BOOK OF MORMON BLUES–Without my own religion to back me up–offering solid consistent sales–(thanks again, Ron, at Beatrice.com) my Amazon ranking is all over the map.

Today, January 11, 2005, at 7:04 p.m. MST, the rankings are thus:

Book of Mormon #18,516
Wives and Sisters #284,371

Well, there you have it. Proof definitive. I know this church is true. I know it’s the only true Church. I know Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. It’s just EASIER to know this shit. Not knowing it is hard. I’m tired.

SOMEBODY STOP ME. If this is not proof of how deeply entrenched in Mormonism my upbringing was, I don’t know what is. I can recite NEARLY every prayer by heart, including the blessing on the sacrament, WHICH, by the way, I never got the opportunity to give because it just so happens I am missing a certain appendage between my legs.

ACK. Phew, that rhetoric goes bone deep. No pun intended.

The BoM has shown itself to be solid and true, and Wives and Sisters is nothing but a fictional tome. Oh wait. W&S IS fiction. Of course, so is the BoM, but don’t tell the Mormons. Remember, it is EASIER to know it’s true. The other stance takes too much work. Take all that hate mail, for instance….

Of course, you COULD tell the Mormons, because they would NOT believe you anyway. Take, for instance, all this pesky DNA evidence that has recently surfaced, proving that many BoM claims are nothing more than poo-poo. Asked any faithful Mormons about that lately? They have answers for ALL of those things, but of course, the most interesting one, to me, is this one: “God CHANGED the DNA evidence so we had to rely on faith.”

What more can you say?

SHOPPING–Another gem from JJ (my 10-year-old daughter otherwise known as Jabber Jaws, to faithful readers):

“I just love shopping. There isn’t anything about it that I don’t love. Even if I don’t get to buy anything, I just LOVE to go shopping and look. I could shop all day.”

Note to faithful readers and less-than-faithful pond scum: JJ has selective memory, kind of like my puppy who does not remember from hour to hour what happens when one pees on the floor in the house.

Average shopping trip goes like this:

“Can I get this Mom?”
“No, it’s too expensive.”
“It’s only $30!”
“Do you have $30?”
“No, but I really want it. Brittany has one just like it, and I’ve been wanting one for ages, and….”
“I don’t have any money.”
“You have checks!”
“There is a special place for people who write checks without money in the bank to back them up. It’s called JAIL.”
“But Mom….”
“No.”
“But Mom….”
“No.”
“Gosh, Mom,” said with forceful stomp of foot. “You’re so mean!”

This happened JUST two days ago. Today, she loves shopping again, even when “I don’t get to buy anything.”

The Spin Again and Again–You know, I stayed really quiet on the whole “Gordon B. Hinckley on Larry King Live” event, held the day after Christmas, December 26, 2004, on CNN. Part if it was because Gordo came off so mainstream, and genteel, and well, OLD, that I don’t really want to attack that, even if I don’t agree with his religious viewpoint. But it’s BUGGING me. Big time. So I have to talk about it with you.

While I have a few issue with his speech, including his gay marriage comments, today we will just address the business of his being a prophet. Mostly because it’s really bugging me. A lot. A WHOLE damn lot.

On Larry King Live, LDS Church President Gordon B. Hinckley said:

KING: You are the prophet, right?

HINCKLEY: Right.

KING: Does that mean that, according to the church canon, the Lord speaks through you?

HINCKLEY: I think he makes his will manifest, yes.

KING: So if you change things, that’s done by an edict given to you.

HINCKLEY: Yes, sir.

KING: How do you receive it?

HINCKLEY: Well, various ways. It isn’t necessarily a voice heard. Impressions come. The building of this very building I think is an evidence of that.
There came an impression, a feeling, that we need to enlarge our facilities where we could hold our conferences. And it was a very bold measure. We had to tear down a big building here and put this building up at great cost.
But goodness sakes, what a wonderful thing it’s proven to be. It is an answer to many, many needs. And I think it’s the result of inspiration.

KING: And that came from something higher than you.

HINCKLEY: I think so.

IMPRESSIONS??? What the fuck? You have GOT to be kidding me. He THINKS so? Can you be a little more wishy-washy? The prophet talks to God. I heard it every day of my life. EVERY DAY. In my youth, every time I went up to the podium on Fast and Testimony Sunday (before I got kinda cynical) I swore Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I KNEW the Church was true. I knew it was the only true Church. I knew it because God talked to the Mormons. For hell’s sake, He SHOWED up and had this whole personal pow-wow with Joseph Smith Jr., and this wasn’t some brief Virgin-Mary-in-the-Grilled Cheese kind of visitation. And after that, he talked to Joseph a lot. He talked all the time. He even talked to Joseph’s wife Emma, through Joe of course, and told her to cowboy up and just ACCEPT polygamy. After all, it was HIS wish, not Joe’s.

And God kept talking. Of course, nobody else understood what we did. But as Mormons, we knew God was still talking to us, despite what the Bible said about God not really doing a lot of talking anymore. We believed in modern-day revelation, and mainstream Christians did not. It was part of what made us special. He was talking to his prophets and they were passing it on.

I grew up with this. Every day. Every Sunday. Every morning during family prayer and scripture study. Every Monday night during Family Home Evening. Everytime I wanted to play or go swimming on Sunday, or wear a halter top, I was REMINDED that God was talking to us, and he did NOT want us doing those things.

I missed out on a lot of my youth because God was talking.

So, by God, God better still be talking.

Well, apparently, he ain’t talking to Gordon. He’s giving “impressions.”

I already knew the first 18 years of my life were wasted, but this is SALT on the wounds. God, Gordon, please, just PRETEND God is talking to you. Please?

Stop rubbing it in. Bad clothes, endless Church meetings, and lots of repression later, you leave me having to ask, what the fuck? An impression is something that my ass makes when I sit on my faux leather couch (Don’t ask. Bad husband with questionable taste).

I am NOT impressed. Sheesh.

BEATRICE.com–Thanks to Ron at Beatrice.com, who took the time out of busy schedule to try to explain how Amazon.com rankings work. I actually got it, so you should go read it, too. I’m NOT going to try to explain it. He did a much better job.

Between him and my good friend Christine, who sent a whole email detailing the necessaries of DNA, this little blonde could be up until the wee hours!

Fun with Hate Mail–I received this joyful missive today. It was posted by anonymous.

I live next door to these so called polygamous people that you seem to enjoy insulting so much. The only people you are fooling are the ignorant. I have a tremendous respect for these women, and I think you should think twice before making blatant accusations. If anyone lives in fear, these people do. They deal everyday with the repurcussions of ignorant bigots who suck up every mistruth you feed them in websites like this one. These people don’t stay out of fear, but out of love, something you obviously don’t understand.

Dear Anonymous,

How lovely you would write, and how totally apropos that you would choose the “anonymous” blogger comment that Blogger.com avails you. So you are hanging out with the pligs, huh? What fun. They’re a raucous and joyful crew. However, I don’t remember doing a whole lot of insulting. Just exactly what is it you are referring to? Please write back soon. I’m really, really curious.

If the GROWN MEN who are marrying children live in fear, thank God for that! Perhaps something is finally right with the world, and the Utah authorities will pull their heads out of the place where the sun-don’t-shine and start prosecuting their criminal activity.

See, anon, it’s all about how many wives you can get. They are like those prize tickets you win at carnivals. The more wives you have, the bigger your prize in Heaven. The more prize tickets you win, the bigger your prize at the carnival prize redemption window.

And this, my dear anon, makes these women nothing but a commodity. They are chattel. They are property.

Apparently, you think that’s how it should be. Not strongly and fervently enough, however, to sign your post. Perhaps you DO realize there is something very, very wrong here. Oh and anon? I’ve talked to enough former polygamist wives to know it has NOTHING to do with love.