Dead Seriously.

I know Mormons are weird, but I don’t think it goes that far…but maybe I’m wrong.

My family and I took a trip to the Least Coast for my company’s Christmas party last weekend, and extended our trip a few days so as to meet up with my two siblings and their families, who live in southern Virginia and North Carolina. We drove down from D.C. early enough on Sunday morning so as to be able to attend a “Christmas Cantata” for the Virginia Beach LDS Stake that evening, in which my sister was the pianist and my brother-in-law was singing. My sister had promised me that the music would be both “spiritual” and “fun”, but experienced Mormons like myself know that those two terms are, with few exception, mutually exclusive. Read more…

Am I a bad person if I post a link the audio of the BYU fanboy singing that travesty of a song, now that the video has been taken off of YouTube?

Part of me wants to, because I hate BYU, and love making fun of it. And because the song is hilarious. And because the commentary by PMS is also hilarious.

Part of me would feel bad, because I don’t like making fun of individuals (institutions are exempt). And because the song is embarrassing. And because the commentary by PMS is really mean.

I could count the votes…

UPDATE (March 9, 2009): Reposted HERE

…to study, and then it’s all over. The list of things I want/need/have to do after the exam is over on Saturday afternoon is frighteningly long.

I haven’t so much as peeked at any news, sports, or much as anything else for nearly two weeks. Anything interesting happen out there?

I did notice that the dude who made the BYU-Aladdin song took it off YouTube. I have the audio on my computer, so I could put that up…maybe not.

UPDATE (March 9, 2009): Reposted HERE

(I’m not doing a very good job of sticking to my promise.)

Tonight while I was driving to the grocery store, I turned on the radio to AM 570, which is the home of one of my favorite sports talk radio shows–PMS. When I adjusted the volume, I could hear some familiar piano music and some screeching vocals, but it was hard to tell exactly what the music was, because Petros and Money were laughing hysterically. Finally, I heard enough to realize what it was: A guy singing about the glorious institution that is Brigham Young University* to the tune of “Prince Ali” from Aladdin. Read more…

Will the gay community be boycotting the Twilight movie, since the book was written by a Mormon? If so, such a boycott has my full support.

Not because of the Mormonishness, but because I’m not a fan of tweeny-vampire-romance-smut. And because I’m miffed that my wife reads such schlock on the recommendation of a friend while continually ignoring every book suggestion I give her.

(I couldn’t help it. I’m back to non-posting now. Starting…now.)

Note: I added a few things to this post…that’s why I re-posted it. Apologies to the couple of comments that were deleted.

Since the outcome of Tuesday’s vote, and the aftermath that is now spilling out all over California and other places, I’ve struggled deeply to get my mind around what–if anything–to say next. It feels silly to start writing about the recent sports contest, about the funny thing I saw on the Interwebs the other day, or even other more-serious topics. Things have changed in ways that are not easy to define or capture in a few sentences. I’d like to keep writing as I did before, but I just don’t know how. I tried to post something else the other day, but it just seemed too trivial and out of place. My friend said something last night that summarizes things well: “The only certainty here is that none of us will ever be the same.” Remember what Frodo Baggins said at the end of the movie The Return of the King?

How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand. There is no going back. There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep…That have taken hold.

That’s how I feel right now. Read more…

I know it’s getting a little bit crazy with two Finlanders in the News posts in a row, but this is so worthy:

The folks presiding over the DVD-release of Little House on the Prairie in Finland decided it was too costly to submit it for a rating review, and thus all copies of the series were given the Adults-only rating of K-18 (“Banned for under 18-year olds”). (more here)
Since Merlin Olsen is one of the supporting cast members, does this make him a Mormon adult-film star?

(FYI–I’m a USU alum)

It will not be a battle in Logan tonight, as the BYU Cougars face a Craptastic State squad that is determined to prove it still deserves to be considered the planet’s worst college football team.

For many teams, the negative momentum from an embarrassing victory over Idaho would be carried further by the fact that this is a home game. However, for Craptastic State, this means nothing: I personally guarantee that there will be no more than a couple hundred* Aggie fans in the stadium, and those who are there will likely just show up to protest BYU’s apparent theft of a USU player while he’s on an LDS mission. Fear not, BYU players–these obviously misinformed protestors will leave before halftime, and you’ll be able to sit back and relax with a hard-earned sense of moral superiority for the rest of the game.**

BYU will score early and often, and probably won’t stop. Craptastic State, on the other hand, will realize midway through the opening kickoff that they have no chance of winning, and will opt instead to see how many “unneccessary roughness” penalties they can accumulate. After the 1st quarter, Captain Craptastic himself–head coach Brent Guy–will begin practicing his oft-repeated explanations: “We just made too many mistakes!” and “We just didn’t execute!” and “We just didn’t play 4 full quarters!” among others. He will not, however, mention that he is clueless as a coach, his talent is sub-sub-prime, and that the USU Intramural runners-up were victorious over his starters in a scrimmage last Wednesday.

As the 3rd quarter comes to a close, the USU Athletic Department will determine that another ticket price increase is just the thing to get more local fans into the stadium. Finally, in a good-faith effort to make sure that all the BYU fans will be home in time to get a good night’s sleep before General Conference, the 4th quarter will be cancelled.

My Prediction: Craptastic State enters the game as a 29 point underdog. In my estimation, this is a serious, serious underestimate. By virtue of excess cheating*** BYU will be forced to play up against their own goal line a couple of times, resulting in Craptastic’s only points.
Final Score: BYU 103, USU 4

*This is also a rough estimate of the number of geezer BYU fans with big guts, unnaturally small waists, and “Lavell for President” hoodies who will be in attendance.
**A common way of assuaging their guilt will be to repeatedly emphasize how the game is being played on Friday, so as to not interfere with General Conference. This demonstrates clearly that BYU is morally superior, and thus not subject to recruiting ethics or other nonsense.
***BYU is historically known for having lots of penalties. The Aggies are not known so much for “lots of penalties,” but rather, “lots of stupid penalties.”

The last post–about Paul Krugman getting an unexpected result from an audience poll–reminded me of an experience I had when I was a missionary that ranks #1–by a mile–on my list of most awkward moments.

The Background:
4 of us (all missionaries) had been invited to attend the 50th birthday party of a member of the local ward for reasons I’m still unsure of.* Despite having lived in this city for 5-6 months, none of the four of us had ever even met the man–he didn’t come out to meetings very often (err…ever), and he lived way out in the sticks.** In a momentary lack of judgment (and since it was a Saturday evening and we had nothing else planned) we decided to attend.

The Event:
Held in an old barn, which had been converted into a dancing hall. Lots of food and drinks, including some quasi-alcoholic cider, which I recall thinking was a bit odd for a shindig hosted by Mormons, even if most of the folks there weren’t LDS. Between 50-75 people were there, so there was plenty of handshaking, hugs, congratulations, and a little dancing to background music…and four missionaries standing at the back of the room, coming to the stark realization that they don’t know a single person there, and they’re dressed very conspicuously.*** For the next hour or two, we just tried desperately to act like we didn’t exist, since it was obvious that a) this was not the time nor the place for proselyting, b) we didn’t know anyone, and c) the next bus back to the city wasn’t coming for a long time.

The Moment:
After eating cake and a few presents were opened, the birthday-man’s wife strolled up to the microphone, whereupon she beckoned her blushing husband up to her side, and then proceeded to invite all those who would like to say a few words about her husband to come up and do so. (Now, if you know many Finns, you’re already thinking “Uh-Oh! Bad idea, lady!”) Then his wife leaves her husband standing beside the mic and returns to her seat.

See, the thing is, Finns don’t usually like to talk in public (and by “usually”, I really mean “ever”). So what happened? After about the third minute of silence, no one could even look up at him–all eyes were on dinner plates or shoes. After 10 minutes, even the shoes were getting awkward. By the time his wife threw in the towel on the worst-idea-ever, this poor guy–on his 50th birthday–endured 17 straight minutes of absolute silence, standing in a front of a room full of his associates who refused to say anything nice about him.

On the way home, the 4 of us debated whether we should have stood up and said something; the problem is, none of us even knew his first name.

*This sort of thing happens all the time in the Mormon world–the missionaries seem to get invitations to everything, whether its appropriate or not. Take, for another example, the fact that a bunch of them showed up at my wedding. Huh?
**In Finland, “way out in the sticks” is a reasonable approximation for “not in Helsinki.”
***The normal Mormon missionary garb: Suit, white shirt, tie, and a pair of ridiculously worn-out Doc Martens.

Ultimately the criteria I had set in place for participants in the blessing were a resounding failure. I caved in massive fashion–there were multiple BYU-grads, Romney voters, and perhaps a few people who couldn’t pronounce my wife’s name properly.

Oh well.

In the LDS Church, it is customary to give a newborn a blessing and “name” (just their, uhh, name) before the congregation* on or about the first Sunday of the month (Fast Sunday) after the baby is born. Typically, the father of the child performs this blessing, with the Bishop, as well as other individuals the family invites–perhaps relatives, close friends, etc.

I am blessing our baby girl this coming Sunday, and so I’ve been thinking about this issue a fair amount lately.

–I am a very private person, as is my wife, when it comes to family issues, and so a large part of me wants to do the blessing quietly in my home with no one else around.
–Even if the blessing is public, I still prefer less to more–how do you make a cut without offending people? (Mormons are so competitive…seriously)
–Home Teachers are common invitees, but not automatic. What if you dislike one of them (we love ours)? Can you invite one, but not the other?
–What about asymmetric relationships? In other words, what about those folks who think they’ll be asked, but are not? What if someone asked you to be in their baby blessing? Are you obligated to return the request?
–What about the post-blessing lunch? Are all folks invited? Or just those who traveled great distances (which means what, exactly? From outside the congregation? The State? The Religion itself!?!)?

When I blessed our first child, we were moving out of the congregation the following week, and since we were more or less the senior citizens of a student ward (very high turnover), there were only about 4 people we knew anyway. So, with Dad & Brother in tow, I invited all men with a name starting with “J” to participate–John, Jory, Jason, Jerome, etc**.

Since there is no set criteria–outside of holding the Priesthood and being “worthy” (no secret drug or porn habits, pay tithing, etc…), I’ve decided to create my own list of musts for anyone to be included in my blessing circle:

1. You never attended BYU, and neither will your children. Ever. Ever, ever, ever.
2. If you did attend BYU, then you must repent now, and actively cheer against BYU with all your heart, might, mind and soul. Forever. And ever. And ever.
3. You did not vote for Mitt Romney for President***
4. You did not harbor secret hopes and dreams that Mitt would be the VP selection
5. You know the capital of Finland
6. You can properly pronounce the first and middle names of my wife and two children
7. You confess that D-Will could run silly circles around CP3–any time, any place.

Meet these requirements, and consider yourself welcome!

*Sometimes this is done at home or in the congregation of a relative–say, for example, the congregation a person group up in and in which several family members still live.
**And my friend Dan, but it made for a better story to omit him above. I actually only know one person named Jerome. He lives in Finland, and his dad is a spy. Seriously.
***I’ll make an exception to this one if you can provide documentation proving that you actually–truly, deep down in your heart–liked his political agenda and weren’t just giddy about the idea of a Mormon in the White House.

Since my hatred of Mormon ward pancake breakfasts has its roots in my family upbringing, I thought I’d share the entries from our Haiku contest on this subject.

Hungry, sleepy, cold
Mealy pancakes, bacon gone
Can I go home now?

Cold goopy syrup
The people don’t know it’s wrong
Oh, where is my Moms?

Food at scout camp rots.
Mr. Scout-man makes me tie knots.
Thanks, I’d rather starve.

Scouts practice flag care.
Hard chairs. Cooks mess up pancakes.
Long line. No more meat.

I am not looking forward to the 4th of July. I like fireworks, I like BBQ, I like baseball, and find many other traditional 4th of July activities tolerable. However, I hate Mormon pancake breakfasts. These occur, probably without exception, in every LDS congregation in the US on the 4th of July.

I hate cold, store-bought syrup. I hate Krusteaz pancake mix. I hate mass-produced bacon. I hate the gigantic mass of oily-yellow eggs–with black gritty stuff mixed throughout–sitting at the end of the table in a large silver-colored pan getting cold.

In summary, I hate scout camp food.

(Note: This was originally posted in February of 2008)

It seems as though not all Mormons benefit from smaller temples.

“When I first heard the announcement regarding the construction of smaller temples to meet the needs of LDS folks, I was as thrilled as any.” said Local Mormon Scott B. “Of course, that was before I moved to California where I’d be living near one.”

What he–and certainly countless others–failed to recognize, was that smaller facilities with no clothing rental available would put an uncomfortable squeeze on their pocketbooks if their white pants began putting an uncomfortable squeeze on their waistlines. Now, Scott feels hopeless about his situation. “I’m priced right out of the market–I mean, I didn’t anticipate ever growing out of my 10-year old white pants. I never made room in my budget for a new pair of pants.” Mild exercise routines and a semi-motivated attempt to cut back on evening ice cream sandwiches have failed to produce any results.

“B”, Scott’s wife of nearly 6 years agrees: “Yup, he’s kind of a fat lard of late. I suppose I’ll just go to the temple by myself for a while,” she said. She then took an sternly paternalistic tone of voice and rattled off a few verses of Section 89 to her husband who was laying on the sofa. “I ain’t gonna just up and buy him new white pants,” she added. “Not when the old ones could be salvaged with a little fat-trimming.”

Scott’s attempts to point out that his wife doesn’t fit into her white dress anymore were less than productive: his wife simply launched into a Finnish-language tirade about being “pregnant and all that!”

So what does all this mean for the present? “I suppose for the next little while I’ll have to just keep coming up with excuses for passing the temple-night sign-up sheet along quickly in Elders quorum meetings.” Scott noted that he’s had a string of success recently with both “I think B is going that night, so I’m babysitting,” and “If I remember, B already signed us up in Relief Society” to avoid awkward stares from less chubby quorum members. “Maybe I’ll get a raise at work, and I guarantee that new white pants will be at the top of my list.”