For the Young Mormon Feminists. From an Old Mormon Feminist.

Recently a brave BYU sophomore named Keli Byers challenged her school's ban on sex for unmarried students, and more specifically, berated the BYU administration for its bias against women. In an article published on August 13, 2014 in Cosmopolitan Byers described how, at age 15, she was assaulted by an LDS returned missionary and then blamed by her bishop for having invited the sexual violation. She then went on to explain:

"When I came to BYU last year I signed its honor code and promised to live a 'chaste life' — students who don't could get expelled. But my attitude changed after I joined the Young Mormon Feminists, a group that's not endorsed by the Church or BYU. We talk about how the Church doesn't see women as equal to men and how BYU is slut-shaming. The school's honor code forces women to dress modestly — no skirts above the knee — supposedly to help men control their thoughts. The group helped me reclaim my sexuality and realize my sexual assault wasn't my fault.”

Predictably, her opinion drew angry and defensive responses from believing Mormons. Read both the article and reader comments here.

As I pondered my own reaction to Keli's brave admission, I concluded that my opinion is probably best expressed in the Vagina Testimony I presented at the 2012 Sunstone Symposium, earlier only excerpted here on Ward Gossip.

So this week for Keli, the Young Mormon Feminists, and my Gentle Readers, I again present my Vagina Testimony, this time in full:

I have a vagina. I have a womb. I possess the procreative power, the fertile valley. I am the sacred feminine. My holy female cycle keeps me in tune with God by way of heavenly mood swings and hot flashes of inspiration. I am a member of the stronger sex.

We women did not choose this role. Rather, it was thrust upon us. And it is a heavy mantle to bear. Every day brings new challenges, especially in these troubled times, when increasing numbers seek to challenge our God-given authority. Even here, in the heart of Zion.

For example, yesterday I awoke, dressed, and came downstairs to take on the day. My helpmeet, Mark, served breakfast. Just the usual. Eggs, bacon, waffles, homemade banana muffins and orange juice for me. Half a grapefruit for him. – I appreciate that Mark works at keeping his figure. It’s important. Especially for men of a “certain age.”

I kissed him goodbye and rushed to an important leadership meeting on the BYU campus. Nine o’clock sharp. I was gathered around the well-lacquered conference table with my fellow sisters. As always, we grappled with the day’s tough issues.

n    First on the agenda: A sensitively worded statement to be read to all LDS wards and stakes. One that tactfully marginalizes all members who are not white, straight, married with at least five kids, living on one income, and fulfilling their gender-specific roles.

n    Second on the agenda: A hip LDS PR campaign that only features Mormons who do not fit the above profile.

Afterward, my colleagues and I headed across campus for some good old gal talk at the Sisterhood Bakery. On my way there I marveled at the many righteous young women I encountered who were striving to live the Gospel. But I had a growing unease about the young men, as some engaged in conduct that was unseemly at best, borderline “vagina envy” at worst.

First, outside the bookstore, I spotted a rather homely young man holding up a placard that read, “It’s My Sperm!” (I chalked this up to his obvious inability to get a date.) Then a few minutes later, as my sisters and I were approaching our destination, another woman-hater shouted, “No fair! Why can’t men eat at the Sisterhood Bakery?”

This insubordinate could not be excused. I drew a breath, mustered all of my patience, and said, “Young man, in the unlikely event that the Lord allows men to hold the keys to the Sisterhood Bakery, which cookie would you want?”

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 501 Shrink to Fit jeans.

Now, you may ask, “Don’t lots of boys at BYU wear 501 Shrink to Fits?” Yes they do, and for most it is an acceptable choice. But this particular young man had an especially curvy backside that strained the confines of his tightly shrunk pants and left nothing to the imagination. Hot, breathless, and teased out of my mind, I quit the building. Honestly, it’s a wonder that a BYU coed gets any work done in such an environment.

This is difficult to explain to somebody who only has a penis. Because, as we know, 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. Men don’t have that. So by nature they are naïve and vulnerable to the dangerous power of the female orgasm.

The young men must realize that once aroused, a woman’s passion gathers, builds, swells with quivering anticipation, and finally peaks in hot, wet waves of erotic pleasure that drive the female into a prolonged climax of frenzied desire. Even then she is not sated, and may achieve orgasm again and again for hour upon hour with no end in sight.

That young man in the 501’s has no idea how lucky he was. If I hadn’t had the courage to leave when I did, anything could have happened. And it would have been entirely his fault.

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

I ripped open his shirt. “I have to have you now!”

“Um, okay, but can I at least finish my felt . . .”

“Screw the felt.”

“Darling…please be gentle.”

Five hours later, I left Mark collapsed in a puddle of hot glue and headed to my office at the church. I had only one appointment that evening, but it was a lengthy one, as most confessions are. Sven, a young swimsuit model, had taken a job for a prescription drug company. – It was one of those ads promoting the custom fit vaginal vibrators that are covered by insurance. The commercial featured Sven in a swimming pool surrounded by a bunch of peri-menopausal hotties. When the shoot was over, the women—predictably—lost control and forced Sven to perform oral sex on all six of them.

Wait. Or was it seven? … Just to be safe, I made him repeat the whole story again. It was six women in the pool.

Or was it the hot tub? … I’d better have him back.

Finally I went home, retired to my bed, and drifted off to sleep thinking of all the other privileges I might be entitled to simply because of the anatomy inside of my underpants.

And more importantly, I wondered how much longer I would be able to get away with it.

--Those of you who use Goodreads may check out my new author page here and even friend me! Please be my friend. 

The BYU "Assembly Ball"

This year marks the 200th anniversary of the publication of Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen's beloved novel about the five gentleman's daughters who are faced with the chore of finding husbands in class-conscious Regency-era England. It is being celebrated in Great Britain and countless other global venues, both historical and high tech, and even here on my obscure Ex-Mormon blog.

I first read Pride and Prejudice during the summer before my freshman year at BYU. It was a timely accomplishment that prepared me for the society I was about to enter into. Because at BYU, both then and now, it is a truth universally acknowledged that every single man is in want of a wife--well before he has time to possess any fortune.

Wandering about the Provo campus, a young coed is bound to encounter a few principled but haughty Mr. Darcys, more than a few disreputable Mr. Wickhams (who would meddle with the girls before leaving on their missions), perhaps hundreds of obedient and obsequious Bingleys, an entire stadium-full of self-righteous boobs like Collins, and a healthy number of Mr. Hursts (who think only of their stomachs).

Unfortunately, the female population is less diverse, being embodied entirely in the character of Charlotte Lucas who believes that happiness in marriage is merely a matter of chance. Consequently, every year myriad BYU girls collectively hold their breath, roll their eyes, and spin the roulette wheel. I was one of the lucky ones, winning a husband who is a complex combination of Darcy and Hurst.

This dynamic is best observed at a BYU stake dance, an event that could easily be mistaken for the ball at Netherfield, only without empire waist frocks, English Country Dancing, genteel manners, realism, irony, self-awareness, and sexual tension. Perhaps the latter point is the most defining.

BYU is Pride and Prejudice without the sex.

Of course, there are few people, women in particular, who don't delight in and identify with Jane Austen's works--hence the global celebration. Every modern writer of romantic comedy, from Neil Simon to Nora Ephron to Candace Bushnell, remains in her debt. 

But I am grateful to Jane Austen for preparing me for BYU. Even more importantly, I cherish the time I spent sharing her gentle sentences and sharp observations with my daughter, Emily, who went on to attend some Assembly Balls of her own--although, thankfully, not at BYU.

Emily in London

"For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn?” 

He Wouldn't Have Made A Great Mormon

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Donna Banta
Subject: Larry Hagman, 1931-2012

As an English major at BYU, I sat through countless classroom discussions in which devout believers claimed that whomever we were studying would make "a great Mormon." I heard this theory applied to Emerson, Thoreau, Dostoyevsky, Emily Dickinson, Orwell, Hemingway, Eugene O'Neill and Mark Twain.

In the broader BYU community the range of potential converts expanded to include various headliners of the day, such as President Jimmy Carter, President Ronald Reagan, Alexander Haig, Walter Cronkite, Johnny Carson, the cast of Three's Company and Barry Manilow.

But there was one celebrity of the late '70's and early '80's that, in my recollection, never earned this accolade: Larry Hagman.

I was a junior at BYU when the TV series Dallas premiered and propelled the wheeling and dealing J.R. Ewing into the American consciousness. The show was immediately denigrated by the campus devout as a filthy, disgusting, demoralizing program that no virtuous LDS coed would ever be seen watching.

My roommates and I never missed an episode.

It was--and perhaps still is--the best of bad TV. Classic soap opera schlock in an outrageous fashion era, with frame after frame of big hair, big diamonds, shoulder pads, ruffled tuxedo shirts, and silk breast pocket handkerchiefs. It helped that it was set in the locale of conspicuous consumption at the moment America was poised to embark on its own era of conspicuous consumption.

Did Americans love greedy, scheming, corrupt capitalists bent on depleting the planet's oil reserves? We must have. How else does one explain the past 30 years of U.S. fiscal policy?

But it was also the cast and characters. Larry Hagman played the villainous J.R. with just the right hint of irony. He was evil, to be sure, but there was also a smile and wink implied at the end of every line. Linda Grey was superb as Sue Ellen Ewing, J.R.'s long suffering alcoholic wife who dressed in couture and somehow managed to make the DT's look elegant. Also worth noting were J.R.'s various paramours. A lengthy list that included a former Stepford Wife (and cast member of Gilligan's Island), a Bond girl, a Miss USA, and a Ford Model. It seemed at the time that all the talent wanted to get into bed with good ol' J.R.

Then there were the over the top plots. A shooting that had the entire country on edge during the rerun season. Annual Ewing Barbecues and Oil Barons' Balls that culminated in either a corporate takeover or a brawl, or at the very least a few drinks tossed in some faces. Big gaudy weddings where the attendees collectively held their breath when the preacher asked if "anyone has just cause to believe these two should not be married." Calamitous pregnancies that were rushed to emergency rooms where hunky doctors asked distraught husbands, "If it comes down to me having to make a choice." Kidnappings, nervous breakdowns, bouts of amnesia, and hotheads barging into offices with the secretaries running behind saying, "I'm sorry, sir I tried to stop him." Awesome.

Even when it was at its worst it was good. Who can forget that disastrous "it was all a dream" device employed in Season 10 to resurrect Patrick Duffy as Bobby Ewing? Universally panned, the bad plot only served to draw bigger publicity via continual spoofing. The best example being the finale of Newhart when Dick (played by Bob Newhart) is knocked unconscious outside of his Vermont inn then, in the next scene, wakes up next to Suzanne Pleshette on the set of The Bob Newhart Show.

Linda Grey as Sue Ellen

My roommates and I claimed we never took Dallas seriously. It's true we laughed our asses off most weeks. But I admit I got sucked in now and then. How could I not be sucked in when Sue Ellen, disgusted with her husband's philandering, secretly bought a lingerie company. Knowing of J.R.'s aversion to "trashy" women, she then deviously employed his current mistress as the company pinup girl. -- I should mention that Sue Ellen also had her own string of male paramours that included an Armani model and Chippendale dancer. -- This was a world away from a BYU singles' dance.


In real life, Larry Hagman was a family man, married to his wife Maj for 59 years. He was a member of the Peace and Freedom Party and an advocate for solar power, the legalization of marijuana and other left-leaning causes.

With Henry Fonda in Fail Safe

He also played rolls outside of the series, Dallas. He starred in I Dream of Jeannie opposite Barbara Eden, of course, but he also gave a fantastic performance as the president's Russian interpreter in the film, Fail Safe. After Dallas, he did more impressive work in films such as JFK and Primary Colors. He was in the midst of filming a sequel to Dallas when he died in Dallas, Texas on Friday, November 23, 2012. At his bedside were his wife and his family, also Linda Grey and Patrick Duffy.

Larry Hagman said that the real success of Dallas was that more people now associate Dallas, Texas with the television series than with the Kennedy assassination. Likewise, there are pundits who claim that Dallas was so popular in Eastern Europe that it led to the fall of the Berlin Wall. I'm not sure that Dallas deserves much credit for ending the Cold War, any more than Dallas, Texas deserves much blame for the Kennedy assassination.

But Dallas sure contributed to the future liberation of this former BYU coed. And I agree with my devout friends. Larry Hagman would have made a lousy Mormon.

Although I'd have paid big money to see him play Satan in the temple movie.

May he rest in peace.

The FAQ's on Coke and Pepsi

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Mitchell Knightly, President of the Abbottsville stake
Subject: Getting it right on Coke and Pepsi

Recently there has been some public debate over whether or not the LDS Church permits its members to drink caffeinated soft drinks. I recently read this thoughtful explanation in the FAQ section on a church approved website:

Word of Wisdom FAQ's

What is the Word of Wisdom?
--The Word of Wisdom is an inspired "ahead of its time" revelation from the Lord that has protected the members' health for generations. 

Do Mormons take the entire revelation literally?
--Of course.

Do the Mormons avoid eating "too much meat" as instructed in the Word of Wisdom?
--Well, maybe not that literally.

How about the part about "moderation in all things?"
--Ditto.

May they use alcohol or tobacco for "medicinal purposes" as the revelation states?
--Not unless they want to be damned.

What part of the Word of Wisdom do Mormons obey?
--Members abstain from tobacco, alcohol and hot drinks.

How do the Mormons interpret "hot drinks?
--"Hot drinks" are taken to mean tea and coffee.

So caffeinated drinks?
--No, the Word of Wisdom says nothing about caffeine. It only prohibits "hot drinks."

Are Mormons allowed to drink caffeinated soft drinks?
--Yes. Soft drinks are cold.

Then iced coffee and iced tea are allowed?
--Only if they're laced with high fructose corn syrup.

If the issue is temperature and not caffeine, why is it that I see so many Mormons drinking hot chocolate?
--Probably because it's so fattening.

Why don't the Brethren issue a statement saying unequivocally that caffeinated soft drinks are permitted?
--The Brethren don't want to say that caffeinated soft drinks are okay because that would sound as though they approve. On the other hand, if they say they're off limits, it might imply that the Brethren don't let the members make a single decision for themselves.

So caffeinated soft drinks are in league with PG movies, colored dress shirts, bermuda shorts and registering to vote as an Independent?
--Yes. In fact caffeinated soft drinks are available for sale in the restaurants at the Joseph Smith Memorial Building and at The Lion House.

But not at BYU?
No. There's no demand at BYU.

Why is that?
Because if a BYU student were ever to be seen drinking a caffeinated Coke, he would be judged by his classmates, shunned by his ward, and never be able to get a another date.

If you would like to stop receiving these emails, we'll assume you're one of those Mormons who parades around in bermuda shorts.

Super Fun Ward Transvaginal Ultrasound Activity!

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Brother J. "Bull" Barton, Ward Preparedness Specialist
Subject: Ward Preparedness Update

Due to the decline of modest dress at BYU, increased chatter over female reproductive rights, and the scurrilous anti-Mormons in the media who claim Romney isn't a "regular guy," I have decided to maintain the Ward Threat Level at RED.

As always, every ward member should have on hand a 1 year supply of food, a hazmat suit, at least 2 handguns, 4 rolls of duct tape, and a gallon of consecrated oil. Also scriptures, the Ensign, dominoes, Yahtzee!, Twister, and other diversions to help kill time in the bunker.

Additionally, because we reside in that infamous hotbed of college-educated snobs, otherwise known as the 9th Circuit, we must take extreme measures to protect our way of life. The feminists, gays, and intellectuals have us surrounded, and they are up to their usual mischief: looting, murdering, masturbating,  sending their kids to college, and advocating that a woman should be in charge of her body.

Desperate times call for desperate actions. For this reason, I have issued the following order:

Every female over the age of 14 is to report to the ward cultural hall this Saturday at 17:00 for a mandatory vaginal sonogram ... 

JUST IN CASE!

(The High Priest Quorum should arrive 10 minutes ahead of time to be trained on the machines.)

Sisters, we regret any inconvenience this may cause you. But, for the sake of your dignity, we must insist that you strip from the waist down, slide your feet into the stirrups, spread your thighs, and submit to our Priesthood Authority. We've only your best interests at heart.

Afterward, there will be a super-yummy ward potluck catered by the Relief Society.

This concludes this Ward Preparedness Update.

Your fellow patriot,
Bull Barton

If you would like to stop receiving these emails, we'll assume you're one of those snobs.


Also, don't forget that chanson is still collecting nominations for X-Mormon of the Year!

Are You A Real Mormon?

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Former Stake President Stan Taylor
Subject: My Education Week

My first day at BYU Education Week began with a recitation by Brother Maddox who has committed the entire Book of Mormon to memory. After that a BYU history professor taught me that every prominent U.S. statesman was secretly a Mormon. Next I heard from Sister JayNeen Sorenson who claimed to love the Gospel, but made living it sound like a prolonged rectal exam. I broke for an uninspiring meal at the Cougareat, then listened to a millennialist whose predictions on global warming made Al Gore's documentary seem comforting. Finally I sat through a fiery political screed delivered by a fanatical kook who also happened to co-author the Republican mid-term platform.

In other words, it was business as usual at BYU. Same stale syllabus. Same stale teachers. Same stale lessons on what rather than how to think.

Then after viewing an agonizingly insipid production entitled, Annie Get Your Garments, I heard a voice from my past call to me in the lobby. He was bald now, and rounder in the middle, but the banana shaped birth mark on his cheek was a dead give-away.

"I'll be darned, if it isn't cousin Warren."

"Stan Taylor, I haven't seen you since Grandma died." 

Visits with my cousins at Grandma's house in St. George were among my fondest childhood memories, but not because of Warren. I passed most of my time with Warren's sister, Elsie. After hundreds of attempts, I never could beat her at chess.

"How's that chess champion sister of yours?"

Warren shook his head. "Elsie's not with us anymore."

"She died?"

"She's down in Hildale/Colorado City," he whispered.

"She's a polygamist?" I cried.

The people around us turned and stared. Warren grabbed my arm, pulled me into the corner, and begged me to lower my voice. I looked around at the crowd of strangers.

"What's the matter, Warren, do you know any of these people?"

"I know that they're Real Mormons, not . . . what you just said."

"Real Mormons? What the devil does that mean?" 

 "Well, you know what bad press we've gotten, what with those weirdos down there in Colorado City, plus all the ex-Mormons and their bitter "anti" websites."

"One of those weirdos is your sister."

He handed me a business card. "I've started my own pro-Mormon website, you know, to educate."

I looked at the card, then at him, then back at the card.

RealMormons.org 

a place for common everyday Mormons 

The next morning I packed my suitcase and checked out of my motel. As a retired LDS Institute director, I was no longer required to attend all of BYU Education Week. Besides, I'd had my fill of Real Mormons. I loaded up the car and headed toward Hildale/Colorado City.

I drove down I-15 past a string of Mormon communities, their LDS chapels visible from the road. Nowadays the meetinghouses had shiny white steeples perched awkwardly atop their roofs, evidence of the Church's attempt to appear mainstream. Ironically, around the same time the LDS Church invested in these decorations, they cut the budget for the ward janitorial staffs. Typical of the Brethren. Use all the resources on the Church's outward appearance, and none on the people within its ranks. 

The population dwindled as I drove, and the landscape grew more barren. It felt quiet and comforting, like the corner of Grandma's house where Elsie and I played chess. Finally I came to my destination, the tiny hamlet at the foot of Mount Canaan.

Like Faulkner said, "The past isn't dead, it isn't even past." 

I stopped in The Merry Wives Cafe and ordered an uninspiring meal. The conversation buzzed around me. A man on my left quoted the Pearl of Great Price from memory. Behind me some FLDS brethren discussed the attributes of Abraham Lincoln's plural wives. A group of women claimed to love living the principle, then talked as though plural marriage was one long colonoscopy. Yet another group spoke wistfully of the approaching Armageddon.

When the waitress brought my food, I asked her about my cousin.

"You might be talking about Grandma Elsie," she replied. "Write down your name and I'll call her and see if she knows you."

The homes were partially constructed and poorly engineered

A half hour later I was on the road to my cousin's house for another game of chess. All the way a white Ford F-350 hugged my bumper. I found the address, parked, and walked back to my escort's truck. A hard-eyed man with a crew cut rolled down his window. I smiled at him.

"I'm here to visit my cousin Elsie."

His face softened. "You give her my best," he said, and drove off.

Elsie received me in her attic room at a table set with a chess board and two glasses of homemade lemonade. A Book of Mormon sat on a neighboring shelf. The same edition sat on the shelf in my home, as it did in the home of some ex-Mormons whose party I attended recently.

The game went as it always had. Elsie made her moves with swiftness and authority, then waited impatiently while I hemmed and hawed over mine.

"So Warren told you where I was," she said.

"Saw him last night."

"Oh yeah? Does he still have that mark on his face that looks like a penis?"

"'Fraid so. Tell me, Elsie, why did you leave the mainstream church?"

"I didn't leave it, it left me. What with all their changing to look like everyone else. Have you seen those infernal steeples they've slapped on their buildings?"

"Yup."

"Might as well be Baptists. Bet my brother Warren thinks it's all just dandy."

"He has a new website." I gave her the card.

"Common, everyday Mormons. HA! There's nothing common about me," she said, then slid her queen across the board. "Checkmate." 

If you would like to stop receiving these e-mails, we'll send you the DVD version of Brother Maddox's recitation of The Book of Mormon.

  

BYU Education Week Is Busy, Busy, Busy!

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Millie Loomis, self-appointed ward media and culture critic
Subject: A typical day at BYU Education Week

Earlier this month I returned to my beloved alma mater for Education Week. I was proud to find that BYU is still the intellectual mecca I remembered. In fact, the scholarly offerings were so plentiful, that I barely had time to eat, sleep or bathe. But then, if there's one thing I've learned after four years at  BYU, it's how to survive. I packed some deodorant, shot myself up with bee venom, and headed for class. This was the schedule of my first day:


8:30-9:25: Book of Mormon Marathon 
I arrived at the Jesse Knight Building to hear the recitation of Brother G. LaRay Maddox, PhD, who has committed the entire Book of Mormon to memory. I stayed for the first couple chapters of 1 Nephi. 


9:30-10:25: Ethnic Dance 

Sparky McKay and I cut a mean rug around a Mexican hat. He was surprisingly spry for his eighty years. 




10:30-11:25: Our Latter-day Heritage    
We discussed the secret meeting between George Washington and the Three Nephites, the celestial attributes of Abraham Lincoln's plural wives, and Elder Paul H. Dunn's role in the crafting of the Marshall Plan. 


11:30-12:25: Devotional Address 
Brother Elijah Hatch's talk was entitled, "Don't Go to Bed Without The Brethren: a guide for newlyweds of all ages."


12:30-1:25: How Living the Gospel Brings Us Joy 

Sister JayNeen Sorenson explained why cleaning the ward toilets makes her happy, how tithing settlement can be a hoot, and that guilt actually triggers the release of endorphins.




1:30-2:25: The Reality of Global Warming
According to Brother Parley Richards, PhD, the "inconvenient truth" is that the Millennium is nigh, the planet's destined to go up in smoke, and this whole "save the earth" business is a waste of time. We drank quart sized cream sodas out of non-recyclable containers, tossed the plastic out on the lawn, and gave each other high-fives. 


2:30-3:25: The Place for Humor in the Church

Brother Homer Dixon taught that out of respect for The Brethren, and in the spirit of obedience, we should avoid all humor, except for jokes about cutesy little kids, ditsy housewives, and silly people - like feminists, gays, and so-called intellectuals.


 3:30-4:25: Intimacy in Marriage

As always, Brother Antonio Firenze Smoot drew a large female crowd who, from the looks of their complexions, seemed to be suffering from a familiar menopausal symptom. Afterwards he signed copies of Tall and Tawny Studs, where he has made his cover debut.


4:30-5:25: Combating the Fiery Darts of Satan -- a guide to the Internet

In his signature no holds barred style, Brother Rock McConkie took us on a terrifying behind the scenes cyber-tour. I've now blocked everything from my computer that isn't sponsored by the LDS Church, Glenn Beck, or NuSkin.


5:30-6:55 Book of Mormon Marathon
Back at the Jesse Knight Building Brother Maddox was still going strong. But the audience had lapsed into varying states of catatonia. I nudged the person beside me to attention and sat through the end of 2 Nephi.


7:00-8:55 Brigham Young University presents: Annie Get Your Garments!
Feisty BYU coed, Annie Kimball, had no interest in dating guys, especially when she could lick them all over the Wilkinson Center ping-pong table. Then she met hunky Rulon Featherstone, a man so thick with pheromones he left hundreds of damp, limp sisters strewn along his path. He found Annie in the library and tried to flirt. She moved to another carrel. He stalked her to the MARB and begged for a date. She turned up her pert little nose. Finally, he proposed via the card section at LaVell Edwards Stadium. She refused to marry him. Then the bishop called her into his office and told her she had to.

9:00-10:55 Single Adult Dance
We bunny-hopped the night away.






11:00-11:55 Patriotic Rally

Popular Salt Lake talk show host, T. Golden Packer, delivered a fiery speech imploring us to gird our loins, rally behind the faith, and prepare ourselves for the impending Armageddon, so that we can rid society of the fanatical religious nut jobs who want to spoil our way of life.


12:00-
I returned to the Jesse Knight building to find Brother Maddox beginning the book of Mosiah. I hopped on one foot to stay awake, then collapsed in the corner.


It was pedal to the medal for the rest of the week, and my body is still weak from the exhaustion. My testimony, however, is stronger than ever. How grateful I am to be a member of the one and only true church and a graduate of the Lord's university. 


Where else but BYU could I have learned all of this?


If you would like to stop receiving these e-mails, check this box.

An Ex-Mormon In Paris

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward, and the seven wonderful followers of my blog
From: Donna Banta
Subject: A BYU alum finally sees Rodin and other things

Friday, May 21, 2010

Around 9:00 AM
Paris, France.

Mark and I had breakfast at our hotel, then walked a few blocks to the Musee Rodin, housed in the former Hotel Biron. It was a glorious day, the garden was just coming into bloom and boasted a stunning view of the Eiffel Tower. Seeing Rodin's work was a treat for a pair of disgruntled BYU grads shamed by their alma mater's censorship of a Rodin exhibition in the Fall of 1997. After requesting, authorizing and paying for the exhibit, BYU decided to ban four nude sculptures immediately before the exhibition opened on October 27, 1997. One of the censored sculptures was The Kiss. A Sunstone Magazine article quoted the following:


An AP story, which was picked up nationally by newspapers such as USAToday, quoted [BYU Art Museum Director Campbell] Gray as saying,"We have felt that the nature of those works are such that the viewer will be concentrating on them in a way that is not good for us."


That same day the Church owned Deseret News further quoted Gray as saying that the excluded pieces did not convey a positive message about either Rodin or the exhibition. "Nudity isn't the issue, it's more the latter [lack of dignity] ."


The Salt Lake Tribune also quoted the museum director in an enigmatic statement: [The decision to exclude] "is more a process of trying to ensure that the integrity of the exhibit is maintained." The Tribune also noted that Gray denied that censorship is occurring and quoted him further: "Censorship connotes a sense of fear. If we had a sense of fear. we wouldn't do this because of the media attention we are drawing." Read the full article here.

Another of the censored sculptures, Monument to Balzac, was described by then BYU President Merrill J. Bateman as a "nude male in the act of self-gratification," an interpretation that drew a slew of incredulous reactions from serious art critics, as well as a bunch of mean-spirited sarcastic bile from ex-Mormons like me.

Among the many ironies of this idiotic episode was that patrons of the BYU exhibit could purchase books that included pictures of The Kiss and the other Rodin nudes at the BYU museum bookstore. Moreover, BYU art students were allowed to study the censored works in their classrooms, but not view the real things when they were on their campus.

So here I am, at long last, viewing The Kiss:

Guess I should have studied with these guys instead of at BYU:

Parisian Primary Grade Students Preparing to Sketch Rodin's "The Age of Bronze."

Around noon
Paris, France

We lunched at a sidewalk cafe across from the Musee Rodin. To-die-for goat cheese salads, a carafe of rose wine, one raspberry tart, and two cafe cremes. Then we strolled around Paris until it was time to leave for our flight.


                                                                  

Around 10:00 PM
New York, New York

We'd come through customs at JFK, freshened up in our Mid-town hotel room and were now strolling the streets of Manhattan. The night was clear and warm enough for just shirtsleeves. My past visits to New York have been uniformly pleasant, and entirely absent of New Yorkers' fabled rudeness. That was until tonight:  (Caution advised.)

The LDS temple's proximity to Lincoln Center seemed, to say the least, disturbing. From now on, my image of sophisticated Manhattanites attending a performance of The American Ballet Theater, or enjoying the talents of Yo Yo Ma will be overshadowed by the scenario playing out across the street. That is, the Mormons, dressed up in Pillsbury dough boy hats and green satin aprons, exchanging secret handshakes, waving their arms around, then retiring for "celestial" meditation in a room that resembles the lobby of the Sacramento Radisson. I must admit, Gotham does have its share of kooks and crazies.

We abandoned the LDS temple for dinner at a sidewalk cafe. Seated around us were couples engaged in discussion about the plays and performances they'd just come from. Mercifully, we heard no mention of the Patriarchal Grip. Then we strolled past Central Park to our hotel, marveling at having viewed the Empire State Building and the Eiffel Tower on the same day.                                  
                                                                                                      
12:45 AM (Technically May 22)
New York, New York

The bar at the hotel was open for 15 more minutes, so we ordered a couple of martinis. Wow! Mark and I closed out a bar for the first time since . . . oh yeah, we went to BYU.

Because her last e-mail made no mention of the Musee Rodin, I've sent Sister Millie Loomis a complete photo gallery of Rodin's nude sculpture.

LDS Church Public Affairs Wants YOU!

To: Abbottsville Stake
From: Dennis Newsome, Stake First Counselor and advisor to the Stake Public Affairs Council
Subject: Members needed for LDS Public Affairs

We Mormons have taken some hits lately. First the Romney presidential campaign drew a barrage of questions that stumped LDS leaders, embarrassed members, and rendered the former governor incapable of composing a straight answer. At the same time, we were persecuted by left-wing extremists who claimed that our inspired leaders in Utah had no business telling Californians whom they could marry. Then Hollywood produced a film that exposed the Mormons as the perpetrators of the Mountain Meadows Massacre. -- This after years of the Church successfully blaming the Indians. Add to that, HBO created the hit show, Big Love, based on the false premise that polygamy has been practiced in Utah, and that the Mormons have had something to do with it.

In the wake of this firestorm of negative and unfair press, the Brethren have humbly and prayerfully discussed how the LDS Church can improve its relations with the non-Mormon community, and soften its image to the public. Their solution? Pass the responsibility on to the members, of course. Hence the creation of the exciting new Church Public Affairs Committee. That's right, brothers and sisters, thanks to your inspired leaders, now every member is a publicist!

President Knightly and I are in the beginning stages of staffing our Stake Public Affairs Council. In the meantime, here are some things each and every one of you can do.

Start with your neighbors.
When you see your neighbor in his front yard, don't just ignore him as usual. Say "hi," make small talk, invite him to your house for a church approved, yet sophisticated beverage. (Fizzy water with a lime wedge is nice, as is an attractive service of herbal tea.) Then steer the conversation to church promoting topics, such as your monogamous marriage, or the King James Version of the Bible. Be aware that non-members make friends differently than members, that is, over a period of time, based on common interests, and with no hidden agenda. Quickly find out what he likes to do, learn to do whatever that is, and don't invite him out to church. (Yet.) Also, next time you borrow his power saw, return it.

Share your talents.

We all received gifts in the Pre-Existence, right? Now is the time to tell the world. Don't worry about developing a real talent. Fortunately today's market no longer requires that. Anything that will land you a spot on reality TV should do the trick, such as singing, dancing, an ability to eat things that turn people's stomachs, or a personality so shallow and vapid that others will find you amusing.

Prepare yourself for interviews with the press.
As we become more visible in society, there will be the inevitable inquiries from the media. In anticipation of this, the church has comprised a list of approved journalists who respect our beliefs, share our values, and are not obsessed with the facts. But even the most sympathetic interviewer may not be able to translate our jargon to a non-member audience. What means one thing to us, may mean an entirely different thing to the world. Memorize the following substitutions:
ward  --  local congregation
bishop  --  local ecclesiastical leader
elder  --  19 year old boy
the Lord's university  --  BYU
the Lord's senator  --  Orrin Hatch
the anti-Christ  --  Secretary Clinton
whiny, bitter ingrates -- former Mormons
truth  --  opinion
revelation  --  opinion
testimony  --  opinion
persecution  --  opinion
apologetics  --  lies
prophet, seer, and revelator  --  chief executive officer
church  --  corporation


If you would like to stop receiving these e-mails, we'll assume you need a translator.