The Dangers of Culture

If we ever hope to positively change the retention rate of new converts, we, the members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, must change our culture. Over the course of this essay I will primarily focus my remarks on personal examples and anecdotal evidence that have led me to this conclusion. The history I draw from will be my own, namely: my time as a missionary, the varying degrees of activity held by my wife’s family, and my wife’s experience as a convert to the church of Latter-Day Saints.

            It would not paint a full and accurate picture of the dilemma upon which I am focusing my thoughts, if I were to ignore the fact that “anti-Mormon” pros are often to blame for the falling away of converts and life-long members alike. I have known many people who have lost their way after learning about more taboo topics, or upon reading half truths on the internet. However, there is a more powerful force which drives away new converts in the church: a culture that has been developed behind closed chapel doors. A culture, that when first experienced by an outsider, can be alienating, strange, and utterly unfamiliar.

            Take a moment and put yourself in the shoes of someone who is unfamiliar with the church. For the sake of establishing a somewhat strong foundation let’s pretend that you come from a Christian background. One day there’s a knock on your door and you answer it to find two friendly young men wearing white shirts, ties, and black name tags that prominently feature the name of Jesus Christ. After pleasantries you invite them in, and they begin to share their message. It is a message of a loving Heavenly Father that blesses us with prophets and families. A Heavenly Father that wants to answer our prayers. The young missionaries teach you about faith, the plan of salvation, and the Doctrine of Christ. As they continue to visit you in the coming weeks, you feel a heretofore unknown, yet somehow completely familiar feeling of peace. They invite you to read scriptures in addition to the bible, to pray, and to test your faith by following different commandments. A seed of faith begins to grow inside of you. They invite you to attend church with them.

            On your first Sunday you feel nervous, it has been years sense you attended a formal church. The pastor gives a few opening remarks and then informs the congregation that the time is theirs and takes his seat. What follows is an increasingly uncomfortable montage of different members sharing overly personal stories, detailing past sins, family drama, and ongoing disputes that would be better resolved in private. Some people are friendly and talk briefly with you, but the majority don’t seem to acknowledge this new person. At least you have your missionary friends to keep you company. Everyone is talking about Joseph Smith, Nephi, Alma, and a bunch of other people you’re not familiar with.

            Now take that same example but fast forward a few months, your missionaries have gone to a new area and you are now alone in this place. Maybe you have one or two people who will smile and shake your hand, but you feel uncomfortable and unwelcome. Now take both of those situations and let’s say you’re located in a small town in Utah. The turnover rate is so high with so many families moving in and out every single week that no one notices that you are there at all, they don’t notice when you stop coming.

            This story is an amalgam of my experiences with people I taught on my mission, and even my own wife, who joined the church when she was eighteen. Allow me to speak in the parlance of a talk at church: Brothers, sisters, we may contain the true gospel of Jesus Christ, but that does us no good if we do not live it. It is time to put the cliques and unhealthy culture habits behind us if we ever hope to lead truly Christlike lives and shine for those with whom we come in contact. The old adage, while clichéd, is still relevant: the church is true, the members aren’t. I encourage anyone who reads this to examine their own behavior and take inventory of how they conduct themselves. Is this the way that will allow new converts to come unto Christ?

I Believe-

I believe in Harvey Dent. In these uncertain times in which we find ourselves, when going to the grocery store could mean becoming collateral damage in an illegal vigilante’s one-man war on crime, we must ask ourselves: who do we want in our corner?

 Who is the charismatic new young district attorney? Through hard work he was able to overcome his broken childhood home and mental trauma to become the youngest DA in the history of the Gotham legal system. In between cases he can be found teeing off with Mayor Anthony Garcia, but more often than not is behind a mountain of legal documents in his small, crowded office. This office bears more resemblance to a college dorm room, this cramped space is filled with nearly ceiling-high stacks of papers, a small cot, and a weight bench. Clearly this is a man that spends most of his time at work, fighting for the little guy; for you and me. I believe in Harvey Dent.

A vote for Harvey Dent is a vote for a safer Gotham. In this upcoming election season we must ask ourselves, who do we want cleaning our streets: A dark, brooding stranger who has declared himself both judge and jury, or Gotham’s second favorite son who, with a smile and flip of his father’s lucky coin, makes his own luck? Rest assured, the crime syndicates of this city will need a lot more than luck on their side when Harvey is on the case. In addition to a heck of a left hook, Harvey possesses a keen mind for the law. The way Harvey argues his case, it’s almost as if there’s two of him cross examining the witness. I’m sure you’re familiar with the old adage, two is better than one. I believe in Harvey Dent.

If re-elected Harvey will work side by side with Lieutenant James Gordon’s major crimes unit to push the Dent Act into motion, effectively freeing the streets from all organized crime. That’s a feat that not even Batman can claim. Harvey is pro-family too, and will soon tie the knot with junior district attorney Rachel Dawes. Harvey is poised to explode to the next level. I believe in Harvey Dent: the hero that Gotham needs, not the one it deserves.

Love of Adventure

Dear T.A.Z. (The Adventure Zone)

I was already good friends with your cousin My Brother, My Brother, and Me when we were introduced, and you seemed like a fun detour from my usual podcast listening. I like nerdy things and consider myself fairly open minded. Heck, I even played D&D once a long time ago, but never really had the means nor drive to pursue what could have otherwise been an interesting pastime. But that didn’t matter to you. No, you took me by the hand and brought me into your world of magic, Gergblins, twenty-sided dice, and Bug Bears.

            From episode one I was hooked. You never made me feel stupid for not knowing every intricacy or strategy relating to dungeons and dragons, mostly because it was fairly evident that none of the show hosts had any idea what they were doing either. You lured me in with the same humor and wit for which MBMBaM had already become one of my favorite listening materials when at work. Not only did you provide a sort of beginner’s guide to D&D, you also grew as a story with each passing episode. Then there’s the laughs.

Your character designs are incredible. Take for example, Magic Brian, that’s not a name one would ever see in a thick Tolkien tome, or some lighter Lewis literature. Seriously, you not only had the nerve to name a character Magic Brian, but also gave him a ridiculously unplaceable Eurotrash accent. An accent that, spoiler alert, would be his final undoing because no matter how great his disguise is, he still sounds like a rejected villain from the Die-Hard franchise. Yippi-ki-yay indeed, Adventure Zone. Come to think of it, I wonder if it was more than coincidence that Magic Brian fell to his death, much like another well-known German terrorist…

            The family element is your strongest feature. Three brothers and their father, joined via skype from different parts of the country, make each other laugh over this ridiculous journey you’ve created for your listening audience. They trade on a lifetime of give and take that they’ve built up and your story benefits from it. I know I don’t say this nearly enough T.A.Z, but I love you. You bring laughter and imagination to both the earliest and latest hours spent keeping the lights on at Chick Fil A. Thank you for all the mind-blowing moments of a ridiculous fantasy story that seems to have been custom written just for my sensibilities and personal enjoyment.

Indebtedly yours,

Stephen

P.S.

Not only did you have a three-episode long death race derby more extreme than all of the Mad Max movies combined, you had the sheer nerve to also introduce a rainbow-mulleted, quasi-real ethereal binicorn (unicorn with two horns) named Garyl and had him be the coolest part of the entire story arc! Your show is bananas and I love you for it.

Braaaaaaiiiiins

Lately I've been on something of a "zombie kick" when it comes to my entertainment choices. And as I've looked at those around me, it occurs to me that I am not the only one. So I'm curious why zombies have suddenly become such a huge cash cow in our society...

(although a movie trailer, the following clip might not be for all audiences.)

Thanks to George Romero we have what is widely held as the cannonized zombie rules, or "true doctrine". Yup it all started with "Night...........................of the Living Dead!" Since then the dead have been given a dawn, a day, a land, an island, and many other environments in which to eat sweet sweet brains. (On a side note George Romero was once asked how he felt about the new and fast angry zombies, he responded by saying that the reason his zombies couldn't run was because their rigamortis inflicted bones would break at the effort. So yeah, pretty scientific.)

The handguide also supports this idea. Also on a side note, it says that the best weapon combo is a semi-automatic rifle and a machete. Food for thought (get it?) when everyone trys to get the chainsaw to defend themselves with. Many are probably thinking "I am not obsessed with zombies, and how dare you insinuate so?!" Come on, be honost, you've though about what you would do in case of a zombie related emergency. What areas would be the most strategically fortafiable, what on hand object would be best to defend yourself with (for me at the moment my best bet would be to use my roommate's wood carving currently under the couch as a blunt object.)

I assume this has a lot to do with the obsession our country seems to be under:

But why is it that zombies have remained a culturally relevant fear since the 60's? My personal theory is that while Freddy Krougar is killing us in our dreams, and Bloody Mary is creepin' in our mirrors, and Bigfoot is stomping in our woods; zombies are taking our humanity. Like vampires and werewolves, zombies take away everything that is good about being human (music appreciation, complex decision making, and dental hygiene) and turn us into mindless angry people biters. Also like vampires and werewolves, zombies have recently become the love interest in movies geared towards teenagers:

Any itrovert would agree zombies are the ultimate worst case scenario:

Romero gave us a much more realistic thing to be afraid of, the neighbors. When it boils down to its most pure form, zombies are an introvert's perception of other people. Scary, aggressive monsters that want nothing more than to cause you discomfort.


It can also be argued with some validity that zombies are: communists, republicans, or apple fanboys.

Creative Writing Essay: Pluto

Pluto used to be a planet. It was discovered in 1930, and retained its classification until 2006. Its life span was respectable. Not many people born before 1930 lived to see 2006; World War II, Korea, and Vietnam all had a significant influence that. Maybe it’s not all that impressive, given Pluto’s passive aggressive nature. He never fought in any of those wars. That’s not to say that he was a draft dodger; whatever they might have been, he had his own reasons to stay aloof from conflict. A popular demotivational poster states that, “the tallest blade of grass is the first to be cut.” Pluto certainly adopted this philosophy in his own life. He spent his whole life trying to stay out of the lime light. Small and unimposing, he hoped to avoid too much attention. In the end he proved too good at being small. Since a discovery of a larger-than-Pluto non planet in the late 1970’s, debate has been held as to whether or not this small friend deserved the distinction of “planet.”
After much debate and contemplation, Pluto was killed at the ripe old age of 76. For the first time, the shortest blade of grass was cut first. Jupiter, Saturn, and all the other giants smiled at the irony. This inspired an outcry from both the internet, and Elementary school students the world over. How could scientists kill everyone’s favorite little planet? The ever helpful phrase “My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas” suddenly became useless. How could any 2nd grade student be expected to remember the names of the planets without the important word “pizza”? What did my very educated mother just serve us nine portions of? Angry letters were written and ironic t-shirts were made. And through it all, Pluto just kept on making his 6.39 day rotation. Pluto is a small ice covered rock; he doesn’t care what you think.
McDonalds cares what you think. McDonalds cares so much about what you think that they are willing to pay millions of dollars to an old woman for spilling coffee in her lap. In the 1999 movie, Fight Club, the Narrator makes the following observation: “When deep space exploration ramps up, it’ll be the corporations that name everything, the IBM Stellar Sphere, the Microsoft Galaxy, Planet Starbucks.” McDonalds would not be far behind them in the corporate space race. In fact, given that many of those companies are steadily slipping from dominance, the only ones to have a leg up on Mickey D’s would be Virgin Mobile, or maybe Redbull (both of which currently have, or have had a presence in space). McDonalds has served over 1 billion hamburgers. They care what you, the consumer, think. If they did not, they would not have sold so many burgers. They are adaptable, able to change. If someone makes a movie showing how unhealthy their food is, they introduce salads. FDA introduces new laws? No problem, just include calorie counters on every wrapper.
Pluto is not adaptable. If an astronomer tells him he is too small to be a planet, he cannot will himself to be bigger. But even if he could, would he? At their closest, most intimate moments, Earth and Pluto are a mere 2.66 billion miles apart. If you could take a leisurely Sunday afternoon drive at the speed of light, it would take just under 4 hours to travel that distance. If you were able to walk that distance, it would take 101,217.656 years. Suffice it to say that within the next few decades humans probably won’t be taking small steps or even large leaps on Pluto’s nitrogen ice surface. Given this separation, why would Pluto care what Earth thinks? It is much more likely that he would care about the opinion of his on again off again girlfriend, Neptune (they are constantly swapping positions in distance from the sun). Pluto doesn’t care what Earth astronomers think.
BYU students care what others think. Roommates, boyfriends or girlfriends, Bishops, professors, TA’s, parents, the list goes on and on. Of course, there’s always a few trend breaking hipsters that remain aloof; but deep down, everyone does care. Even if you don’t care what the vast majority of people think about you, someone exists somewhere; someone, whose opinion is very important to you. If you didn’t, you would not have a facebook account. If a person truly didn’t care about the opinions of others, they would not update their statuses, and follow everyone’s tweets. BYU students care what people think. If people were more like Pluto, Earth’s surface would be equally icy, albeit a metaphorical iciness. One difference between a student and Pluto: if a student changes their name, Illinois state legislature won’t be passed that creates a holiday in honor of their original name.
The closest to come to Pluto’s mind set would be a dog. A dog named for the small, recently demoted, non-planet. In 1930, presumably after the “planet’s” discovery, Walt Disney introduced Mickey Mouse to a new pet. A loyal, loving, golden dog (supposedly a Pointer) named Pluto. Like his icy namesake, Pluto doesn’t do too much outside of his own interests. He tolerates Mickey because Mickey provides food and shelter. When was the last time anyone saw a dog accept sub servitude to a mouse under any other arrangements? (On a side note, it’s interesting to consider the relationship that would exist between Pluto and Goofy…) Regardless of what anyone tells him to do in respect to the visiting kitten, Pluto’s going to chase the cat because that’s what Pluto wants to do. Pluto sleeps when he wants to, and he has spin off cartoons when he wants to. Pluto doesn’t care what you or Mickey thinks; he just takes what he wants.
According to Jeff Winger, “We’re the only species on Earth that observes Shark Week. Sharks don’t even observe Shark Week, but we do. For the same reason I can pick up this pencil, tell you its name is ‘Steve’ and go like this-” [breaks pencil] “and part of you dies, just a little bit on the inside. Because people can connect with anything. We can sympathize with a pencil, we can forgive a shark, and we can give Ben Affleck an Academy Award for screenwriting.” Just like you connect to “Steve,” you connect to Pluto. Pluto is a rock flying through space, he doesn’t care. He can be called a planet, a dwarf planet, Pluto, 134340 Pluto, or “Steve.” It won’t change his opinion of Earth. But just like Pluto is free to accept or reject his new title at his leisure, you are also free to wear your shirt with the slogan: “It’s ok Pluto; I’m not a planet either.”

Take us to yall's leader.

Do you like Daniel Craig? Do you go weak in the knees at the sight of Harrison Ford? Have you ever watched a old west movie and thought to yourself: "This is pretty good...but it would be better with aliens!" If you answered yes to at least two of these questions, then you'll probably get at least mild enjoyment out of the 2011 movie Cowboys and Aliens. So this was one that came out during my mission that I really wanted to see. Not only because of my heterosexual mancrush on Harrison Ford, but also for my love of things comic book and scifi. So how was it you ask? Let me respond in this way: Daniel Craig has a very good american accent, Harrison Ford is a mildly racist cattle rancher, Olivia Wilde is attractive as usual, and the aliens are basically the aliens from District 9 on steroids. The movie kept me entertained for it's duration. There are a few plot problems. For example, the aliens' presence on our planet is due to their desire to mine gold. Harrison Ford's character points out this flaw with "what, so they can buy something?!" To which a non commital "it's as rare to them as it is to you" is thrown out to try and disregard the plot hole. Also, it was a bit depressing just how strong these aliens are in comparison to the humans. At the end the humans lead an assault against the invaders, and the aliens wreck whole-sale tush. Just trashing them. But this movie has good special effects, it's cool to look at, and it is unarguably the best movie out there that pits cowboys against aliens. So, if you've got 2ish hours to kill, why not watch a new take on the old west?

Well, I'm Back.

I've been putting off returning to my blog. I feel like I've needed to wait for some sort of huge profound knowledge to throw down and blow some minds. Share some sort of heart wrenching tale from the mission, a valuable life lesson learned, how I'm a completely different person than before, but at the same time the exact same person. But this isn't an obituary. I don't need to be particularly loquacious and impressive, this blog isn't about impressing. Heck it doesn't really have a purpose apart from providing me a means of creative outlet. So, just like my return to the dating scene, I'm going to take things slow. My current state of character can be observed over the coming weeks and months.

So, I'm back.

Now for what this blog has become (or rather, would become, if anyone read it) famous for, movies. Last night I took a frolic down memory lane by watching the age old classic that is Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. That's right, from 1990. They don't make movies like that anymore. Cheesy, rubbery costumes. Forhead slapping puns. 80's lingo such as "tubular", "radical", and Master Splinter's favorite: "cawabunga!" Alright Master Splinter! Not to mention awesome fights with ninjas and teens weilding hockey sticks. With such timeless elements, it's a wonder how anyone could not love this movie. There was also an interesting debate with one of the more intelectual roommates about at what rate the turtles age compared to humans, and whether or not the term Teenage was actually acurate. Yeah, serious stuff. At any rate I realize this holds no importance to anyone, including myself, it's just what is currently on my mind because it happened last night. Good movie. It's cheesy, it's dumb, it's awesome. If you haven't seen it go grab you're old leg warmers and get ready for some post 80's greatness.

So yeah, I'm back. Here's to what I'm sure will be a long and happy acquantanceship internet community.