The Annual Brodies/Superbowl/Atheists Post

To: The Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Donna Banta
Subject: The Brodies and other things

Once again, Chanson at Main Street Plaza is hosting the annual Brodie Awards for excellence in Mormon-themed blogging. The nominees are all top-notch authors and artists from cool sites such as: Letters From A Broad, Picaresque, The Cognitive Dissenter, The Republic of Gilead, Polygamy Chic, Only A Little Sugar Coated, The (Mormon) Stake President's Blog, White and Delightsome (yes!) and Ward Gossip (if I do say so myself.)

-- And many more great blogs that I'm leaving out because I'm burning out on linking. Man, how does Chanson do that column of hers every week?

Polls close February 16, 2012, 22:22 Central European Time

Please Vote!

Also, tomorrow the San Francisco Bay Area Post-Mormons are holding their annual Superbowl Party! (Oh Christ, more links.) Everyone's welcome!

**Psst, that means you, members of the Abbottsville Fourth. Admit it, you dream of a day when you don't have to sneak into a church bathroom stall and check the score on your smart phone. Come hang with us instead. -- You know you want to. One of you actually did, and lived to tell about it. ;-) 

And finally, for my all my fellow heretics and football worshipers, may you celebrate tomorrow's high holy day in your underpants:

 

Coolness 101 For Mormons

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Donna Banta
Subject: How to be cool

Two weeks ago the Thursday Styles section of The New York Times ran a feature entitled, To Be Young, Hip, and Mormon.  It outlined the dilemma for trendy young members who are constrained by LDS Church standards. The piece went on to describe how many of the faithful get around the restrictions in order to look like they're cool. For example, a male BYU student who wants to grow a beard may obtain a "beard card" by developing a serious skin condition, or he could land the lead role in a play about Jesus. A young, hip Mormon party girl could order a Pellegrino and not bother to correct anyone who suggests she's just out of rehab. Or a trendy youth might get a pass on the "no tattoo" policy if he's inked with an image of a beehive.

This whole "looking cool" baloney is nothing new. In my day, it was women fighting to be allowed to wear "feminine cut" jeans on the BYU campus. But here's the thing, Brother or Sister Hipster. Even though you're on-trend in your button-down plaid shirt, rolled selvedge jeans and boat shoes, underneath you're still wearing that dowdy magic underwear you received in a temple where you dressed up like the Pillsbury Dough Boy at a toga party and pledged all of your time, talent and resources to an organization that is devoted to subjugating women and "curing" gays. Do you get where I'm going with this Abbottsville Fourth Ward? Let me spell it out for you.

Looking cool isn't the same as being cool.

That's why I love Post-Mormon Sundays at the San Francisco Ferry Building. I get to hang with people who are truly cool, on their own, regardless of what they are wearing, and without advertising.

As I've said before, just because we're ex-Mormons doesn't mean we don't have testimonies. This month we shared how we gained the knowledge that being a Mormon wasn't "cool." These were a few of our red flags:

• One young man realized that the temple ceremony wasn't going to be "cool" when the temple worker began by asking him to take off all of his clothes.
• Another realized that Spencer W. Kimball wasn't a very "cool" prophet when he said (via The Miracle of Forgiveness) that masturbation leads to homosexuality, and that homosexuality leads to bestiality. (Hello? Bestiality?)
• A returned missionary felt very "uncool" when his leaders ordered him and his companion to round up an elder that had sneaked away from his mission. Late at night under the cloak of darkness, they wandered the neighborhood peeking in windows and finally found him after they crawled under a family's house and heard the poor kid's voice. (I should point out that this was in Southern Louisiana where the houses are on stilts. Even so, definitely not "cool.")
• A woman remembers being very "uncool" when she told the love of her life she would only date him if he sat through 3 hours of church with her every Sunday and took the missionary discussions.

Cool without an ad campaign

So there you are, Abbottsville Fourth. You may look cool at church in your Zooey Deschanel ruffled blouses, high collars and high-waisted pencil skirts. But we are cool at the Ferry Building. And we never worry about how we look because we're comfortable with who we are.

EVEN COOLER! Our nephew, Dan, got a shout out on Foxhole Atheist, Justin Griffith's blog!

Dan, the famous Air Force atheist.

And if I have offended any of you ... that probably means you're in the wrong crowd! Hang with us next month.

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.

Another NorCal Ex-Mormon Testimony Meeting

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Donna Banta
Subject: We would again be remiss if  . . .

My dear friends from the Abbottsville Fourth Ward,

Just because we're ex-Mormons doesn't mean we don't have testimonies. After all, it takes a village/ward to raise an ex-Mormon. In that spirit, we gather every first Sunday to express our gratitude to the people and circumstances that helped us see the light. 

This month our thanks went out to:

1. The San Francisco Ferry Building and its myriad venues for breaking the fast, the Sabbath, and the Word of Wisdom.
2. The historical problem that Mormon leaders have keeping their stories straight -- from Joseph Smith and his multiple versions of the First Vision, to Paul Dunn and his slew of bogus faith-promoting stories.
3.  The historical problem we had keeping our own stories straight. -- Or, how thankful we are that we no longer have to find ways to say we "know the church is true" without really saying it. It used to be: "I know... that god lives." or "I have a strong ... testimony of ... the gospel." Now it's just: "It's a load of crap." 
4. Well-meaning TBM moms. Like the one who can't stop sending her son pro-Mormon emails that argue against his point of view. Or another who likes to slip in an invitation to church just as her son and DIL are hurrying out the door. (Hoping that in the rush of the moment they'll accept.)
5. The nincompoops at BYU who brought a world class Rodin exhibit to the campus, then hid most of the sculpture in the basement.
6. The nincompoops in the COB who decided to "glam up" the sister missionaries by finally letting them "wear colors" and go without pantyhose. (Now that pantyhose are coming back into style.)
7. # 10 cans of freeze dried potato flakes.
8. The bargains at the bar ware sale at Sur la Table that helped keep the children amused during the meeting.

Way more educational than the "Testimony Glove!"

In addition to extolling the joys of not living the gospel, we also addressed the following weighty points of doctrine:

How will rank and file church members react if the Prophet decides to reverse the church's stand on gay marriage? Will they be angry that God has once again changed his mind? Or will they be relieved that they can finally be on the right side of the issue?
--We decided it would probably be a toss-up between the two.

Who's the bigger asshole? Packer or Bednar?
--Another toss-up.

But, after extended discussion, we were inconclusive on the question of how, if the two were separated, the left and right brain would respond individually when asked, "Do you believe in God?"
--No, we were not stoned.

We closed with a discussion of these upcoming events:

A boozy and/or highly caffeinated General Conference pot luck.

A litany of ex-Mormon holiday pot lucks.

A freeze-dried food pot luck.

A clandestine infiltration of the church vault that will require each of us to drop inside on a wire whilst deftly dodging the errant motion sensors. More details to come.

If we have offended any of you -- or have forgotten to thank someone, kindly share your testimony in the comment field. Also any spy ware and technical expertise will be appreciated.

Saturday's Warrior Is A Load Of Crap

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Donna Banta
Subject: A postmormon review of Saturday's Warrior

Recently LDS Church spokesperson, Michael Otterson, penned a scathing review of the Book of Mormon on Broadway. In it he disparaged believing Mormons who saw and enjoyed the show, then went on to lament the bad PR the musical will bring the church, worrying not so much about "when people laugh, but when they take it seriously."

So, in the spirit of fair play, and out of respect for the believing Mormons who have seen and enjoyed The Book of Mormon on Broadway, the San Francisco postmormons decided to have a screening of God's Other Favorite Musical, Saturday's Warrior!!!

Last weekend Mark fired up our grill for yet another great exmormon event. Dodgy weather made it a tough commute for some, especially those in the East Bay, as the Bay Bridge was packed with limos filled with hyperactive prom goers. But once everyone arrived at our house, we opened the wine/beer/etc, and enjoyed our usual super-yummy potluck fare. (Some habits never die.) Afterward we retired downstairs for a viewing of the 2000 film version of the production.

Saturday's Warrior begins in the billowy clouds of heaven where we meet:

Julie and Tod: gooey young lovers who can't wait to gain physical bodies.

The Flinders Siblings

Pam: a sweet spirit who wants to be a dancer when she goes down to earth.

Jimmy: Pam's twin who is destined to "go astray."

Julie: the dewy ingenue, and Tod's main squeeze.

[Four insignificant middle children]

Emily: the adorable youngest child who will probably have to die because Jimmy is so selfish.

The Missionaries
Elders Kestler and Green: a couple of self-righteous, hubris-infused chuckleheads who ring surprisingly true to life.

Once the above are introduced through a few catchy tunes, sappy lyrics and beginning ballet choreography, a bossy temple matron prods the characters to get in line to go down to earth -- lest they miss their appointed time and, instead of going to a righteous Utah Mormon household, they wind up in some terrible place like Uganda or Madagascar. Then an even darker scenario is introduced; that is, the chance they won't go to earth at all, because of a grievous and unmentionable sin.

In my recent review, The Book of Mormon is True!, I wrote, "because the show (The Book of Mormon) begins with the premise that all Mormon boys are expected to go on missions, the audience immediately sympathizes with the two main characters in spite of their foibles." 


Employing a similar logic, because Saturday's Warrior begins with the premise that humans arrive (or don't arrive) in their earthly situations according to the aforementioned scenario, the audience immediately concludes that God is an unfair, racist asshole so intent on controlling His children that He will even stoop to blaming a kid for his little sister's death.


While the first 7 of the 8 Flinders children do land safely on earth, things don't exactly turn out as planned. Jimmy, a good looking high school kid, selfishly chooses to behave like a teenager. Jimmy's twin sister Pam, who wanted to be the dancer, ends up in a wheelchair. (No doubt thanks to some prenatal indiscretion by Jimmy.) Julie, while attractive, turns out to be a fickle ditz with the personality of a postage stamp, and a wardrobe that belongs back at the compound on the show, "Big Love." The four middle children remain insignificant, and Emily remains in heaven wondering if she will ever be born. (Also thanks to Jimmy.)


Down on earth, we arrive at the airport with Julie, her then boyfriend, Elder Kestler, and some other missionaries and BYU coeds who sing an annoying version of "Will I Wait For You?" and perform a self-conscious dance routine that is obviously designed to keep them from wiggling their tushes and exposing their knees.


Meanwhile, Jimmy is tired of singing along to "Daddy's Nose" with the family, prefers hanging out with his friends, and claims to want "plain ordinary freedom to pursue my own goals." This shocking behavior is explained through the "Zero Population" number sung by Jimmy and a bunch of mid-drift baring delinquents who lounge around a dorky looking dune buggy and dream of a day when abortion is legal. (Even though . . . it is legal.)


Thoroughly brainwashed by the Planned Parenthood gang, Jimmy flips out when he discovers his mother is pregnant, and demands she have an abortion. Mom  -- strike that -- Dad refuses, so Jimmy runs away from home. As a result, Mrs. Flinders becomes so distraught that she has a miscarriage, making Jimmy a murderer.


Then Julie finds another guy and dumps poor Elder Kestler via the production's show stopper, "He's Just a Friend/Dear John," a peppy number that alternates between a G-Rated bump and grind featuring Julie and her sisters, and a chorus line of male missionaries who perform an awkward routine that makes them look like dogs relieving themselves along a row of hydrants. (Forget the feminists and gays, the ones the Brethren should really go after are the choreographers.)


Back to Jimmy who arrives somewhere in SoCal for a "Summer of Fair Weather" with the protected sex crowd. We are left to speculate how they support themselves. -- Pushing illegal condoms perhaps? (According to the postmormon Anagrammy, that detail is in the Director's Cut.) Jimmy's holiday ends, however, when the family calls to tell him his beloved twin sister, Pam, has died. -- That's right Jimmy, now you're guilty of double murder.


Up in heaven, we see Pam dancing around with little Emily in her arms. She comforts her unborn sister by telling her that life is just a blip, a meaningless and insignificant moment. (A line that might be more aptly delivered by one of the evil pro-choicers . . . but I digress.)


We then return to Elder Kestler who has just paired up with Elder Green. They come across Tod, a chain-smoking non-member who spends his days moping around the park because he doesn't have a "cause to die for." The elders teach him the gospel, he gleefully gives up smoking, and gets baptized. -- Meaning he can now look forward to feeling dead everyday for the rest of his life.


Julie, who has broken up with her fiance, decides she wants Elder Kestler back. So she slips into a dress that resembles a denim grocery sack and goes to the airport to welcome him home. But, as fate would have it, she instead falls for Tod, whom Kestler has brought back with him. The two lovers reunite by singing the same duet they sang in the pre-life, only this time with an obvious appreciation of each other's physical body. (Not that he can admire any of her charms under that ridiculous dress.)


Finally Jimmy sees the error of his ways, shakes off the safe sex crowd, and returns home so that little Emily can finally be born. 

And all is right in Mormondom.

In the case of Saturday's Warrior, I find myself echoing Otterson. I worry about the guilt-ridden souls who take this shit seriously. Of course, that wasn't an issue for the postmormons. We pretty much laughed through the whole thing. And when we saw that there was a karaoke option on the Main Menu -- OMG! Suffice to say that Steve's tequila fueled aria was our evening's show stopper.


So how does the work of Matt Stone and Trey Parker compare to that of Lex de Azevedo? 


Let's see. The Book of Mormon is a fun romp that never takes itself seriously. It has earned stellar reviews, 14 Tony nominations, is set for a nation-wide tour, and has been the subject of many thoughtful articles and discussions about faith in America.


Saturday's Warrior is a tiresome screed (with catchy tunes) that takes itself too seriously. It has earned no recognition outside of Mormonism, is on tour in LDS ward cultural halls, and is the subject of exmormon karaoke parties. This all leaves me to conclude:

The Book of Mormon is true

and

Saturday's Warrior is a load of crap
(in the name of cheese and rice amen)

The Book Of Mormon Is True!

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Donna Banta
Subject: I witnessed the Book of Mormon!

Way back in January a group of Post-Mormons I met on Facebook decided to see The Book of Mormon on Broadway. Mark and I figured why not join them? After all, those South Park guys write pretty good stuff. It was a safe bet they'd deliver again. But even if the show turned out to be a dog we'd still enjoy it. (It couldn't be any worse than the work it was based on.)

So I, along with several others, sent checks to a woman we'd never met, who had charged tickets to her credit card for people she had never met. Meanwhile, David, a NYC resident, made reservations at two different restaurants for large parties of people he had never met. (But none of us worried because everyone was Ex-Mormon!)

Then on March 24 I opened up my New York Times and read this rave review by Ben Brantley.

Immediately I was gripped by a dread that worsened as the days progressed. Did we really have tickets to The Book of Mormon? What if something went wrong? Like we missed the plane, or the box office screwed up, or the entire production got taken back up to heaven? Oh my god!

I WANT MY BOOK OF MORMON!

Mark was trapped in an all together different gulag, by a co-worker who repeatedly warned him of the musical's potentially offensive material. "Mr. Banta, that show has lots of swear words." "Mr. Banta, have you ever watched South Park? It's pretty irreverent." Things came to a head early last week with the following exchange: "Mr. Banta, my friend told me they say the 'c' word in that play at least fifty times!" "Exactly what do you mean by the 'c' word?" The young man shut Mark's office door, swung around, and whispered, "cunt."

Crowd clamors for a free "Book of Mormon"

Finally, on the afternoon of Saturday, April 16, we arrived at the Eugene O'Neill Theater one hour before the performance. People swarmed the entrance of the sold-out show in hopes of winning tickets in a free give-away. I pulled out my phone to call Olivia to ask if she'd picked up our tickets. But before I could dial, she was standing in front of me, tickets in hand. (My heroine.)

Olivia, me, and Mark

The Book of Mormon -- rated R

I wonder what the playwright O'Neill
would have thought.

Some thirty minutes later we were joined by more wonderful Ex-Mormons and also my cousin and his son, who have never been Mormon, but are really really good sports. We filed into the theater past an eager scalper who shouted in a thick Brooklyn accent, "Mormon? Anyone got Mormon?"

Five minutes into the performance I thanked god for the Book of Mormon.

Because the show begins with the premise that all Mormon boys are expected to go on missions, the audience immediately sympathizes with the two main characters in spite of their foibles. Elder Price is a self-righteous pretty boy goody two-shoes, and Elder Cunningham is a pudgy self-conscious schlub who tells lies to win people's approval. (Think of Nephi and Lemuel as mission companions. Or for those who haven't read the sacred text, Wally Cleaver and Lumpy.)

The missionaries' interaction with each other, as well as their efforts to convert a small tribe in Uganda provide the set up for some hilarious dialog and show-stopping numbers that rival the great musicals of the previous century. My favorite was "Turn it Off." -- Imagine an all male chorus line of tap dancing Mormon missionaries. The lights go down, then come up, and they're still singing and dancing, only faster. The lights go down, then come up again, only now they're singing, dancing, and wearing HOT PINK VESTS. It was a miracle. Another winner was "Spooky Mormon Hell Dream," where poor Elder Price is terrorized by Genghis Khan, Hitler, Johnny Cochran, and a duo of dancing Starbucks' cups. But perhaps the biggest miracle came at the curtain call, when the mostly young and unknown cast received a rousing standing ovation. What a moment for them! And deservedly so. They had served with honor, and the spirit was never stronger.

Afterward there was the party David arranged at Nocello with the usual loud laughter, light-mindedness, evil speaking of the Lord's anointed, and in my case, martinis. We even have the t-shirts to remember it by.

Jenny arranged for the shirts!
This is the back, the front says "Ban Mormon Marriage."

When Mark got back to the work today, his co-worker rushed into his office, shut the door and asked, "Mr. Banta, how many times did they say "cunt?" "None that I can recall," Mark replied. The young man slumped his shoulders and looked dejected. Mark smiled to himself.

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.)

He's Still Ex-Mormon -- And Loving It

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Donna Banta
Subject: He's another year older, and another year happier.

Since its beginning in September of 2009, Ward Gossip has poked fun at practically all aspects of Mormon culture, practice, and doctrine, including:

eternal marriage, Testimony Meeting, the Three Nephites, the Young Women's Program, temple garments, the Book of Mormon, Relief Society, full time missionaries, tithing, the Single Adults, the temple ceremony, the General Authorities, Mormon cuisine, kittens, BYU, General Conference, and LDS Public Affairs.
(Not to mention my scathing review of Utah restaurants on the hilarious KoriWhore's DoubleD's)

In all, I've posted 85 times, received over 450 comments, and dozens of personal emails. Most people who write are kind and encouraging. Some respectfully disagree. But so far, I have only been flamed once. It was exactly one year ago, on Mark's birthday.

Less than ten minutes after I posted "At 53, He's Still Happy, Healthy, and Ex-Mormon -- Don't You Hate That?" I received a private e-mail from an old "friend" from my childhood ward who told me I was "condescending," "hurtful," "narrow-minded," "uneducated," and "bitter." Then she called me a liar and suggested that I "just go on with my life" and keep my opinions to myself.

She closed her thoughts with, "I hope Mark enjoys his birthday and wish you the best with your family."

This bizarre missive confirmed a theory I have long believed.

Nothing pisses off a Mormon more than the existence of an openly happy Ex-Mormon.

In that spirit, I will again pay tribute to my husband of 30 years, and brace myself for the response.

Mark Steven Banta was born on March 22, 1957, in San Jose, California. He was raised a Mormon in a loving home. He enjoyed participating in church as a child, but grew weary of the faith as an adult, and eventually abandoned it.

Mormons are taught that those who leave are lazy, sinful, and doomed to a life of misery and suffering.

It hasn't exactly turned out that way for Mark, at least not over the past year. Consider the following common assumptions.

Ex-Mormons are bitter, angry, and miserable.

Schlummertrunk!

Not my sweetheart. Anyone who saw him at the 2010 Ex-Mormon Conference can tell you that, or at the Hotel Utah Saloon, or facing off Steve in a break-neck bowling competition, or at a certain restaurant in Berlin, Germany during the wee morning hours.

People who leave the church face financial ruin.
Well, he's not exactly rolling in it. But Mark continues to live on a quiet street in San Francisco, affords visits to Texas and Germany to see his children and granddaughter, and continues to hold a job in a bad economy. Believe it or not, eliminating tithing actually improved his bank balance!

People who leave the church like to look at porn.
Actually Mark's tastes are for the most part G-rated, except for church history books.

If a man leaves the church, his children will become drug addicts, runaways, and felons.

If appearances are any guide . . .

Our daughter, Emily, and Daniel

Our son, Marky, Meera, and baby
Keya

People leave Mormonism because they want to violate the Word of Wisdom, break the Sabbath and associate with bad influences.

Um, well that's true actually.

Mark has decided not to spend this life preparing for the next, and has been blessed accordingly.

As always, I am serving his requested dinner, this year stuffed bell peppers, baked potatoes, green beans, homemade apple pie, and a good bottle of wine. So there is no need, Abbottsville Fourth, to drop by with cakes, casseroles and a birthday message from The Ensign. Understand that if you do come over, you will see some very happy Ex-Mormons. -- And it will probably make you really really mad.

Happy birthday, honey.

NorCal Ex-Mormons Were In the News Again!

These ran on Sunday, March 20, 2011:

See Mark's picture in the paper! Along with Steve, Sarah, Ali, and me. Unfortunately this was taken on Easter Sunday of last year, so our turnout was relatively small. (We were six in total at the San Francisco Ferry Building, one declined to be photoed.)

http://www.contracostatimes.com/ci_17631281?source=pkg

This is an interview with former NorCal Ex-Mormon, Kerry Rutz, whom we miss.

http://www.contracostatimes.com/ci_17630914?source=pkg

Another interview with a fantastic NorCal Ex-Mormon.

http://www.contracostatimes.com/ci_17631655?source=pkg

They quoted me in this one, but got my age wrong -- I'm now 52 (sigh)

http://www.contracostatimes.com/ci_17641895?source=pkg&nclick_check=1

From Sunday, March 13, 2011:
http://www.contracostatimes.com/ci_17598506?source=pkg

NorCal Ex-Mormon Testimony Meeting

To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Donna Banta
Subject: We would indeed be remiss if  . . .

My dear friends from the Abbottsville Fourth Ward,

Just because we're ex-Mormons doesn't mean we don't have testimonies. After all, it takes a village/ward to raise an ex-Mormon. In that spirit, we gather every first Sunday to express our gratitude for the people and circumstances that helped us to see the light.

This month our thanks went out to:



The San Francisco Ferry Building and its myriad venues for breaking the fast, the Sabbath, and the Word of Wisdom.

Brigham Young University, and its penchant for humiliating its students.

Our individual and collective role models such as:

1. The highly respected and well educated Southern California attorney who spends his free time computing the diameter of the planet Kolob.
2. The older sibling who was expected to be President of the United States, but ended up becoming a polygamist who makes his living filling gumball machines.
3. The TBM dad who told his inactive daughter that he would receive her in his home if she promised not to criticize or question the church, voice an opinion, or discuss her life in general.
4. The TBM ex-wife who tried to convince a Virginia judge that her children's father is unfit because he only spends one hour in church on Sunday.
5. A certain "Apostle of the Lord" who is terrified of feminists, gays, intellectuals, kittens, and little factories that produce too much product.
6. The balding Seattle Stake President who referred to himself as a Solar Powered Sex Machine during a Stake High Council Meeting.

Oxymora such as Young Women's Personal Progress, BYU Education Week, Relief Society Personal Enrichment, and Court of Love.  

The Book of Abraham

Thank god for anti-Mormon
literature!

Wedding receptions where both the bride and the mother of the bride are pregnant.

Greg Dodge

Martinis

The countless Sacrament Meeting talks about tithing, temple work, and moral ambiguities such as hot chocolate and coffee cake.

and

The shear joy of saying FUCK.

The spirit was sooo strong!

If we have offended any of you -- or have forgotten to thank someone, kindly share your testimony in the comment field.

Also read about NorCal exmos in the news here!