Sorry Abbottsville Fourth -- It's The Ex-Mormon Moment

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Donna Banta
Subject: Having too much fun to keep up with your damned e-mails, Abbottsville Fourth

Been busy the past couple of weeks. After the amazing Ex-Mormon party at San Francisco's Hotel Utah Saloon, we headed to Salt Lake City for the Sunstone Symposium. I had the honor to be part of 2 panels. The first was Cheryl Bruno's "The Vagina Monologues." My contribution was a satirical (of course) argument in favor of women being the stronger sex.

Here's an excerpt:

After lunch I headed to the library hoping to do some research. Unfortunately, I found it impossible to concentrate, thanks to a shockingly immodest young man in a pair of Levi’s 501 Shrink to Fit jeans.

Now, you may ask, “Don’t lots of boys at BYU wear 501 Shrink to Fits?” Perhaps. But this particular young man had an especially curvy backside that strained the confines of his tightly shrunk pants. Then, when he turned toward me, I was confronted with his well-defined, bulging and enormous maleness. Hot, sweaty, and breathless, I quit the building.

This is difficult to explain to somebody who only has a penis. You see, God designed the penis for a single purpose -- the impregnating of the holy female womb -- an act that is efficient, perfunctory, and complete inside of a minute.

The vagina, on the other hand, has that sacred spot that God created specifically for pleasure and nothing else. It alone is comprised of 8,000 nerve fibers – compared to the measly penis that, in its entirety, is equipped with only 4,000 nerve fibers. So by nature, men have no concept of the dangerous power of the female orgasm.

Once aroused, a woman’s passion gathers, builds, swells with quivering anticipation, and finally peaks in hot, wet waves of erotic pleasure that drives her to a prolonged climax of non-stop frenzied desire. Even then she may not be sated, and can achieve orgasm again and again for hour upon hour with no end in sight.

That young man in the 501’s had no idea how lucky he was. If I hadn’t had the courage to leave when I did, I might have lost control, thrown him on the ground, and had my way with him. And it would have been entirely his fault.

I rushed home to find my helpmeet, Mark, alone at his craft table hot gluing felt for an upcoming Elders’ Quorum lesson.

I seized him. “I have to have you now!”

“Can I at least finish my felt . . .”

“Screw the felt."

The second was Chanson's panel of Ex-Mormon bloggers. The topic I chose was real vs. fake happiness. Excerpt:

When I was a Mormon I looked really sad. But inside I knew I was really happy. I had to be. I was a member of the one and only true church.

It's the people who left who were sad. Also drunk, bankrupt, dying of AIDS and victims of every other calamity promised in a scary chain letter. 

Sure they looked happy -- but it wasn't real happiness. It was the fake happiness that came when a person committed a grievous sin, like going shopping on Sunday. Real happiness was attending tithing settlement.

Me, Carol and some great reads

I also worked the Mormon Alumni Association book table where I sold some great books and chatted up some very cool people. 

Then Saturday night after the close of the symposium, Mark and I headed over to Squatters to join a group of amazing Ex-Mormon bloggers and writers that included Chino Blanco, Andrew S, Holly, John Hamer, Barbara Hanks, and, of course, Chanson.

When we arrived at the brew pub, I told the hostess we were looking for the group of Ex-Mormons. She smiled and said, "Well, feel free to wander around until you find the Ex-Mormons you're looking for." Oops! OMG, I forgot I was in Salt Lake City, where everyone in the bar on Saturday night might be an Ex-Mormon. And needless to say the place was packed! Awesome.

It's the Ex-Mormon Moment!

We got home Saturday evening, unpacked, crashed, then headed out on Sunday for another Ex-Mormon event, this time at the San Francisco Ferry Building. We arrived to find our usual handful of folks in the corner. After all, this was San Francisco, not Salt Lake City. Then the most amazing thing happened. Some more Ex-Mormons arrived, then a few more, then more again, and pretty soon we found ourselves dragging over another of the massive tables outside of Peet's Coffee to accommodate our numbers!

Who knows? Maybe this time next year when I wander into Peet's and ask the barista where the group of Ex-Mormons is she'll invite me to wander around until I find the group I'm looking for.

Eat your hearts out, Abbottsville Fourth.

Also, please read this awesome review of my book, The Girls From Fourth Ward, by postmormon girl!

Utah Pie And Beer Day

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Donna Banta
Subject: Ex-Mormon Pioneers

I logged onto Facebook this morning to discover that I have five -- count them -- five friends who were born today! Wow, that's unusual, I thought to myself. Maybe there is something to this astrology stuff. Then I remembered that today is Utah Pioneer Day, the day that Brigham Young led the saints into the Salt Lake Valley, the "Fourth of July" for Mormons.

I immediately became suspicious. One of the birthday boys was my good friend, Elder Price! Another was a guy named Paternoster -- a likely relation to everyone's favorite stake president.

But then another was my friend Marilyn, who really was born on July 24. Only she lives in worldly Park City, where they call it "Utah Pie and Beer Day."

That's the holiday the San Francisco Ex-Mormons celebrate every year too.

Tonight at the Hotel Utah Saloon in San Francisco

It was way better than that cheesy parade.

Eat your heart out Abbottsville Fourth! 

The Three Nephites Get New Suits!

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Brother Sid Dooley, ward spiritual giant
Subject: Boosting the Lord's economy

Last week I had the opportunity to visit Salt Lake City, the capitol of Heavenly Father's dynasty, and the subject of a fascinating article in BloombergBusinessweek. My first stop was the temple where I completed an endowment session for and on the behalf of Zedekiah Baxter, who is dead. After the session, I passed into the Celestial Room where I was greeted by three gentlemen in white. They asked me to assist them in the Lord's errand. I immediately recognized them as the Three Nephites, and, of course, agreed.

We hopped into their shiny new Lexus (TM) and sped over to the Lord's newest place of worship, City Creek Center.

"Brother Dooley," said Nephite #1. "We are about to embark on a new mission, and we need your help."

"I am proud to be of assistance," I told them.

"Good," said Nephite #1. "But first we must determine your worthiness. May I see your American Express Card?" (AXP)

"Absolutely," I replied.

Nephite #1 quickly ran it through the scanner attachment on his iPhone. (AAPL) "You're worthy," he said, and pocketed my card.

"What is this new mission?" I asked.

"Well," #2 explained, "changing all those flat tires went a long way toward helping the Lord's servants. But it wasn't doing anything for His portfolio."

"I see, He wants you to switch to raising Him some heavenly capital," I said.

"Right," said #3. "But first we need to look the part. So, ONE TWO THREE -- let's go shopping!"

We began at Macy's (M) where all Three Nephites were fitted out with brand new Hugo Boss suits. ($2800) From there we went to Nordstrom (JWN) and shopped men's furnishings for some socks, shirts, and neckties. ($280) Then we ascended into the shoe department where, thanks to my worthiness, the Nephites acquired some new black wingtips. ($1200) Finally, we completed their new look at Tiffany & Company (TIF) with 3 new Atlas Chronograph watches. ($27,000)

Our business complete, I wished them luck with their new endeavor. Nephite #1 returned my credit card.

"Thank you, Brother Dooley, for your contribution to the Lord's portfolio," he said. "You may now expect a pre-tithe return of $31,280 worth of heavenly blessings."

I couldn't be more pleased with an investment. I wandered along in a blissful daze until I saw a familiar face smiling my way. It was none other than Zedekiah Baxter, who is dead.

"Brother Dooley!" he cried. "Thanks for doing that endowment on and for my behalf."

"Think nothing of it," I replied. "What brings you to the mall, Brother Baxter?"

"I'm on my way to Banana Republic. (GPS) The Celestial Kingdom isn't cheap these days and I don't want to show up looking shabby."

"Good thinking, brother," I said, and wished him happy shopping.

If you would like to stop receiving these emails, you must present your American Express card. (AXP)

Note from blog owner: Check out this article in Salon.com written by postmormon girl!

Heaven Up Here by John K. Williams

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Donna Banta
Subject: Another Ward Gossip book review!

Heaven Up Here

by

John K. Williams

I never served an LDS mission. But I have known my share of Mormon missionaries and have viewed them from varying perspectives.

First I watched my friends leave on their missions. Almost all of them were nineteen-year-old boys. When they returned they looked and acted like thirty-five-year-old men. I knew this transformation occurred because they had just come back from a deeply profound and gratifying experience. The reason I knew this was because each one of them stood in Sacrament Meeting and described his mission as being "the best two years of his life."

Later, as a grown-up doubting Mormon, these "thirty-five-year-old men" went back to being boys. --Boys who came to dinner at our house every month and spent the better part of the meal encouraging us to help them annoy our neighbors. 

After that, as an ex-Mormon, I saw them as squirrelly, self-righteous little twits who sometimes compelled me to slam my door in their faces. 

Then in April 2011 I went to Broadway's Eugene O'Neill Theater and watched a couple of adorable goofball Elders do their darndest to win the hearts of a small Ugandan tribe.

Elder Price: Africa is nothing like The Lion King. I think that movie took a lot of artistic license.

Fun romp that it was, The Book of Mormon reminded me of how young and clueless these "thirty-five-year-old boys" really are. While LDS leaders claim that the musical is inaccurate and "anti-Mormon," Parker and Stone's play goes a long way toward showing outsiders why LDS young people choose to serve and complete missions, even when their presence in a culture makes absolutely no sense. Since seeing the play on stage, I've been less inclined to slam my door. I imagine others who have seen it have had a similar change of heart.  

Then last month I read John K. Williams book, Heaven Up Here. And finally, thirty-some years after seeing my friends leave on their missions, I understand why so many come home looking fifteen years older.

Heaven Up Here begins in the pristine setting of Brigham Young University where Williams spends what most college students would consider a bizarrely sober and chaste freshman year. Then, upon receiving a call to serve in Bolivia, he enters the Missionary Training Center where he learns Spanish, memorizes missionary lessons, and is taught that Bolivia is well-equipped with modern conveniences and that the people will beg to be baptized.

Thus prepared, Elder Williams embarks on what he knows will be "the best two years of his life."

His first area is high in the Andes, where he is immediately stricken with altitude sickness. After that he falls prey to various parasites, as do most others in the mission. He describes "brown outs," a slang term for on the spot diarrhea emergencies, and a siege of nausea that causes him to vomit six-inch worms. He endures filthy living conditions, a painful treatment at a horrific medical facility, and dangerous outbursts of political unrest that in one instance almost costs him his life. Such stressful conditions take a toll on many of his companions who grapple with depression, near insanity, and suicidal tendencies. Some of the Elders even drink and become sexually promiscuous. But painful and bizarre as his conditions are, the thought of returning home early is even more painful. So Elder Williams commits to staying the duration, and even lies to his parents about his health and well-being. On top of that, when he is given the opportunity to extend his mission from eighteen months to two years, he immediately agrees.

In spite of the negative experiences, Williams' narrative never presents itself as an expose of Mormon missions, nor does it condemn the LDS Church. It is an elegantly written memoir told in the voice of a believing young man who doesn't rely on tiresome faith-promoting morals. And not all of his experiences are negative.

At what is perhaps the lowest point of the story, Elder Williams glumly realizes that he has completed eighteen months of his mission and could be going home. Soon after that he is transferred to the Bolivian rainforest where he picks cashews off of trees and a macaw alights on his companion's shoulder. The heat is oppressive, but after eighteen months in the country, Elder Williams is used to climate extremes. Also his experience finally enables him to navigate the culture with ease. He interacts with some interesting Bolivian characters, takes shopping trips to Brazil, and has a humorous encounter with a mid-level drug dealer. He spends an unforgettable Christmas with a humble and loving Bolivian family. Then on his last day in the country, he rides a bicycle for the first and only time. It is an ending that is far more faith-promoting than any Sacrament Meeting homecoming talk, and even makes this cynical ex-Mormon feel grateful that Williams decided to extend his mission.

Heaven Up Here is a must read for believing Mormons, ex-Mormons, and anyone who is interested in an honest account of an LDS mission. Hopefully it will encourage more forthcoming stories about Mormon missionaries, as it did postmormon girl recently.

Heaven Up Here is available in both paperback and as an ebook.
Or purchase a signed copy from the author himself at the upcoming Sunstone Symposium July 25-28. I'll be there too signing copies of The Girls, as will C.L. Hanson, author of ExMormon. There will be more great titles on sale from the Mormon Alumni Association as well.

Sorry Abbottsville Fourth, This Week You're Spam

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Donna Banta
Subject: This week you're spam

Because I am having too much fun with my granddaughter, Keya!!

She is turning 3!

What The World Is Coming To

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward

From: Millie Loomis, self-appointed ward media and culture critic

Subject: SIGN THIS PETITION!

Following the righteous lead of our fellow Saints in Jordan, Utah, some concerned citizens and I have penned the following petition to the Abbottsville School Board: 

We, many concerned parents and community members, present our petition to the Abbottsville School District Board of Education. We wish to express our deepest objection to Abbottsville High School's recent production of the play "Singing in the Rain." This production contained offensive materials not suited for a high school play and was in violation of district policy which requires drama productions to stay within "acceptable community standards." This content included a scantily clad girl jumping out of a cake, explicit descriptions of unnatural sexual liaisons (including a girl who refuses to "make love to a bush"), mockery of traditional marriage (including 2 boys dancing together, a girl and 2 boys in a menage a trois on a sofa, and the aforementioned cake number that featured a bunch of orgasmic girls cavorting in their underwear), near profanity throughout the script, and implied drug use (including a youth so high he runs up the side of a wall, and a strung out kid who is nearly arrested for splashing around in a puddle at an hour that is clearly past his bedtime.) 

This play used catchy tunes and slick choreography to support a dark and subversive pro-musical political agenda. Our tax dollars and our students, most of whom are minors, were used to support the erroneous notion that Hollywood musicals are just innocent and carefree vehicles for singing, dancing and wholesome fun. This play is part of a national campaign called the "Singing in the Rain School Theater Project." Its purpose is to inspire our students and our communities to stay up past bedtime, take to the streets, and jump around in puddles.

We demand an apology. This apology should include an admittance of violation of school district policy, an apology for exposing students to (implied) drunken tap dancing, a statement that the depiction of the Hollywood musical as "wholesome fun" did not represent the position of the school or the school district, and an assurance that singing, dancing and near profanity will never be performed onstage again.

Goal: 10,000 signatures

If you would like to stop receiving these e-mails we'll assume you are up past your bedtime.

***Note from blog owner: Alternatively you could check out the "Dead Man Walking School Theater Project." It's pretty cool!