Whew! We're Still Here

As many of you may already know, preparedness shops in Utah have been selling out of their 72-hour kits and freeze-dried food rations in preparation for the apocalypse that was supposed to happen last night.

I don't really have much to say about this, other than to suggest that a 72-hour kit might not be enough to last through an apocalypse. Also to lament that I am not the author of the accompanying best sellers.

But it seemed like waking up this morning to discover that the world hadn't ended was worth a post.

In that spirit, congratulations, Gentle Readers!

Hell, I may even toss some freeze-dried blueberries on my nitrogen-packed cracked wheat this morning.

Destined for Destruction, and Proud of It!

A couple of years ago Mark and I were eating dinner at the Applebee's in Bountiful, Utah. The booth next to us was filled with bouncy Mormon teenagers enjoying ice-cream sundaes. A young lady in the group announced that she had been accepted into a summer program in Los Angeles. Then, when some others in the party voiced concern, she replied loudly, "Don't worry. Only San Francisco is going to fall into the ocean!"

We had to smile. It had been some time since we'd entertained this apocalyptic forecast from our former doomsday cult. Of course, in our day, it wasn't just SF, but the entire state that was destined to fall into the ocean. Why single out San Francisco? Well, there was the whole hippie/free love thing, followed by the whole gay thing, followed by ... what? The whole techie thing? Are algorithms a tool of Satan? Worldly knowledge, I suppose.

I must say, as a native Angeleno I am offended by this exclusion. I beg your pardon, but L.A. has totally earned its part in God's final Big One, thank you very much! Where do you think He got the script?



For those of you who have not had the good fortune to be members of the one and only true church, it's not just hippies, gays, and software engineers whom the Mormons have destined to perish in the wake of Jesus' return, it's everyone who isn't dedicating all of his time, talent and resources to the LDS Church. - People who enjoy iced tea or cocktails on a lazy Sunday afternoon. People who are obsessed with truth and scientific fact. People who pick out their own underwear. - That would include not only the state of California, but also the Pacific Northwest, the entire Atlantic Coast, and most points in between.

I admit that falling into the ocean isn't a pleasant prospect. But we've all got to go sometime. And if my options are ... plunging to my death on a lazy Sunday afternoon, cocktail in hand, in the underwear of my choice vs. enduring to the end, painfully sober, and left to exist on a diet of powdered milk, nitrogen packed wheat and dehydrated pear flakes ... I'll take the whole plunging to my death scenario.

I'm guessing there are even some folks in Bountiful, Utah who might agree with me. The bar at the Applebee's was surprisingly busy when Mark and I dined there a couple of years ago.

End Of The World Confessional To The Abbottsville Fourth

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Wilbur T. Nussel, 2nd Counselor in the Elders' Quorum Presidency
Subject: I confess just in time for the apocalypse

At first I was a little skeptical about the whole Mayan calendar doomsday prediction for 12/21/12. But then I saw women wearing pants to church last Sunday and I realized that it truly is the end of the world. So before I meet my maker, I'd better get a few things off of my chest.

First, to Bishop Zimmerman, I still have that hammer you lent me last year, and I admit I had no intention of returning it . . . until now. I'll try to get it back to you before tomorrow.

To Sister Renfro, I'm sorry to say that I'm the one who dented your fender in the church lot last April.

To all of you, remember how I used to get up in Fast and Testimony Meeting and apologize for offending people? Well, the truth is, I wasn't sorry. I mean, let's face it, Brother Harold does have doggy breath, Sister Riley probably has the biggest caboose on the planet, and the whole ward knows that Brother Gibson is gay. So I wasn't sorry and I apologize for lying to you.

I must also apologize to the 6 or 7 people I accidentally poisoned at the last ward potluck. That's right. It was my casserole. But honestly, who knew Spam had an expiration date?

To the Spencers, when I housesat for you in June I snuck into your file cabinet and reviewed your past tax returns. Also I used some of your "cooking" wine for medicinal purposes, and I'm afraid I'm responsible for that mysterious stain on Sister Renfro's thong panties. (My bad.)

To Brother Jeffries, I admit I've entertained many impure thoughts about your wife. Heck I'm not the only one. The woman has a body that won't quit. But I swear I wasn't the one who leaked those naked pictures of her onto the Internet. Also, I totally believe that it's just her head photoshopped onto another woman's body.

To Jenny, I really shouldn't have gone that far with you in the backseat after the stake Mix and Mingle. Your dad's right. I should marry you and make you an honest woman. Only now it's too late.

I hope this clears me with my maker and that tomorrow I'll see each and every one of you in the Celestial Kingdom, because you guys are the best ward ever!

Now I'm going to go out and return all of your Christmas presents.

If you would like to stop receiving these emails, just wait until tomorrow.

Also watch this review of The Girls From Fourth Ward and 2 other great Mormon-themed books by Bishop Flat Lander! Hint--Just in time for "Smithmas."