I'm Happy Because I'm a Mormon!

Years ago the most annoying guy in our ward used to stand at the pulpit during Testimony Meeting and advise us on how we could better spread the Gospel. Some of his suggestions:

"I dropped by the bishop's workplace this week and saw that he kept a couple of Books of Mormon on his office shelf." (Bishop's face beams.) "I thought to myself, what are those books doing on his shelf? He should have passed them out by now." (Bishop's face falls.)

"The other day I was standing in a crowded elevator at work when a colleague looked my way and exclaimed, 'Gee Clem, you sure look happy today' - to which I responded - 'I'm always happy, my friend, because I'm a Mormon."

I could go on, but you get it. This fellow evidently believed that, regardless of our personal opinions, we should be bouncy and enthusiastic Mormon sales reps every waking moment, in every possible setting, without regard for professionalism, appropriateness, or sincerity.

In other words, make asses of ourselves.

I've often wondered where this irrepressible boob is now. Working for church PR perhaps? I can't be sure but this looks a lot like his handiwork:

So there you have it, Gentle Readers. It's not enough that the rank and file have payed their tithing, scrubbed the ward toilets, and are now poised to sit through yet another mind-numbingly boring and painfully self-righteous conference this weekend. They are also being pressured to log onto their Instagram/Facebook/Pinterest/Twitter/Whatever - PLEASE not Linkedin - and tell the world: I'm always happy, my friends, because I'm a Mormon.

In other words, make … well, you get it.

I Have A Really Good Excuse!

It's a short blog this week, but I have a really good excuse. I've been visiting my adorable granddaughters!

She just can't sit still for the camera.

Neither can Grammy.

Thank god the General Authorities in Salt Lake stepped up to the plate this week and wrote the satire for me.

Stung by the persecution they suffered in the press last October when they denied women admission to the semi-annual General Priesthood Session, the Brethren made the brilliant decision to not only ban women, but also reporters--providing this blogger as well as at least one member of the press with the kind of high satire we could never have invented ourselves.

Honestly, what would bloggers like me do without them?

Then famous funny man, Dallin Oaks, used his time at the Priesthood Session pulpit to assure his exclusively male audience that women have authority!

Not to be outdone by his elders, 62-year-old Neil L. Andersen, the youngest Mormon GA, reminded the faithful that the church is still adamantly opposed to gay marriage--prompting Jeffrey R. Holland to make the following hysterical observation:

"Unfortunately, messengers of divinely mandated commandments are often no more popular today than they were anciently . . . and because their words at times seem harsh, LDS leaders are accused of being "provincial, patriarchal, bigoted, unkind, narrow, outmoded and elderly."

--Well, that almost covers it. Throw in homophobic and he nails it. 

Do you see what I mean Gentle Readers? Not even Colbert could come up with this stuff.

And how does Elder Holland view the likes of us?

"...if people want any gods at all, they want them to be gods who do not demand much, comfortable gods, who not only don’t rock the boat but don’t even row it, gods who pat us on the head, make us giggle, then tell us to run along and pick marigolds."

--Oh . . . I'm giggling all right.

Stay At Home, Sisters

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Bishop Paul Zimmerman
Subject: Priesthood Meeting Protest

It's come to our attention that some members of the Abbottsville Fourth Ward intend to travel to Salt Lake City to attend an upcoming protest. Before packing your bags, please read the following missive from Church Public Affairs to the event organizers.

Dear Sisters,

The Brethren have held some wonderful conversations over recent years relative to women in the Church and the invaluable contributions we make. The recent changes you have seen, like lowering the missionary age for sisters and encouraging them to dress attractively, serve as examples and were facilitated by the efforts of many extraordinarily fine looking LDS women around the world. 

After aggressively surveying their wives, daughters and secretaries, the Brethren have concluded that women in the Church, by a very large majority, do not share your advocacy for priesthood ordination for women and consider that position to be extremely unladylike. Declaring such an objective to be non-negotiable, as you have done, actually detracts from the helpful discussions that the Brethren have held as they seek to dictate the thoughts, concerns, and hopes of women inside and outside of the Church. 

The priesthood session of General Conference is designed to strengthen men and boys as they receive specific instructions about their stewardship over women; therefore we are unable to fulfill your request for tickets. You are certainly welcome to view the live broadcast of the priesthood session on lds.org, the Mormon Channel or BYUtv, at home where you belong--and dressed in any appropriately modest clothing. Even pants.

Your organization has again publicized its intention to demonstrate on Temple Square during the April 5 priesthood session. Activist events like this detract from the sacred environment of Temple Square and the spirit of harmonious patriarchy sought at General Conference. Please reconsider.

If you feel you must come and demonstrate we ask that you do so in the free speech zone we've set up a short twelve blocks away from Temple Square, conveniently located near the Harmons Neighborhood Grocery where many of you choose to shop. (See attached map.)

Kindest regards,

Kimberly Baker
Wife of an official church spokesman

If you would like to stop receiving these emails, we ask that you make your request in the aforementioned free speech zone. (See attached map.)

Also check out another great review for The Girls from Fourth Ward, this time from talented blogger, Jono! Read it here!

Two Conferences, Both Not Alike In Dignity

dig - ni - ty

noun

1. The state or quality of being worthy of honor or respect.

In Mormonworld October is the month for two conferences.

The first is the LDS Semi-Annual General Conference. On the surface, it exudes the appearance of dignity: envision a sea of distinguished white men in white shirts.

Only once they open their mouths they're stripped of any semblance of dignity--all the way down to their holy temple garments. It never fails. Every General Conference what the men in the magic underpants say is sometimes folksy, always guilt-inducing, basically bullshit, and, at the same time, over-the-top boring.

As my regular readers know, I had the good fortune to be in London during this October's 7 1/2 hour snore-fest. So I missed the whole damn thing. But from what I understand this year was no different. Evidently only two speakers managed to rouse the faithful from their rem sleep:


The unintentionally hilarious Dieter Uchtdorf who admitted that LDS Church leaders had made a few mistakes (presumably referring to eensy boo-boo's like polygamy and the Mountain Meadows Massacre) and then urged skeptics to "doubt their doubts." (Whatever the hell that means.)

AND

The intentionally nasty Dallin Oaks who pompously insisted that even though gay marriage is legal it is still immoral.

Shakespeare couldn't have said it better.

The second of two conferences is the Ex-Mormon Conference in Salt Lake City. I was present for that and can report first hand. On the surface, it did not exude the appearance of dignity.

I spent a good part of it playing hooky with my pals at the registration desk.

I got this amazing breadboard made by InsanaD's husband.

Also we had a little too much fun with some missionaries I found at Deseret Book.--Leave it to the Mormons to make "action figures" with no moveable parts. We did our best to loosen them up.

Right off we got them drunk.

Ensuring these are the best two years of their lives.

Also there was some flagrant self-promotion--Yes, of course, I brought my new book!

I also won a very cool book in the door prize drawing!

These are true messengers!

But here's the thing, what the Ex-Mormon Conference lacked in decorum, it made up for in substance. What its speakers shared was sometimes folksy, never guilt-inducing, totally true, and, at the same time, over-the-top interesting. For example:

Micah McAllister's heartfelt presentation about his excellent book, Exit Strategy: Leaving Mormonism with your Dignity Intact. (There's that word again.)

D. William Johnson's panel discussion of his "I Am an Ex-Mormon" videos--a presentation so moving that at it's end, members of the audience rushed forward with cash donations to help him continue the project.

Richard Packham's two excellent talks that were, at times, intentionally hilarious.

Chris Johnson's fascinating insights into possible sources for the Book of Mormon.

Kay Burningham's speech, "Are Mormon Leaders Above the Law?"

And beyond that, the hours of scintillating conversation amongst the thoughtful and intelligent attendees.

Which of the two October conferences possessed the state or quality of being worthy of honor or respect? I'm with the Ex-Mormons. We may not wear white dress shirts anymore, and we've nothing like the magic underpants. But our dignity is intact. Also we're allowed moveable parts.

Darn, I Missed General Conference!

Mark and I were in London last weekend, where Season Four of Downton Abbey actually took precedent over the first worldwide broadcast of the LDS General Priesthood Session.

Coldly cut off from the one and only true church, I had to wait until I got home to hear the inspired words of the Lord's anointed. Of course my primary sources were exmormons here in the states--most of whom seemed more interested in my sneak peak at Season Four of Downton Abbey. 

Here are the few snippets of the 183rd Semi-Annual General Conference that I managed to gather:

• The feminist sisters from "Ordain Women" were gently turned away from the General Priesthood Session when the Brethren blocked their entrance with a garbage truck. 
• Singles, divorcees, and gays were treated to yet another scolding from Dallin Oaks.
• President Dieter Uchtdorf humbly admitted that LDS Church leaders had "made a few mistakes" over the years, evidently with the hope that this would inspire the feminists, singles, divorcees, and gays (etc.) to come back to church.
• No word on whether they ever moved the garbage truck. 

Meanwhile, I was in London, surrounded by an infinitely more civilized, sophisticated, and welcoming society. Whenever I visit their wonderful city, I am amazed by how these tactful, genteel, and proper people are so adept at getting straight to the point. For example:

And then there's the theater!

According to the Daily Mail, Prince Harry recently took in this hit show in the West End. Isn't that smashing?

My next challenge: figuring out where to escape during the April conference.

Sorry President Uchtdorf, Carson's a way bigger rock star than you'll ever be.

Boyd K. Packer Rewrites The Beatitudes

To: Abbottsville Stake
From: Mitchell Knightly, President of the Abbottsville Stake
Subject: Matthew 5:3-12 -- the inspired version

Dear Abbottsville Stake,

Recently, the alarming display of tolerance toward same-sex marriage coupled with the unprecedented militaristic feminism displayed by a radical fringe in the Relief Society, inspired President Boyd K. Packer to declare in General Conference last weekend that tolerance can be a vice. As a follow up to that pivotal address, President Packer has taken it upon himself to rewrite the Beatitudes from Jesus' famous Sermon on the Mount, so that they may be of more use to church members today, as well as to future General Conference attendees and viewers.

• Blessed are the straight white men:  for theirs is the stand at General Conference.
• Blessed are those who must be celibate: for they may find their only fulfillment in General Conference.
• Blessed are the women who know their place: for they might be allowed to pray in General Conference.
• Blessed are the people of color: for they shall be made pure and delightsome; until then, they may sing in the choir at General Conference--in camera-friendly positions.
• Blessed are those who are cheerful, empty-minded and of good pedigree: for they shall fill the front rows of General Conference.
• Blessed are the obedient: for a few of them might get tickets to General Conference.
• Blessed are the righteous and narrow-minded who are persecuted for intolerance's sake: for theirs is the pulpit in General Conference.
• Blessed are ye, when feminists shall revile you, and gays shall persecute you, and intellectuals shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in General Conference: for so persecuted they, the other old white men, which were before you.

If you would like to stop receiving these emails, we'll forward you President Packer's entire list of the individuals he can not tolerate--condensed into a 175MB PDF file.

Another General Conference Feast

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Donna Banta
Subject: General Conference was super yummy!

Last October, I took a trip to Utah to visit friends and family, take in the beauty of Sundance Canyon, attend another awesome Ex-Mormon Conference, and visit the prestigious food storage mecca, Shelf Reliance, where I purchased a freeze dried entree for a future potluck at my house. Since the #10 size can had a 5 year shelf life, there was no rush to set a date. So we waited for the obvious occasion to roll around: The 182nd Semi-Annual Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, held (appropriately) on April 1.

It was the perfect pairing! Think of it this way:

Movie -- Coke and popcorn.

Ball game -- Beer and hot dogs.

General Conference -- Jell-O and dehydrated chicken flakes.

Just add water -- or snack on it dry!

Ali and Eric brought the Jell-O!

Now the world would have you believe that preparing a chicken dinner means going all the way to the store for hoity toity ingredients with virtually no shelf life:

Only available at high end supermarkets

Then roasting it for over an hour in a hot oven:

Tastes okay tonight, but what about 5 years from now?

But thanks to the staff in my Post-Mormon Test Kitchen, we've learned that it's much easier to grab a can from your food storage, add water, and, in no time flat have this:

Delicious for a decade.

But wait there's more! After dinner, we went on to dessert. Our pastry chef, Sarah, prepared two batches of brownies: one using hot water and a freeze-dried brownie mix; the other using a "from scratch" recipe she found in that venerable academic review, BYU Magazine. 

She conducted a blind taste test:

Sarah was way scientific.

Guess what?! The freeze dried batch won.

(More proof that girls don't need to go to college.)

For good measure, we did have conference on in the background. But everyone agreed that the 182nd was a major snore-fest. We concluded that the Brethren were doing their best to avoid interfering with the Romney Campaign. (If that's the case, does it mean they actually know how obnoxious their opinions are?)

In addition to crazy GA's, we also discussed crazy Mormon exes, crazy Mormon parents, crazy Mormon siblings, crazy Mormon friends, and crazy Mormon ex-friends. Also the long suffering nice Mormons who put up with us, and the sneaky and ingenious Mormons we admire. For example, the girl whose mom and dad would only pay for BYU. Instead of caving, she took a year off, holed up in her room in her parents' house, and earned $ for "gentile college" by doing Playboy webcam videos. -- Talk about self-reliance!

We also reflected on how happy we are to have Sundays free in the great city of San Francisco. And we enjoyed an array of worldly beverages and damned good food -- along with light-mindedness, loud laughter, and evil speaking of the self appointed.

In closing, it was indeed a spiritual feast.

General Conference Rocks!

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Donna Banta
Subject: My conference weekend

Back when I was a Mormon, I hated conference weekend. Mostly because we had to get all dressed up and drag our little kids to the church to watch the thing on closed circuit TV. I did everything I could to get out of it, wheedling my then devout husband with excuses. "Nobody really watches conference on Saturday, right?" or "We can read all the talks next month in The Ensign, right?" Whether or not I got my way depended on the convincingness of my argument combined with how much the children and I had worn down Mark's patience.

More often than not we stayed home. But I did sit through some winner sessions. I remember being told to avoid symposia and not to say prayers to Heavenly Mother. I recall a bizarre talk by Boyd K. Packer that began with him flying into a rage over the notion of a man baking a pie. Also, I'll never forget a mind-numbingly boring analogy from some garrulous old coot who went on about how he used to straighten out bent nails with his dad's hammer. I don't remember who gave the talk, only that the nail story droned on for the length of a bible but never arrived at a point. --Meanwhile, the A/C in the chapel was overtaxed, my pantyhose were sagging, and we had run out of Cheerios for the kids.

In those days I would have done anything to get out of watching conference. A root canal, a four hour mammogram, an unsedated colonoscopy, even a C-SPAN marathon.

But times have changed. Now, I look forward to conference! I was a little disorganized on Saturday, so I missed hearing Boyd K. Packer advise the faithful that the second coming was not imminent. (Damn! See what you miss when you aren't prepared?) But I did catch Bednar's talk about how young people should give up facebooking and tweeting for the far more scintillating online pastime, genealogy!

I snorted serious amounts of Pelegrino through my nose, then called out to Mark. "Honey, get in here, you're missing Bednar!"

"I'm not listening to that prick," he hollered back.

"But sweetheart, this is awesome. He's telling teenagers to look up the dead on their smart phones. Also his face is all pink and sweaty like he just googled his great-great aunt Gertrude and downloaded an image of her in her corset."

Mark escaped to the kitchen. I turned up the volume. A dick named Andersen was going on about multiplying and replenishing the earth.

"Oh my god, Mark you wouldn't believe it. This total blowhard just told a story about a guy who's looking at his sixth child -- a daughter -- just minutes after her birth, has an epiphany, then runs to the bedside of his recovering wife and tells her the Lord said He wants them to have a seventh child and it will be a boy!"

Mark stared back at me with a desperate expression, the same one he wore the time I was taking too long in Target and he had to fake a stroke to get me out of there. Thankfully he just said, I'm going to Joxer's for a beer, wanna come? Out of respect for his priesthood, I submitted.

Then Sunday rolled around and we got up early, put on nice clothes, and went to something way more special than Conference: a NorCal Post-Mormon party.

They offered a fine selection of beverages

This time Donavan and Scott opened up their house to us and served coffee made from beans they roasted themselves. Delicious. As was the Post-Mormon potluck fare that was refreshingly free of processed foods. Also Christina and Warren's mimosas were literally a revelation.

And, just because we're Ex-Mormons, doesn't mean we're not inspired.

• Donavan waxed poetic on the blessings of alcohol on an empty stomach. He also admitted that he left the church at around age 11, when he was kicked out of the "Tuesday afternoon thing." 
• Anagrammy shared how in Relief Society she learned to make "meat" by soaking the gluten out of bread dough in her washing machine, pounding it thin, slicing it into "cutlets," then soaking it in bouillon and passing it off as Swiss steak. (The kids ate it, the dog refused.)
• Warren and Christina couldn't understand all the weird looks they were getting when they visited Colorado City. That is until they remembered they were riding around in Christina's car with the license plate, WRNSGRL.
• Tyler asked, "Do you think Joseph Smith married all of those women because of sex, or was it a power thing?" To which I responded, "I think it was mostly about his dick."
• We all concluded that Packer's announcement about the last days was aimed at protecting Romney in the upcoming election, so that voters won't think he's a member of some crazy cult. (And who better to deliver the message than the craziest guy in the cult?)

I admit, I am a little sorry I missed Tad Callister's talk. He was in my hometown stake in Glendale, California. Back then he seemed like an articulate and intelligent person. However, from what I hear, his talk was an irrational, insane rant. So either I have a bad a memory, or a lifetime of service in the LDS Church has turned yet another potentially normal person into a garrulous old coot.

For that, and many other reasons, I am eternally grateful for Ex-Mormons. Also for mimosas.

Ward Threat Level Increase!

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward

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

No fair. I never get to have fun.

Due to the recent cancellation of Glenn Beck's TV show, increased chatter over same sex marriage, and the alarming number of LDS young people who want to have "too much fun," I have raised the Ward Threat Level to RED.


Every ward member is advised to have on hand a one year supply of food, a hazmat suit, at least 2 hand guns, 4 rolls of duct tape, and a gallon jug of consecrated oil. 

We know he's a professor because
he has a chalkboard!

There's no telling how much evil will rush in to fill the void left by Professor Beck. Ward members should brace themselves for an onslaught of feminists, gays, and intellectuals intent on looting, murdering, masturbating, declaring Hawaii a state, and putting off marriage to have too much fun. 


Be aware, brothers and sisters, that we are the target and nowhere is safe. For example, I strongly suspect that during the closed-circuit televising of last Saturday's General Priesthood Session somebody poisoned the drinking fountains at the Abbottsville Stake Center with a substance that robs red-blooded American males of their precious bodily fluids.


Brethren in other stakes have voiced similar suspicions. I am assembling a task force to investigate how global this fiendish anti-Mormon plot has become, and will report our findings ASAP.




In the mean time remain vigilant, and don't forget to submit your nominations for our Official Ward Gun

This concludes your Ward Preparedness Update.

Your fellow patriot,
Bull Barton


If you want to stop receiving these e-mails, we'll assume you're part of the plot.


(Psst ... Thanks Ahab for sending me the article I linked to "too much fun.")

Pssst ... Are You Bored Yet?

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Donna Banta
Subject: Is it just me -- or are the GA's a little boring?


This weekend the members of the Abbottsville Fourth Ward may choose between attending the post-Mormon party at the San Francisco Ferry Building, or watching the 181st Semi-Annual General Conference of the LDS Church. I've provided the following aptitude test to help you decide.

Answer each question in a way that best describes yourself.

1. I like to look at:

a. the dazzling San Francisco skyline with its unique architecture and diverse cultural offerings.

or

b. a room full of Mormons.

2. On the weekend I like to relax by:

a. sipping a margarita from Mijita and talking with nice people who want to be my friends.

or

b. sipping Kool-Aid from Costco and listening to garrulous old coots who want me to pay my tithing.

3. I like to hear:

a. real life stories about people who are struggling in this tough economy.

or

b. bullshit stories about characters like Sister Sweet, the stay at home mom who survived her husband's unemployment by gathering nuts and berries for food, spinning thread out of dog hair to make clothing, and doing her visiting teaching.

4. I like mixing with:

a. feminists, gays, and intellectuals.

or

b. creepy old men who are obsessed with porn.

5. I want to associate with:

a. people who want me to be myself.

or

b. people who want to pick out my underwear.

6. I like to discuss:

a. art, literature, and film.

 or

b. adultery, porn, and masturbation.

7. I take the advice of:

a. people who believe in the "philosophies of men."

or

b. people who believe that God lives on the planet Kolob with His harem of nubile wives and His fleet of tapir-drawn carriages.

8. I like:

a. laughing at a really good joke.

or

b. being the joke.

I know Plan 10 is true!

9. This Sunday I would rather:

a. enjoy myself.

or 

b. be bored out of my fucking mind.

Abbottsville Fourth Ward, I urge you to choose A! Come to the Ferry Buiding! 

(You know you want to.)

Thanks For The Loud Laughter

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Donna Banta
Subject: Remembering Leslie Nielsen

Looking back, it is no wonder my slow departure from Mormonism progressed alongside The Naked Gun series. When the first installment opened in 1988, I was an active Mormon. My hands were covered in eczema and I was having recurring nightmares about being trapped in a box. Add to that, I regularly attended the temple where I was instructed to "avoid all lightmindedness, loud laughter, and evil speaking of the Lord's anointed." I didn't laugh much. But when I did, it was a freakish, hysterical laughter that climaxed in an endorphin fueled high that for a few fleeting moments made me feel alive.

In those days, laughter was serious business.

Enter my hero, Leslie Nielsen, who in the persona of Lieutenant Frank Drebin, provided me with a series of ninety minute uninterrupted happy highs that lifted my spirits like no temple session ever could.

My local Mormon leaders discouraged the faithful from seeing the films because of their sexual content. What should have worried them was the irreverence they inspired. Whether he was knocking Barbara Bush off a balcony, botching our National Anthem, flinging O.J. Simpson into the stands at Dodger Stadium, dismantling The Oscars under the guise of Phil Donahue, or locking Queen Elizabeth II in the coital position, our man Drebin never tired of poking fun at the "anointed." (I remind my gentle readers that immediately before Her Majesty wrapped her royal thighs around Lt. Drebin, the city of Los Angeles had presented her with a Revolutionary War musket.)

Face it Abbottsville Fourth Ward. Loud laughter's not only a good thing. It's downright healthy.

Those who fear leaving Mormonism because of all they've invested in the faith could benefit from the example of Mr. Nielsen, who spent 20+ years of his own life trapped in the wrong genre. He began his career as a dramatic actor, delivering stock performances in films such as The Forbidden Planet, Tammy and the Bachelor, and The Poseidon Adventure. Then in 1980 he was cast as Dr. Rumack in the film, Airplane! His character was to be a supporting role to larger parts played by Peter Graves and Robert Stack. But he stole the show with his comic timing and droll delivery.

Rumack: You'd better tell the Captain we've got to land as soon as we can. This woman has to be gotten to the hospital.
Elaine Dickinson: A hospital? What is it?
Rumack: It's a big building with patients, but that's not important right now.

After that it was nothing but lightmindedness, loud laughter, and evil speaking of the Lord's anointed.

Mayor: Now Drebin, I don't want any trouble like you had on the South Side last year, that's my policy.
Drebin: Well, when I see five weirdos, dressed in togas, stabbing a man in the middle of the park in full view of a hundred people, I shoot the bastards, that's *my* policy!
Mayor: That was a Shakespeare In The Park production of Julius Caesar, you moron! You killed five actors! Good ones!

Mrs. Nordberg: Oh, my poor Nordberg! He was such a good man, Frank. He never wanted to hurt anyone. Who would do such a thing?
Drebin: It's hard to tell. A gang of thugs, a blackmailer, an angry husband, a gay lover . . .

President George Bush: Frank, please consider filling a post I'm creating. It may mean long hours and dangerous nights surrounded by some of the scummiest elements in our society.
Drebin: You want me to be in your cabinet?

Drebin: I can't hear you! Don't fire the gun while you're talking!

Commissioner Anabell Brumford: (on telephone) Hello? He did what? How many animals escaped? Oh my god. (hangs up phone.)
Drebin: Good evening, commissioner. You're looking lovely tonight.
Commissioner Anabell Brumford: Do you realize that because of you this city is being overrun by baboons?
Drebin: Well, isn't that the fault of the voters?


I pity the priesthood holder who is assigned to do Leslie Nielsen's temple work, as it would be impossible not to envision Frank Drebin doing the same. Here's my take on that fantasy:

Lieutenant Drebin takes an unassuming seat some three rows back from the altar. The officiator dims the lights and begins the film. Only instead of God creating the universe, we get The Three Stooges bonking each other on the head. Drebin leaps from his seat, rushes up the aisle, knocks over the officiator, and begins fooling with the knobs behind the altar. The lights flicker on and off, the curtains go up and down, and The Three Stooges keep bonking each other. Then the altar explodes and sends Drebin flying through the veil and into the Celestial Room where he dangles from the crystal chandelier. The chandelier crashes down, the player piano blares from the speakers, and Drebin careens through the temple on a madcap romp that ends when he knocks the temple matron into the baptismal font, just after accidentally ripping off her dress.

Nothing to see here!

Comedies don't win many awards. It's usually the tragedies that attract the critics' attention. While I admire performers who accurately reflect real people's suffering, I sometimes wish we gave more credit to those who help to alleviate that suffering. To those who make us laugh. Leslie Nielson certainly made me laugh, and at a time in my life when I dearly needed to. He also taught me how to respond when a member of the Abbottsville Fourth Ward asks:

Well meaning ward member: Donna, surely you want to go to General Conference. What is it really?

Me: It's a mind-numbingly boring meeting run by a bunch of misogynistic homophobes, but that's not important right now. And don't call me Shirley.  

May he rest in peace.