There’s been a lot of furor inside The Salt Lake Tribune opinion pages lately, about the fact that only tithe-paying, faithful Mormons, who hold a valid Temple Recommend, are allowed inside the LDS Temples.

Under most circumstances, non- and ex-Mormons could care less. They have no desire to go inside and participate in the “sacred not secret” rituals. But then there’s the whole marriage thing. See, young LDS girls and boys are brought up to believe that the only “valid” and acceptable marriage is a temple marriage.

They also are taught that one should not have two marriages–a civil ceremony and a temple marriage–even if some of their family members cannot attend. It doesn’t MATTER who these family members are. Dad’s not a member? Too bad. Mom’s not a member? So sad.

If you don’t accept the fact that the LDS Church is the ONLY true church, you cannot participate in a temple wedding.

SO that’s what the furor is about. Letters have run in the forum supporting both sides. Yesterday, however, there was a doozy. Let me preface this with a disclaimer. If you are going to write to a PUBLIC NEWSPAPER and out yourself as a terminal idiot, with a helpful dose of extreme arrogance, you have to expect to be ridiculed. Here is the letter, as it ran, inside The Trib’s pages.

Church has rights, too

Over the last few weeks I’ve read numerous Public Forum letters about how people are upset because the LDS Church refuses to let anyone and everyone into their temples to see their friends/family/children/whomever get married there.

Has everyone forgotten that the LDS temples are private property? Paid for by private funds? My home is my private property. I can deny anyone I choose entry into my home for any reason. If they enter my home anyway, I can have them arrested for trespassing.

The leadership of the LDS church has every right to decide who can and cannot come into their temples. They consider their temples sacred. They consider the ordinances performed in those temples sacred. They have the right to say to the public that if you want to come into our temples and witness those ordinances, then you have to join our church and live your life according to a certain moral standard.

Everyone who wrote one of those pieces needs to get down off their high horse and realize that the LDS Church has the same rights as they do.

Hilton Harris
Sandy

Gee, ya think Hilton? You are suffering from a classic case of “I’m an arrogant horse’s ass who just doesn’t get it.” See, most of us don’t give a shit WHAT you do inside your temples, Hilton. I agree, they belong to the LDS Church. Just like Brigham Young University. When people get up in arms about the lack of religious and educational freedom at BYU, I just shake my head and say, “It’s so simple. Don’t go there. They OWN the university. They can do as they please.”

But what Hilton just said here is, “IF YOU AIN’T MORMON, you don’t live up to God’s moral standards.”

Don’t believe me? Here it is again, in bold print.

They have the right to say to the public that if you want to come into our temples and witness those ordinances, then you have to join our church and live your life according to a certain moral standard.

Methinks Hilton is SO high up on his HIGH HORSE that he can’t see the forest for the trees. (Warning: cliche alert!)

Those of us who do not believe Mormonism to be true, at least in Hilton’s viewpoint, do not have any right to expect to participate in the same things the true believing Saints get to participate in. And apparently, it is all about morality. Oddly enough, I know a lot of moral Christian people who are not Mormon. They don’t wear the magic underoos, though, and I guess that’s the morality Hilton is looking for.

Apparently, not cheating on your spouse, reading the Bible and teaching your chidren Christian values is not enough.

Truly, the whole thing would be a non-issue if the Church directives did not specifically say “You cannot have two ceremonies. Just one. In the temple.” See, then, most of us again would say, “We don’t care. It’s your church. It’s your temple. Do as you want.”

But we are talking about families here. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers and best friends. People that are being told that because they are not MORMON, they are not good enough to see their child/sibling/friend be married. A little bit of compassion and understanding from the LDS Church in this matter would go a very long way in soothing this rift that has long existed between the Mormons and everyone else.

The allowance of a civil ceremony in addition to a temple sealing is the obvious solution. Both sides get what they want.

But Hilton pretty much told you how many Mormons feel about that. In fact, many times, those who do choose a civil ceremony first must wait a year before attending the temple.

Now, me, I have no desire for a temple wedding. Time and all eternity is a long time to spend with another human being who cannot put paper towels on the roll, thinks farting and burping is an Olympic sport, and thinks duct tape is a viable patching tool for all manner of things, including sofas, kitchen plumbing and possibly surgery.

Not only that, but the whole ritualistic thing freaks me out. But I respect that others might want to put on a toga and fig leaf apron over their lovely, but modest, wedding dress and recite strange oaths. Whatever floats your boat.

But a little consideration given to those who don’t believe the same as Mormons would go a long way.

Hilton, on the other hand, is just what the Church does NOT need. A muzzle might be appropriate.

As I know I’ve mentioned, I spent last weekend in Louisiana, where I was a guest of the Writers Guild of Acadiana in Lafayette.

It was a quick trip–too quick–but they still managed to show me a fabulous time and even seemed interested in what I had to say about agents and editors, in two different sessions. We had dinner at a fabulous restaurant called Prejeans, where I ate frog legs–”tastes like chicken”–and alligator, which tasted like sausage (sorry to disappoint the “tastes like chicken” folks).
Thanks to Deborah LeBlanc, Sharon Bledell, Debbie Gonzalez, John Francois, and all the other members of the Acadiana Writers Guild for having me!

*****
Now, for a new feature: Blog-Bytes. Little snippets of information I gather while whoring around the blog world.

Author Katie MaCalister, notes a contest where you can come up with the caption of a New Yorker cartoon, and win a signed print.

Heather B. Armstrong is on national television again, and it seems the media just can’t get enough of HER or her blog. Me either. She’s a must read. The most recent post recounts what it is like to have the Good Morning America crew in her home. Funny stuff.

Joshilyn Jackson is home again (I think) from her exhaustive book tour, and blogging on what it is like to be THE HOUSE where the kids want to hang out, because, and I get THIS bigtime, when one asks the question, “Where are the kids?” how cool is it to answer, “IN THE BASEMENT.” This works well for my neurotic mind. I also scanned her Web site, which I haven’t been able to do because the damned hard drive crashed, and I had strep throat, and then the tire blew on the freeway while I was doing 65, and then I flew to Lousisiana–oh, and I can’t scan her Web site at work because the God-control box thinks her site is occult–AND I FOUND OUT SHE HAS A COMMERCIAL FOR GODS IN ALABAMA.

I left a comment on her blog. It said, “I hate you.” Now I have to apologize. Because I really don’t hate Joss. It’s just that GEM (green evil monster) sitting on my shoulder, the one that is angry because my tour and promotion existed of a bus ride to Tooele Army Depot(where they make scary chemical weapons) and a bunch of ARCs.

Good thing I loved gods in Alabama, or I might be looking for a tall bridge somewhere….

I admire those brave warriors of something new, i.e., the writers who venture out and take a chance. Such a writer is Marianne Mancusi, who has written a time travel chicklit called A Connecticut Fashionista in King Arthur’s Court (Dorchester Love Spell).

This book is blurbed like this:
Once upon a time there lived an outspoken fashion editor named Kat, who certainly was not your typical damsel in distress. But when a gypsy curse sent her back in time to the days of King Arthur, she found she’d need every ounce of her 21st century wits (and pop culture references) to navigate the legend. After all, surviving a magical plot, an evil prince, and a case of mistaken identity–all without changing history or scuffing your Manolos–takes some doing!

Luckily, she’s got her very own knight in shining armor, Lancelot du Lac, on her side. The honorable-to-a-fault and devastatingly handsome champion insists on helping her out, even though she’s not quite sure she wants him to. After all, shouldn’t he be off romancing Queen Guenevere or something? Will Kat manage to stay out of trouble long enough to get back to her beloved café lattes, cosmopolitans and cashmere? And what will Lancelot’s forbidden love mean for the kingdom of Camelot?

Want to read more? You can go here:
http://www.mariannemancusi.com/Excerpt.html

If you want to know more about Marianne’s book, here’s the press release.

MOVE OVER BRIDGET JONES! DORCHESTER PUBLISHING RELEASES FIRST EVER CHICK LIT TIME TRAVEL NOVEL

Imagine a Bridget Jones like character spiraling back in time to the days of Camelot. That’s the unique premise behind the latest chick lit offering from Dorchester Publishing. “A Connecticut Fashionista in King Arthur’s Court” (May 2005) combines, for the first time ever, chick lit attitude with a time travel plot. Debut author Marianne Mancusi, an Emmy Award winning television news producer for the NBC affiliate in Boston, pens a sexy, magical, laugh-out-loud romp through the legend you only thought you knew.

“I love the voice of Chick Lit,” says Mancusi. “But I felt the same old plotlines about a girl in the city with a bad boss and good shoes were getting old. I wanted to do something a little different.”

Connecticut Fashionista features an outspoken fashion editor named Kat, who’s certainly not your typical damsel in distress. But when a gypsy curse sends her back in time to the days of King Arthur, she’ll need every ounce of her 21st century wits (and pop culture references) to navigate the legend. After all, surviving a magical plot, an evil prince, and a case of mistaken identity–all without changing history or scuffing your Manolos–takes some doing!

So slip on your stilettos and clutch your Cosmos tight, as Dorchester Publishing and Marianne Mancusi send you on a wild, wacky, and oh-so-fashionable trip back in time.

About Marianne Mancusi
Marianne Mancusi is a multiple Emmy Award winning television news producer for WHDH-TV in Boston, Massachusetts. She has worked for news stations in Orlando and San Diego. A Massachusetts native, she currently lives in Massachusetts with her British husband Aaron and their dog Molly. She has six other adult and teen chick lit novels under contract with Dorchester and Berkley.

Last week was not a great week. At least not the first part. Monday I felt like doggie doo-doo. Tuesday morning, knowing that I needed to get on a plane Friday morning and head to Louisiana, I went to the doctor, someone I avoid like the plague. Wrap your head around that. Even if I HAD the plague, I would still avoid the doctor. But there was that whole fever and head-full-of-phlegm and the PLANE. So I went.

Diagnosis: strep throat.

So I said, “Give me the damn shot and get me better.” Best not to say “damn” to a doctor. My behind is STILL bruised. I then came home and discovered the hard drive on my puter was fried.

A person I know calls it the BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH. I use to laugh at her. My punishment has been meted out. Never again will I laugh at her computer woes (or at the travails of Harry the cat. Or even the fact that she NAMED her cat Harry.) I have SEEN the blue screen of death, and it has taunted and tortured me. Around about the time the walls stopped talking to me and I had changed my clothes for the tenth time, so soaked were they from the fever, I called the computer tech.

“Blue screen of death,” I explained. It took a little bit more explaining to get some help.

So I took the hard drive in, trying to stand back so I wouldn’t infect Supergeek, because I really, really, needed him well so he could FIX the computer.

And it took a LOT of days. Since I had to get on a plane to Louisiana on Friday, puter was NOT fixed by then. I had to rewrite my speeches for the Writer’s Conference on an ancient laptop, but I was not complaining. I was happy to HAVE said ancient laptop, even though it runs on Windows 95 and the batteries no longer charge. At least it RUNS, and you can plug it in. And if you hide the screen, and pretend you’re cool, none of the assholes working on Dell 2005 laptops with Windows XP notice you are running Windows 95 on an NEC laptop from the dark ages.

Anyway, I’m back. Supergeek was able to save all my files, clone the harddrive, put a new one in (I’m a little sketchy here on which one happens first, but trust me, SG did a good job) and I am up and running. Thank you, Supergeek.

I returned from the reading/signing in Moab, Utah, with sand in my shoes, sun on my face and a nasty sinus infection. It was pretty successful, and a lot of fun, but my trip there was pretty wicked. See, Utah is having a hell of a spring. Our “desert” status is in danger here. After a drought of many years, we have so much water we’re thinking about calling in Moses and asking for some help diverting it.

The spring of 2005 has given new meaning to the catch phrase, “Don’t like the weather in Utah? Wait a minute.”

Going over Soldier Summit, I encountered rain, snow, hail, eerie fog rising off the road in tendril-like wisps of white, and lightning and thunder. At one point, the lightning hit so close I next expected to hear God’s voice speak to me. “YOU WERE WRONG, SISTER COLLINS. I DID TELL JOSEPH TO GO OUT AND GET HIM A PASSEL OF YOUNG, ATTRACTIVE WIVES. NOW HIE THEE TO OUTER DARKNESS.”

I’m going, Lord.

But first I must finish my blog. I made it to Moab safely, and had a pretty good time.

While there, I discovered a gem of a little book called Green Jell-O and Red Punch: The Heinous Truth! About Utah! by C.L. Crosby (and an unnamed white female currently incarcerated in the Utah State Prison.) Thanks to Anna McGinty for sharing this little nugget with me.

This book truly tickled my funny bone, something I am sure does not surprise anyone. C.L. Crosby, according to his bio on the back of the book, grew up in a brothel in Kearns, and now lives with his partner in San Francisco, where he “has one of those special friendships that only confirmed bachelors can share.”

Also according to the jacket, the Unnamed White Female was the winner of the 2001 Mother of the Year Award, awarded annually to the woman having the most children under the age of five, and is currently residing in the Utah State Prison “on unfounded charges of manufacturing methamphetamine with the intent to distribute.”

I have no way of knowing if ANY of this is true. I do know that methamphetamine is found in just about every other house on any block on any given day, and that labs being found and destroyed by law enforcement top every newscast.

What, say you? How could this be, in Zion? As I’ve said before, LOUDLY AND OBNOXIOUSLY, Utahns, despite what they would like you to believe, are just like everybody else. Except we are so desperate to prove that statement wrong we go undercover and the next thing you know we are murdering our wife (wives), manufacturing meth and popping Prozac like candy, or blowing up innocent people to protect our OWN dastardly schemes, with the sanctioning of LDS authorities. (The last one refers to Mark Hoffman, who blew up two people in an attempt to cover up the fact that one of them had discovered he was a fraud. Chief facilitator in Hoffman’s successes as a forger was one Gordon B. Hinckley, currently the president of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. If Hinckley hadn’t been so worried about the press getting ahold of the materials that Hoffman was selling–documents that were less than flattering to the Church and its founder–and thusly giving Hoffman money so the Church could safely lock said materials in the Church vault, none of this would ever have happened.)

Anyway, I digress. Back to The Heinous Truth! About Utah! After a bunch of pages of disclaimers, which cracked me up, the authors continue to dish up ditties about life in Utah. They bash just about every aspect, including the propensity of Mormons to wave the middle finger when driving in traffic. I suspect it has something to do with that whole reflector-shield-around-the-car theory some people seem to believe in. You know, you’ve seen them, the ones with the index finger buried up the nose, as though you can’t see them. Same thing for the middle finger. “Oh, Gladys, is that the BISHOP you just flipped off?” “Don’t worry, LaMar, he didn’t see me. The shield is up.”

Anyone who has Mormon relatives, friends, or acquaintances, or with any kind of background in Mormonism, will appreciate this book–everyone that is, but the faithful, who are not big on humor and don’t enjoy others who joke at their expense.