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I saw something on 60 Minutes a few days ago about the Lost Boys of Sudan. They are a group of Sudanese refugees who fled their home country when an army of Muslim militants slaughtered their villages and murdered their families. Thousands of young children traveled for years across desert and wilderness, with nothing but the clothes on their backs and Bibles in their hands, before making it to refugee camps in Kenya and Ethiopia. Finally some of them were granted passage to the United States, where they were first introduced to things like electricity and can openers. Many of them are now contributing citizens and some have even been reunited with family members who presumed them dead long ago.

So, anyway, I’m watching this and I’m thinking: “This is an absolutely incredible story. I am awe struck. Little kids who watched their whole families get hacked to death managed to escape and walk A THOUSAND MILES across Africa?! Adults in this country can’t even jog to the mailbox without complaining about shin splints. Man, this right here is a tale of redemption, struggle, hope, love, faith, loss, courage, death, and life. Some major movie studio needs to make a big budget film about these people and their journey. This is a story that’s worth telling, and certainly worth hearing. Maybe Hollywood will-”

Just then, the show went to a commercial break and a preview for G.I. Joe 2 came on. The words “Number one movie in America!” flashed across the screen. I fell into a deep despair.

Why tell stories worth telling when you can film the Rock shooting at a green screen for 87 minutes and still make 40 million the first weekend?

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