by Jens Dana
Confession is a tough business. That's why I try to avoid it whenever possible by not doing anything stupid. But that never works.
Admitting you did something wrong is hard enough when you're one-on-one. If you don't believe me, try saying, 'Mom, you remember the time the front fender fell off the car and I said I didn't know anything about it? Well ...' It's not so easy, is it?
Now imagine confessing to 18,500 people and you'll have a vague idea of what I'm going through right now. That's how strongly I feel about what I'm going to tell you; I'm tired of all the charades and pretenses, but it's still tough.
This would be so much easier if I did this one-on-one with each of you, maybe over lunch, to relieve some of the uneasiness. But since that's not the case, I'll go ahead and answer the question you've suspected at one time or another: 'Do I have an agenda as a reporter?'
Most journalists can take a joke, unlike our overly sensitive, estranged cousins in the English department. You know the type: the kind that can't stomach a sentence that includes 'ain't,' 'funner' and 'awesomer.' But one thing reporters at The Daily Universe don't joke about is agenda and bias; that's the kind of journalism that's only fit to print in the University of Utah's newspaper.
So if you've ever asked a journalist if they have an agenda, you've probably gotten the knee-jerk answer 'NO!' from them, but now you're getting nothing but candor from me.
Before you read on, realize the consequences of your actions. You're Mulder and Scully from 'The X-files.' You are about to trespass on Area 51, and you're about to learn the truth. If this analogy doesn't appeal to you, remember, 'ignorance is bliss' and slowly turn the page. For the rest of you bold enough to read on, I will oblige.
Yes.
Yes, yes, yes! I have an agenda. Wow, I feel so much cleaner now that I typed that.
I may not be a liberal hippie, chilling out on a LoveSac in tie-dye, and I don't want to take over the world, although world domination would guarantee some decent on-campus parking. I think I'll leave that scheme to BYU ROTC.
Even as I'm about to let you in on my dirty little secret, I know what will happen to me. Most likely, I'll be ostracized from the secret order of journalists, or I'll be doomed to spend the rest of my college days in the nether realm that is The Lodges at Glenwood. Oh wait, I already live there; looks like I have nothing to lose then.
OK. Here goes: I want to inform you; I want to promote discussion. If that isn't a Watergate-sized scandal, I don't know what is.
Maybe you've read an article I've written, or one of my colleagues, and you didn't agree with what you read. We're not trying to tell you how to think, that's a public relation director's job; we just want you to be aware of what's happening on campus and in the community.
If you don't agree with something you've read in the newspaper, chances are you will probably discuss it some way or another. Consider the following probable scenario between two of my fellow Wyoming mountain men:
'Cletus, did you read The Daily Universe yesterday? It done said that Mormons ain't no where nere skinny as they's neighbors is.'
'Awww... Chester, that's jes that darn funktified liberal media trying to make us quits meat. Now pass the butter, will ya? This here raccoon bacon is as dry as a bone!'
Inform and discuss? Mission accomplished. As hard as confession is, I'm feeling pretty good now that I got that out of my system.