Part of what makes a culture unique is the set of shared assumptions, assumptions that each member of the culture holds to be true and valuable, which is why they're comfortable basing their life around them. Things like the existence of God, the importance of the individual, and baseball make up a good deal of America's culture. And then within American culture there are other, smaller cultures based around gender, hobbies, and religious beliefs.
I think beyond that if you want to go even smaller you can find cultures within families and small groups of friends. Every family has that handful of kid-friendly movies that everyone grew up watching, the rare kind of kid movie that's actually good and works for adults too. In my family some of those movies that have withstood the test of time are Back to the Future, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (the 1970's version, because I don't have brain damage), Aladdin and any other classic Disney animated movie, and the Sandlot.
The problem with culture is that whenever people find out about something that runs against a cultural assumption they have a tendency to freak out. During my freshmen year of college one of my roommates emailed the dean of religion because he was shocked to find out that Brigham Young was racist. It can create a crisis because the person starts to question everything else about the culture that they've always lived in.
The point of all of this is that one of my cultural assumptions was recently challenged. A few days ago I found out that Beauty and the Beast makes absolutely no sense.
Not that there's anything I can do about it really. It's already regarded as a classic, it was nominated for Best Picture back in 1991 (I think) and everyone in the world knows all of the songs from the movie. The damage has been done. But I'm going to break down why the plot makes no sense, if only so I can obtain my own sense of closure.
The movie opens with the enchantress showing up as an ugly lady at the Beast's castle. She probably could have just TP'd his castle if she wanted to mess with him, but since she has magic I suppose she wanted to get a little creative. The Beast tells her that he won't let her stay in the castle because she's ugly which leads the enchantress to reveal her beauty and curse the Beast. The narrator says that the rose petals will fall until his 21st birthday, at which point the flower will die and the Beast will be stuck as a beast forever. The scene ends with the Beast ripping a portrait of himself as an adult because of the shame he now feels.
So it makes sense so far, right? I was a little surprised to find out that the Beast is only 20 in the movie (until the end of the movie, when the rose dies shortly after Gaston stabs him on the castle rampart. Happy Birthday) but then again it was easy for me to assume that maybe the Beast had only been cursed for maybe 4 years tops. The enchantress got him when he was 16 or something. But then, when Lumiere is singing "Be Our Guest," he says "Ten years we've been rusting, needing so much more than dusting."
Whoa. So the Beast has been a beast for 10 years? And he's younger than 21? So wait, did the enchantress curse him just before he turned 11? What kind of benevolent enchantress holds an 10 year old to such a high level of accountability for being a bit of a brat? Where are the Beast's parents? Why was this random 10 year old kid lording over this giant castle just a few miles from town? How was Chip even born? He's definitely younger than 10. Did Mrs. Potts fire him up in the kiln somehow? Is Mrs. Potts some sort of Dr. Frankenstein that somehow turned a tea cup into a human kid? How was there a picture of Beast as an adult, if the last time he was a human was as a 10 year old?
Now, this isn't the first time that the plot of a Disney movie has been thrown out of whack by a random throwaway line in a song. In Aladdin, the genie tells Aladdin that the way Aladdin dresses is "so 3rd century" just a few minutes after the he busts out of the lamp and says "Ten thousand years can give you such a crick in the neck," which would mean that if the Genie was familiar with 3rd century styles then that would have been the last time he was out of the lamp, and if he's been in there for 10,00 years then the movie takes place in at least 10,300 AD. Crazy right?
For the record, I'm not super obsessed with Disney movies (though I definitely knew all of the quotes I used off the top of my head). I just think it's funny how when you know and love something, you're willing to forgive it. Like The Empire Strikes Back. Luke gets trained as a Jedi in the same amount of time it takes for Leia and Han to get to Cloud City, which means that Leia and Han were on the run for several months (which doesn't make sense in a universe with light speed travel) or Luke was trained as a Jedi for a day maybe. But it doesn't matter, because Empire Strikes Back is one of the best movies ever. I guess I could expand even go so far as to apply this idea to friendships, family, lovers, religion, or fast food, but that would be dumb.
Besides my Beauty and the Beast faith crisis, I was in the school paper a few days ago. Marissa's roommate interviewed me about my job for the grounds crew, and then some photographer came and took pictures of us while we mowed. I totally fumbled on the interview because the questions I was asked led me to give really boring answers that don't really capture the fun I have while I work. Questions like "What do you do?" lead to answers like "I mow the lawn", which leaves out the part of my job where I spend hours talking about a way to get rich off of threatening to kill a pig on the internet unless I get a certain amount in donations by a particular deadline, or when I spend a few hours pruning bushes and talking about my favorite Super Nintendo games. I kept the copy of the paper I'm in, if only for posterity even though I' definitely the most boring part of the issue.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Maybe if I Liked Trashy Underaged Girls
So when I got invited to a dance party, that Nate Morris said a few pretty girls he knew were attending, I wanted to go. For the girls obviously, but also because I'm such a routine kind of guy. A dance party, at least in my mind, is the farthest thing from something I'd enjoy. If there's someone who knows me better, I'm open to suggestions.
It was a Mardi Gra party, held in a Laser Tag arena. There were a few arcades that were probably put together before I was, as well as some cheap pizza in the back room. I kind of wish I knew this before I paid the 5 buck to get in.
I've never understood how you meet someone at a dance party, at least at dance parties like this. Of all the girls rubbing their butts on every nearby person, how do you know which one is compatible with you? Having a girl grind on you really only establishes that she has a butt, which is usually obvious enough unless she's a centaur or something. We wandered through this mess for a few minutes looking for Nate's friends but we couldn't find them.
As we sat out in the lobby, I in my gray slacks and button up shirt, I popped a few cough drops in my mouth and realized that this perhaps was not my scene. And then a girl who looked like she was 15 walked by wearing a fish net for a shirt, because if you're going to wear a bright green bra it would be a waste if no one got to see you in it. We decided to go after about an hour so we could get our five dollar's worth.
I learned something from all of this, and it's that comfort zones exist for a reason. I have 20+ years of experience that tells me not to go to dance parties or do other things like play tackle football or go to the zoo. Who am I to fight these things? I figure it's gotten me this far.
It was a Mardi Gra party, held in a Laser Tag arena. There were a few arcades that were probably put together before I was, as well as some cheap pizza in the back room. I kind of wish I knew this before I paid the 5 buck to get in.
I've never understood how you meet someone at a dance party, at least at dance parties like this. Of all the girls rubbing their butts on every nearby person, how do you know which one is compatible with you? Having a girl grind on you really only establishes that she has a butt, which is usually obvious enough unless she's a centaur or something. We wandered through this mess for a few minutes looking for Nate's friends but we couldn't find them.
As we sat out in the lobby, I in my gray slacks and button up shirt, I popped a few cough drops in my mouth and realized that this perhaps was not my scene. And then a girl who looked like she was 15 walked by wearing a fish net for a shirt, because if you're going to wear a bright green bra it would be a waste if no one got to see you in it. We decided to go after about an hour so we could get our five dollar's worth.
I learned something from all of this, and it's that comfort zones exist for a reason. I have 20+ years of experience that tells me not to go to dance parties or do other things like play tackle football or go to the zoo. Who am I to fight these things? I figure it's gotten me this far.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Were Muslims Ever Persecuted?
If you had to guess who asked that question, would you guess:
A). Someone who is unfamiliar with Muslims and their history
B). Someone who isn't sure what "persecuted" means, or
C). A college student 10 minutes into a lesson about the crusades
Seriously dude? Right after learning about how Christians waged war against Muslims 9 times over something like a 200 year time span (mostly because of their religious beliefs), you ask if they were ever persecuted?
I shouldn't judge, or rant like this I suppose, but sometimes I get fed up with people's complete lack of critical thinking. If he had taken like, 2 seconds to think about if the Muslims had ever been persecuted, he probably would have thought something along the lines of "Oh yeah, the crusades, duh! Why do I think so many stupid things?"
I guess it all comes down to our culture of instant gratification. If we want to know something, we want to know it right away. I remember back when I was 7 or 8 and we didn't have internet in the house. If I wanted to know something, I'd ask my Dad, and if he didn't know, I just assumed that I wanted to know something that no one in the world knew about. Now, if you want to know who played the Chinese guy that Malcolm's grandma tried to marry in that one episode of Malcolm in the Middle, it takes 5 seconds to look that up on imbd (his name is James Hong by the way. He's also in the episode of Seinfeld where they're waiting to get a table at a Chinese restaurant as well as the voice of Po's dad from Kung-Fu Panda. I hate that I know that off the top of my head).
So, if someone in class wants to know something now, instead of sending their neurons and synapses to wrestle whatever their conundrum is into submission, they just ask the teacher. I'd be probably be a lot less annoyed with this whole thing if these kinds of questions weren't a regularly occurring thing. And I'm not really angry about it so much as I'm flabbergasted. I hoped that college students would be a touch smarter than this.
And when I think about it, I'm not really above this sort of thing either. Instant gratification is why I've been eating graham crackers for the last half hour instead of just making dinner, and why I went to Dairy Queen last night before I watched the A-Team.
So I guess my beef is mostly against people asking retarded questions during class. Instant gratification is OK.
A). Someone who is unfamiliar with Muslims and their history
B). Someone who isn't sure what "persecuted" means, or
C). A college student 10 minutes into a lesson about the crusades
Seriously dude? Right after learning about how Christians waged war against Muslims 9 times over something like a 200 year time span (mostly because of their religious beliefs), you ask if they were ever persecuted?
I shouldn't judge, or rant like this I suppose, but sometimes I get fed up with people's complete lack of critical thinking. If he had taken like, 2 seconds to think about if the Muslims had ever been persecuted, he probably would have thought something along the lines of "Oh yeah, the crusades, duh! Why do I think so many stupid things?"
I guess it all comes down to our culture of instant gratification. If we want to know something, we want to know it right away. I remember back when I was 7 or 8 and we didn't have internet in the house. If I wanted to know something, I'd ask my Dad, and if he didn't know, I just assumed that I wanted to know something that no one in the world knew about. Now, if you want to know who played the Chinese guy that Malcolm's grandma tried to marry in that one episode of Malcolm in the Middle, it takes 5 seconds to look that up on imbd (his name is James Hong by the way. He's also in the episode of Seinfeld where they're waiting to get a table at a Chinese restaurant as well as the voice of Po's dad from Kung-Fu Panda. I hate that I know that off the top of my head).
So, if someone in class wants to know something now, instead of sending their neurons and synapses to wrestle whatever their conundrum is into submission, they just ask the teacher. I'd be probably be a lot less annoyed with this whole thing if these kinds of questions weren't a regularly occurring thing. And I'm not really angry about it so much as I'm flabbergasted. I hoped that college students would be a touch smarter than this.
And when I think about it, I'm not really above this sort of thing either. Instant gratification is why I've been eating graham crackers for the last half hour instead of just making dinner, and why I went to Dairy Queen last night before I watched the A-Team.
So I guess my beef is mostly against people asking retarded questions during class. Instant gratification is OK.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Big Foot
Apparently, one of the big ethical questions in the Big Foot community is whether it is OK to shoot a Big Foot if you see one.
What? There's a Big Foot community? They've thought about the contingency of having to shoot one? Yes, and yes.
The upsides to shooting and killing one is that it will prove that Big Foots (there are more than one evidently) are real, which will allow the government to grant them endangered species status and place them under protection. The downside is that since there are so few of them, the species might end up getting obliterated if even one dies.
I guess it's never occurred to members of the Big Foot community that there's no real point in placing the species under protection, since no one has actually seen one. They must be doing a good enough job on their own. I also like that the option of using a tranquilizer dart has only picked up some steam.
The reason I'm talking about Big Foot on Valentine's by the way is because Valentine's Day itself was pretty uneventful because I'm single. I'm not saying that because I want to be one of those people that languishes in self pity about how alone they are, taking personal offense in the very idea that there's a holiday like Valentine's Day. No one wants to be single on Valentine's Day but that's only because no one wants to be single, ever. In general at least. The only people who want to be single really are people who are in crappy relationships. Since it's assumed that being single isn't anyone's first choice, I don't see any point in bringing it up around Valentine's Day. No one wants to be single any more on Valentine's Day than they do in the summer or on Halloween.
I just feel that, since it's a holiday that celebrates couples and romance, it's sort of expected that most single people have sort of average days, which is fine. After all, Jews don't really get asked if they had a good Christmas. So my roommates and I gallivanted/cavorted/went around and looked for apartments for the fall. What didn't occur to us is that most people were probably busy, since it was a holiday and all. What ended up happening is that whenever we'd talk to someone I'd say "Happy Valentine's Day" as we left. The situation of asking someone if you can live in their house is inherently awkward, so I tried to legitimize it a little bit by invoking the clout of a nationally observed holiday.
What? There's a Big Foot community? They've thought about the contingency of having to shoot one? Yes, and yes.
The upsides to shooting and killing one is that it will prove that Big Foots (there are more than one evidently) are real, which will allow the government to grant them endangered species status and place them under protection. The downside is that since there are so few of them, the species might end up getting obliterated if even one dies.
I guess it's never occurred to members of the Big Foot community that there's no real point in placing the species under protection, since no one has actually seen one. They must be doing a good enough job on their own. I also like that the option of using a tranquilizer dart has only picked up some steam.
The reason I'm talking about Big Foot on Valentine's by the way is because Valentine's Day itself was pretty uneventful because I'm single. I'm not saying that because I want to be one of those people that languishes in self pity about how alone they are, taking personal offense in the very idea that there's a holiday like Valentine's Day. No one wants to be single on Valentine's Day but that's only because no one wants to be single, ever. In general at least. The only people who want to be single really are people who are in crappy relationships. Since it's assumed that being single isn't anyone's first choice, I don't see any point in bringing it up around Valentine's Day. No one wants to be single any more on Valentine's Day than they do in the summer or on Halloween.
I just feel that, since it's a holiday that celebrates couples and romance, it's sort of expected that most single people have sort of average days, which is fine. After all, Jews don't really get asked if they had a good Christmas. So my roommates and I gallivanted/cavorted/went around and looked for apartments for the fall. What didn't occur to us is that most people were probably busy, since it was a holiday and all. What ended up happening is that whenever we'd talk to someone I'd say "Happy Valentine's Day" as we left. The situation of asking someone if you can live in their house is inherently awkward, so I tried to legitimize it a little bit by invoking the clout of a nationally observed holiday.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Choices
A few weeks ago I finished reading a book called "The Paradox of Choice." It's about how more choices actually leads to higher amounts of unhappiness, which is basically why modern life kind of sucks sometimes. For example, if you got went into a bank and had to sit in line for an hour, you wouldn't be happy about it, but you wouldn't regret it as much as if there were two lines, and you got in the slower one. I'd be a lot less picky about taking girls out on dates if there were only like, 5. But because there are so many possibilities, people have a tendency to wonder about all of the other options that might be out there, which makes them either too afraid to commit to a choice, or they choose and end up dissatisfied with their choice.
So I read this book and was understandably freaked out. Luckily, the author isn't some sort of twisted despair monger and was kind enough to include some suggestions in the back about how to deal with having to making tons of decisions and deal with regret. One of the suggestions was to write down 5 things that you're grateful for everyday. It's supposed to help you realize that your life isn't actually too bad, so I decided to give it a try.
And then the clouds opened up and God said "I hate you Adam."
That's basically been this semester so far, and I'd complain about it more if it wasn't so funny. And it's only funny in the sense that so many annoying, crappy things keep happening that it gets kind of ridiculous sometimes (for the record, I think people who laugh about their problems are slightly psychotic). Here's the run down:
- I worked a 10 hour shift two Sundays ago from four in the the morning till 2 in the afternoon, and because it was Sunday, all the shops were closed so I didn't get to eat all day.
- The next day my hard drive got erased.
- There's a dead mouse in my kitchen, somewhere.
- I got called in to work at three in the morning.
- On the same day, the water radiator broke so I had to take a freezing cold shower.
- Because my financial calculator was set up incorrectly, I failed my Family Finance test.
- Because I was so mystified at how hard my Finance test was, I was 45 minutes late to my Psych class and and therefore only had 5 minutes to take the in-class exam that I didn't know about.
- My boss told me that I talk too much at work (which isn't so much an unfortunate event as it is me being retarded, but still).
I didn't write this list to get pity, I just think it's weird that this all decided to happen to me within the last two weeks. It's been slightly hard sometimes to think of five things every day that I'm grateful for (and it's also made me realize that I'm disproportionately grateful for food for some reason) but I really do have a good life. I've got good parents, good friends, I'm educated, and I'm LDS, which means that if I got hit by a bus tomorrow I'd at least go out in a Celestial blaze of glory and get to relax. I guess I'd still be single but since I'd be dead I'd never get the hiccups again, which would make the whole thing almost worth it.
Watching lots of classic movies also makes up for the general crappiness, I've decided (also, blogger is telling me that crappiness, is not a word, which is false). At BYU I've noticed that there are roughly 4 categories of movies that any given student here enjoys:
- Disney movies
- Summer blockbusters
- Anything with Will Smith in it
- Psych (seriously, what's the deal with all the hype around this show? There's no reason for him to pretend to be psychic, or why that would even function as a plausible explanation for why he knows things, because no one believes in psychics).
Not that there's anything wrong with any of these kinds of movies (except for Psych, screw that show), it's just nice to watch something else for a change. There's just something about old movies that pulls you in. Like when I watched Vertigo with Brownwyn and Jennie (well, Sadie was there too, but she was asleep, which hardly counts) last week. When the movie ended, they threw several pillows and the remote at the TV. If they hadn't been sitting on the couch, I'm sure they would have thrown that too. But that's what a good movie should do. It should get you involved.
So yeah, in conclusion, Jimmy Stewart is awesome.
So I read this book and was understandably freaked out. Luckily, the author isn't some sort of twisted despair monger and was kind enough to include some suggestions in the back about how to deal with having to making tons of decisions and deal with regret. One of the suggestions was to write down 5 things that you're grateful for everyday. It's supposed to help you realize that your life isn't actually too bad, so I decided to give it a try.
And then the clouds opened up and God said "I hate you Adam."
That's basically been this semester so far, and I'd complain about it more if it wasn't so funny. And it's only funny in the sense that so many annoying, crappy things keep happening that it gets kind of ridiculous sometimes (for the record, I think people who laugh about their problems are slightly psychotic). Here's the run down:
- I worked a 10 hour shift two Sundays ago from four in the the morning till 2 in the afternoon, and because it was Sunday, all the shops were closed so I didn't get to eat all day.
- The next day my hard drive got erased.
- There's a dead mouse in my kitchen, somewhere.
- I got called in to work at three in the morning.
- On the same day, the water radiator broke so I had to take a freezing cold shower.
- Because my financial calculator was set up incorrectly, I failed my Family Finance test.
- Because I was so mystified at how hard my Finance test was, I was 45 minutes late to my Psych class and and therefore only had 5 minutes to take the in-class exam that I didn't know about.
- My boss told me that I talk too much at work (which isn't so much an unfortunate event as it is me being retarded, but still).
I didn't write this list to get pity, I just think it's weird that this all decided to happen to me within the last two weeks. It's been slightly hard sometimes to think of five things every day that I'm grateful for (and it's also made me realize that I'm disproportionately grateful for food for some reason) but I really do have a good life. I've got good parents, good friends, I'm educated, and I'm LDS, which means that if I got hit by a bus tomorrow I'd at least go out in a Celestial blaze of glory and get to relax. I guess I'd still be single but since I'd be dead I'd never get the hiccups again, which would make the whole thing almost worth it.
Watching lots of classic movies also makes up for the general crappiness, I've decided (also, blogger is telling me that crappiness, is not a word, which is false). At BYU I've noticed that there are roughly 4 categories of movies that any given student here enjoys:
- Disney movies
- Summer blockbusters
- Anything with Will Smith in it
- Psych (seriously, what's the deal with all the hype around this show? There's no reason for him to pretend to be psychic, or why that would even function as a plausible explanation for why he knows things, because no one believes in psychics).
Not that there's anything wrong with any of these kinds of movies (except for Psych, screw that show), it's just nice to watch something else for a change. There's just something about old movies that pulls you in. Like when I watched Vertigo with Brownwyn and Jennie (well, Sadie was there too, but she was asleep, which hardly counts) last week. When the movie ended, they threw several pillows and the remote at the TV. If they hadn't been sitting on the couch, I'm sure they would have thrown that too. But that's what a good movie should do. It should get you involved.
So yeah, in conclusion, Jimmy Stewart is awesome.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Indiana Matt Damon and Easter Island Bodies
Easter Island.
Easter Island.
Easter Island.
Easter Island (in the corner, with the shades).
Easter Island is mysterious and, apparently, a staple of merchandise for children.
Apparently, the reason behind the name is that the first European to bump into the island happened to do it on Easter Sunday. Maybe it's because I've fantasized about owning an island and all of the cool things I would hypothetically name it, but it's kind of disappointing that this guy's imagination didn't extend beyond his calendar. Especially for an island like Easter Island, which could have easily been named "Giant Head Island," or any number of awesome things. Good thing he didn't discover America, although I guess Halloween Land would be kind of cool to pledge allegiance to.
So you notice all the pictures I linked to? How they were all just heads? Yeah, those things have bodies. Twist. And there are 887 of them. Who does that?
The reason I bring this up is because at work the other day, as me and the boys were pruning some shrubs, we were talking about how the fourth Indiana Jones movie was a horrendous mistake and what we would have done to make a better movie (and if any of us had been blessed with any sort of scientific capacity, I'm sure we would have talked just as passionately about alternate fuel sources or something, but we can only do the best with what we have and make the world better one small thing at a time).
After deciding that Harrison Ford was too old and should only function as a mentor figure for Matt Damon, who would be the new main character, we spent an hour deciding what artifact Indy would go for. We threw around Excalibur (complete with a chase scene through Parisian catacombs), Shangri-la, the pyramids, the floating gardens Babylon, until someone threw out Easter Island and Mike said that maybe they could figure out why the heads have bodies. The way I see it, if anyone could figure out why so much effort went into making the Easter Island monoliths, it would be the combined archeological efforts of Harrison Ford and Matt Damon.
Easter Island.
Easter Island.
Easter Island (in the corner, with the shades).
Easter Island is mysterious and, apparently, a staple of merchandise for children.
Apparently, the reason behind the name is that the first European to bump into the island happened to do it on Easter Sunday. Maybe it's because I've fantasized about owning an island and all of the cool things I would hypothetically name it, but it's kind of disappointing that this guy's imagination didn't extend beyond his calendar. Especially for an island like Easter Island, which could have easily been named "Giant Head Island," or any number of awesome things. Good thing he didn't discover America, although I guess Halloween Land would be kind of cool to pledge allegiance to.
So you notice all the pictures I linked to? How they were all just heads? Yeah, those things have bodies. Twist. And there are 887 of them. Who does that?
The reason I bring this up is because at work the other day, as me and the boys were pruning some shrubs, we were talking about how the fourth Indiana Jones movie was a horrendous mistake and what we would have done to make a better movie (and if any of us had been blessed with any sort of scientific capacity, I'm sure we would have talked just as passionately about alternate fuel sources or something, but we can only do the best with what we have and make the world better one small thing at a time).
After deciding that Harrison Ford was too old and should only function as a mentor figure for Matt Damon, who would be the new main character, we spent an hour deciding what artifact Indy would go for. We threw around Excalibur (complete with a chase scene through Parisian catacombs), Shangri-la, the pyramids, the floating gardens Babylon, until someone threw out Easter Island and Mike said that maybe they could figure out why the heads have bodies. The way I see it, if anyone could figure out why so much effort went into making the Easter Island monoliths, it would be the combined archeological efforts of Harrison Ford and Matt Damon.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
The Art of Lying
When my roommate and I were hanging out with some of our girl friends the other night, we convinced the two of them that most men poop their pants while they sleep, regularly throughout the week. I know, right?
You might be wondering how we were able to get them to buy that story. It's something that I didn't fully understand the time either, so I looked back at this particular lie and some of the other lies I've told in my life, and looked for the common elements that make some lies work. This is what I found.
1. The Right Reputation. If all of your friends know that you're kind of an idiot, they're going to take everything you say with a grain of salt, because usually you lack the capacity to report even the most basic truths and obvious details with 100% accuracy.
However, if you're known as a purveyor of random knowledge, and you've already dazzled your friends with a couple of cool facts, then they're in prime condition to be lied to. They already accept you as an authority. This makes selling a lie so much easier.
2. The Right Context. You can't just walk up to someone and say "Hey, did you know that most men poop their pants every night?" They're not going to believe you unless they're really...trusting or something. That's a positive word. If someone's talking about pooping your pants though, or changing diapers, and then you say "Did you know that a good majority of men suffer from nocturnal spastic colon?" Bam. They'll believe it. Lying in the context of a conversation works so well because it makes it seem as if the lie you're telling is just something you thought of because it's related to the topic of discussion. Walking right up to someone and telling them a lie puts people on their guard, because its like you're selling something.
3. The Lie Must be More Awesome than the Truth. Remember when paleontologists told everyone in the world how dinosaurs were actually covered in feathers? Probably not. Most people took that truth and discarded it, because the idea of giant lizards of death is infinitely cooler than imagining a feathery stegosaurus. If a boring truth is hard to sell to people, then why would you even bother trying to tell a boring lie?
A good lie has to be something that's more exciting and interesting than the world they already know. People love to learn crazy, sensational information, and they will love you if you can give it to them. And then they get to tell their friends. This is probably how Greek mythology got started.
For instance, one time I told a buddy of mine that the JST of the Bible says that Jesus cleansed the temple while he wasn't wearing a shirt, and he believed me because the thing I told him was cooler than the truth. When my roommate and I told our friends that most men poop their pants every night, they believed it because that's a lot more interesting than the truth.
4. Numbers. Friends make any lie easy. When my roommate and I sold our friends on the idea of pooping the bed, it was a team effort. When they asked "How much poop usually comes out?" my roommate was right there to say, "Oh, like a cup, when it's bad." I quickly chimed in with "The other 3 or 4 nights out of the week it's usually just the Hershey squirts." How can you fight that? I almost believed it myself.
The problem with bringing more people into the circle of the lie is that there's a greater risk, since a lot of people suck at keeping a straight face. Make sure you have friends who know what they're doing, and you can get people to believe in Santa Claus again.
These things are the basic tenets of lying. There are other things, like acting naturally and not telling a lie that's too outrageous, but I feel like these other elements are often overlooked when people craft their fibs. Happy lying.
You might be wondering how we were able to get them to buy that story. It's something that I didn't fully understand the time either, so I looked back at this particular lie and some of the other lies I've told in my life, and looked for the common elements that make some lies work. This is what I found.
1. The Right Reputation. If all of your friends know that you're kind of an idiot, they're going to take everything you say with a grain of salt, because usually you lack the capacity to report even the most basic truths and obvious details with 100% accuracy.
However, if you're known as a purveyor of random knowledge, and you've already dazzled your friends with a couple of cool facts, then they're in prime condition to be lied to. They already accept you as an authority. This makes selling a lie so much easier.
2. The Right Context. You can't just walk up to someone and say "Hey, did you know that most men poop their pants every night?" They're not going to believe you unless they're really...trusting or something. That's a positive word. If someone's talking about pooping your pants though, or changing diapers, and then you say "Did you know that a good majority of men suffer from nocturnal spastic colon?" Bam. They'll believe it. Lying in the context of a conversation works so well because it makes it seem as if the lie you're telling is just something you thought of because it's related to the topic of discussion. Walking right up to someone and telling them a lie puts people on their guard, because its like you're selling something.
3. The Lie Must be More Awesome than the Truth. Remember when paleontologists told everyone in the world how dinosaurs were actually covered in feathers? Probably not. Most people took that truth and discarded it, because the idea of giant lizards of death is infinitely cooler than imagining a feathery stegosaurus. If a boring truth is hard to sell to people, then why would you even bother trying to tell a boring lie?
A good lie has to be something that's more exciting and interesting than the world they already know. People love to learn crazy, sensational information, and they will love you if you can give it to them. And then they get to tell their friends. This is probably how Greek mythology got started.
For instance, one time I told a buddy of mine that the JST of the Bible says that Jesus cleansed the temple while he wasn't wearing a shirt, and he believed me because the thing I told him was cooler than the truth. When my roommate and I told our friends that most men poop their pants every night, they believed it because that's a lot more interesting than the truth.
4. Numbers. Friends make any lie easy. When my roommate and I sold our friends on the idea of pooping the bed, it was a team effort. When they asked "How much poop usually comes out?" my roommate was right there to say, "Oh, like a cup, when it's bad." I quickly chimed in with "The other 3 or 4 nights out of the week it's usually just the Hershey squirts." How can you fight that? I almost believed it myself.
The problem with bringing more people into the circle of the lie is that there's a greater risk, since a lot of people suck at keeping a straight face. Make sure you have friends who know what they're doing, and you can get people to believe in Santa Claus again.
These things are the basic tenets of lying. There are other things, like acting naturally and not telling a lie that's too outrageous, but I feel like these other elements are often overlooked when people craft their fibs. Happy lying.
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