Production was almost cancelled when Bentley Williams, a 28-year-old divorced Mormon from Salt Lake City, left the show, saying Hebert wasn’t his type. Williams was considered a frontrunner, winning coveted roses, the tokens necessary to elude elimination, in every episode. Though Hebert wasn’t his type, it didn’t stop Williams from leading her on.

“I will be pissed if I don’t get the rose,” Williams said during an episode filmed in Las Vegas. “The competition makes it exciting, competing for her, but that’s the extent of me competing for her.”

For viewers across the country, Williams was one of the worst villains the reality show has seen, with host Harrison saying the 28-year-old Utah resident “just seems to have bad intentions.”

While William’s actions were shocking to some, they were all too familiar to women who’ve dated his type — the “Mormon All-Star.”

Outwardly pious, they love to brag about their Mormon missions in an attempt to appeal to young, attractive Mormon women. Their number one priority, however, is looking good. Mormon All-Stars spend plenty of time in front of the mirror, at the gym and in tanning beds. Their affinity for plaid shirts, flat brimmed hats and being shirtless as often as possible is no secret.

In Provo, Utah, home of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints-owned Brigham Young University, Mormon All-Stars abound. Williams, who graduated from BYU in 2007, studied finance, a major noted on campus for having a large number of All-Stars, and lived in various Provo apartments notorious for being a magnet for his type.

While Mormon men traditionally dress in conservative white shirts and ties for Sunday meetings, the Provo 70th Young Single Adult Ward, a known All-Star congregation in the college town covering the Belmont Apartment complex, is noticeably relaxed in its dress. Purple and blue shirts pepper the congregation, which meets on BYU campus.

Single Mormon congregations provide ample opportunities for dating and courtship, and Mormon bishops and Sunday School teachers often speak about the importance of marriage. Sunday meetings are not without flirting, and activities planned by the congregation bolster the already busy social schedule of hot tubbing, DVD-watching and group dates.

But some say Mormon All-Stars take advantage of the culture of dating. One BYU grad said it’s common to see guys who “make three to five girls think they are his top babe at once.”

That seemed to explain Hebert’s relationship with Williams. Hebert freely admitted on Monday’s show she had fallen in love with Williams, but the kisses they shared were nothing more than NCMO (Provo slang for a “non-committal make out”) for him.

Sources close to Williams say he was misrepresented on the show. Williams assumed that a different woman would be on the show, but the producers “begged him to go on” regardless when Hebert was announced as the bachelorette.

Rumors that Williams was only going on to promote his business, a family fun center with trampolines and foam pits, reached Herbert before filming began.

“The fallacy behind that is he doesn’t promote his business at all,” said Raleigh Williams, his brother, adding the business wasn’t even open yet during filming.

The real reason he went on the show, his brother said, was because he “thought it’d be fun” and because it was a good “platform” to start dating again after his divorce. The reason he left was to get back to his daughter, and he knew religion would hamper any potential relationship with Hebert.

“She’s not Mormon, and he’s an active member of the church,” Williams’ brother said.

In Mormonism, dating within the faith is highly valued, making Hebert’s faith a valid excuse to leave. But why did he go on in the first place? If you really want to date a Mormon woman, ABC reality shows are not the place to look.

Williams’ true motives for going on the show are uncertain, but many in Provo assume he just wanted 15 minutes of fame. Though Williams won’t be mobbed like Jimmer Fredette when spotted around town, he’s still recognized. Last week, some BYU students met him at a Kinko’s Copy Center.

“You girls probably think I am the biggest jerk and a mean guy, but I’m totally not,” he said to them.

Although reality shows are notorious for their manipulation of reality in pursuit of water cooler drama, it’s hard to imagine how producers could have made him look as bad as he did. He did, after all, say things like “I’m not going to pass up an opportunity to mess with her head,” and “I’m going to make Ashley cry. I hope my hair looks OK.”

While women across the nation are fuming over Williams, he’s done a valuable service to all those dating or thinking about dating a Mormon All-Star. Sweetie, you might be convinced that he’s the one. He might even tell you he prayed and fasted and God told him you belong together, but if you see red flags, run.

Sorry, Mormon All-Stars, the game is up. They know your secrets.

HB477 is a borderline crazy bill — if you believe in open democracy, anyway. I cannot figure out why people in both mainstream parties or anybody of any political ideology for that matter is not completely outraged by this bill. I think we can all agree that transparency in government is an essential part of democracy, maybe a few national security issues aside.

The bill can be summed up like this: it restricts public access to government records. It paves the way for corruption and conflict of interest. In other words, it gives Utah legislators a way to communicate with each other and with rogue power players in secret. It vaguely allows the Utah government to charge an unrestricted amount of money for access to their records, putting the burden on the public and on the media (rather than on the government) to disclose information about the Utah legislature as they see fit.

Perhaps most notable is that HB477 prohibits disclosure of text messages. Ten years ago that might not have been such a big deal, but texting is becoming more and more preferable to a phone call or even face-to-face conversation. Lobbyists that have the legislators’ cell phone numbers will now have free reign to text back and forth with the politicians, especially during hearings and debates. Lobbyists will have a say in every last bill on the floor. HB477 deters anyone from gaining access to communication that their supposed representative is having with powerful lobbyists. And as we all know, if there’s one thing lobbyists need, it is more power in the legislative process.

Protests at the Capitol have put Governor Herbert in a tough place. The majority of Utah legislators were under the impression they had him on board, and that the bill would take effect as soon as it passed. Once they had the go-ahead, they passed it within a few days with next to no debate. The public then became aware of how serious this bill was and Herbert was put under a lot of pressure to veto the bill. In the end, he passed an amended version, which is set to take effect in July. This is supposed to allow for a more open debate about the bill. Hopefully enough of the public will demand its defeat. The flip-side is that attention to the bill may die down by then and it will end up passing anyways.

This bill has the potential to affect every law that passes in the state of Utah, not just collective bargaining agreements or immigration policy. There are more protests planned at the Capitol and, if people understood the potential impact of this bill, I think we would see protests similar to those held recently in Wisconsin and Arizona.

I guess we will see just how much people care in the next few months.

However, despite my personal disdain for BYU’s Honor Code, I still understand — and, in fact, appreciate — what happened to leading rebounder and part-of-the-reason-why-BYU-lost-to-New-Mexico-at-home, Brandon Davies.

In the next few days you will hear the classic arguments for and against the Honor Code. You’ve already heard some on this very site. If you live (or have lived) around Provo, you are intimately familiar with these arguments:

“The honor code was written up to battle counter-culture in the 60’s and 70’s and is outdated.”

“Every student knows what the rules are before they come here.”

“Following the Honor Code is a small price to pay for the enormously cheap tuition you pay.”

For those of us going to or graduated from BYU, we have all parroted some form of these statements, as I did in the first sentence of this article. I am a recent BYU graduate, and I had my fair share of run-ins with Big Brother the Honor Code Office.

During my sophomore year, my roommate and I had girls staying in our apartment past midnight (a violation) and another roommate told a church leader. To minimize the damage to my academic pursuits, I “turned myself in” to the Honor Code Office to avoid being turned in by other means. I was eventually put on what they called “suspension withheld,” meaning if I sneezed wrong I could have been suspended from college — for watching Anchorman at 12:37 a.m. in my own apartment, sober, with friends.

One of my very first thoughts after this whole ordeal that didn’t have to do with my anger towards the Honor Code was, “They better hold everyone to the same standard I was held against.” I had heard rumors of athletes and other iconic BYU students being given a slap on the wrist for more than post-curfew movie watching. My favorite (unsubstantiated) rumor is one of former BYU quarterback Jim McMahon being on campus, drunk, holding a beer in his hand and stammering around like a zombie. LaVell Edwards was notified of this and (allegedly) found McMahon, threw his beer away, took him home and never went to the university about it.

Like I said, this story is unsubstantiated and nothing more than rumor. But whether it’s true or not, come on — the image of Jim McMahon stumbling around the Smith Fieldhouse is pretty funny and believable. And when it comes to actual, non-gossip reality, I have personally seen prominent BYU athletes (who will remain nameless) breaking the Honor Code, but didn’t do anything about it because, honestly, it’s none of my damn business, even if they are reneging on their word. I’m not perfect either.

This is why I respect what BYU did. They placed their principles over making money and notoriety when it comes to collegiate athletics. It is certainly fair to complain about the Honor Code itself and how dated it is, but you can’t grumble about how Davies was punished. To BYU, Brandon Davies wasn’t held in a higher regard because he puts a leather ball through an orange hoop. He signed the exact same document every other current and former student has signed. He was held to the same standards as his 30,000-plus fellow students, and he wasn’t allowed to escape punishment because of the 11.1 points he scored and the 6.2 rebounds he grabbed for the Cougars every game.

BYU, and every BYU basketball fan (including myself), have already felt the pain of Davies’s absence after last night’s loss to New Mexico. But for BYU to have doled out anything less than a season suspension would have been hypocritical and completely contradictory to the school’s vaunted principles, and we should all (silently) applaud the university for sticking to its guns in the face of extreme scrutiny.

The Daily Herald (my daytime employer, though I had nothing to do with the story) broke the news Tuesday night that starting center Brandon Davies will not complete the season because he violated the school’s Honor Code. The news is a big blow. And though I can’t make a decent prediction about the consequences of the news, nothing good can come if it.

But while Davies obviously let down his team and community, an equal share of culpability goes to BYU for its opaque enforcement of a bizarre and arcane set of rules. In other words, Davies screwed up because he broke the rules, but BYU did the same when — by implementing and enforcing those rules — it set the stage for Davies’ failure.

Davies’ experience illustrates a few problems with BYU’s Honor Code. Most importantly, the policy includes an array of rules that other institutions see as unrelated to academics or sports. If Davies got caught plagiarizing, doping, or doing some other stupid thing, his suspension from BYU’s basketball team would make sense. He alone would be accountable.

But the reality is that BYU’s Honor Code includes all sorts of regulations that have nothing to do with academics or sports. Davies might be a criminal — or he may have forgotten to shave one too many times. He could have stayed past midnight in a girl’s apartment (or stepped into a female’s bedroom). He could even have ordered a coffee at some point, or simply have worn clothing that was too tight.

The point is that while BYU’s Honor Code addresses typical collegiate issues, it also goes much further, making it that much harder to comply with. If Davies broke some of the school’s more unique rules would he really be a bad person? Would he be academically unfit? Would he be off the team at any other school? Even if Davies transgressed LDS Church doctrine — also more or less part of the Honor Code — aren’t those rules optional, with punishment meted out in heaven, for non-BYU Mormons?

Another problem this incident illustrates is that the Honor Code lumps all offenses under one umbrella. Davies could be a serial cheater, or a sloppy dresser. Who knows? As of Tuesday night BYU hadn’t said what Davies did, and I’d be surprised if the school ever divulges that information. But because this sort of feels like a KGB fantasy, where all offenses are treated as mortal sins against the regime, we’re left to guess if Davies did something serious or silly.

BYU’s decision to have a broad, extra-academic set of rules may have just wounded it on the basketball court. But the fallout isn’t limited to a shamed athlete and a disappointed fan base. After all, schools make a lot more money when their teams win. How much money will BYU lose if its team suddenly plummets? How much prestige will the school sacrifice to ensure the homogeneity of its student body? And losing face and finances doesn’t just hit the school on the basketball court, it has broad negative repercussions across all fields.

Earlier this year, in the wake of a Gawker article criticizing BYU, I wrote about the school’s image issues. This is a perfect illustration of that problem and makes the point that if BYU wants to compete — in athletics, academics, and research — it has to learn to be a school, not a monastery. It needs to modernize its Honor Code to focus on the things that matter in the university world.

In the end, could all of this have been avoided if BYU had an up-to-date code for student conduct? Possibly. Though I don’t know Davies personally, most students at the school are good people who would behave appropriately even without such stringent rules. As it is, the school sets itself up for failure when it makes it so easy to criminalize (and, therefore, victimize) its stars. It costs the school prestige, money, and influence. It scares future students away, and crushes some of those it already has — in this case, at a critical moment.

If BYU wants to succeed on the basketball court and elsewhere, it should let go of its antiquated Honor Code and focus on being an institution of higher learning.

Best Picture

Who will win: The King’s Speech

Who should win: I’ve seen every nominee except The Fighter, which I’ve heard is good, but not “Oscar good.” Usually every year I have one favorite that I feel passionately should win. This year, however, I like most of the films. I thought The Kids Are All Right was just all right, and Inception really does not deserve the nomination. Watch Inception a second time and pay attention to the writing — it’s horrible. The rest of the nominees, however, are truly outstanding. If I had to pick a favorite, if you held a gun to my head, I would say The King’s Speech. It has all the elements of a great movie. It’s beautiful, it’s moving, the acting is superb, and Colin Firth.

Best Director

Who will win: Tom Hooper, The King’s Speech

Who should win: Darren Aronofsky, Black Swan. He managed to make every second of Black Swan thrilling — and it’s a movie about ballet!

Best Actor

Who will win: Colin Firth, The King’s Speech

Who should win: James Franco, 127 Hours. I feel like I’ve betrayed Colin. I love Colin (Mr. Darcy) so much. But he didn’t have to carry an entire movie with his arm stuck beneath a rock. I mean, that’s impressive. And by the end of 127 Hours, I really thought Franco was dying. And I was really thirsty. That’s good acting.

Best Supporting Actor

Who will win: Christian Bale, The Fighter — because his hair is long and artsy now.

Who should win: John Hawkes. Winter’s Bone is far too ugly to be Best Picture, but the acting is some of the best I’ve ever seen. Hawkes is absolutely terrifying and compassionate, and he looked like he smelled bad. Again, that’s great acting.

Best Actress

Who will win: Natalie Portman, Black Swan

Who should win: Nicole Kidman, Rabbit Hole. Nat’s performance was pretty amazing. But honestly, how hard is it to go insane? I think the effects really added to the performance — the sound, the cinematography and the makeup all had as much to do with the illusion of insanity as her acting. Nicole Kidman greiving over her dead son in Rabbit Hole had me sobbing in the back of the theater. And as much as I hate being a public spectacle, I have to hand it to the woman for making me feel so deeply while staring at a screen.

Best Supporting Actress

Who will win: Melissa Leo, The Fighter

Who should win: Hailee Steinfeld, True Grit. She should be in the leading role category, right? She is the star of True Grit, so the supporting business doesn’t make a lot of sense. Regardless, she deserves the win.

Best Animated Feature Film

Who will win: Toy Story 3

Who should win: Toy Story 3. I can’t even think about the final scenes without getting teary-eyed. And it’s the end of a trilogy, a Pixar legend. How to Train Your Dragon is completely charming and The Illusionist looks very sweet, but Toy Story 3 is epic.

Best Documentary Feature

Who will win: Restrepo. It’s political.

What should win: Exit Through the Gift Shop. One of the most entertaining films I’ve ever seen. It may or may not be true — and the fact that no one’s sure makes it that much more impressive.

I really don’t know enough about the rest of the categories to make any sort of educated guess, nor do I really care. They’re the “get-up-and-make-a-sandwich-to-kill-time” categories anyway.

As a person who has been a participant, observer, and employee of Provo music for nearly a decade, I thought I would add my opinion to those floating around the 100Block-o-sphere over the contents of this article.

While I was at first amused by some of the biases and inaccuracies found in this piece, I soon realized it wasn’t so much the article that was flawed as it was the musicians who were quoted in it. The article actually represents a common misconception among many Provo musicians — that the Velour scene is a fiercely competitive popularity contest that can only be won by a combination of 1) being “indie-folk,” and 2) being “connected”/networking with the “right people.” (?) After a long and bitter fight, these Provo musicians become jaded and give up on their lifelong dream of headlining a Velour show (“I didn’t wanna play there anyway!”), turning instead to bashing Velour and any band who plays there.

At this point I should probably mention that I played in a Provo-based pop-punk band for five years and have been doing a rap group for the past two years. And I’m an employee of Muse Music Café. Given those credentials, I am quite possibly the polar opposite of this supposed “Indie-Folk Velour aesthetic.”  So you’d think I’d be the ringleader of the bitter Velour-bashers mentioned above, right?

Wrong.

I’ve had no problem getting shows at Velour since the venue opened in 2006. Velour doesn’t favor bands that are “indie-folk” or “alt-country.” It favors bands that are good. It favors bands that try (a very non-indie trait, in my opinion.) And let’s not forget that while the venue’s books may look more like those of a non-profit, it is still a business. They favor bands that promote and draw a crowd.

Getting back to The Daily Universe article and where it goes wrong, we need to look at one of the primary sources for the article: a member of the local band, Red Orange.

Let me make it clear that I have nothing against this band or its members. In fact, I saw them play at Muse Music just last weekend. It was their first show (sorry bands; I don’t count playing the Raintree clubhouse or your ward talent night as a “show.”) They were great though. The place was packed. I am fully confident that if they kept it up, they could be co-headlining with Eyes Lips Eyes at Velour six months from now. (How this article affects that momentum remains to be seen.)

It seems like this new band jumped the gun in making all these broad generalizations about Provo music. In a way, it’s like they sealed their own fate as a potentially great Provo rock band. Buying into the myth that the Provo music scene is an uphill battle for bands like them, they are now perpetuating that myth to other musicians. And they haven’t even played a second show yet.

I don’t know Lizzie Jenkins, the reporter who wrote the article, but I’m sure she’s a fine writer who was just trying to fill an assignment, not knowing the can of worms she was opening among diehard Provo music enthusiasts. I know her journalism class said she needed at least three sources, but she could have perhaps talked to some more bands, maybe some who have played more than one show on 100Block.

I do admire Ms. Jenkins, though, in a way — and I am not saying this sarcastically. Rather than write the same vanilla articles about Provo music that are published year after year by the Universe (with the exception of Spencer Flanagan’s brief stint at the DU culture desk — a breath of fresh air indeed!), she tried to dig deeper and find something newsworthy. I admire her intentions. How many DU writeups about a local band just skim the surface, with a headline that goes something like, “______ Plays Gig in Provo, Seeks New Fans”?

What I’m saying is that, contrary to what many of my Facebook friends are suggesting, Ms. Jenkins should keep writing. Continue to dig deeper. There are so many great stories to be told about Provo music.

Let’s tell the stories of all the great things happening on 100-something North University Avenue. Neon Trees are touring the world. Fictionist are on the verge of being on the cover of Rolling Stone.  Neither band can be described as “indie-folk.” Muse Music and Velour are not rivals. I work at Muse and play shows at Velour.  Cory Fox owns Velour and buys sandwiches from Muse’s café — he and his sound guys are our best customers!

Sometimes I have a hard time getting my rap group on the shows I want to be on. When I text the band I want to open for, only to get the reply of “We’re working on our new album right now, not playing shows,” only to see that band playing a big show at Velour the next week, of course I get bummed! But that doesn’t mean that something’s wrong with them, or with Velour. It means that I need to work harder — and that’s exactly what I will do.

If you don’t want to put any work into your music, then I believe there’s an opening for you at the Raintree clubhouse next Friday. They’d love to have you play.

So laments the protagonist in Showtime’s critically acclaimed Dexter — originally based on Jeff Lindsay’s novel Darkly Dreaming Dexter — one of the most imaginative, entertaining and haunting shows on television.

From its intoxicatingly visceral opening title sequence and accompanying score to the haunting end credits, Dexter has held widespread appeal. Originally premiering in 2006, the show has garnered a record-breaking audience of millions, resulting in multiple awards and nominations  — as well as some naturally apropos criticism from naysayers. I’m a latecomer to the macabre cult bandwagon, which just wrapped up its fifth season. (I recently finished the second).

For those of you heretofore unfamiliar with the show, here’s a brief description, faster than you can say, “Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there.”

The title character, Dexter Morgan (played by the eerily talented Michael C. Hall), feels nothing. He is self-declared to be void of emotion and has a mysterious yet undeniably powerful desire to kill, which he satiates by carefully picking out other deplorable murderers who the majority of society (or at least capital punishment advocates) would deem worthy of sleeping with the fishes. This habit — dubbed “the code of Harry” — was instilled in him by his adoptive father, now deceased but posthumously respected Miami cop Harry Morgan (whose presence is maintained via frequent flashbacks).

All of this is hidden from the public, however, and Dexter lives a tight-lipped and solitary life as a blood spatter analyst for the Miami Metro Police Department where he fakes human emotion and participates in mundane human practices to fit in — both demonstrating his surprisingly keen social prowess while simultaneously placing him in the occasional awkward position. (At one point, when our protagonist must show empathy for his ailing girlfriend, he stares back at her wide-eyed, hoping the absence of blinking will bring a compassionate tear.)

For me, the show provides a fulfilling dichotomy. In one sense, you have the surface story arc involving investigative police work, intriguing killers and the requisite romantic and familial relations. Dexter’s only remaining family is his foul-mouthed yet big-hearted foster sister Deb (Jennifer Carpenter) and emotionally damaged girlfriend Rita (Julie Benz) whose own past issues with drugs and an abusive ex-husband compose some of her primary appeal for our seemingly emotionless anti-hero.

But deeper than that, you have the psychosis of Dexter, whose unique perspective — instead of immediately repulsing us as we might expect — allows us to take a different look into what makes people tick and just how bizarre many social norms really are. On a date at a seaside lobster restaurant, for example, Dexter says, “I have some unusual habits, yet all these socially acceptable people can’t wait to pick up hammers and smash their food to bits. Normal people are so hostile.”

The question remains: Why do we root for a serial killer? Why are we disturbingly sympathetic to someone so cold and calculated? Yes, excellent writing is obviously a factor in piquing our curiosity, but that doesn’t fully explain the numerous books and discussions that have been spawned as a result. (And, I’m sure, some well-placed nature vs. nurture debates.)

Underneath it all, I think we all understand and relate to Dexter at some level. There’s something basic and instinctual to his approach that affects us, whether consciously or subconsciously.

The show brings to the forefront of our mind (maybe in a way we haven’t contemplated before) what it means to be human. There’s an inborn trait for the vast majority of us to want to connect to others. To care and be cared about. To feel. Our fearless Dex sometimes falters in that regard, missing the basic human characteristics that come instinctively to more “traditional” members of society.

These strengths (and foibles) are somewhat symbolically represented in the supporting characters. Deb is detached Dexter’s feeling foil, completely run by an emotional, heart-on-your-sleeve approach; stern Sergeant Doakes strictly adheres to justice and loyalty; Dexter’s foster father believes in basic moral values and pragmatic living. The list goes on.

Inversely, however, as multi-faceted beings I think we realize we all have a trace of Dexter’s so-called “Dark Passenger” — a tacit yet universal understanding of being alienated, having difficulty relating to others, or perhaps not feeling about someone or something as deeply as everyone else seems to. An inner struggle regarding good versus evil and personal ethics. These all represent basic questions of our existence and human nature.

We all wear masks and, at times, retreat into layers of secrecy. While it may not be outright lying, people are prone to adapt in social situations and take on various facades. The part of our personality that most easily relates to the situation we’re in is accentuated — it’s one of those facts of human nature and the reason why we strive to find meaningful relationships with people who bring out our most authentic self.

“There are no secrets in life, just hidden truths that lie beneath the surface,” Dexter recites, in one of his very poetic inner-monologues.

As Freud might say (and take it for what it’s worth), we have a “hidden self” lying in our subconscious that is often too taxing for our conscious minds to handle. In response, we do some cognitive gymnastics and form “defense mechanisms,” or, in other words, we twist reality enough to form a justification for our behavior. Dexter, for example, has to believe that his actions are ultimately beneficial as he religiously adheres to “Harry’s code.”

Beyond all this psychology, the show is simply a fascinating look into the life and mind of a sociopath and serial killer — a concept often misrepresented in the media. While most of the psychopaths we hear about have probably been incarcerated, there exist “successful psychopaths” (hint: not a creepy Anthony Hopkins-esque dude in a muzzle lurking in dark alleys). They’re not just irrational and insane killers roaming the streets without a social conscience.

Often, like Dexter, these chameleon members of society have a strong sense of self-discipline and meticulously regulate their actions. Here again is our beloved killer’s duality — the stark contrast between his role as a disconcertingly efficient murderer and ultra-dependable brother, friend and father figure. He more or less represents the spectrum of human potential. By day, he enjoys spending time with Rita and playing with the kids (whom he has a soft spot for, probably due to their innocence and lack of conditioning by strange social norms). By night, he dispatches killers with clinical precision.

And considering his backstory (early loss of parents by violent means, adoptive guardians and a growing understanding of his purpose and propensity to defend others), is he really that much different than our beloved Batman or similar superhero vigilantes? In one episode, Dexter even tries on the alter ego of “Dark Defender,” while the world argues if his actions are heroic or not.

Whether you enjoy Dexter for its psychological feast or simply like to watch people getting stabbed in key arteries (you little weirdo), the show is captivating.

I will warn you, however. Don’t start watching Dexter unless you want to be sucked into his exquisitely orchestrated web of deceit and complex array of morality issues.

Like one of his ill-fated victims, there’s little chance of escape.

Don’t get me wrong, no one bleeds blood as Cougar blue as mine. But just because I love the team doesn’t mean I blindly believe they will win every game — that would just make me ignorant (or a Ute fan). Experience is knowledge, and I’ve experienced too many overtime losses, tournament no-shows and blown calls to believe in the Cougars as hard as I pull for them.

So when I picked San Diego State to beat our men’s basketball team at home last night, much of it was the eternal pessimism speaking. But more than that, I really didn’t think we had the team to beat them. San Diego State has size, athleticism, and is defensively minded. While I thought we had a great player in Jimmer Fredette, I also felt our team was too flawed to really compete with talent of that caliber. BYU is small, has trouble rebounding, and has absolutely no depth — or so I thought. In other words, I thought we had a great player, not a great team.

The story after last night’s win was — and will continue to be — Jimmer Fredette. He had 43 points in an amazing offensive performance. We’ve seen Jimmer do this before, and while it was awe-inspiring, don’t be fooled — the win was a team effort. As I sat watching the game, I was incredibly impressed by what I saw — not by Fredette (who was certainly impressive), but by the other Cougars on the floor.

Now, the rest of the team was horrible offensively, especially Jackson Emery who, after hitting almost every three-pointer in warm-ups, couldn’t even come close in the game. Brandon Davies was the lone stand-out other then Fredette, showing off his impressive arsenal of low-post moves (including a shot utilizing his left hand, which I previously believed to be a prosthetic) and notching 14 big points.

It was not the team’s offense that impressed me, but their tough defense and determination. The Aztecs actually hit shots when they were open. The problem was they weren’t open very often. While SDSU’s Kawhi Leonard had 22 points in the game, he worked hard for every single bucket as freshman Kyle Collinsworth (with a significant disadvantage at height, weight and athleticism) played excellent defense on him. The rest of the team was equally impressive, forcing 12 turnovers and blocking 9 shots.

Rebounding-wise, the team fought hard for every single board. Any time there was a lose ball, guys like Emery, Charles Abouo and Noah Hartsock were diving on the ground fighting for it. Bench players like James Anderson and Abouo were huge as they locked down their defensive assignments, getting a combined 5 blocks and 7 big rebounds between the two of them.

If before the game you had told me it would be a physical, defensive game, I would have put my life savings on the Aztecs to win — and I would have lost.

What we saw last night was not the product of superior talent, but superior coaching, toughness and heart. Coach Dave Rose has to take the credit for mentally preparing his team to grind it out with the No. 4 team in the country.

In many ways, what we saw last night was the team reflecting the heart of its coach. As a player on Houston’s Phi Slamma Jamma team, Rose was able to earn playing time not through superior ability, but through his hard work and hustle. As he took the head coaching position at BYU, the team was coming off a 9-21 season, and interest in Cougar basketball was at an all-time low.

He is now 147-41 as BYU’s head coach and has made BYU into a perennial Top 25 (now Top 10) team. Then there was the pancreatic cancer he fought off just a year and a half ago, a dreadful disease that has a 5 percent survival rate. If anything, what we saw last night from the Cougars was a team embodying the best qualities of a beloved coach and team motivator. The team was able to channel that into an impressive on-the-court performance.

As I’ve said before, coming into last night’s game I believed we had a great player and a great coach. But as I left the game, I realized we may indeed have a great team. The team (other than Jimmer) had a horrible night offensively — and still won the game by 13. Jackson Emery won’t go 0-5 from three again. The team won’t likely shoot that bad again. (And if they do, there’s always Jimmer to bail them out.) If the team can continue to play at this level defensively, they’re going to win a lot of games and scare a lot of teams.

This BYU team has the best player in college basketball. It has a great coach. It has confidence. And, more than anything, it has heart. After last night, this team truly believes it can win every game — and after years of pessimism, I believe too. Go Cougars.

These days there are channels like Food Network and Cooking Channel that are dedicated entirely to the wonderful subject of food, which is a dream come true for some of us. You don’t have to be a “foodie” to enjoy great food television. Here’s a list of some of my favorite shows:

Man vs. Food, Travel Channel — The story of a man’s (Adam Richman) journey across America, taking on some of the country’s most famous food challenges. His tagline: “I’m no competitive eater, just a regular guy with a serious appetite.” Adam does have a serious appetite and watching this actor/comedian/sushi chef take on these food challenges is incredible and entertaining. This guy can eat!

Best Thing I Ever Ate, Food Network — Have you ever wondered where the world’s best chefs go to eat? Me too — partly because I’ve always wondered what they eat after they have cooked all day, but also because I want to eat there too. This show features chefs talking about some of their favorite obsessions and where you can get them.

Tyler’s Ultimate, Food Network — A call to the more traditional cooking shows of old: Tyler’s Ultimate gives a look into renowned chef Tyler Florence’s unique cooking style, as he puts the “ultimate” spin on traditional dishes like hamburgers, spaghetti, pancakes and more. If you’re looking for a new and exciting way to cook the classics, check this out.

Iron Chef America, Food Network — Once originating in Japan, Iron Chef has come to America as challengers go head-to-head with an “Iron Chef” to test their cooking skills in the heat of battle at Kitchen Stadium. Each challenger has an hour to create a five-course meal for a panel of judges using a “secret ingredient.” You can’t help but watch in amazement as chefs put together these delicious meals in such short time.

Whether you’re a food television watcher or not, check out some of these shows and you soon will be. Embrace your inner Julia Child.

I don’t know why it was ever missing from the Thursday night line-up. And I really don’t understand why Outsourced deserved air time while Parks and Rec was shoved into the abyss of short-lived shows.

Outsourced is abhorrently dumb. Parks and Rec is smart. Maybe not smart in the Arrested Development manner to which we television snobs have become accustomed — where every line of dialogue is a double entendre and every character is someone else and we have to chart which joke lines up with which former episode, etc. Instead, Parks and Rec is smart in its simplicity.

The pace of Parks and Recreation is slow. Not boring, just relaxed. And there isn’t much of a plot. The only premise and location in the series is a government office full of workers. On paper, it sounds suspiciously close to The Office, especially given its mockumenatry style. In fact, much of the early criticism of the show wrote it off as an Office rip-off.

It took a few weeks — maybe even the entire first season — for Parks to decide what it was about and how it differed from The Office. By the second season, however, Parks hit its stride and became one of the most charming shows on television by focusing on the endearing characters of Pawnee local government.

Leslie Knope and her Parks and Recreation crew have enough subtle quirks to keep them funny and enough redeeming qualities to keep them watchable. Where Michael Scott and Dwight can be too much to handle at times, the characters on Parks never become abrasive.

The characters are brilliantly performed by Amy Poehler, Rashida Jones, Aziz Ansari, etc., with just the right facial expressions and mannerisms to make any situation that much funnier. Andy Dwyer, played by Chris Pratt, often steals the show as Anne’s dim-witted ex-boyfriend and the City Hall shoe-shiner. April Ludgate, the cynical moody college intern played by Aubrey Plaza, provides the perfect foil for Poehler’s over-eager Leslie Knope.

Most shows struggle to incorporate guest stars without diverting the story — Parks and Recreation does it seamlessly. Louis CK, Rob Lowe, Andy Samberg and Fred Armisen have all shined as guest stars, and the next season promises more surprise Pawnee residents. Parker Posey (of Christopher Guest mockumentary fame) is slotted to play Leslie’s nemesis. Amazing.

We never know what we’ve got til it’s gone. It was a cold, dark autumn without Parks and Recreation in the NBC Thursday night line-up. Luckily, my heart — and hopefully yours — will warm once more with the return of Leslie Knope and her crew this Thursday.