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Entry #2 from the Dude.
The setup:
Posters are discussing what they did over the weekend. SU chimes in and describes his Friday night.
The post:
Last night I was sitting in my den listening to Das Rheingold by Wagner, reading the latest issue of the New Yorker and nursing a glass of scotch. My wife walked by and told me that there was a mess in the back that I need to clean up. I rushed outside to discover that one of our chickens had defecated right in the middle of the patio. I punched the number for the King County Animal Control on my speed dial but they were closed for the day. I finally got in touch with one of our maids and she agreed to come over and take care of it.
While I waited for the maid I couldn't help but stare at the little pile on the patio. It was grotesque but mesmerizing. I circled it slowly and while I was pondering the concept of chicken shit, I couldn't help but think back to how the LDS leadership completely dropped the ball on civil rights in the sixties. If one wants incontrovertible evidence of the fraud that is modern-day prophecy, one need look no further than this pathetic episode. How could "God's mouthpiece" completely miss the most important issue of the twentieth century? Speaks volumes.
After the maid finished I dismissed her and then wandered over to the gazebo. I stared in the direction of the harbor and found myself focusing on a single green light, minute and far away. It might have been the end of a dock, but I imagined it was a light above a table in a library on the campus of the University of Chicago. A young and nubile Fawn Brodie is sitting at the table, surrounded by piles of books as she courageously peels away the myth and folklore surrounding Joseph Smith to let the sunlight finally shine on the fraud of Mormonism as she composes one of the greatest books of the twentieth century. This is real courage. If only I could have been there to bring her a glass of wine, dab the perspiration from her brow, or massage her neck. As I stood there I was overcome with emotion. I found myself stretching my arms toward the light and trembling. I gently whispered "Oh Fawn. Fawn, my darling..."
The setup:
Posters are discussing what they did over the weekend. SU chimes in and describes his Friday night.
The post:
Last night I was sitting in my den listening to Das Rheingold by Wagner, reading the latest issue of the New Yorker and nursing a glass of scotch. My wife walked by and told me that there was a mess in the back that I need to clean up. I rushed outside to discover that one of our chickens had defecated right in the middle of the patio. I punched the number for the King County Animal Control on my speed dial but they were closed for the day. I finally got in touch with one of our maids and she agreed to come over and take care of it.
While I waited for the maid I couldn't help but stare at the little pile on the patio. It was grotesque but mesmerizing. I circled it slowly and while I was pondering the concept of chicken shit, I couldn't help but think back to how the LDS leadership completely dropped the ball on civil rights in the sixties. If one wants incontrovertible evidence of the fraud that is modern-day prophecy, one need look no further than this pathetic episode. How could "God's mouthpiece" completely miss the most important issue of the twentieth century? Speaks volumes.
After the maid finished I dismissed her and then wandered over to the gazebo. I stared in the direction of the harbor and found myself focusing on a single green light, minute and far away. It might have been the end of a dock, but I imagined it was a light above a table in a library on the campus of the University of Chicago. A young and nubile Fawn Brodie is sitting at the table, surrounded by piles of books as she courageously peels away the myth and folklore surrounding Joseph Smith to let the sunlight finally shine on the fraud of Mormonism as she composes one of the greatest books of the twentieth century. This is real courage. If only I could have been there to bring her a glass of wine, dab the perspiration from her brow, or massage her neck. As I stood there I was overcome with emotion. I found myself stretching my arms toward the light and trembling. I gently whispered "Oh Fawn. Fawn, my darling..."
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