So, I haven't for quite some time. Yes. Thats true. In part I've been waiting for I-COMM to get their blogs up and running, because I rather wanted to write for them. But I got tired of waiting so I started writing. And here you have it: a column for the scroll for next week.

Snow's starting to fall, but things are starting to get hot, and I don't know about you, but I need to be heard. And I hope you do to. So,

Sing out, cry out, let it ring out, however you choose to do it. 

Ill-prepared

5 June 1976. “All we had for dinner was bread as we watched the flood waters roll in from our camper atop the hill,” recollected Bruce Eckman, former owner of Rexburg Food Storage. “Our first meal was up on campus in the cafeteria: bouillon soup and sea biscuits.” 

Eckman was 18 when the Teton Dam broke and 80 billion gallons of water came pouring through the Teton River canyon. He doesn’t remember where the food came from but was grateful for it. His father taught in the Austin building at the time, and for what seemed like two months, he and his family slept on top of the podium in the classroom, victims of the Teton Flood. 13,000 cattle deceased, 11 people dead , $2 billion of damage caused. The blessing? School was out of session- few students were on campus during the summer. 

Now, school is in session in the summer and the student population is effectively one half of the city’s total population, and those students are ill-prepared, un-aware, and non-caring towards emergency preparation.

Another flood isn’t likely to wipe out Rexburg, as the locals aren’t keen on the idea of a new dam, but many other potential disasters threaten the area, our homes, and our lives. 

Droughts, wind storms, earthquakes, and fires; from the more mild- a hot day- to the more extreme- the explosion of  the Yellowstone Caldera super-volcano, or trouble at the Idaho National Laboratory- to the most likely-severe winter weather- all challenge your life. Campus, Church, and government officials are all doing their part to prepare, but many students rely on a pillow for a crutch and find comfort in myths of others’ benevolent preparation. 

On campus the University Emergency Council oversees precautions. Compiled of four branches- operations, planning, logistics, and administration- it certifies that students and employees will be safe during emergencies. Electronic sensors and systems allow two-thirds of campus to lock-down at any moment. Campus blue-phones and the text-messaging web facilitate mass communication though out campus and to individual students. A rotated meal supply housed on campus provides nourishment for 72 hours to one-week. Government officials will administer the first nation-wide test of the Emergency Alert System over radio, TV, and cable channels. Nearly 300,000 people died in more than 350 natural disasters in 2010, the deadliest year in the last quarter century. The Church helped victims in 58 countries last year, responded to 119 disasters and provided millions of dollars in emergency aid, according to Newsroom. The campus is astute, the government is ready, and the Church is prepared, and you are playing angry birds. 

I wager that the average BYU-I student’s food storage consists of little more than a Hot-and-Sweaty cooling off in the fridge, and a few cans of green beans waiting to be purchased at the case lot sale. I don’t expect us to build a fortress in the mountains with enough food and ammunition to last a decade, but I do find it prudent to heed the Lord’s advice to be prepared and  self-reliant. As Eckman noted, the most likely disaster isn’t some epic out of Hollywood, but its the loss of a job, a surprising health issue, or rising financial turmoil. Things that happen everyday. 


"If ye are prepared, ye shall not fear." D&C 38:3.

And the best part is: if ye are prepared, you will be empowered to offer a helping hand, to be someone’s angel in their time of need. Prepare yourself.

A Note For Sunday

Inspired, I explained that obedience is not about not doing the wrong thing, but more about actively doing the right thing.  We needn't worry soo much about avoiding the bad, as we should about pursuing the good. I challenged all of us in the Gospel Principles class to apply our lesson on the Life of Christ by asking ourselves not what Jesus wouldn't do, but what he would do, and then do it.

In my life I often feel that this is one of the best questions that I can ask myself in any situation. It is inspired as it seeks action, not passive knowledge. It keeps in mind that sin is not only doing what is wrong or rebelling against the law of God, but, perhaps more commonly, failure to do that which is good.

Next time we come to a moral question, let us not ask if it is wrong, but let us ask if it is right.

What would Jesus do?

Loving Austin

Eh, Why not love Austin too?

They call it dirty sixth. Or at least I think they do. All I know is that it is dirty, and it is sixth street. And I danced with a large drunk black woman in the 311 Blues Bar and she was black and drunk and large. My Girl tangled with smoke and tobacco as it rolled out of the speakers and drifted away from its creators on stage. I was a little startled by the woman's agility as we danced, so I tried to dip her on the last- she didn't fall over. The music drifted out past giggling friends and spectators and into the open street- Sixth Street. Four or five blocks were closed to automobiles, allowing pedestrians to roam freely. Women in uncomfortably high heels and indecently short skirts flaunted themselves amongst underdressed men and overly invasive street performers.

Inside the 311 Blues Bar. My lady in red is at the table.

i can't say the club is exactly my thing, however much I like to get my crazy white boy on. So I split my separate route as some of my friends went into the club with the glass floor and later told me that the roof opened up too. I drifted down stream with the music and photographed some guitarists and artists and such, and clapped along with some folk singing with soul. I hooted and howled until I could tell they had had enough of me. I feel I found my place with some nice hippie folk: Happy Happy James and Kim.

Happy James squatted next to his portable drum kit and told me that Austin officials had banned live music outside of clubs after 2230hrs: bad words "and they call Austin the capital of live music!" he exclaimed as we watched his wife, the love of his life dance the hula hoops. He wore his wedding ring with pride. He told me to go to Barton Springs.

Happy Happy James' wife. Proudly.

Kim was next. She drew on the sidewalk. And drew and drew andrew. I watched until we talked. And talked and talked andtalked. She lived in a nice house, a couple hundred a night drawing famous people portraits on the sidewalk with chalk. She had a nose ring and crazy socks and excepted a cigarette when someone gave it to her even though she doesn't "usually smoke". I don't either. She was a nice person and wanted to get big like this other guy. She told me to go to Barton Springs.

Kim and Alfred Hitchcock. It was his birthday.

Long story short. It made me ask myself: why do I desire to willingly subject myself to the capitalist system? Getting paid for less than I am worth, earning less than I work and making a fortune for he who owns the means of production? "Why don't I just go and be free" I said tonight, while I finished my pint of Southern Blackberry Cobbler in a dimly lit kitchen. "Why don't I just be free!? That's what I really want!" I said. Is it? Is that what we all want? Or do we want to be burdened by responsibility and play a respectable role in society? I want to play a respectable role in society to change it for the better and help everyone else out. Or least that's what I tell myself. Maybe I really just want to  go hop on cart 36 with Brother Man Dan.

Love Rexburg

Have I mentioned I love love Love LovE LoVE LOVE Rexburg! And I feel your LOVE Rexburg! right back to me, oh yes I do. My life couldn't be any better.

So this morning I arose from my bright orange hammock hanging in exctasy between to white poles on the pleasant edge of the cottonwood courtyard, had a good scripture read, and headed off to the library at about 0745hrs after a good four hours of sleep to write 1,500 words, and edit 3,000 more before 1200hrs. In the library I proceed to write a good 1,500 scholary words. They flow out of my arms and onto the computer screen nearly free of air. They navigate the waters of definition of such complex terms as Justice and Freedom and cheerios, and proceed forth in such perfection that three hours later when all is written, I notice to my amazement that they need little editing, nearly none above a few typos. To my pleased amazement I format and turn in the paper. I edit the 3,000. I turn them in. Never in my life have I been able to write such a well-founded piece with no need for editing. I live to edit. Usually I edit my papers up to 5 or six times. Thats the way I write them. But not this one. I consider it a miracle from on high.

Especially considering that my predicament was not a result of procrastination only. The Saturday previous sickness had sit in. Sunday morning afternoon many bizarre dream hallucinations, body pains, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea, I attend the 3 hours of church and return to my bed. I wasn't feeling well to say the least. No jam was held. That's saying alot. For the first time in about six months. I'm out cold from sunday to wednesday, at which point I think about getting better. About thursday I'm better. Friday I'm good. My teachers extended my finals till this morning for me. Thank you BYU-Idaho.

So, just in closing to this rather unusual rant (there many for things I could rant about which are causing me extreme joy), I'd like to say- I Love Rexburg.

Protests and Charities

So I though an update appropriate. I am currently involved in a handful of protests and my toes are in the door of a charity here and there.

The man in the apartment above me- Ziggy, they call him- yelled down to me the other day: "Let's start a revolution!" My heart leaped up and my hand slapped down on my old wooden stool as I vocalized agreement. By golly, you're on to something, pal. Ziggy, or Bradley, is preparing a sizable paper for submission to the city and school authorities. It advocates better bicycle rights. His comment on revolution was response to my article published last week. Colter Nattrass and Matthew Kiddle also wrote Letters to the Editor in response, calling for regulation reform.

College will be abused in the near future. Torn to shreads in similar fashion to those poor old boys of 1st West. If we don't remember our past, we will lose our future, said Ssimbwa of Uganda. That's the truth. College ave. is no place for enormous towers. Especially not when poleline road is undeveloped for miles. Build elsewhere- not on top of history. Keep Rexburg Real.

On that same note, I attended the chaotic feeding ceremony of Kiwi Loco this weekend, and they were immediately replaced onto the boycott list. Thousands of flavors and none of them come close to Mill Hollow. And its not Rexburgian. Go elsewhere. The King's Fort is no place for you. I don't want to place yogurt in my own cup.

Future Protest. The schools refusal to allow fund-raising. I'm unaware as to the motives as of yet: if they are good, which I assume they are, I will not protest, if they aren't, I will. Their policy was brought to my attention tonight at the viewing of Cultured Pearl: Voices from Uganda. The after party in the lobby. We talked and chitted and chatted about fund-raising. Brenna and her pal Lexi desired to form a group on campus for next semester, in hand with Invisible Children. Their previous fundraising attempts were shut down. Brother Piggot's was as well. Hence the showing of the documentary off campus at the cheap theatre. The why will be investigated.

I will be working with enoughtospare.org in the future, Piggot's site. Perhaps renovating it for him. I love volunteering. I could see Brenna's excitement.

Charity. Now that I am receiving some money for my photography I plan on donating 50 percent of the profits to charities supporting preventive measures. Preferably disaster prevention. If anybody know's of some, let me know.



That's it folks.
He who has ears to hear, let him hear.

Get on your Bikes and Ride

Lately, many antagonistic statements towards bicycles and their riders have perpetrated my ear canals; this pains my heart and stings my soul. 

“Bikes are too fast and dangerous” to be on the sidewalks with pedestrians, but they are “too slow and distracting” to ride on the road with cars. Pedestrians argue to ban them from the sidewalks, and car drivers want them off the road.

Good logic and respect for history prompt me to argue the opposite: bicycles should be the sole means of transportation on the inner-city streets of Rexburg and campus sidewalks of BYU-Idaho. Pedestrians and automobiles should be banned. 

This being the day after our nations anniversary, it is prudent to recall the role the bicycle played in making America

Most of us slept through history class; I wrote stuff on my desk with silly puddy and mocked my teacher’s over-sized tunic-shirts. But that’s what the internet is for: to catch us back up. So regarding bicycle history, one blogger points out, “The bicycle, quite literally, paved the road for automobiles. The explosive popularity of the human-powered, two-wheeled vehicle sparked road construction across the Western world’s cities.” 

Starting with the velocifere of Count Mede de Sivrac and the Hobbyhorse of Baron Von Drais de Sauerbrun, the bicycle revolutionize the world. Evolving from its humble beginnings of intra-garden transportation to the elegant penny-farthing, a favorite of upper-classmen, to the modern cycles we enjoy now, the bicycle in all its many forms has proven implemental in American history. 

Bicycle travel got in with the in-crowd in the late 1800’s and rapidly grew in popularity in the U.S. from then on. So much so that from the 1870’s to 1920’s bicyclitiers of all sorts joined together in the Good Roads Movement, calling on the government to build better roads for inter-city travel. This resulted in the decision of New Jersey to participate in road-building projects, becoming the first state to ever do so.

The two-wheeled vehicle emancipated the amercain woman.“Let me tell you what I think of bicycling. I think it has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world. I stand and rejoice every time I see a woman ride by on a wheel." said Susan B. Anthony. All of you girls enjoying comfortable clothes and free movement can thank bikes: they  cut a whole seven pounds of extra weight off from your garbs by providing women with a reason to free themselves of corsets and giant skirts.  

Also, those guys that flew that airplane back in 1903- they were bike mechanics.

So, that being said, should we support and promote the bicycle simply out of respect for the past? Nay. My argument extends to the present benefits provided by the modern bicycle.
The bicycle is the most efficient major form of land transportation in the modern world. “It takes less energy to bicycle one mile than it takes to walk a mile. In fact, a bicycle can be up to 5 times more efficient than walking,” and many times more efficient than cars, says www.exploratorium.edu.. You can play with your suped-up 5.0 liter V-12 engine with hemi’s, and you can fill it up for $4 a gallon with all the gasoline this earth retains, but I’ll take my bike, I’ll fill power it with my own two legs, some local collard greens, and my momma’s granola.  Let me repeat. Cycling is more efficient than all other major forms of on land transportation, including, walking, carpooling, trains, and even horseback riding.

I do not stand alone. Nation wide a trend strengthens. It grew out of a dream. A town is in production in South Carolina. A car-free town, with sustainable places for people to live, and to work, and to play. They call it Bicycle City. It is the first of its kind, but many more will follow, popping up all around the American countryside. This is the future of happiness.
The bicycle made America. Picture America without highways, without planes, and without women’s rights. If you can, then go ahead, get rid of the two-wheeled menaces; ban them from the sidewalks, and the roads, and from all places but the garage. Kick Mrs. Anthony out of the voting booth, throw the plane out of the sky, and toss the unsustainable resources of our gifted home atop the fire.  But if you can’t, then let them stay, let them stay alone, to ride on the roads that they paved and the sidewalks that they once owned.

It is as Goldy Locks said: cars are too fast, walking is too slow- bikes are just right.