Sharing Goodness in a Dark World

It's relatively easy to become cynical, frustrated, jaded, etc. by all of the bad things we see not only taking place in foreign countries and across our nation but also in our communities and in our daily interactions with others. The Angry White Loner is certainly not immune from it and, admittedly, has shown it from time to time here on his blog.

Passive-aggressivism has long been one of my defense mechanisms. As I look back, it began to develop when I was bullied not once but twice in two different grades at two different junior high schools. Though I sometimes feel as if the compulsion or tendency is leaving me, I am reminded on occasion that it is still very much with me. This is not an excuse but rather an admission that it is a demon I still have to fight.

We all have them. They come in many shapes and sizes.

We are living in difficult times—some might even call them the "latter days." Prophets have both warned us about these days but have also reminded us that those who have faith and who are prepared shall not fear in the face of it all.

Just yesterday, I had a conversation with Angry White Brother in which I expressed a degree of frustration at some of the negativity I had encountered during the course of the week.

To attempt to make a long story short: Five years ago, football player from local university AWB graduated from and which we both support made some unfortunate comments about the arch-rival's school and fans. During the week, the news broke that said football player, currently retired from playing football himself and an assistant high school football coach in Arizona, had been arrested for shoplifting and had also been found in possession of illegal, addictive narcotics. The fallout from this breaking story included a number—not most, but some—of rabid fans of arch-rival school jumping on the opportunity to again label this person the devil incarnate and to use such words as "karma," "just desserts," and (I'm paraphrasing here) "neener neener." Some of the fans of the school AWB and I support, in turn, engaged some of these people in a battle of words.

Not a war of words, but most definitely a battle.

We men and our sports rivalries. We take it far too seriously—myself included. For some, it is a matter as serious as the Ebola virus or world hunger, which sadly are two very real problems faced by certain corners of the globe.

On behalf of my entire gender, ladies, I sincerely apologize for what utter dweebs we make ourselves look like sometimes.

Well, I couldn't make that long story short after all. To quote Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride, however, "let me sum up" by stating that, in concluding our discussion over my frustration, AWB was the voice of reason and shared with me two simple words:

"Share goodness."

There's always going to be people who take trivial matters such as sports far too seriously, he said. There's nothing we can do about them. They're always going to be there. Both cockroaches and people who take sports far too seriously are the two species pretty well guaranteed to survive a nuclear holocaust (that last part was the AWL's editorial comment).

Nevertheless, AWB continued, we can combat all of the negativity swirling around out there by, much of the time, not even addressing it at all and instead heeding a recent call by a man I hold to be an Apostle of the Lord, Elder David A. Bednar, to help flood social media with positive messages about things that, rather than tear others down, instead inspire, uplift, and enlighten.

We can #ShareGoodness with the people around us.

Earlier today, a friend (thanks, Steve) posted this tweet on Twitter, which he retweeted from Scott Hanselman: "Other people's success does not diminish your own. Help people, don't hold them back."

Conversely, I might add: Other people's failures, mistakes, or sins do not elevate you nor anyone else. Forgive, just as you hope to be forgiven. After all, we are all beggars in the sight of God. Give others the benefit of the doubt.

Some Like It Cold

"I really love those summer mornings when, even with the air conditioning on and a box fan in the room, I still wake up drenched in a pool of sweat," said no sane person ever.

The summer is hot. There's no denying it. There's also no denying that the human body needs the sunlight and the warmth. Studies have proven the benefits of both on keeping us healthy.

I get that part. I'm not saying that I don't like warm weather per se. Summer nights can, much of the time, be most enjoyable. (Why would Olivia Newton-John or John Travolta lie to us?)

However, the summer has a way of wearing out its welcome rather quickly. There is a difference between warm weather and hot, muggy, sticky, uncomfortable weather. Five days in a row 95-degree or higher temperatures, and I'm done with it. A month of those temperatures, and I'm already counting down the days until autumn, which is my favorite season of the year.

Perhaps it is a sign that I'm getting old, I don't know.

Here are 10 reasons why cold weather is better than hot weather:

1) Proponents of hot weather argue that, in the summertime, they don't have to go out and scrape the ice off of their cars, nor do they have to wait for their cars to warm up in the frigid air. These are valid points. But these people also then tend to add, in the same argument, that they can come inside from a hot summer day and relax by turning on the air conditioning at home.

In other words, they, too, really are basically admitting that they really prefer it cooler, as well.

2) Warmer weather is also hurricane, monsoon, and tornado season, which are far more destructive than snow. Having lived through a hurricane, I know this from firsthand experience.

3) In the winter, you can always bundle up when it gets cold. When it gets very hot, there's only so many layers of clothing you can strip down to.

4) Making your own gravy, i.e. sweating.

5) One of the best ways to warm up in the winter is by cuddling with a loved one. If you don't believe me, than I daresay you haven't had enough experience(s) with this.

In the summer, I suppose you can sit by the swamp cooler and sweat together.

6) The phrase "hot as hell" is about, well, hell. Heaven is the other extreme, right?

7) Fall/winter is football season.

8) Fall/winter is also Halloween/Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Year's season, the best time of the year. Why limit it to just one holiday?

9) That feeling when you come inside from the cold and drink hot chocolate

10) Christmas music > songs of the summer

So, there you have it. The Angry White Loner just needed to get it out of his system and promises to post no more complaints about the weather the rest of this summer. Maybe.

Success

Week #10 on the Island of Misfit Toys: The wife of one of the counselors in our bishopric taught today's combined, fifth-Sunday lesson. Because, as we've all been hearing repeatedly for the past week, women have no real authority to teach and don't have a voice, nor can they really do anything at all significant in the Church.

No, seriously, I'm not going to get into that topic today.

This was an inspired lesson about "success" and the choices/behaviors/habits that will lead us to real, lasting success.

She began her lesson by passing out pieces of blank paper and asking us to write down specific actions or goals that would lead us to success. I began rather tongue-in-cheekily, jotting down a list that included:

- Getting 100 likes on a Facebook status

- The Jazz making a smart draft pick at #5

- USA winning the men's World Cup, or at very least not getting terribly, embarrassingly beaten by Belgium Tuesday

- Burning down the South and then doing baptisms for the dead

- Eating bacon

- Climbing atop the Rameumptom to thump your chest, and then shouting out to the world exactly why you and your kin and your entourage are better than everyone else. Use good grammar, and give specific examples.

- Having muscles and a jeep. Or a Mini Cooper. I won't judge.

- A six-figure salary. Or more!

- Owning your own mansion, fully staffed with a butler, maid, masseuse, personal trainer, jester, llamas, and other servants/pets (what's the difference, really?) you can apply the strap to mercilessly whenever you feel like it.

 - Beating everyone else at Mario Kart

By the world's standards, that's a pretty good list. Well, the world's standards, as usual, are wrong.

I also wrote a list of "real" reasons, which included:

- Keeping the commandments

- Being Christlike

 - Building up, rather than tearing down, others. True success is a win-win proposition whereas, according to the world, you must lose and I must win in order to be successful.

- Peace of conscience/mind

- Perspective

- Serving others

- Family

- Saying "please" and "thank you." A lot. Because some of the most miserable people I know are also some of the most ungrateful.

- Friends/being a friend, without regard to another's creed, religion, beliefs, sexual orientation, etc.

- Finding joy in the journey

- Magnifying my talents/callings

- Tender mercies of the Lord

I like the second list better. Also, I put "eating bacon" over on the second list.

H8ers Gonna H8

I recently wore my BYU hoodie, like the cool kids do, to a local institute class that I attend on Wednesday nights for singles over 31 years of age and for lepers, who are often lumped into the same category and, usually, for the same kind of the same reason.

"I HATE BYU!!!!!!!!!!!" shouted one girl I do not know when I neared the bench where she sat. She used 11 exclamation points—I know because counted them—at that exact volume just in case there happened to be anybody three blocks away who might have missed this expression of her opinion.

I was both somewhat taken aback and embarrassed by her statement that all I could think to respond with was, "Well, just keep on paying your tithing then." The look on her face afterward told me that my attempt to diffuse the situation with humor did not work as I had hoped it might, and so I moved over to talk to someone else.

For as long as it has gone on, I don't understand the hate—on either side of the BYU/Utah rivalry. I really don't. It's one thing to dislike your school's rival and to root against them in, for example, sporting events in which both schools take part. I understand that. But the use of the word hate has some pretty strong connotations to it, and I suppose that's the part I just don't get.

I also don't understand how someone who identifies him/herself as a member of the LDS Church can "hate" the official school of that Church, whatever his/her reasons (sports or not) may be. I can't think of a Catholic who, for example, hates Notre Dame. Similarly, a supporter of the U. of U. might be annoyed or disturbed by my "just keep on paying your tithing" comeback or by a BYU supporter's assertion that it is "the Lord's university." I get that, and those are fair points.

Personally, I'm somewhat of an anomaly both in my family and in the rivalry. Unlike my two brothers who attended BYU and remain Cougar fans, and another brother who attended the U. and remains a Ute fan, I grew up a BYU fan but attended college at the U. I remain a Cougar fan to this day, but I also cheer for the Utes when they play other schools, and I want them to succeed and to do well. In the process, I've also been witness to a lot of embarrassing behavior on both sides.

It's rooted in pride, I guess. One of the most disturbing parts about it is that many who, unwittingly or not, join in on the rivalry identify themselves more as BYU or Utah haters than they identify themselves as Utah or BYU fans, respectively. It's not just hating the "other" school in the rivalry game; it's also wanting the other school to lose most if not all of its games to other teams, as well, and to hopefully be crushed and/or embarrassed in the process.

I once overheard a Ute fan, who did not know that I grew up a BYU fan, state that his favorite season of college basketball ever was the one 16 or so years ago, during which the Cougars won only one game and lost all of the rest. I repeat, his favorite year was not a year in which his school, the Utes, did well but a year in which the rival school lost all but one of its games.

Certainly, there are many things to take into account, and they affect people on both sides of this great and spacious rivalry we have built up here in our lovely Deseret. Many who feel animosity toward the "other" school have been treated very poorly at the other school's sporting arena and such. I've also heard many people admit, on both sides of the rivalry, that they have no problem whatsoever with the other school except for the other school's fans, who often act pompously, idiotically, scornfully, or—dare I use the Max Hall/c-word ?—classlessly about something as petty as a sports rivalry. Fans of both sides should feel embarrassed about these kinds of things and should stand up and put a stop to them when/if they occur.

Orange Tap Water and Gratitude

The XXII Winter Olympic Games in Sochi, Russia, are now over. And the morning-after blues came today, as they always do following the close of another Olympics. For the first night in more than two weeks, I didn't have any curling, snowboarding, hockey, bobsledding, or skiing to watch nor any medal counts to check up on in the news.

Beyond the actual sporting events, a lot of fuss was made about these Games because of the reportedly deplorable conditions many American and other Western athletes and media encountered in their Russian dwellings while in Sochi. Supposedly, toilets were sometimes constructed side by side, the tap water resembled peach iced tea, closets were built on ceilings, and dogs were super-glued to doors (maybe), along with many other horror stories.

One school of thought is that this was Russia's way of saying "nuts to you" to the rest of the world. Another belief is that a record $50 billion investment in the Games was completely mismanaged and then, when they realized they were running out of cash, these makeshift accommodations were the unfortunate result.

Whatever the reasons behind it all may be, there's one thing I know for sure: We have things pretty darn good here in the United States.

I've known that for a fact since the first time I traveled to a foreign country, and the idea was even more apparent to me as a missionary in Peru, where living conditions are downright awful in many places—I daresay even Third World. It wasn't uncommon to visit people in shantytowns, in homes literally standing on cinderblocks and loose bricks, with tin roofs and dirt floors. I twice contracted a bad case of fleas on my lower calves and ankles because of the dust everywhere that became stuck in my socks. In some areas, we carried flashlights with us, because there was no electrical power, and in other places, there was no running water. There were no litter laws like there are in our country—at least none that were enforced—and, as a result, we often walked past mounds of garbage. I found myself watching in bewilderment as people would casually throw wrappers or other pieces of trash on the ground, out of their car windows and everywhere else.

When I arrived at my and my companion's apartment for the first time, I was in disbelief at how dumpy and pathetic it was. Something I didn't realize for a long time is that my Peruvian companion absolutely loved the place and loved being a missionary, because, along with the obvious blessings of serving, he'd never had it so good with his living arrangements, either. I soon learned that, to the people I was serving, this was their way of life, and they weren't about to complain about it.

I can't do justice to it all with just a couple of paragraphs of description. But I think you get the idea.

I felt even more gratitude for the land I live in when, just a couple of days ago, I read a Facebook post by a missionary I served with who is now a stake president in Venezuela. (Yep, I'm either old enough to have served with someone who is now a stake president, or Venezuela is desperate for good leaders—or both.)

Venezuela, as you may have heard, is not a great place to live in right now. There is government oppression and rioting and protesting and people being killed. From what I know, it's not a pretty sight. My friend's post, as stake president, was a series instructions to members of his stake to help keep them safe and free from harm. He counseled them to suspend all extracurricular church activities but sacrament meetings until things quell down; to use phone calls and social media to keep in touch with each other and make sure all are accounted for; reminded them of the importance of having a supply of food, water, and emergency supplies; and moreover to be smart and stay away from danger, obeying suggested curfew times. Most importantly, he counseled them to pray. I told my friend that I would pray for the people of his stake, too.

It made me very grateful for the land in which I live, not to mention for the organization of the Church, to boot. I'm amazed at how, time and again, it is very much an institution interested in the well-being of the individual as well as the whole.

It's a big wide world, and very few people out there have things as good as we do. I may forget that fact occasionally, such as on April 15 and whenever the Kardashians are on TV. But it is a fact nonetheless.

An Angry White New Year's Eve

There's no fanfare or public relations work to do tonight. I'm not gonna even post a link to this one on Facebook. It may even be deleted by morning if I care enough to take a second look. I'm tired of defending myself against the world anyway and of having to answer all of the smart alecky devil's advocates, many of who should really know better anyway. I don't need to be the one to tell them.

Sometimes, you just need to get it out of your system.

If the Angry White Loner were truly angry and a loner, he might lament the fact that it's New Year's Eve. Again. There are parties to attend, but at this point, they feel only like an obligation. One is a Church dance for single adults of the younger set, from whom the AWL has been cast out as a leper and unclean, while another is for the old set, who have been assimilated by the Borg, and, I daresay, there are very few who have met each other more than once in a year's time. The third option is the marrieds party, which, you might guess, is for the married friends.

The AWL would just be a third wheel. Or fifth wheel. He forgets which one it's supposed to be. But you get the picture.

He also set a new personal "best," if you can call it that, this month, batting .000 in the dating department. That's 0-for-9. He tried to get a date nine times and was told no, thanks, nine times. One of the girls he asked out four times, four weeks in a row, before she finally remembered that she had a boyfriend. Or she made one up. Same effect, either way.

He tells himself to brush himself off and keep trying, but rejection still hurts. If you care even a little bit, it has to. Nothing risked, nothing gained. All of those slammed doors on the mission pale in comparison.

Not that he is bitter. Haha!

Ergo, he's in a room full of people, yet all alone at the same time. It's not from a lack of trying, he reminded himself more than once tonight. That one thought is a small consolation. The only consolation. There is that cute girl who wants to get to know him better on the online dating site, but she lives in Alaska. Nope, nobody in the immediate, 1,000-mile radius tonight.

Nobody cares. They go through the motions of caring, but they don't. None of the ones he cares for and wants to care for him in the same way, at any rate. That's the Catch-22 of it all. They all say they want a sense of humor and kindness and all of that gooey stuff, and end up picking the jerks anyway. Or, they pick no one. 'Cause there's only one Captain Moroni, and it certainly ain't you.

There are men out there on death row, for crying out loud, who have women madly in love with them. Convicted murderers, rapists, kidnappers, spousal abusers, child molesters, etc. Yes, the AWL is aware he has brought up this tidbit before. It never helps nor changes anything. But it still bothers him.

Another thing that bothers him: Angry White Close Relative and he had a conversation today. AWCR brought up the word that has crossed his mind several times before on sleepless nights but that no one has mentioned to him face to face until today: alone. That death knell of words. That's how you're going to end up, it was strongly implied. Maybe it was said right out loud. He doesn't really remember because he was stunned to hear it said out loud at long last. Either way, the message got across.

You had someone who cared about you not long ago, AWCR reminds him. She made you quite happy, didn't she? He can't believe he's doing it, but he cites Jane Austen.

"'Quite happy' is not enough. 'Quite happy' is not the ending I want to write for my story."

One in 500, he calculated not long ago. That's how many out there are still trying. Out of 30,000 people in this county alone, 29,000 seem to have given up. Completely. Either that, or they're hiding under some very large rocks out there somewhere. They fill up their lives with books and movies and Farmville and the badge of busyness and a thousand other things except for the most important thing they could be doing. As far as caring goes, they have declared themselves immune, exempt, and forfeit. He recognizes he feels passive-aggressive about it all, and though it's often been his defense mechanism, it's something he knows needs to work on in 2014. But he still notices it.

This is why people hate the holidays. This is why they get S.A.D. during this time of year.

Well, at least there's 101 Dalmatians on Netflix to keep him company. And that will have to be enough for tonight. Not the animated one; the live action one, with Dr. House and Mr. Weasley as the henchmen.

Yep, that's what the Angry White Loner would write only if he were truly angry and a loner. Which he clearly isn't.

Not in the least.

. . . Wait, the Lakers lost tonight?! And Disney's Robin Hood is on Netflix, too?! This day just got 10,000 percent better.

The Curse of Captain Caveman

Unless you grew up in the late '70s or '80s, chances are that you don't know who Captain Caveman is.

If you don't remember this classic cartoon, you're not really missing that much. I remember watching reruns of "Captain Caveman and the Teen Angels" on Saturday mornings as a kid. Captain Caveman was a hairy dude who looked like either Robin Williams with no shirt on or Cousin Itt from "The Addams Family." (Take your pick.) This gang went around solving crimes together, just like all other teens in Hanna-Barbera cartoons.

The main thing I remember about this show was Captain Caveman's battle cry whenever he sprang into action. He didn't yell out anything like "Shazam!" or "Let's get dangerous!" but, rather, shouted out his own name, using a deafening cry that traveled up and down through multiple octaves on the musical scale: "Captain Cave-maaaaaaaaaan!"

It's been many years since I last watched an episode of "Captain Caveman," but I am still reminded of his battle cry when I hear many modern "singers" sing songs, or at least pretend to do so. These singers travel up and down multiple times on certain notes and all throughout their songs, metaphorically flexing and kissing their vocal muscles in the process, making their performance not about the song that they are singing but about their own voices.

Is there another name for this? There has to be one.

Some of the biggest offenders of this type of singing are Mariah Carey, Christina Aguilera, and nearly every contestant on "American Idol." Even Utah's own sweetheart David Archuleta, who seems like a nice kid but also sings this way, is not immune from the Curse of Captain Caveman.

It's extremely tough for me to listen to a song sung by a Captain Caveman-like singer. It makes me want to rip the radio out and throw it out the window. It's almost unbearable to hear one these singers warble and trill his or her way through "The Star-Spangled Banner" at sporting events, which I'm sure causes Francis Scott Key to turn over in his grave every time it happens. And it happens a lot.

"Just sing the freaking song!" I've heard people say.

I couldn't agree more.

Sports Rivalries and the Rameumptom

Once again, folks, it's time for Holy Week.

Or, to describe it more accurately, it's the time of the year when even 50- and 60-year-old men act like bratty teenagers and get into "my dad can beat up your dad" chest-thumping shouting matches with each other over something as trivial as a sporting event.

For those who don't live in Utah or who are not familiar with the phrase, the term Holy Week refers to the seven days leading up to the annual BYU vs. University of Utah football game, which culminates in (usually) a grueling and hard-fought grudge match that leaves the winning team with a great sense of pride and bragging rights and an "in-your-face" smugness and the losing team with a sense of embarrassment and shame that lingers for the next 365 or 366 days. Or longer.

It's all really very silly. It tends to turn otherwise sensible, decent, and good people into raving lunatics and jerks. It can ruin friendships. The rules of good sportsmanship are completely forgotten. And the silliest thing about it all, at least as far as I see it, is that neither team's fans have any control whatsoever over the outcome of the game.

The sore winner's bragging can basically be summed up this way: "The team that I root for beat the team that you root for, and even though neither you nor I have any impact on the result of the game, my association with said winning team makes me, as a result, better than you. It's even better if my team beats yours in a humiliating fashion. In order for me to be happy, we win, and you lose."

The sore loser, meanwhile, finds excuses for his or her team's loss ("it was the referees' fault" or "we had an inexperienced quarterback this year," for example) and berates or makes vulgar gestures toward the other team's fans. He/she will never, ever utter the words: "The better team won today. We will do better next year."

It's most definitely a guy thing, but, over the years, I have seen more than a few females get in on the hype, too. And, of course, it happens on both sides—both those who bleed blue and those who bleed red.

Holy Week reminds me of Chapter 31 in the Book of Alma, in which Alma, Aaron, Ammon, and a few others head out on a mission to Antionum to reclaim the apostate Zoramites and find them praying on top of something called the Rameumptom, which is translated as "the holy stand" (Alma 31:21).

Alma discovers the Zoramites praying: "We believe thou has elected us to be thy holy children . . . and thou hast elected us that we shall be saved, whilst all around us are elected to be cast by thy wrath down to hell; for the which holiness, O God, we thank thee; and we also thank thee that thou hast elected us, that we may not be led away after the foolish traditions of our brethren" (Alma 31:16-17).

Fortunately, the gospel is not "win-lose" but "win-win." We are exalted only by humbling ourselves and by helping those around us to be better, just as we try to improve ourselves day by day. In the words of U2 and Bono: "If you want to kiss the sky, better learn how to kneel."

It's okay to love your team and to want them to do well and win. I grew up in a sports-loving family, along with sports-loving parents and four sports-loving brothers who played basketball, football, soccer, softball, and about every other team sport (and a sister who came around when she met her sports-loving husband), and I've known no other way of life. I love it when my teams win and feel bad with them when they lose.

It's also possible to be an enthusiastic sports fan without climbing up on the Rameumptom—in other words, without being a jerk about it.

Love Poetry for Dummies: "The Fifth-of-July Blues"

"The Fifth-of-July Blues"

The summer is for barbecuing,
And this one's no exception.
Extended friends and family gather,
And all is near perfection.

Soccer game on the lawn out back,
As the boys chase a chicken around;
But the party isn't over yet
As the sun goes down.

The sky lights up brightly
In a wondrous glow;
People in blankets and chairs
Sit back to enjoy the show.

Someone runs out to the circle
And lights up another cone;
Dozens of people surround me,
and yet I am all alone.

I am not a smart man,
But I know this much is true:
The only thing missing from my yesterday
. . . was you.

Schadenfreude (Gesundheit!)

Schadenfreude: "enjoyment obtained from the troubles of others"
 -Merriam-Webster Dictionary

For those not familiar with the term - and, let's be honest, schadenfreude is a fun word to say as well as to type - it comes from the German words schaden, meaning "damage," and freude, which translates as "joy." It is also not to be confused with the infamous Dr. Sigmund Freud, whose name translates roughly as "one of the most boring and difficult writers I've ever had to plod through during my college days."

I was reminded of the concept of schadenfreude over the weekend when I learned that Kobe Bryant of the Los Angeles Lakers, aka Satan's favorite basketball team, suffered a season-ending injury when he tore his Achilles tendon in an NBA game. Not only did it end his season, but it could keep him out of the sport for up to a year.

My initial reaction was basically this: Good! He's a narcissistic jerk, and nobody deserves it more than he does. The Lakers have also been one of the biggest rivals of our hometown squad, the Utah Jazz, and I'll admit that, in the past, I have been somewhat pleased to hear whenever the Lakers have lost a game. They're all big jerks, in fact. So, they all deserve it.

Right? (sound of crickets chirping)

Another, much more local example of schadenfreude, I believe, is present in the BYU/Utah college sports rivalry, which tends to bring out the worst in many people - on both sides of the fence. Both Cougar and Ute fans believe that the other side is full of big jerks, and that justifies my unruly behavior toward them and means that whenever my team beats your team, I, as a follower of that team, am therefore also better than you, and I will rub your face in it whenever I can.

But only during football season. And basketball season - if the (_______) (Cougars/Utes) have a good team this year, that is. Then, we'll see each other at church Sunday, and all will be rainbows, ponies, and cotton candy once again.

Another important part of being a "true" fan (in some people's minds) of either side: Root for the other team to lose, no matter whom they're playing. Not only that, but they must lose by as many points as possible and be humiliated in the process. Victory means "we win, and you lose."

It's Schadenfreude with a capital S.

As someone who grew up as a Cougar fan and who was a Ute scholastically, I try to avoid these kinds of scenarios as much as possible - unavoidable as they may be. Frankly, they're just plain embarrassing. Not only do they bring out the worst in some people, they're really just silly and childish. I've already admitted to my basketball prejudice, so there is another reminder for myself that the same idea applies.

Be patient with me; I'm a work in progress. Odds are, so are you.

Fortunately, in real life, true joy comes from both bettering ourselves and helping others to become better, too. It is win-win, rather than a win-lose, situations that give us happiness and make us grow into better selves. In helping others, we help ourselves in the process.

It all sounds a lot like that whole Sermon on the Mount thing, doesn't it?