’re blaming me for ruining your perspective of Christmas films, then I accept your unspoken gratitude. Allow me to add additional salt to your figurative wound by stating Die Hard II is also a Christmas film. I gave up sleep for this, people. You think I took it lightly?

Look, it’s time everyone accepted the fact that many of our beloved season’s stories have, without our permission (gasp!), exposed us to multiple story combinations. You can’t stop it, and it’s time you stop denying it. If we’re being honest, we like the fact that it’s happening. We long for new stories and even newer versions of the classics. Telling the same story the same way gets boring real fast (right, Hallmark?). Mix it up, folks! Have Santa’s sleigh involved in a car chase! Use a candy-cane shiv as your go-to weapon! Wish someone a profanity-laden holiday greeting! The magic of the season just becomes stronger with each additional blend.

By the way--"Merry Christmas, mother-f*****r!”

 

 

Friday, February 9, 2024

I'm an Actor; I Lie . . . Deal With It

This blog has been dormant for too long. I've had plenty to say, just been lazy. That's an explanation, not an excuse. I'd ask your forgiveness, but I haven't done anything wrong (yet).

My motivation in starting up on this blog this time around is a bit typical of me: I'm trying to impress my wife. Yesterday I happened to be reading through some of my previous posts and she commented on how she liked to read my new posts. She also mentioned she missed the snarkiness and quirkiness of my musing in world domination. I love that woman and I don't want to disappoint her, so here we go (Luv ya hun!).

I've come to terms with who I am . . . I'm a Professional Liar. On my resume the synonym I use is Actor. I've been Lying/Acting for as long as I can remember. I've acted/lied just about every single day of my life I could communicate. I don't always get paid for what I do, but it's who I am.

Before you get the wrong idea, let me spell out what the definition of "lying" is, at least the way I use it. Lying is to purposely try to make someone believe something that isn't necessarily true. Acting, in my opinion, is the same definition. You will note that I have not stated my motivations and objectives when Lying/Acting.

Throughout the course of my life, I've been able to employ the art of Lying/Acting to several different purposes, most personal, some not so much. I admit, sometimes the motivation was not so righteous on my part. Maybe I pretended to be sick so I didn't have to go to school . . . but then it would have been a bigger lie to say to the people at school "I REALLY want to be here." Perhaps I pretended to get a phone call and answered it rather than hold a conversation with an individual I wanted to avoid contact with. You tell me--should I have told them "I don't want to be around you right now" and left it at that?

My point is, Lying/Acting has its place. There are two rock-solid truths I've come to learn and stand by:

(1) Men Lie/Act.

(2) So do Women.

This blog will not go into who lies/acts better, men or women. Like most things there are differing levels. Some are novices, some are experts. I've come to terms with the fact that I am one of the latter.

Need Proof? When I was 22 I traveled to New York to be part of show called the Hill Cumorah Pageant, a show put on by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (the Mormons). For those of you who aren't familiar with that show, it is by far the largest annual show in the United States, perhaps the world. It briefly relates the story of the coming forth of the Book of Mormon; Another Testament of Jesus Christ, a standard work of scripture the Mormons use along with the Bible. Thousands come to see it every summer in Palmyra, New York and there are literally hundreds of cast and crew who volunteer their time to put it on. Twice I've been blessed to be a part of it.

A few weeks prior to my arrival in New York, one of the leaders of the Pageant asked if I would be willing to give a discourse on knowing the Book of Mormon is true. I know for a fact that book is of God and every word is true. I am not Lying/Acting when I say that. I'll say it again--the Book of Mormon is true and is a work of God. Don't even try to get me to change my mind on that.

Anyways, I accepted the assignment to give the discourse, which was scheduled on the first Sunday during church services, three days into the cast's time at the show. This was my 2nd time participating in the show, but the first time as a cast member. As you can guess, I am not afraid to do things differently, and I was going to make sure the congregation remembered my discourse.

Prior to doing the Hill Cumorah Pageant, I had finished performing in BYU's production of The Wind in the Willows, based on the British stories. The entire cast of that show was trained to speak with standard and cockney British dialects. What does this have to do with my discourse? Let me tell you.

As I mentioned, I was to give my discourse three days into the rehearsal of the show. I decided to use an object lesson as part of my discourse. From the moment I got on the plane in Utah to the time I gave this discourse, I would ACT (or Lie) as if I was from England, not from the USA. I would speak with an accent the entire time and developed a back story that I was from Liverpool. As hard as it may sound, it was worth it.

Let's fast forward to that Sunday. The congregation totaled about 5-700 people. During Orientation, Casting, and Rehearsals up to that point not once did I speak in my normal voice, not once did I tell my real background. Not once did someone confront me to accuse me of acting/lying. I began my discourse by stating what my purpose of the sermon was--that those who want to know if the Book of Mormon is true or not need to find out for themselves. One cannot take another person's word for it. I then stated my background in studying Theatre at BYU. It was at this point I finally began speaking in my regular voice. I wish I could have a photo of the congregation members' faces when I, in the middle Church, admitted to having acted/lied to them all this time. I believe the term best describing this situation is "Shock Value." What's the value in acting/lying in Church? Well, let me finish.

When the gasps had died down, I stated very simply that no one in the congregation had taken the time to really find out the truth about me. They had assumed. Too often, in my opinion, religious principles and doctrine are assumed to be true. I don't believe anything should be left unquestioned. How else will we find out the truth if we don't take the effort to learn it. I stated to the congregation that assuming the Book of Mormon was true, like they had assumed I was really British, is not the way to go. I challenged them to find out for themselves if that Book of Mormon was the word of God or not (if they hadn't already done so).

So in summary, I was able to use my talent for acting/lying for good. My objectives and motivation for deceit are black and white. If I am deceiving to do harm, I believe I should suffer the punishment. If I am deceiving to uplift or make a worthwhile point, I see nothing wrong with that.

Some of you may feel like quoting one of the Commandments about lying (or acting). Let me quote it for you: Thou Shalt Not Bear False Witness Against Thy Neighbor (Exodus 20:16). I do not act/lie to do anything AGAINST anybody. I do it FOR them. I act/lie to tell a story that will uplift. I act/lie to protect people.

If you find yourself still questioning the place of lying, then you need to ask yourself "When was the last time I read a fictitious book?" or "When was the the last time I watched a movie/TV show about something that didn't really happen?" Fiction authors lie, as do actors in their own unique art form. Do you feel cheated? Do you feel taken advantage of? If so, you're exposing yourself to the wrong sorts of books and other forms of media. If you do not feel cheated or taken advantage of, but rather uplifted and rewarded, then I think you are okay with being lied to under certain circumstances.

In closing, I invite you to all Lie the Truth if the scenario allows for it. In my opinion, Lying/Acting the Truth is just another way of Telling the Truth. You don't have to try and do it professionally (like I sometimes do) but just consider it an option if the ends justify the means.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

My Final Project



Part of my final for my Technology in Education class was to create a digital story. The subject could be about anything I wanted, and Doc Waters gave some good advice as to what the subject should be. It needed to be something that personally meant something to us.

I remember watching a documentary about Helmuth Hubener back in 2003. Prior to then I had heard his name mentioned, but I didn't know much about him. After watching the documentary I remember sitting minutes in silence, in complete awe of this young man's story. This digital story is just my way of trying to bring his story to you and perhaps allow you the same experience I had.

Friday, December 11, 2009

In Closing . . .

Yeah, the semester is ending. This is that time of year when instructors, in a last-ditch effort to make students think for themselves, ask that their pupils get all self-reflective and stuff and express how far they've come in the class/subject they paid tuition for (aka an arm and a leg plus whatever the government didn't take).

Well, we definitely will have none of that here. Reflections are for philosophers and hippies. While I may have come off as philosophical and hippy-like at times, i don't like to talk about how far I've come. I prefer to think about it instead. (nnnnnnn--there, that was fun).


Besides, any instructor whose focus is solely rested upon students' self-reflections is (A) a sad person trying to derive meaning for their own lives from the lives of others or (2) Just really lazy.

They could be both, but I don't think of either types as being over-achievers. My point is, if the teacher was really doing their job, then both the instructor and the students would know the success they've achieved because the student would already be applying their new knowledge and skills.

Here's a quick example. I was 5 years old when I mastered shoelaces. I was quite proud of that (until I learned about Velcro and discovered a short cut). After several tries of getting the bunny ears just right, my Mom let me try doing it on my own. Much to my delight I remembered what to do and tied the shoelaces correctly. Now my Mom is an intelligent person and therefore knew it would have been degrading to ask "Now what have you learned, Jakob?" I probably would have played Captain Obvious and took advantage of the situation. I would have said something like "Why, did you forget already?" or "Are your eyes feeling okay? You were here all this time, right? At least mentally?"

Lucky for me my Mom simply congratulated me and let me tie my shoes from then on, an act I've continued to this day (except when I wear sandals and boots, which everyone should own a pair of). I like what I heard in a meeting with an educator. He said the first lesson he learned as an instructor was "Put the burden of the learning on the student." Well, if the shoelaces weren't supposed to be part of the picture, my Mom would have thrown the shoes in the trash and said walking barefoot would be fine. . . which would be ok if I were a hippy. But I was the student, shoelaces were going to be an important part of my life, so the burden was mine. I have advanced to double tying the shoelaces. 'Nuf said.

Now then, I'm going to ask you nicely this time to watch this video. Will you please click on the link below and watch the video? (MAN that was hard). Thank you.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y72cjn7l9H0



These students are trying to define the burdens of the learning world. I say let them. That means they are taking an active part in the learning process. They want to define the parameters. If you're technologically challenged, that's ok. We still have books.

For me, as a future teacher of this technologically-enhanced generation will probably have to keep up to speed with the newest products, which should be great fun since I'm the guy who put the DVD in the CD player and wondered why I wasn't getting any music or video. Regardless, as an instructor the technologies of the world are simply a means to an end. Basically I simply point in the direction the students should go and make the pathway as navigable as possible. Whether or not the embark on the journey is their own choice.






It doesn't matter anyways--eventually they will all become my minions that do my every bidding. BWA-HA-HA-HA-HAAAAAA!!!!

Friday, December 4, 2009

Admit it, we all love Propaganda

I say it, you believe it. THAT would be a useful superpower, don't you think? With that power I could build or destroy anything I wanted, have countless followers do my every bidding, even conquer the world.

Here's the mind blowing part---people have or are currently using this superpower already.

I'm referring to propaganda, which you would have known already had you read the title of this blog entry (shame on you if you didn't). There are two very crucial elements to effective propaganda: WHAT is being said, and HOW it is being said. Watch the following video before we proceed (and you better watch it this time--I don't post this stuff because I'm bored):


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpEnFwiqdx8&feature=related



Don't you feel smaller? Maybe even a bit amazed or scared? Maybe you feel threatened by the so called improvements of the human race? Let's stop and think--why do you feel this way?

Well, let's analyze it from the propaganda perspective:

WHAT was being said? If I may summarize it (which I can because I'm writing this blog entry and you're just the reader--nyah!), I believe the message is the processing of information is not what it used to be--our world has made humongous strides and is rapidly becoming a place where everyone thinks they have access to everything (by the way, they don't--it's just a myth that you can have anything you want. I already called dibs on whatever it was before you).

HOW was that message conveyed? Quite simple, actually. It presented related facts in a progressing pattern. You saw what was, is, and perhaps what will be. Imagine, if you will, a snowball rolling down a snowy mountainside at you. It seems small at first, but it gets bigger because (1) it's closer and (2) it's accumulated more snow and increased in size. I like how the video ends with "What does it all mean?" or as my analogy puts it "What do you do when the ever-growing snowball reaches you?"

I'm not going to answer those questions, mostly because I don't have a clue of what those answers are. Regardless, let me amaze you all anyways. I'll do so by making my point for this blog entry---we, the viewers and listeners of this media filled world, are the targeted puppets of the makers of the media.

That's what propaganda, in all of its many forms, is trying to do--make you do something (watch what strings you pull!). The really scary thing is the WHAT is being said doesn't even have to be true, so long as HOW it is being said gets to you. Watch commercials closely--you'll really see the media puppet masters at work there. They want you to buy/do something.

Now that you know all this, let me teach you about responsibility. If you're one who helps make the media, please, for Heaven's sake, make your message safe. Hopefully that doesn't fall on deaf ears, otherwise we could have another Hitler and/or Nazi Germany pop up somewhere (review your history--the Third Reich had propaganda masters working for them). If you are one receiving the propaganda message, please realize that the message you receive doesn't have to be the message that was sent. Be an objective, not a subjective receiver.






By the way, Doc Waters, knowing all of what I have just written about, has assigned us to do a digital story. We, her students, have been asked to put together a short moving presentation of any topic we want and share it with the class. In other words, we get to try our hand at this propaganda thingy. Am I able to handle this new superpower? Let me put on my mask and cape and we'll find out . . .

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Storytelling Basics

Let me begin with an actual story.

As you can see, my blog post is a little late. There are 3 possible causes for this: (1) Laziness--didn't feel like posting anything, (2) Forgetfulness--it just happened to slip my mind, or (3) Helplessness--there was physically no way for me to post the blog.

Now, which reason(s) explain the lateness of my blog? As a storyteller I could make it any of them or a combination. Let's try reasons 2 and 3. My story would go like this:

My wife and I recently closed on a house. Not wanting to pay an extra month's rent, we decided to move in as quickly as possible. This past weekend we took advantage of the good weather and moved all of our belongings to our new address and have officially started living there as our place of residence. Unfortunately, we have not enabled any Internet services at our new location yet, so I physically could not post on my blog. Not that it mattered much because we were so busy that the fact I had an assignment due completely slipped my mind. I wasn't able to complete the assignment until today.



Nice story, huh? Now the real question is "Is it the truth?"

I could say it is true all that I want, but you, the reader, currently have no physical proof that is what really happened. What if I showed you the stack of papers I signed proving the closing on the house, or satellite pictures of my car in the new house's driveway, or pictures of the bruises my wife got during the move? I could you provide all that proof and more but you still would have to choose to believe that story. That's the key word--CHOOSE.

That brings me to the key with storytelling. Good stories and storytellers are the ones that can help you in your choice of what to believe. I recently watched a Digital Story about NASA--is the space program worth it. Pretty neutral presentation--it just stated facts about what it's cost us and the benefits have been. Had the storyteller made it a presentation of just the positive stuff, then that may have been a difference in what I chose to believe.

The storyteller first and foremost must accept the responsibility of helping others to make the choice of believing something new after the story is told. That should be determined before determining how the story will be told. If I tell you about something I don't care about, then I'm not treating the subject with the respect it would need. If I want you to make a choice based on what I tell you, then I'll probably approach the telling of it differently.

With every choice, though, there are CONSEQUENCES. That is the second thing a storyteller must accept responsibility for. Unfortunately the consequences are not always known. Many times it has happened that the story was true, but no one wanted to believe it or even hear it again. If a story is a lie, the storyteller must be prepared for the possibility of being found out. If it is the truth, they must make a decision of whether or not they will stand by it. If others beleive their story, will the storyteller be able to bear what consequences happen to them?

WHat does this have to do with teaching. Well, we have to help students to choose what they will and will not believe. Ultimately, we accept responsibility for the consequences of their choice.