So, if you haven’t read my post about being an A. Hull, read that first.  Warning: This post is incredibly immature, juvenile, and offensive to boring old prudes.  My brother Bryant is obviously a B. Hull.  Bryant shared this humorous (juvenile) video with me… It turns out Hardees restaurant was testing to see if people liked A or B.  And B won!

Well, people always like Bryant, so I think that is fair… then again I am extremely hygienic, so if we were baked goods I would likely taste better…

To truly appreciate this post you may want to read this out loud… and try not to laugh or I’ll cry.

I have never understood why so often, people are ashamed to reveal their middle name… I just don’t get it… After-all it is a part of who they are…

Me (Son of an A. Hull), Grandpa (made my Dad an A. Hull), My Dad (an A. Hull and A. Mann Hull) holding Hudson (Not an A. Hull)

Actually that is not true… So I rarely reveal my middle name, or use my middle initial… Why?  Because then I become Jason A. Hull.

You can imagine how much I love when my credit cards come in the mail and say Jason A. Hull instead of Jason Hull, or people read things out loud with that name on it.  My coolness levels skyrocket!

Luckily no one knew this in high school or my name would have been unofficially changed to A. Hull, against my will, and everyone would have told me that I was an A. Hull daily.  Anyhow, I have grown up a bit and am way more mature now (possibly untrue), so I actually sometimes use it to inject humor into meeting people and helping them remember my name.

Now some people may think I actually fit the name A. Hull and deserve to be called an A. Hull, to which my mature response is that it takes one to know one, and if you aren’t an A. Hull then you obviously do not know me well enough to be qualified to speak on the matter.  So there.

It is in my blood to be an A. Hull

My dad gave me his name, as my middle name, which is Alan.  So technically my dad is the original A. Hull and was an A. Hull long before I was an A. Hull.  To top that off, my dad’s middle name is Mann… so he is Alan Mann Hull.  So yes, not only is my dad an A. Hull, but he is also a Mann Hull or actually A. Mann Hull.

I married one

So not only are me and my dad A. Hulls, but I married my wife Ashley, thereby turning her into an A. Hull.  So now I am married to an A. Hull that I love dearly.  So if you know the three of us then you have met 3 wonderful A. Hulls.  Maybe if Ashley and I get tan enough we can be brown A. Hulls?

Future A. Hulls?

Well so far none of my kids are A. Hulls, even though both of their parents are A. Hulls, so being an A. Hull must be caused by a highly recessive gene… considering the odds… and since 2 of my kids will likely someday marry and change their last name, they won’t create any A. Hulls either.  They still have the opportunity by giving their kids an A. name with the middle name of Hull.  So, there is still the likelihood that there will be more A. Hulls in my bloodline.  I don’t think any of my brothers are planning on raising A. Hulls, but you never know… there are a lot of nice A. names.  My dad insured the highest possible chance of their being more A. Hulls by only having sons, five of them in fact, but he only bestowed the honor of being an A. Hull, like himself, to me, his oldest son.  Apparently it was my birthright to be an A. Hull.

Well I of course had to follow suit with my firstborn son Hudson.  So, can you guess what I gave him as a middle name?

Actually, Jason.

Meaning matters

Jason comes from Greek and means “one who will heal” or “healer.”  I guess that means I will heal quickly after the damage is caused by revealing this.  So what is it like being an A. Hull?  It is a privilege few humans experience and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.  I would have to say I am not a dirty, stinky or ugly A. Hull and that I am a decent guy.  So hopefully you feel guilty when you tell people about this post and tell people I am an A. Hull.  The name Alan actually means handsome or cheerful.  So I am a cheerful, handsome A. Hull.  Hull is an old English word for hill.  So I am the “handsome healer on a hill” – a pretty good title for an A. Hull like my self.

When you name your kids, make sure you choose a name with meaning like mine…

Have a funny name?  Know of a funny name?  Like your middle name?  Let everyone know in the comments.

My wife Ashley as Jennifer Rumson and myself as the Mexican Julio in "Paint Your Wagon"

I posted several times on Facebook  “Jason is pretending to be a Mexican named Julio Federico Juan Valenzuelo Valveras.”  Most people just thought I was just being goofy, but I actually have been pretending to be a Mexican named Julio Federico Valenzuelo Valveras in a local production of “Paint Your Wagon,” a musical that is set during the gold rush.  I thought I would share with you the challenge of a pasty white-boy in becoming Mexican.

Practically a Latino

Luckily I am highly qualified to play this part thanks to the two years of Spanish class I took in high school in which learned near fluency (ie. I know enough to get laughed at by a Spanish speaker and that is all).  This has allowed me to fake a Mexican Accent so well that a fellow cast member, and mother of real children, told me I sound just like Handy Manny, whom we can all assume is performed by a truly amazing, high quality native of Mexico.  I would say I sound a bit more like Antonio Banderas, but I failed to find anyone that would back me up on that statement.   Anyhow they picked me rather than a real Latino, which says a lot (unless you find out that no real Mexicans tried out for the role).

Familiar with Mexico’s Customs

Another qualification is that I have have helped several local Mexicans ship FedEx packages to Mexico.  Alright, so that one is a little weak you might be saying, well I bet I am more familiar with Mexico’s customs than you.  Not cultural customs, but the equally important imort and export customs.  For instance, did you know Mexico will not allow anything shipped that was made in China!  I’ll bet you didn’t… not even the Mexicans I serve know that.

Physical Transformation

Adding color to my skin has been a combination of the tanning package my wife bought me, mystic spray tanning, and brown mineral powder foundation.  In other words I am red, orange, and brown…. just call me Autumn or Thanksgiving.

My hair has been died twice… first brown and then black, because the brown hair wasn’t “Mexican enough” according to the expert fellow white cast members.  Facial hair has been shaved to be similar to Orlando Bloom and the Batman dude who’s name escapes me at the moment.  This facial hair then must be darkened with dark eye shadow to match the hair on my head.

I then act cocky, not because Mexicans are cocky, but because people are less likely to question my Mexican-ness if I do it with some bravado (actually that is just part of my character – the proud Julio).

Singing with a Spanish accent has been a bit more challenging since elongated vowels tend to lose their potency and because I was not permitted to sing the songs in Spanish (actually I couldn’t if I tried… it’s all in English and my translation skills have grown rusty – i.e. never existed).  If you come see me perform, please forgive me if I accidentally roll my R’s in inappropriate spots, or slip into a white-boy accent, or I strangely look a bit too orange.  So far I think I have totally fooled everyone who doesn’t know me (just the really old, white grandmas with failing vision, and really small children that have no clue what a Mexican is).

Those dang white people!

The greatest advantage to being Mexican is that I can now be racist toward all the white people I know… something I have never had the pleasure of doing.  Now, I am not saying Mexicans have a beef with white people… I just want to experience it while I am under layers of spray tan and makeup.  I’m not quite sure I am getting the full effect however, since I just get laughed at when I make comments and jokes at my white, fellow cast members, but I should have the hang of it by the end of the production and finally have offend someone.  You know, it really is hard to offend white people – Honky, Cracker, Pale force… no phrase seems to offend them…no not even Yakoo.  White trash may offend them, but only if it is true.

Justice for the Persecuted

I figure if God is just, then he might like my idea to eventually have people that are racist be born into a world that discriminates against them so they learn, maybe as the same race they chose to hate.  I figure that is fair… and if so, then I will probably be white because of my transgressions against them as a spray-tanned Latino.

The great author of this blog with died black hair and cool goatie (see my next blog entry).

I am great! Okay, I admit, it may or may not be true… and I agree that I may not be at the caliber of Gandhi, Jesus, Buddha, etc.  Sure they were obviously great.  I also know you will use your power of judgment to decide, regardless of what I suggest, and that you likely assume most people are not great and doubt that this blog is great, but let me present an extremely persuasive argument.

So what could I write to convince you that 1) I am an amazing person, that 2) you really want to be friends with me, and that 3) you want to read every blog entry I write, subscribe to my blog, and invite me to do cool stuff with you?  Here goes…

I just might be great!

You may have met or read about someone that you felt is great.  Perhaps they truly inspired you.  I may or may not be just like that person – you will only know if you get to know me (which you can do by reading this blog).  Regardless, notice how great it feels to read the stuff I write (shameless persuasion tactic).

They did, you can (and so can I)!

If anyone was ever great, then you can be great.  If any man can do something, then you can do it.  It might be difficult, but it is not impossible.  Also, if you wish to be great, you won’t get there by running tapes in your head that tell yourself you are not great… if you give in to these messages and believe them then you will certainly become the “not great” thing you spent so much time convincing yourself and others that you were.  Being great is our destiny if you choose it to be…

Who’s choice is it?

Also, if you believe in affirmations, have watched “The Secret,” or believe that if you treat a person as if they are great then they will become great, then why not tell yourself you are great?  Isn’t it your decision?  God gave you the ability to make choices so why not choose to be great?

Now that you are great… So am I

I am sure by now you agree that you are great and that anyone can be great… I am great as well… and if I am great then so is my blog because greatness comes from greatness.  If you do not feel you are great this is a sad thing.  Maybe you can at least agree that everyone should be great.  If not you then who?  Why not me?  So even if you are not great I can be.  Wouldn’t it be great if everyone believed they were great and everyone strives to live a great life?

Less convincing arguments as to my greatness:

Scott is great?

Several people say “Great Scott!” and no one even knows who he is!  You can actually get to know me – how great is that?  Also, if you are not one who says that phrase, why not start saying “Great Jason!” when you are excited?  It would at least get others’ attention by interrupting an old pattern.  When they look strangely at you tell them it’s a guy you actually know rather than the Scott everyone else is praising.

Tony the Tiger set the bar extremely low

Frosted flakes are great. If those can be great, then why not me?  I mean isn’t Total or Wheaties greater than a Frosted Flake in nutritional value?  Or on the merits of taste alone, several deserts are better than a bowl of Frosted Flakes.

Jesus, Sparrows, and Children

Really… certainly a sparrow is greater than a sugary flake and the great sage Jesus (most would concur that he was great) said man is greater than a sparrow… on the same note a child is probably greater than me according to the same source, but not many of them can blog so as far as blogging goes I may be greater than a little child and my wife would affirm I can be extremely childish if I choose to be.

Un-Great Britain?

Many still refer to a certain geographical area on this planet as “Great Britain.”  Have you ever called it that?  I bet you have at least once and I also bet you never checked to see if it qualified as great.  Maybe it is “un-great?”  Have you been there or seen it?  If you call call it great without fact checking, then why not call me great?  And since it is simply geographic, you can easily designate a small spot in your backyard, maybe an unused corner, as Great Jason – a small portion of land in honor of me and how great I am.  Tiny signs that say “Welcome to Great Jason – www.jasonisgreat.com” can easily be made out of a post-it or 3×5 card attached to a popsicle stick and placed in that great corner.  If you do this please send me pictures to share here.

Webster at Large

Let’s look at a definition according to Webster.  One is “notably large in size.”  Since size and “largeness” is relative, then so is greatness.  I am much larger than ants… so I am great.

So now that you are extremely convinced.  Please subscribe, share, and visit often!

Have any other compelling arguments I should add?  Images or stories of your Great Jason?

Let me know in the comments.