Roblox

 If you have children, the internet and the need for ten consecutive uninterrupted minutes to yourself; there is a good chance that you are familiar with Roblox. For the uninitiated, Roblox is an online gaming platform launched in 2004 with the sole purpose of separating parents from their money. The graphics are robust enough to support discernable customization while remaining blocky enough to allow most games to run on anything above a TI-36 graphing calculator.

The first step is to create a platform-wide avatar which follows you throughout the various gaming experiences. The default version of this avatar is referred to as a “bacon hair” and is a dead giveaway for being a “noob.” From there you can customize your character to your heart (and wallet’s) content.

Since the game concepts and design are essentially crowd-sourced, they vary wildly in content, function and quality. Roblox also bills itself as a “free” gaming experience but this is misleading at best. 

Most experiences require you to spend in-game currency called “Robux” to produce an outcome other than instantaneous failure and community ridicule.

The purchase of “Robux” is a process whereby you hand a corporation the legal tender of a sovereign nation and they, in turn, issue you a platform-wide digital currency you can use for “game enhancements.” The current exchange rate is $1 US Dollar = 100 Robux and- I cannot stress this enough- you will never see that money again. It cannot be refunded, exchanged, refurbished, transferred to another account or used to fund international terrorism. It is the equivalent of an online money-laundering machine where nothing comes out the other side.

Speaking of laundry, there is literally a game called “Laundry Simulator” whereby you walk around with a basket and gather dirty clothes to be laundered. As you progress, you are able to purchase larger and more efficient washing machines and, if you are fortunate, you might come across some “golden underwear” for bonus points. I was made aware of this game’s existence one Saturday when telling my kids to put up their actual laundry. 

They asked for five more minutes so that they could get the “upgraded laundry basket” in the game and I could not help but feel like the moment was some sort of cosmic joke. As if that title was not insulting enough, there are multiple “Room Cleaning Simulators” your child can play in lieu of cleaning their actual room. 

The themes are not limited to household chores. My daughter was visibly distraught one evening and, upon cross-examination, we discovered the source of her distress was the unrelenting pressure of managing a fictitious Roblox pizza restaurant during lunch rush. With an incredulous look on her face, she declared, “You know this is my busy time!!” I feared that after a few more days she would need to utilize the pretend employee assistance program.

For the more discerning gamer, there is an impressive selection of “pooping simulators” Some bill themselves as community pursuits (Pooping with Friends and its unironically-named sequel Pooping with Friends 2) while other offerings simply position the player’s avatar over the toilet and one is expected to tap the screen in order to produce larger excrement. As with all titles, spending Robux “enhances” your gaming experience which, in this case, would be something akin to IBS.

Disturbingly, all of my children really enjoyed the game where they ran a private prison complex. The goal was to generate revenue while keeping “inmate satisfaction” at a high level to prevent riots and a subsequent PR disaster. I was discouraged to discover that the inmate satisfaction rating was tied to the number of snack machines per capita rather than a reduction in the recidivism rate.

While I do not wish to disparage anyone who has dedicated their career to “excellence in the incarceration arts”, but who gets home after a long day and unwinds by tossing the mattresses in Cell Block C?

I cannot wait for:

• Black Market Human Organ Tycoon 

• Ultimate IRS Audit

• Chronic Childhood Anemia Simulator

• Verizon Signal Hide and Seek

• Weaponized Anthrax Role-Play

• Health Insurance Billing Obby

• Witness for the Prosecution Avatar 

• Survive the PTO Creeper

• 5 Nights at Fairfield Inn (Mattress-Stain Expansion Pass)

• Legislative Deadlock Mini-Games

• Septic Tank Water Polo

• College Benefactor Tower Defense

We're All Going to Die!

 While I am generally in favor of legislative alliteration, President Trump’s “Big, Beautiful Bill” has some worrying provisions. In addition to adding trillions to the national debt, it would make drastic cuts to programs like SNAP and Medicare which millions of vulnerable Americans depend on.

This led to an interesting exchange between Republican US Senator Joni Ernst and her constituency at an Iowa town hall meeting she held at 7:30 AM on a Friday. A retired healthcare provider named Karen Franczyk voiced her concern that the bill would cut the main source of revenue for hospitals in rural areas. During the larger discussion on the cuts, another attendee shouted “People are going to die!” to which the senator dismissively retorted, “We are all going to die”.

This led to enough backlash that Senator Ernst quickly posted a sarcastic apology video of her walking through a cemetery while invoking the Easter bunny before ending with an alter call to accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior. This undoubtedly wrapped up any lingering concerns her constituents had about their ability to access meals and medicine.

While many have angrily categorized her comments and apology as calloused – especially coming from someone who enjoys some of the best tax-payer funded healthcare in the world – I am of the opinion that she has stumbled upon the ultimate response to literally any question.

Will you go to prom with me? I can’t because we are all going to die.

Has the jury reached a verdict? – We have your honor. We’re all going to die.

Mommy can I have a cell phone? Well, I would go ahead and add another line to our family plan, but the activation fee is steep and, oh yes, we are all going to die!!

No matter the subject or context, you can always extricate yourself from an uncomfortable line of inquiry by reminding everyone around you of humanity’s shared, inevitable march toward grim death. It is as if we all chipped in to give existential dread an expense account and .gov email presence.

Senator Ernst is exhibiting what is sometimes known as “lifeboat evangelism” which operates under the assumption that the primary objective of Christian discipleship is to secure the eternity of as many people as possible. Sure, she may have actively played a role in dismantling the only thing standing between impoverished children and life-saving medical treatment, but don’t worry little Timmy, your premature demise will be inconsequential once you hear your name when the roll is called up yonder. I am just glad that Senator Sunshine’s career path did not veer into commercial aviation or pediatric oncology.

The idea that our highest calling as followers of Jesus is to secure the afterlife of those whom we encounter is not a new one (or a difficult one to sell). My issue is that it is impossible to reconcile with the words and actions of Jesus during his earthly ministry. That is not to say that he did not address death or what follows it. He simply didn’t prioritize it over alleviating the suffering that preceded it.

Time and time again- sometimes to the chagrin of his own disciples – he interrupted his perceived priorities to address the anguish and misery of those he encountered. The blind, paralytics, lepers, the disabled and even the servant of a centurion were all recipients of his healing. If his only objective was to secure their future glory, why did he spend so much time alleviating their present misery?

One answer would be that he healed them so that people would believe in him which would lead to his ultimate objective. There are a few problems with that idea, not the least of which is that while faith may produce miracles, miracles do not necessarily produce faith. After all, many of those who actively worked against the earthly ministry of Jesus were present for some his most spectacular interventions.

This would also undermine the profound empathy displayed by Jesus toward the wounded. I do not believe that he viewed them as marketing tools, but as human beings. When asked how to pray, Jesus responded with "Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

This would be a curious prayer for someone who believed that his father’s creation and image-bearers were beyond redemption. If there is no disease, poverty, inequality and suffering to be found in Heaven, why do we tolerate (and sometimes legislate) its proliferation on earth?

Senator Ernst's official Facebook account recently posted a photo of her visit to the Washington Nationals baseball stadium. She made the grievous error of posting a photo of herself wearing a batting helmet. The current most popular comment? "Why bother with the helmet? We are all going to die, Joni!"

The Willfully Childless

On June 10th the Southern Baptist Convention, representing the largest group of Protestant Christians in the United States, ratified a statement named, “On Restoring Moral Clarity through God’s Design for Gender, Marriage, and the Family.”

Among the many topics it covered, the most surprising to me was the amount of time they spent addressing procreation. The proclamation sets the stage for what is to come early on:

WHEREAS, God has ordained the family as the foundational institution of human society, prior to the state, with a divine mandate to “be fruitful and multiply” (Genesis 1:28)

This, and what follows, echoes the mission statement of the “Quiverfull Movement” a subset of conservative Christians who interpret the Bible to advocate for having as many children as possible, rejecting contraception and other forms of birth control. The name is derived from Psalm 127, which describes children as "arrows in the hands of a warrior". 

The implication, of course, is that the primary purpose of any family is to produce as many offspring as possible. According to the proclamation, this is to be done without the aid of IVF or other infertility treatments:

WHEREAS, Commercial surrogacy often treats children as products and women as a means to an end, and may entail the destruction of embryonic life, violating the dignity of human life and distorting God’s design for procreation within marriage

The resolution is addressing what the convention referred to as “willful childlessness” on the part of married, heterosexual Christian couples. According to the document, these couples are violating God’s mandate and design by utilizing birth control and choosing to delay parenthood or forgo it altogether. What was once known as pragmatic responsibility has somehow transformed into religious apostacy.

As a heterosexual married father of 3 amazing children, I firmly believe that nothing is more likely to proliferate societal misery and increase divorce rates than utilizing religion to guilt unprepared couples into becoming parents.

Becoming a parent is the hardest job you will ever love, and even when my wife and I agreed we were ready, we still were not entirely ready. If you and your spouse do not want to be parents, you should absolutely not become parents. If you are not mentally, spiritually, financially, emotionally and digestively prepared to place your children’s needs above you own, then the most moral, responsible and “Christian” thing you can do is wait.

I know several couples who agreed that they did not wish to become parents. Such a decision is not “sinful” or in violation of God’s will. They are no less “Christian” than those whose tax deduction forms require multiple addendums. There are blended families faithfully raising multiple children from prior relationships who have chosen not procreate within their current one. There are single and/or teenage parents working hard to provide for their unplanned child. There are non-heterosexual couples who have stepped up to foster and/or adopt one or more of the 400,000 children currently residing in the foster care system in our country. There are couples whose children only exist because of IVF and other fertility treatments. Does that make them any less a parent or their children any less a blessing? I don’t believe so.

This document creates a theological domestic maze that few could emerge from unscathed. Within this framework, God’s will concerning familial bonds is limited to the following:

Christian heterosexual married couples who reject any and every form of birth control and see procreation as one of the primary reasons their relationship exists. 

As the enthusiastic recipient of a vasectomy, my relationship lies decidedly outside of that paradigm and I do not believe that God sits upon his throne lamenting that fact that I did not unleash any more of my DNA upon His glorious creation.

Little Caesars

 Several years ago, I walked into a Little Caesars to pick up a couple of “Hot N Ready” pizzas which, in my case, was more of a “Warm N Wait” situation as there were no pepperoni pizzas on deck. 

Taking a seat, I began to observe the well-oiled machine that was Little Caesars. I quickly surmised that the heavyset mustachioed gentlemen with the buzz cut (whose name had to be Mike) was the manager and he was running the drive-thru window.  

On the other side of the kitchen resided two teenage pizza artisans mechanically churning out pies while wearing headphones. Mike was a beast. He inspected, sliced and boxed the product in what appeared to be one effortless motion before handing it to the customer. So, when Mike stopped and stared intently at a large pizza for several seconds, I knew somebody had just lost their chance at employee of the month.

I could almost hear Mike’s internal dialogue as he gesticulated his exasperation by raising his hands and exhaling loudly. It was clear he found himself in a conundrum. Does he let this culinary infraction stand and get the merchandise out the door or does he confront the issue head-on? 

Eventually he turns toward the prep-station, abomination in hand, and taps the closest of his sous chefs on the shoulder. Both of them remove their headphones just in time for Mike to present the pizza and ask whatever everyone else in the room knew to be a rhetorical question: “What is this!!?”

Glancing at each other, one of them timidly offered, “A large supreme?” 

Mike’s glare could have withered an artificial fern. “And what is all over it!!?” 

Still not sensing an ambush, the same young man earnestly responded, “Toppings!!?”

Mike looked like he was going to burn that mother down. Through gritted teeth, he managed to get out, “And why are there so many of them!!?”

This was not what I, or his colleagues, expected to come out of his mouth. I was mentally prepared for any number of scenarios ranging from wrong toppings to contraband body hair, but I was not expecting a volume discrepancy.

Clearly as flummoxed as me, the duo’s spokesman elaborated by admitting that he had been generous with the toppings because he felt that the customer would appreciate a hearty pizza. 

Mike, now looking to the heavens for strength and hitting every syllable as if it owed him money, said, “You don’t work at Papa Johns! Is there a Domino’s logo on your shirt!!? THIS. IS. LITTLE. CAESARS!!! We could have made 3 supreme pizzas with that many toppings! Don’t let it happen again!”

Without waiting for a response, Mike turned on his heel and returned to his staging area to contemplate the repercussions of not hitting his daily numbers.

The two employees shrugged at each other, repositioned their headphones and went back to prepping pizzas. I tried to imagining the conversation when they got home and their parents inquired about their day. Parents who had painstakingly taught their children about self-sufficiency, work ethic and taking pride in your craft. Then, in an instant, Mike the human demotivational poster brought the walls of excellence crashing down.

My pizza, which had not yet been prepped, became collateral damage from the ToppingsGate scandal. When we opened the boxes at the house, each slice contained a single, orphaned peperoni. My wife frowned and asked why there weren’t more toppings. She suggested that I should have said something at the store. I informed her that had I complained to management about the scarcity of my toppings, either Mike or myself was going to catch a charge.