As promised, Sister Dunn's world famous Green Jello Cottage Cheese Pineapple Salad.

Ingredients

...read the rest...

As any regular reader of Fiddley Gomme can tell you, Pete Dunn will not tolerate the least degree of Mormonism. My distaste for temple garments is well-documented. The thought of sacrament meeting makes me look around for a screaming child I can escort to the foyer. I can hardly keep my lunch down when my daughter mentions roadshow practice or mutual night.

But Mormon food? I can't get enough. I would be remiss if I didn't stand up here and bear my testimony of my love for Cult Cuisine. My honest-to-Kolob favorite meal of all time is Funeral Potatoes, Honey-Baked Ham, and Sister Dunn's world famous Green Jello Cottage Cheese Pineapple Salad. I swear on my long-expired temple recommend I could eat this every single day.

I have a special recipe for Funeral Potatoes. While I may have sworn by penalty of self-dismemberment that I would not reveal these secret combinations, you are all worthy. I desire that all should receive it.

I have been pleased with the amount of very positive and supportive email I have received in the past few weeks from you, my loyal readers. Almost no one has wasted my time or theirs trying to convert or fellowship me (though one commenter showed would-be apologists the right way to be taken seriously). In addition to dozens of questions about garments I have had a few people ask about my current belief system.

One articulate reader got right to the point:

Where do you stand on faith? Do you still believe in God?

First Sally Field, now you, Cheryl Ladd? I can only handle so much of this.

Add Cheryl to the parade of diminutive hotties on the campaign to sex-up the geriatric health market. When I saw the ad for knowmenopause.com last night, I was instantly and oddly sold on whatever it is she was selling.

"At 46, blah blah blah blah on my mind. I felt young, healthy and vibrant. When I began experiencing unfamiliar blah blah, including blah blah mood blah blah and skin blah blah blah, it never occurred to me that I might be entering blah blah blah blah."

Coworkers, I can hear you talking. I have heard you talking for months. Do you think you girls can just flap your gums to everybody about what a freak you think I am and not have me notice or find out? Frankly, considering how nice I've been to you and how I've never done a damn thing that would warrant the things you say, how you are behaving is pretty damn rude.

You know, if I were the HR point person at my company I would try to be the person who stops the rumor mill not the person who feeds it. Are you aware what kind of liability you make yourself to the company? If you feel there's an issue that needs to be addressed, perhaps addressing it with me would be smarter than smearing my name without giving me the benefit of enlightening you with the truth about myself.

I'm embarrassed that I've shared my personal and private feelings with some of you only to literally hear you share them with the other hens in the office only moments later. I'm embarrassed to have welcomed you in my home, offered you my hospitality and given you a chance to get to know me better only to hear later that you found the whole experience creepy. Do you know how shallow that makes you? I'm embarrassed that I thought you were my friend. Be assured, I won't make that mistake again any time soon.

Even if the Liahona were real, which it isn't, it still wouldn't be as useful as my analog watch for finding which way is is which.

In the northern hemisphere, when the hour hand of an analog watch is pointed towards the sun, south will be halfway between the hour hand and 12 o'clock.

That is, at 9AM the sun is in the southeast. Pointing the hour hand (that's the little one) at the sun (southeast at this point) will orient 12 o'clock at southwest. Due south will be halfway between the hour hand (SE) and 12 (SW).

Tomorrow night there will be a gathering of friends and co-workers to watch the season premiers of some of our favorite shows. Think of it as sort of a temple night to worship in my Celestial Room of multimedia. An all-you-can-eat buffet of television.

There will be a pretty wide mix of people there ranging from recently returned Mormon missionaries to rock-climbing, tree-hugging, leg-not-shaving liberals. Some are bringing their kids and others are single and will be coming alone.

One particularly Mormon co-worker asked if he should bring anything. I told him that if he had a really special Jello recipe he'd like to share that he should bring that, otherwise, there should already be plenty to eat for everyone. A few people have asked if I would like them to bring beer.

In case there was any doubt, my brother is still a Mormon. I was able to parlay a business trip to Seattle into a weekend visit with my brother, Geoffrey and his young family. Since the time he moved to the Emerald City six years ago I have only had short and infrequent visits with my brother. In that time I went from being Ward Sunday School President to flaming apostate. In spite of that, Geoff is accommodating and hospitable and has never said a word to me about my apostasy. He seems to be respectful of my choices in every way. For that, I am thankful. That said... he is himself, as was made obvious to me this weekend, extraordinarily Mormon.

Geoff reads scriptures to his boys during breakfast. They also read scriptures as bedtime stories. Not AND bedtime stories... AS bedtime stories. These boys are 4 and 2 and he's tucking them in at night with tales of Nephi beheading the wicked Laban and Coriantumr decapitating Shiz. (By the way, what is this "The Highlander"esque preoccupation the Book of Mormon has with beheadings, anyway. I was shocked when I reached the end and Moroni didn't exclaim, "There can be only ONE!")

The boys also pray at every meal. They pray when leaving the house. They pray when their dad leaves the house. They pray when they get up in the morning and they pray before turning out the lights. These prayers are usually exhaustively complete. "Thank you for the X-Box, and the Nintendo DS. Thank you for Daddy's job. Thank you for Cheerios. Thank you for church. Thank you for spiders. Bless the food that it will be tasty. Thank you for salt and pepper." And on it goes.

I am out of the office today, Monday, September 18, 2006. I will be back in tomorrow when I will be available to provide a full report of the day's business.. If you have urgent business, press 0 now for the operator. Otherwise, leave your message after the beep.

-BEEP-

I have been deluged with comments and reader email about temple garments lately. I was pleasantly surprised that I have not (yet) heard from any militant Mormons bearing me their testimony of the sacred blessings they receive from the Holy Garment of the Priesthood. In fact, if you are reading this and thinking of sending me that email... go ahead. I would love to post it and let everyone see for themselves what a retard you are.

Many readers have questions about the garments. Rather than answer each email individually (though I did read each and every one of them) I will attempt to answer the most common questions here all at once. I promise to be sarcastic as well as informative.

Now for my regular disclaimer. If you are Mormon, uptight, or my sister-in-law you will be offended by just about everything I am about to write. Go ahead and click over to Deseret Book and be done with it.

I've given some thought lately to the idea that I have held for some time. I believe real, true, deep, honest love can be held for more than one person at a time. This is hard for me to get my head around since I have come to loathe polygamy of all kinds.

That leads me to think this... Perhaps the true love can only be felt for more than one partner but not practically expressed. It seems inevitable that the first partner with whom you share that love becomes disaffected and feels betrayed by the love expressed for the superfluous partner. This is interesting since, in the case of true love, no betrayal would be intended and no love would be held back from the first partner.

Why then does the partner feel betrayed by the attention given to the other partner? Is it because they feel they should be betrayed? Is it not the act of giving love to another that is hurtful but instead the lying and deceit that seems to always accompany such things?

Despite the number of things about my Mormon upbringing that make me angry, there are a quite a few highlights.

In no particular order:

I remember that, while blessing the sacrament, Aaron Case would regularly pause just a little longer that was required right after the second word. "Oh, God... ... ... -giggles from the rest of us- ... the eternal father"

I have always dreamed of a high end home theater. I now have the man-lair I dreamed about since I was a kid, the kind of place fourteen-year-old boys have fantasies about.

For starters, the room is in the basement, away from the main living area of the house. The theater is a dedicated media room equipped only for the task of satisfying my carnal lust for sports, action movies, and other such unruliness. This makes it something of a Celestial Room of multimedia. In fact, I am thinking of requiring an interview and recommend for admittance. I can go there to unburden the cares of the day and meditate. It is here I worship television.

The screen was painstakingly painted with no fewer than five coats of specialized metallic and diffusing paint. It measures 108 inches diagonally. Though it is merely a gray rectangle it is as beautiful to me as anything hanging in The Louvre.

As I sat to write I felt compelled, even obligated, to write about the events in New York City five years ago.

I can't. As soon as I convince myself I am not affected emotionaly by the events of 9/11 I find myself sad even thinking about it. I have much to say, but the wounds are surprisingly sensitive considering the complete distance I should have from the events.

Instead, you get this...

Back in April an interesting article in the Salt Lake Tribune caught my eye. The article was titled "Living History: Debunking 'Da Vinci Code': Christ's kin live in Utah". Here's the pertinent excerpt:

Speaking in the Salt Lake Temple to a select group of church leaders on July 2, 1899, George Q. Cannon of The First Presidency said, "there are those in this audience who are descendants of the old 12 Apostles, and shall I say it, yes, descendants of the Savior himself. His seed is represented in this body of men."

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A few days ago Donna agreed that she would ask, for herself, the tough questions about Mormonism. She would read a few books but only those written by active members. That sounded like a fine compromise to me as most of the best material out there on Mormonism is written by men and women who, as active members, wrote great books for which they were disfellowshipped or excommunicated. The idea that all this "anti-Mormon" literature is written by the enemies of the church is hogwash, really. Most is written by those earnestly seeking more information than is available at church and find themselves in trouble for airing dirty laundry.

She now has on her nightstand, "Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling", "An Insider's View of Mormon Origins", "Getting at the Truth: Responding to Difficult Questions about LDS Beliefs", "In Sacred Loneliness: The Plural Wives of Joseph Smith". While she has not yet picked any of them up and read them, I am optimistic at the prospect of her actually asking herself the questions.

I have skimmed all these books myself. "Getting At The Truth" spends the better part of 80 pages reminding readers that faith is required for belief and equipping them with the tools to respond to tough questions without actually answering them. The questions it "tackles" are also pretty lightweight considering the real holes that can be punched in the Mormon claim to divinity.

November 1, 2005

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Member Records, LDS Church

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I have several ancestors who walked the 1,271 miles from Nauvoo, IL to Salt Lake City, UT as part of the Mormon migration in the winter of 1846 and 1847. Some members of their families died. Others suffered sickness and injuries. Most left all they had behind in Illinois.

My family drives 1.3 miles each way, every Sunday to avoid what could be a 5 minute walk each direction. They would not even have to walk the full 2.6 miles as there's a walking trail that cuts through a neighborhood and middle school field that would make the total walk less than a mile round-trip. There are hundreds of thousands of Mormon families who do this same thing every week.

I propose that the LDS church reduce the size of their ward house parking lots to accommodate only parking for the handicap, elderly and those required to work long hours at the building. That is, no parking for the general congregations. Make these families get off their asses and get some exercise, if only once a week. They could do their part to reduce pollution from cars, reduce obesity in children, and -gasp- improve the overall health of their membership.

I got a new cell phone this week after my last one broke... err... accidentally got thrown across the parking lot and broke into a million pieces like a pinata would if it were filled with cell phone parts. The new phone has a built-in GPS.

This comes in handy if I ever wrap my finger around a pneumatic drill and need to call 911 but pass out before I can give directions. See, my cell provider's system can ask my phone where the hell it is and my phone will tell it. This is all part of the new compliance with E911.

This also comes in handy if you've ever been a lying, cheating, philanderer and have a wife who would like to keep constant tabs on your whereabouts. I happen to have been a lying, cheating, rotten, good-for-nothing, womanizer who will do anything to restore the trust I literally fucked away. My provider, Sprint, offers a service for customers with GPS-equipped phones called Family Locator.