Those with a tendency toward vanity seek to hear praise.
Those who tend toward wisdom actively seek out complaints, especially the ones that sting the most.
This is particularly true for the businessman. How else will he identify shortcomings in his business? While five-star ratings may boost his ego, they offer little opportunity for meaningful improvement.
When I was in seventh grade, I took a course in deception and earned an A+. I’m actually employing a bit of that same deception right now. The class’s official name was art—drawing, painting, and similar disciplines. You might wonder what art has to do with deception.
One afternoon, I strolled down Beale Street in downtown Memphis and spotted a striking mural on a red brick building. It depicted a bottle of Coca-Cola being poured into a glass. I paused to study it carefully. With my background in understanding deception, I found myself captivated by its realism—yet I was certain it was painted. After all, if that bottle were genuine, it would contain enough soda to satisfy an enormous thirst.
That is what artists do—they deceive people. The really good ones can use paint to depict people so realistically that when we first look at them, we expect them to move. Sometimes, we can even become somewhat unsettled when they don’t. I saw a painting once in a museum in Los Angeles of a man in partial armor. So much so, I wish I could have mastered the art of deception as that artist did.
Over the past fifteen years or so, I’ve pursued another form of deception. I haven’t excelled at it, but I have written over thirty-five books—mostly fantasy works created simply because I wanted to write them. While earning a few million dollars from them would have been wonderful, having readers connect with my stories would have meant far more. I would have cherished the chance to invite a few people into my imagination for a while. Unfortunately, it seems that won’t happen.
Let me return to the deception I practiced with pastels and brushes. I want to address a particular form of deception: perspective. My art teacher spent several weeks teaching perspective, alternating between instruction and hands-on projects. She would teach a concept, then assign projects to reinforce it, repeating this cycle throughout the unit.
Perspective is a nuanced art form that fundamentally reshapes how we perceive space and depth. Consider a railroad track rendered in one-point perspective: converging lines create the illusion of distance as they appear to converge at the horizon. Skilled artists expertly transform two-dimensional surfaces into rich, multidimensional landscapes that captivate the eye and engage the imagination. True mastery demands more than technical precision—it requires the ability to infuse life and depth into what would otherwise be a static image.
I have taken a roundabout path to introduce the most problematic deceivers on earth. They employ various methods to do so.
Perhaps their most successful is using something resembling the truth to get people to believe the lie. After all, if you want to produce successful counterfeit something of value, you will want it to resemble the real thing. If it looks fake, you’re not apt to deceive anyone.
Curiously, another method is to lie outright about it—to call evil good and good evil. Surprisingly, this approach is quite effective. In part, it works because people want to believe the lie. Additionally, when the lie is bold enough, people often assume that no one would state something so fundamentally false.
The third method is repetition, particularly when the message comes from multiple sources. A well-organized campaign to spread misinformation can prove highly effective when repeated with citations to reputable origins, even after the original source retracts it. People tend to assume something must be true when it originates from a news outlet known for reliable reporting.
Most of all, I’ve found it’s much like that seventh-grade art class—it’s fundamentally a matter of perspective. Does the person distributing the information have a reason to deceive?
Indeed, it pays to follow the adage: don’t believe everything you hear and only half of what you read. Keep in mind that some people actively seek to deceive. That advertiser wants you to believe every word. The politician wants you to think he never lies. And of course, that lawyer would never lead you to question the truth of what he’s telling you.
I’m not sure if this is relevant, but it was my first instinct when I encountered the prompt. Either way, I hope you’ll be understanding of my response.
I was a L/Col (E3) sitting in a class on radar, the second-to-last phase of a 16-week electronics course. The class consisted of 25 students. There were 4 of us Marines, one from the Coast Guard, and the rest were sailors. One of the sailors was a woman, fairly attractive, and also something of a firecracker.
As I mentioned, I was simply absorbing every word the instructor shared. For reasons I couldn’t explain, he suddenly paused and studied me intently. Then he commented on my ears. It was nothing unusual. Had I possessed the financial means, I might have considered cosmetic surgery for my ears and nose. I had grown accustomed to such remarks.
It’s what happened next that made me want to disappear into a foxhole. Suddenly, in response to the instructor’s remark, the woman said, “Don’t knock my necking partner.”
I understood the remark, and so did the instructor. The room erupted in laughter, and everyone’s eyes turned toward me. Their faces all posed the same unspoken question. It was one of those moments best left unexplained. Any attempt to clarify would only have made things worse. To this day, I’d wager most of the class still has no idea why that remark landed the way it did.
So, please let me explain. For some unknown reason, I was paired with her as a lab partner. The awkwardness was that we frequently needed to look at a 5 inch scope and examine the trace across it. At first we were both careful not to put our heads too close together. As time passed, we became more careless.
As the instructor circulated around the room, he timed it perfectly to see us closely examining the small scope, and, of necessarily close to each other. In humor, he asked what was going on. He knew. We knew he knew. Then the woman said, “Don’t you know, he’s my necking partner?”
If that had been all, the matter would have ended there. Then the instructor asked about my ears.
I’ve always suspected she might have felt more deeply about me. I may have even asked her out once or twice. But the timing and circumstances weren’t right. In a few weeks, our paths would diverge. Still, I think of her from time to time, wondering how she’s doing. Perhaps I should have suggested we stay in touch by mail. It’s one of those questions I’ll never have answered.
I have said many times that I chose the wrong profession. I should have pursued a career in railroading, ideally as an engineer specializing in steam engines.
Several decades ago, when I was serving as a sergeant in the Marines, my family and I visited Travel Town in Griffith Park. While we went primarily for my two sons, I found myself enjoying it far more than they did. Standing at the controls of those vintage locomotives was remarkable. I imagined pushing the throttle of one of those powerful machines and feeling it rumble to life.
For years, I assumed they were supplanted by modern diesels due to their superior speed. Recently, however, I discovered that some of those vintage locomotives were capable of pulling trains at speeds exceeding one hundred miles per hour. The engine that Casey Jones operated was among them, and he regularly achieved such velocities. That would certainly be an exhilarating experience, thundering down the track at or near such speeds.
Unfortunately, the steam locomotive had to be retired. Those boilers require extensive maintenance. As a result, the high cost of upkeep has prevented us from seeing the old engines operate regularly.
However, I’m far from being the only one who appreciates these classic locomotives. Numerous excursion trains still operate today. Unfortunately, my closest experience was a brief ride at Knots Berry Farm. Perhaps one day I’ll have the opportunity to take a longer journey on one of these trains. For now, though, that remains out of reach.
Oops. Correction. Just remembered. I did travel by steam engine from Los Angeles to San Francisco when in June during my sixth year. I know it was steam because I got a good look at it before boarding it. From inside the coach, it’s about the same.
This is a subject I have contemplated for years. While I recognize the limitations of my communication skills, I believe the topic merits serious consideration. I hope you’ll focus on the significance of the subject matter itself rather than the delivery.
In 1991, John Grisham wrote “The Firm,” a bestselling novel. I haven’t read the book myself, but I did see the film adaptation. While I initially found it mediocre, I was impressed by one element: the clever use of mail fraud as the mechanism to dismantle the firm and secure the protagonist’s freedom. Though I’m skeptical such a scheme would succeed in reality, the execution was undeniably sophisticated.
I suspect most readers have already seen the movie, so I won’t recap the film or its major plot points here. If you haven’t seen it, I’d recommend it as one of the few modern movies worth watching—primarily for its substance rather than its entertainment value.
I’d like to draw your attention to the Cayman Islands trip and Mitch’s encounter with the prostitute. Initially, I found this part distasteful. Upon reflection, however, I recognize its insight. By leveraging the prostitute and photographs, the firm effectively gained complete control over Mitch.
Nowadays, I notice a recurring pattern: reality seems to mirror a familiar narrative. A prominent figure enjoys the trappings of fame, power, and fortune, cruising along without concern. Then one misstep—upsetting the wrong person or crossing an invisible line—and their world collapses around them.
Oddly, accusations seem to come pouring down out of nowhere like a rainstorm. Whether guilty or not, a person’s life is instantly—if not immediately—destroyed.
I would name those I’m referring to, but it would be futile. If you’ve been following the news, you already know. Today, living a blameless life isn’t enough—you must be able to prove it quickly. Even then, that may not suffice.
The Bible instructs us to train our children, and we certainly should. Yet we’re also told that we inherit our sinful nature from our ancestors—a point worth acknowledging. God declared his preference for Jacob over Esau from birth, even though they shared the same parents. Despite their identical upbringing, one developed into a righteous person while the other did not.
Cain and Abel were brothers born to the same parents. Yet one became a murderer. Try to figure that one out, and you’ll find it perplexing.
To be sure, it’s a bit of both. Beyond that, I don’t think anyone will know.
I’ve written about bumpers before on various occasions, and I genuinely believe it is a good time to revisit them once again. Maybe it is time to consider them from a slightly different point of view or perspective. The government just loves regulating things, especially automobiles and the automotive industry. Yet, near as I can tell from what I’ve observed, they don’t seem to want to regulate bumpers very much at all.
There was a time when bumpers were engineered to absorb impacts—which, oddly enough, is where they derived their name. Over the years, designers increasingly chose to integrate lights into bumpers, and more recently, sensors and cameras. It’s worth noting that lights and sensors rank among the most fragile components on a vehicle.
My question for our engineers—one I’d like to present before Congress—is straightforward: why do they consistently place the vehicle’s most fragile components in the location most vulnerable to damage? Could financial incentives be driving this decision?
Regardless of whether this is the case or not, it has increased repair costs following accidents and, consequently, insurance premiums. To reduce insurance costs, we need to implement strict regulations prohibiting lights, sensors, and cameras on or near bumpers. While repair shops will likely object, this measure will bring down premium rates.
Truth be told, when you really think about it carefully, putting lights on bumpers honestly serves absolutely no practical purpose whatsoever, and truthfully, it doesn’t even enhance the appearance or look of a vehicle in any meaningful way. It’s just genuinely dumb and doesn’t make a lot of sense!
I never gave it much thought throughout my life. It’s neither important nor genuinely real. The distinction exists only in human perception.
I didn’t enjoy the “Kill Bill” movies—not a single one. I was pressured into watching them against my preference. Someone practically twisted my arm until I had no choice but to sit through them. I found no enjoyment in the experience whatsoever. To this day, I regret watching them.
However, those familiar with the series already understand the connection, particularly from the final movie. In that film, Bill explains it to us in considerable detail.
I’ll save you the trouble and give you the abbreviated version so you won’t have to endure the suffering I went through.
You see, Superman wears his costume as Clark Kent to conceal his true identity. As Superman, everyone sees who he really is. All the others wear costumes to hide who they are.
Aren’t you glad you learned that, if you didn’t already know it?
In it Murphy’s character points out that the doctor patches up the killer so he lives to kill. This while Murphy’s character kills the killer, which keeps the kjller from killing.
I still prefer doing what we can to rescue the wounded. I don’t go along with killing killers. Still, he has a good point.
Way back then, they made a bad law for a good reason. A better-worded Fourteenth Amendment would have avoided the unintended consequences.
Nonetheless, it’s a simple solution. Just make a law: if the mother enters the country for this purpose, she pays by spending five to ten years in a federal prison followed by permanent deportation.
I don’t know. It might be a little extreme. However, if the law were enforced, it is likely that it wouldn’t need to be enforced all that often.
bfrhodes99 