Constructing Belief

I really enjoyed the handout Dr. Williams provided describing the three main theories of why people laugh. One of the questions included on the handout was “What makes something funny?” Although this sounds like a simple question, I was stumped by it. The three theories (relief theory, superiority theory, and incongruity theory) adequately describe most of the reasons I laugh. I had never heard of these before, but each one made me think more deeply about how and why I find things funny. The Superiority Theory of Humor especially stood out to me, when I laugh at something like someone slipping on a banana peel, it never crossed my mind that part of the reason might be because I feel “above” the person or situation. It was interesting to realize how humor can sometimes come from a sense of triumph or relief that it wasn’t me. I realized that many times when I laugh, I am laughing at someone. It kind of made me sad to realize that this is due to “The Superiority Theory of Humor.” I think...

In the early twentieth century, American society became fixated on an idea known as “white slavery” hysteria. Reformers, politicians, and newspapers spread the idea that young, innocent white women were being kidnapped and forced into prostitution by powerful underground networks. This fear fueled sensational headlines and led to laws like the 1910 Mann Act, which criminalized transporting women across state lines for “immoral purposes.” But, as I learned in class, much of this panic was based on exaggeration and misunderstanding. While cases of trafficking did occur, many women entered prostitution by choice or necessity, often as a means of financial independence in a world that offered them few other options. I was shocked to realize how society framed these women as helpless victims rather than acknowledging their agency or the structural inequalities that shaped their decisions. I chose to focus on Galveston, Texas, because I was born there and have always been fascinated by its c...

What struck me most about Paper Moon was not just the Depression-era setting or the father-daughter dynamic, but the way the film leans into deception as a way of life. The Bible scam, selling expensive Bibles to grieving widows by claiming their late husbands ordered them, is both cruel and ingenious. It highlights how easily trust and grief can be manipulated. Watching this unfold, I wrestled with my feelings. On one hand, I admire the cleverness. Addie, especially, turns deception into an art form, calculating numbers in her head, manipulating situations, and often outsmarting Moses himself. There is a thrill in watching someone underestimated, a young girl in this case, flip power on its head. At the same time, the deception leaves me unsettled. Exploiting vulnerable people, particularly the grieving, crosses a line that makes me question whether survival can justify manipulation. The film shows how desperate times blur moral boundaries, but it also forces me to ask whether necessi...

In the 1840s, William Miller, a farmer-turned-preacher, convinced tens of thousands that Christ would return between 1843 and 1844. Drawing from Daniel 8:14 and using a “day-year” principle of interpretation, Miller calculated the world’s end was imminent. His message spread through newspapers, lectures, and revival meetings, fueled by the energy of the Second Great Awakening. William Miller By 1844, anticipation reached a fever pitch. Many Millerites sold possessions, wore white “ascension robes,” and gathered on hilltops to await Christ’s coming. October 22 was fixed as the final date. But when the day passed without event, the Great Disappointment shattered hopes. Some abandoned faith, others recalculated, and still others reinterpreted the prophecy. Out of this chaos grew new denominations, most notably the Seventh-day Adventist Church, which survives today as a global movement. Reflecting on the Millerites, I feel a mix of admiration and caution. Their sincerity and courage to liv...