Week dos of Sourcefed is over, and it went well, minus a hiccup in the middle of the week where I had a quick bout with food poisoning. That sucked, but it’s over now, so all is well. Some of the comments are still kinda anti-Elliott, but I’m okay with that. I’ve never considered myself a one-size-fits-all brand anyway, and most people seem to be warming to me.

My goal is to entertain people, make them laugh, and make them think. There’re going to be times when people don’t “agree,” with me, but the irony is that a lot of the time, I won’t agree with me. Or I will agree with me a little, or temporarily, or I will be apathetic to my own opinions. When I worked at an animal hospital, I always thought it was a job with a lot of responsibility. In many ways, it was. I handled a lot of scary stuff during those years, things that effected tiny, furry, very important lives. However, there’s also a strange weight that comes when having to express myself on a daily basis. I’m naturally introverted until I’m in front of the camera, and even then I’m usually refraining from fully unleashing.

I only have one “opinion” that is constant, and I wouldn’t even call it an opinion. It’s like a core truth, if that doesn’t sound too hippie-ish. It’s the belief that no opinion, no matter how extreme or moderate, theological or political or cultural, should ever be prioritized over another person. That’s why I disagree with a restaurant in Tennessee turning away an anti-gay lawmaker. They weren’t esteeming the gay community, or gay rights. They were esteeming themselves. In that moment, the workers and owners of that restaurant sought to glorify their own belief system over another human being. Never mind that the human is ignorant; it shouldn’t matter.

I have a lot of opinions, and I think everyone should. I’m not of the belief that we should all be moderates, or find compromise on every issue. There should be passionate discourse and healthy debating over matters of religion, government, and society. But we should also have the ability to hang up those opinions at the end of the day and enjoy a drink with someone who is fundamentally opposed to us. Am I sounding preachy? Yeah, I’ve been reading again. I know better than that. I’ll stop.

On the creative front, things are moving steadily. My web series looks to be getting funding very soon, so hopefully production will begin shortly and we can take over the Internet from a fictional angle. HACKS could come at a time when Anonymous is still going crazy, which would only help its popularity. The team attached to HACKS right now is ridiculously awesome, from director(s) to producer to editor to the insane list of guest stars already on board.

I’m also working on my first full screenplay. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever attempted before. Because of that, I’m less worried about it sucking and more worried about it getting finished. I have a tendency to quit when I feel I’m not doing a good job at writing something, which is stupid. I’ve written enough to cognitively know that not every word will feel like magic. Still, I have a tough time not throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

On that note, I wonder if the first person to throw the baby out the bathwater was like, “Oops! I threw the baby out with the bathwater. Well… at least this will be a great metaphor one day.”

Okay, well this has been one big chunk of word dirt. So I’m gonna go enjoy another cup of coffee and read some stupidly hilarious tweets. It’s how I roll. You can call me gangsta if you want, I won’t stop you.

Hello. My name is Elliott Morgan, and I love Community Cougar Town. I’ve blogged repeatedly about Community, a show that is known as much for its quality as its unpopularity. Actually, no, scratch that. It’s known primarily for its unpopularity, with legions of bandwagon fans that have no idea why they love the show so much. Don’t get me wrong; Community is my favorite television show right now. However, it is unfortunate that Cougar Town is not supported in the same viral way. Community is seen as the cool school outcast, the guy who gets along with everybody but isn’t popular, the guy who will die tragically and will be remembered in a touching, overcrowded memorial ceremony. Cougar Town is seen as the the backup kicker on the football team.

You could say that Cougar Town is known for being “the one with Courtney Cox,” which betrays its ensemble nature. You could say that it’s known for being “about cougars,” which is so entirely inaccurate that the very suggestion will give me an aneurism.

In my opinion, Cougar Town should be known as the show in danger of being canceled but without the legions of diehard fans. In the age of the Internet, Cougar Town appeals to those who do not recognize the unmatched power of the Interwebz. While Community has a strong Tumblr presence, Cougar Town suffers from a lack of fan voracity. There is a generational gap baked right into the show’s demographic, an unfortunate side effect of a poorly chosen title. There’s an episode of Community in which Abed is going on a Cougar Town rant, and Joel McHale’s character, Jeff Winger, responds, “Look, if you want me to take it seriously, stop saying its name.”

What Cougar Town lacks in online presence, it makes up for in balls-to-the-wall guerrilla marketing. This past Thursday, I attended a Cougar Town viewing party. The event was completely free, financed entirely by Bill Lawrence, the show’s creator. The event took place on the set, with an open bar, free food, a Q and A, two season 3 episodes, and the cast and writers just hung out and chatted with people. The ironic thing here is that Community has never done anything like this, and it continues to receive fan accolades. It also has much, much worse ratings. Bill Lawrence might be a genius.

The moral of the story here is that people need to stand up for Cougar Town. Yes, the show needs a different title. Yes, people need to “just watch it.” But the people who do watch it need to scream about it a little more. Good television is hard to come by these days. If a show is great, it’s hard for it to stay that way. For example, Modern Family has declined so heavily in quality it makes me wonder if the show has replaced its staff of writers with According to Jim writers.

Shows like Cougar Town and Community are why sitcoms are so awesome. The sitcom isn’t going anywhere, but it’s changing. And while shows like Work It and Whitney threaten to kill the sitcom altogether, executive producers like Dan Harmon and Bill Lawrence are recognizing the importance of fan interaction. It’s an exciting time for show business.

Or maybe I’m giving it all too much credit, and we should just avoid shows that start with “W” and love shows that start with “C.” No, that’s not it, either. Hopefully the show gets a new title, because it needs one. And hopefully Cougar Town fans will spread the word and ABC brings this show back quickly. I don’t believe Cougar Town is the greatest show ever, but it is the closest to a mix of Friends and Seinfeld that we’ll probably ever have. Adults hanging out, enjoying life, still trying to work things out, all while doing absolutely nothing.

Having love handles (more like like handles to be honest) hasn’t made me question anything except my voracious love of food that is both fast and junky. And a part of me loves the taste of Taco Bell nachos and cheese or the dead-center bite of a Big Mac, but another part of me is simply comforted by them. It’s not about the taste. It’s about the fact that I feel at home, like all is kinda right with the world. I’ve dodged the bullet of obesity, but that hasn’t stopped me from being infected by the very American, very patriotic notion that at the end of the day, I just need to be happy.

What were we talking about? Not a lot probably, because I haven’t been doing a lot of talking lately. I’m reading a fairytale right now. It’s called “Peter Pan.” It’s pretty incredible in a lotta ways, and it makes you realize how much writing is a gift over a skill and really can’t be contained with rules and guidelines–even though those help. Hopefully this book will lead to a marketable screenplay, and I think it will, because like Jack Black in Orange County–I got these ideas!!

Hmm, what else, what else. Oh! I blew up my dog yesterday.

Below is a list of subjects that may or may not come up at the dinner table tomorrow or during gift exchanges on Christmas. I’ve detailed how to approach each hot-button issue depending on the audience. Let’s begin, shall we?!

Abortion

Ah, everyone’s favorite! You’re either an anti-progressive bigot who opposes a woman’s right to choose, or you’re a close-minded murderous hypocrite who is too caught up in your own liberal agenda to recognize our country’s own little genocide. Needless to say, abortion can cause quite the uprising on both sides. In fact, most people nowadays know to avoid the subject of abortion, as it conjures disdain among even the sweetest of gift-givers and yam-eaters. Still, should the social no-no of even mentioning such a subject be committed, there are ways to come out of it alive. See below:

1.) The Pro-Choice Stance: First of all, you’re an idiot. Second, even idiots deserve to enjoy their holidays, so let’s ignore the fact that you wish death upon the unborn adorables. Stay away from words like “right,” as in, “It’s her right/his right.” Stay away from words like “government.” That one’s a big no-no. Pro-life people hate government almost as much as they hate abortion, but taking a stance against government for the sake of choice is, to put it gently, throwing gas on the fire. You appeal to the good-natured Republican first as level headed, only to then reveal your psychosis.

Instead, switch the subject. It’s the only way to get out of this alive. Ask the questions; don’t answer them. Say, “Why is abortion evil but the death penalty is not? Why is it okay to kill someone who has ruined another’s life, but not okay to, for the sake of argument, ‘kill’ something else that is ruining another’s life?” You’ll likely be met by circular arguments, uncomfortable silences, and perhaps the word “elitist.” However, this will give you enough time to get up and grab some cold turkey.

2.) The Pro-Life Stance. First of all, call yourself what you are. Everyone’s “pro-life.” You’re anti-abortion, and you should be proud of it. Admit that there are extremists who give normal, anti-abortion people a bad name. Ask whether they believe in evolution and what the textbooks say about the “first form of life.” Was it a fully realized organism or just a cell? Spoiler alert: It was a cell. Finally, stay away from the subject of legislation. In fact, stay away from the subject of anything regarding abortion. You’re anti-abortion, so you should be smart enough to be anti-abortion-holiday-conversation.

Homosexual Marriage

Gay marriage is abortion’s dirty stepchild in the family of uncomfortable conversations. You’re not likely to find a pro-life person who is also pro-gay marriage, and the same types of tactics must be applied as in the case of abortion. Unlike abortion, however, gay marriage doesn’t quite elicit the same guttural response. You won’t get words like “murder.” You’ll hear words like “institution,” which is a more civil way of saying “Butt sex is gross.” Let’s begin.

1.) You’re pro-gay marriage. First of all, good for you. Who gives a crap, am I right? Now, let’s get down to brass tacks. Fine, gay marriage isn’t that big of a deal. You know that. I know that. But don’t use any analogies or comparisons involving the “Civil Rights movement.” Not being able to sign a particular document is not akin to being oppressed and undervalued by white people for centuries. It’s just not. Get off your high horse, and realize that people hold sentimental attachments to things they think are very important, i.e., the sexual exclusivity of marriage. Cut them some slack, but don’t back down. This is a conversation you can win if you approach it humbly.

2.) You’re anti-gay marriage. If you start a phrase with, “Adam and Eve, not….” then I wish bad fortune upon your household. Let’s stay away from bumper-sticker slogans, just this once, k? The worst thing you can do in this conversation is bring up the intentions of God. Why? Because it presupposes a belief in God, the Bible, and a modern-day conservative interpretation of it. Doing this brings up loads of problems. You’re using your own opinions to justify your opinions, which is poor debating. Stick to facts. Gay marriage could potentially cause problems for the tax-free statuses of churches. Go with that. Why should churches be punished for practicing what they preach, even if one disagrees with it? You’ll likely lose this one, but it’ll end nicely. Everyone will be glad when the conversation inevitably turns to Tim Tebow.

Immigration

Immigration surged in popularity a couple years ago, so it’s usually now only brought up by people subtly, or by people simply lookin’ for a fight. You might hear something like, “It’s just like those Mexicans [or other race/nationality].” Know at this point you’re dealing with ignorance and reason will not suffice. Avoid talking to this person or advancing the mode of thought. Others might more directly throw immigration out because they’re bored and the eggnog was good. They might bring it up in a liberal sense and try to use it to justify other liberal views.

“Music piracy is just like immigration!”

Avoid engaging with this person, but do mimic their action of having another eggnog. You clearly need it.

Evolution

You may find yourself mentioning evolution, as it is easily brought up in reference to sociology. Many subjects will harken back to evolution, like the subject of child discipline or the subject of environmentalism. Whatever you do, do not engage with a young-Earth creationist. The reason for this is simple but profound: they’re smarter than you.

It’s true. The average young-Earth creationist has studied a ridiculous amount of young-Earth material and can therefore destroy your belief in evolution before you realize it was even a belief. You’ll get the baby-creationists, sure, but those are like children. You mustn’t take them seriously. The baby-creationists will say things like, “Ahem, isn’t it still a theory?” You will want to off yourself right then and there, but don’t. Just walk away. But the more serious young-Earth creationists will explain the fallacies of carbon-dating, the gaps in the fossil record, and the effects that a worldwide flood would have on the Earth. None of this really matters, because all they’re really saying is, “I believe the Bible, literally.” And this is where you should take the subject.

Ubiquitous literal Bible interpretations are so asinine that you must detach yourself emotionally from the conversation and simply enjoy the ride. Bring up shellfish. The length of a man’s beard. Bring up Jonas. It’s an old trick used by atheists, but it’s a goodie. Ask about the juncture of literalism and holiness. Let the chips fall where they may. Eggnog isn’t needed on this one. You’ll get your satisfaction.

Environmentalism

Environmentalism is a fading hot-button issue. More people recycle these days, sure. There’s been a definite increase in the commonality of cloth grocery bags. But all in all, no one really freaks out about the icecaps. Weird how that happens, huh? I love America. Still, the nuts are still out there, acting like environmentalism is the breaking news story in every paper, on every blog, and on your evening news. It’s not. It’s done. It’s dead. Agree that while some of the facts may have been skewed, we still shouldn’t be wasting resources. We should recycle, even if we know it’s probably not going to buy our green marble even another millisecond of time. Don’t bring up words  like “rapture,” or a “new Earth,” because you’ll turn more people away from Christianity than the Westboro Baptist Church.

Conclusion

Hot-button issues are bound to arise this holiday season. And while it’s best to avoid them, sometimes a healthy conversation can lead to a new way of thinking. Personally speaking, my faith is being radically changed right now by a man named Peter Rollins and his book, Insurrection. The difference between Rollins and the conversations you could wind up having this holiday season is that Mr. Rollins speaks calmly and lovingly to his audience. We’re all people with different views and ideas, and no one person is the sum of their stances. And neither is God. This holiday season, remember that the way you treat your relatives, friends, and strangers, is a thousand times more important than your most dearly held opinion.

I’m a huge fan of Showtime’s “Dexter,” about a forensic blood spatter expert who secretly murders evil people. I’ve been a pretty avid fan of the show since about three quarters of the way through the first season. From that point on, I was hooked. The character of Dexter is a master of disguise, learning to blend in with human beings all the while knowing he’s a monster. The overall message of the show has always been kind of profound to me: We’re all monsters, trying our best to fit in with “real” humans, or at least that’s how I personally relate to the show.

In the most recent season, “Dexter” has failed to live up to its usual standards, both in suspense and in story. In taking a natural turn toward the religious, the writers of the show appear to have never actually spoken with a religious person. Instead, the plot of the newest season is rife with religious terms, but completely devoid of any real theology. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind bad theology. I don’t mind perverted theology. But when a show attempts to sound deep and philosophical without offering any theology, we have a problem.

It would be one thing if the theology was bland enough not to offend, if the big bad serial killer of the season was basic enough to murder but not outlandish enough to require actual thought. But nope. Not this time. The writers of Dexter instead have opted for grand displays of grotesque murder, and have thus far backed those murders up with religious terms that mean nothing. Absolutely. Nothing.

Colin Hanks does his best with a script that offers little in the way of actual substance. His all-knowing, all-powerful mentor scolds and rewards him using words like “defile,” or “pure,” all the while never outlining any real belief system.

And then there’s Brother Sam, played aptly by the too-cool-for-school Mos Def, whose voice alone rivals the collective coolness of most humans. Still, Brother Sam, a convict-turned-saint, remains as empty as the rest of the season’s scripts. In episode 4, Brother Sam explains that faith can make you do crazy things. Dexter asks why anyone would choose to believe if it could make you do crazy stuff. Brother Sam replies, “It’s human nature to believe in something.”

Stop the press.

It’s human nature to believe in something? Be that as it may, Brother Sam, is it not also human nature to simply do crazy crap? Do we not all have a tendency to do stupid things to glorify ourselves (See cars/houses we can’t afford, plastic surgery, viewing pornography, sitting for 4 hours to watch a football game, etc)? At what point does a man of faith, even a fictional one, actually defend the faith he’s chosen to base his life on? Guns don’t kill people. People do. And faith doesn’t kill people. People do. And faith doesn’t kill television shows. Writers do.

I sincerely hope that the writers of Dexter take more than five minutes to research their material for the remainder of the season. Tiny pieces of paper hidden in the bodies of the victims are page numbers?! Are the writers of the show familiar with the church joke of a pastor saying, “The verse is on page 1142, in case you’re having trouble”? The congregation always laughs, because they get the joke. Bible page numbers, just like everything in Dexter this season, are completely arbitrary.

I understand that it can be difficult to distill the complexities of religious thought within the context of a slasher show, but you’re the writers of Dexter, guys. If anyone can up the game, you can. If you’re going to have a religious killer, base him off of the Westboro Baptist idiots, or borrow from history. But please, don’t insult the complexity of religion with empty terminology and misguided “deep” conversations between main characters.

To put matters to rest, I can assure everyone that, yes, moving to Los Angeles has, at times, been a strain on my marriage. We’ve certainly struggled financially. As for being led astray, I have an affinity for whiskey that I did not have prior to living here.

Tiffany and I have had blow-out arguments. Things have gotten ugly, usually as a result of us simply being too similar. We’ve had the stereotypical car troubles, rent issues, etc. And I love Childish Gambino and whiskey, and Los Angeles traffic has led to a number of S-bombs being dropped.

Life has changed.

My wife and I have never even considered the D-word. We know that our problems are a result of being joined at the hip since we were kids. We know each others buttons, and we can push them when we want to be right. In a matter of months of getting out here, we were blessed with amazing friends, a support group of individuals who are passionate about God and art. I’ve grown spiritually in the past year, despite being without the challenging sermons of my former pastor.

As for “making it” in this business, here’s what’s happened:

In a year of being out here, I’ve worked on movie sets, shot student films, got an excellent commercial agent, guest hosted for Teen.com, had numerous writing projects, and am now about to begin work on a Web series that could up the ante on how Web series are done, complete with guest stars and sponsoring. The Web series, which I won’t speak of in specifics, might be my proudest creative effort ever, and the people involved so far are all, in their own right, brilliant at what they do.

On Friday, my agent informed me that I am “on avail” for a Dodge commercial. For those of you not in show business, on avail basically means I auditioned well and am being strongly considered for the role.  It’s a very good sign, and regardless of whether I book the gig, I’ve been out here a year. That was the second commercial audition I’ve ever been on.

For an actor, the process goes like this:

Audition –> Callback –> On Avail –> Booked

Each step, every single step, is extremely hard to get. You have to submit for the audition (basically audition for the audition), then you wait, and you hope, and you pray. Repeat.

Show business is hard. Every day, I’m waiting for a call, but that’s okay.

I was born to work in show business. That much is clear to me after an extremely blessed year here. I don’t have pep talks with myself. I don’t need to tell myself things are okay, because they’re better than okay. I don’t look myself in the mirror and say, “This is it. This is your time,” and I don’t meditate on success. I will be successful, because this is where I’m supposed to be. This is what I’m supposed to do. And if one day something changes, for better or worse, then I’ll move on. But any success I have had or will have is not a result of me. It has very, very little to do with me, both practically and spiritually speaking. My goal is to stand aside and let God do his thing. And maybe try to make people laugh along the way.

I will drop you if you wrong me. Stab me in the back, and I’ll stab back. That’s not true. Honestly, I don’t even know what that means. If you wrong me, that’s okay. One of my favorite philosophers, Andre 3000, stated in a Ke$ha song, “He’s human, you’re human, I’m human, we’ll forgive him.” I don’t think you could word it more eloquently.

This is a no-drama zone. If you come at me with your harsh looks or you try to steal my man, expect a beatdown. Again, I’m sorry. More lies. For one, I don’t have a “man.” I have a “wife,” and while our house may be a drama-free zone, that’s only an incidental benefit brought about by us being awesome.

I’m fiercely loyal. That’s not true. I’m the normal level of loyal.

I will judge the crap out of you for judging others in any way. It’s a vengeful justice, done for those relationships I’ve lost due to my own narrow-mindedness. I’m the Batman of hypocrisy, bitches.

While we’re on the subject of hypocrisy, I should tell you now that, as an actor, I can’t stand 97% of actors. Ryan Gosling makes up the other 3%.

I’m an actor, not because I seek fame and fortune, but because I believe Shakespeare captured all that humanity is. Well, okay, this one’s partly true. I am an actor, but honestly, I don’t really like Shakespeare. I’m sure he was great back in the day, but when I read his stuff now, the language is kinda funky sounding. I don’t mind high-brow theatre, just speak American.

I don’t like the Beatles I JUST DON’T.

I own a dog that I got from a breeder, and I’m okay with that. You’d be okay with it, too, if you met him. Or you could not meet him and stop judging me. I think that would be best. Yeah, let’s do that one.

Rather than critique his work, which I am in no position to do, I want to talk briefly about why I think I’m so drawn to thinkers like Rollins and authors like Rob Bell. In the vein of Rollins’ philosophy, that in order to understand something we must go back to its foundation, I’m going to attempt to explain why I have no problem accepting, at least for a time, the ideas of the emergent church.

There are two types of Christians out there. There are those that have been a Christian since they were old enough to speak, submerged in the culture from day one. And there are Christians who are relatively new to the faith, those who have strayed and been converted, those who have dramatic testimonies that draw applause from congregations across the nation every week. I, as you may have guessed, am in the former category. I was raised in a Christian home, with Christian parents. They weren’t hyper, beat-me-with-a-Bible type Christians. They were (and are) normal, good, Christian people.

This isn’t a “I was raised in a super religious home and am therefore scarred for life” rant, because I wasn’t, and I’m not. Instead, I enjoyed being a Christian as a child. There was no trauma; no forced conversions. If I had questions, they were answered, usually to my satisfaction.

However, being raised as a Christian is very different than becoming one. As a pentecostal, I accepted Christ as my savior every week. For better or worse, as a child, you learn things when you’re in it 24-7. You learn things that, in a way, those in authority over you don’t really understand. You see the patterns, and the hypocrisies, and you accept them, but you don’t forget. When you’re raised in a religion, let alone a denomination, you’re given an awful lot to unlearn.

As I got older, I read a decent amount of apologetics, defending Evangelical Christianity. To my knowledge, there could be no other type of Christianity than the one that states you must repent, ask Jesus “into your heart,” and then live a sin-free life to the best of your ability. Still, over the past few years, something about Christianity as I’ve known it forever and ever has simply seemed wrong.

It started when I realized I had no problem with people who were atheists. Then I realized I could love someone whole-heartedly who was homosexual. Then I started accepting people who cussed a lot, drank alcohol, did drugs, and had sex before they were married. I knew the Evangelical answer: Love the sinner, hate the sin. But that phrase is nowhere in the Bible, and I knew that, despite my efforts, I was never going to be able to love any singular person the way Jesus did. Then I realized that no one could. So it seemed strange to me that well-meaning Evangelicals were putting disclaimers on the greatest commandment. I have a hard enough time simply loving another human; how am I supposed to balance that with hating their “sin”?

Something smelled fishy. But again, I was raised in this stuff. I knew the argument:

• God hates sin, therefore we must hate sin.
• God is holy. Those actions are unholy; therefore we must reject them.
• You can love them, but you do not have to agree with their lifestyle.
• To accept their actions is not showing the love of Christ.
• Blah blah blah.

I began toying with the idea of not worrying about others’ so-called sin, for the silly little reason that I’m not God. What if I did just accept and love every person to the best of my ability? What if who someone had sex with was none of my business? What if I helped the homeless person knowing that they were going to use what I gave them to buy drugs? What if the church itself flung its doors open to homosexuals, granting them marriages, allowing them to serve on the worship team, having beers with them and enjoying their company? Stay with me here; it gets worse.

What if I stopped treating Jesus like a crutch? What if Jesus was never meant to be the crutch, but the one who exposes how broken we really are? What if being blind, and then seeing, showed us a world of pain and agony that we were called to fix? What if our souls simply aren’t as important as we think they are? Would I follow Christ if there was no crucifixion? Would the church?

What if the church stopped marketing Jesus as a solution to the problem you must be convinced you have? What if the church stopped marketing Jesus, period? What if Jesus simply isn’t a product you speak into your heart to feel no pain?

I think there’s a lot of truth in this video. And I think that, for many young Christians out there, our submersion in the culture and the religion is exactly what drives us away. The undeniable call of Christ, who he was and what he did, will forever shape who I am. However, the church, and the religion of America that has left so many bad tastes in so many mouths, may not be acceptable.

Suspending Identity from Peter Rollins on Vimeo.

Wait, I’m an actor–not a writer! True. I prefer acting over writing, but writing is a form of acting that I get to do naked. Granted, certain types of acting can be done naked. Both the very-artsy and the couldn’t-be-further-from-anything-even-remotely-considered-artsy kind. I’ve forgotten what I was talking about. Ain’t that something….