9 Ekim 2012 Salı

Less Active Learns Morality From Kitten

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To: Abbottsville Fourth Ward
From: Ward Mission Leader, H. LaVar Turley
Subject: Teaching the Less Active

Less Actives can be so immoral. Always refusing our efforts to save them. Sometimes we're tempted to just blow them off, leave them to their sinful ways. But here's the thing. No moral person leaves the one and only true church. Consider the shallow reason the Less Active left in the first place. Some minor personal slight, a delusional claim about church history, or simply the desire to booze it up in front of the porn channel. Face it, he's immoral, and doesn't know what he wants. When he says "I don't agree," I hear "I drink like Yeltsin." When he says "the church isn't true," I hear "I'm into bestiality." When he says "no thank you," I hear, "got any malt liquor?" So when I learned that some Less Actives were heading to Salt Lake City to protest Elder Packer's recent General Conference talk, I thought, call to repentance moment!


The following exchange occurred on one such Less Active's front porch.


Me: Good evening Brother Immoral, I've brought some of my wife's nut loaf.

Brother Immoral: Keep your nut loaf and get lost.

Me: I understand you plan to protest Elder Packer's recent conference address.

Brother Immoral: You're darned right I do. Thanks to jerks like him, young LDS gays have committed suicide.



Me: Now, now, Brother Immoral. You mustn't allow some minor personal slight to undermine your testimony.


Brother Immoral: Minor personal slight? F#!k off.


Me: Remember, Elder Packer is an inspired authority.


Brother Immoral: Packer's not inspired, he's an obsessive old kook. All he ever talks about are the evils of masturbation and pornography and oral sex and gay sex and pre-marital sex and sex sex sex! If he had his way, nobody would get laid.


Me: Precisely!  That's because he has only one thing on his mind -- Traditional Marriage.


Brother Immoral: What exactly does your wife put in that nut loaf?


Me: Brother Immoral, may we engage in a thoughtful discussion?

Brother Immoral: I believe I can, yes.



Me: Elder Packer spoke of a little boy in Albuquerque who brought a kitten to school for show and tell.


Brother Immoral: Jesus, not that god-d@#$ed kitten again.


I'm so confused!


Me: You may remember that the class wanted to know if it was a girl kitty or a boy kitty.


Brother Immoral: I don't give a sh#t about the kitten, Turley.


Me: But you should, Brother Immoral. Because the teacher told the class that it didn't matter what sex the kitten was.


Brother Immoral: It DOESN'T matter, dou%$e-bag.


Me: Then a boy raised his hand and suggested the class vote on whether the kitten was a boy or a girl.


Brother Immoral: Do you understand the problem, Turley? This isn't about kittens, it's about young people committing suicide because their narrow-minded homophobic church leaders refuse to recognize that they're gay. 


Me: Do you understand the moral, Brother Immoral? We can't vote on whether a kitten is male or female. It's not like Congress can pass a bill. The kitten is what God made it.


Brother Immoral: OK. So what if the kitten is gay?


Me: Then the Brethren would veto it.


Brother Immoral: Turley if you're not off my property in thirty seconds I'm calling the cops.


Me: Oh you!


He slams the door. I knock. No response. I bang on the door. No response. I bang on the door and sing out "yoo-hoo" simultaneously. Still no response. 


I creep around the house to the bedroom window. I tap on the glass, then peek through an opening in the drapes. Sister Immoral is removing her brassiere. She screams. Oops! Awkward. 


I return to the front of the house just as a squad car pulls up. Out of respect for the Twelfth Article of Faith, I allow the authorities to escort me from the premises. I congratulate myself on my success and make a mental note to bring extra nut loaf next time -- in case there's a larger police presence.


The Church is true! Amen. 


If you would like to stop receiving these e-mails, we'll assume you were offended by some minor personal slight, or that you've been drinking too much malt liquor.


  

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