Recovery Board
: RfM
Recovery from Mormonism (RfM) discussion forum.
I think as exmos, we can counter all the FPRs of the church with our own Faith DEMOTING Rumors. After all, TBMs seem impervious to facts, so why not hit 'em with emotionally-based insinuations and twisting of facts? (After all, FAIR and FARMS do that.)
I'll start.
Did you know that Gordon B. Hinkley was the majority shareholder in the infamous porn company, Vivid Pictures? Yeah, it's true!
I'll start.
Did you know that Gordon B. Hinkley was the majority shareholder in the infamous porn company, Vivid Pictures? Yeah, it's true!
The LDS church owns the Jack Daniels Whiskey Distillery, and Corona Beer, they thought that if they took over the business in a buyout, then at least they could control who is making the alcohol and the Lord would bless the efforts of the righteous, making it not as bad for those drinking it.
Joseph Smith's diary was found under the floorboards of his old house. It goes into great detail his glee at pulling off the scam of the century, and organizes how great each of his wives were in bed by act. He pokes fun at Briggy and says Briggy will succeed him as the prophet over his dead body. Damning stuff.
A couple months ago I had a dream. George Washington, Christopher Columbus and Benjamin Franklin all came to me in this dream. There was a 4th but I didn't know who he was. They greeted me warmly and begged me to help them be right with god. I said well, I don't believe in god, but whatever you want. What can I do? I felt the spirit wash over me, burning in my bosom as I agreed to help. I knew I was being reassured by some force larger than me that I was doing the right thing, though I didn't even know yet what they wanted.
In unison, they said "Help us escape a cult!" They excitedly spoke, sometimes all at the same time, sometimes interrupting each other as they told me the story. You see, they were just hanging around shooting the bull, discussing old times while they drank mojitos and waited for their tee time. Dog came up to them and said hey you guys need to get out of here. Here's your passage to where cult members are assigned.
Wha'?
They stared at him dumbfounded and insisted they were never members of a cult. Oh yes, said dog, you were baptised after you died. They claim you appeared in the Temple of Mammon in St. George begging to be baptised, and that you accepted the ritual. You are hereby banished from The Fun Place (TFP). So here, said dog, are your passports to the celestial kingdom where you will live out eternity being forced to wear long underwear, pure white clothing, attend church 8 hours every day (12 hours on Sunday), and sing the same 5 hymns over and over again for some control freak who insists on being worshipped. (Apparently the organists who had a wider hymnal repertoire also knew some rock and roll so they were not allowed in the CK and the faithful are stuck with the organ players who followed the straight and narrow and did not stray to places where they might be tempted to learn something of the world. Avoiding even the appearance of evil doncha know.)
At this point George Washington interrupted the story and looked at me petulantly and said "All white? With my gray hair do you KNOW how washed out I look in all white? I can't live eternity looking all washed out!"
The other three rolled their eyes, threw out a few jabs about being a diva, then continued their story.
They knew not what to do, so they quickly conferred with the gate guard with whom they had cultivated a friendship, because you never know when you'll need the talents of a gate guard. He told them the CK was torture, and they needed get back to dog and TFP asap. The four unfortunate souls (FUS) were hied on their way before they could get any further instruction.
When the FUS got to the CK, they found it as excruciatingly boring as the guard had said. As they skulked around depressed and looking all washed out, they began to hear rumors of how certain people were doing things on earth that would get them locked out of the CK. Their ears perked up.
Their excitement soon withered, however, when they discovered that many of the things that could get them locked out were not available. Coffee and alcohol were banned in the CK, no access even on the black market. Sex with a bunch of women? Oops, that was actually encouraged there. Lying? Nope that won't get you kicked out either. In fact, the CK has a daily contest to judge who had told the most ridiculous lie to protect the image of the cult when they were alive. The winner gets to put on an extra layer of long underwear, and they get to act out the part of the wheel when the congretation sings Put Your Shoulder to the Wheel. Apparently with a rotation of only 5 songs, PYSTTW comes up a couple times per hour and the "wheel" can develop quite the sore back. But it's still an honor.
The FUS were quick to point out to me that even though a lying contest may sound like a fun activity, the winner of this particular contest was always some guy named Wilford (who names their kid Wilford???). He had won so many times they didn't even bother recounting the stories anymore, but the FUS gleaned that Wilford (seriously, WILFORD????) had convinced millions of people that some important ghosts had appeared to him asking to be baptised into a cult.
It was but a few days later when the FUS first heard of apostacy. They furtively glanced at each other hoping no one would notice their excitement. Later they met in secret hoping that the Power of Discernment the faithful bragged so much about possessing would not betray them. It didn't. They were able to discuss and plan even as they sat on the hard wooden pews of the church.
They quickly came to the conclusion that the only way out was to commit apostacy, to deny that Joseph Smith was a profit. Just saying it didn't count. The CK enforc... um I mean bishops insisted that it be in writing. One problem. The CK didn't allow pens, pencils, or paper. Even on the black market.
Curiosity got the best of me, so I interrupted their story and asked what WAS available on the black market. They said only 2 items were allowed to be on it, and the first item they had to allow was the black market itself. Remember, everything has to be white, so the first vote had to allow the black part of the market. Second item by popular vote was green jello, banned because ... well, it's not white. They said the gen pop was very happy with the black market choices available.
After satisfying my curiosity, they continued the story.
The FUS remembered that the champion liar (Wilford - tee hee) had said spirits had appeared to him on earth. Could the FUS get someone on earth to see them? They didn't know because they had never attempted it before. But they were determined to try, and keep trying until someone helped them. They quite by accident stumbled upon the secret combination to spirit travel. One of the faithful started a chant by yelling "Who's the man?" Of course the faithful were expected to yell back "The Profit Joseph! The Profit Joseph! The Profit Joseph!" Well, the FUS were not paying close attention during orientation, and they started chanting Stan's the man! Stan's the man! Stan's the man! They suddenly found themselves drifting toward earth.
With that they concluded their tale of woe and asked if I would write to the cult formally resigning them.
The minute I awoke, I turned on the computer and printed out 4 resignation letters and mailed them the same day.
Thirty two days later, I had another dream. George, Chris, Bennie and the guy I don't know (that's right, we're on first name terms now) came to me. They were beaming, wearing Boise State Bronco orange and blue, except Diva George who was in purple. Bennie reeked of cheap whiskey. They just wanted to thank me and let me know they were on their way back to TFP, and told me they'd be there to greet me with a tall glass of coconut rum when I arrived.
Inthenameofcheesyrice
on
Ramen
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 04/11/2011 07:32PM by lillium.
In unison, they said "Help us escape a cult!" They excitedly spoke, sometimes all at the same time, sometimes interrupting each other as they told me the story. You see, they were just hanging around shooting the bull, discussing old times while they drank mojitos and waited for their tee time. Dog came up to them and said hey you guys need to get out of here. Here's your passage to where cult members are assigned.
Wha'?
They stared at him dumbfounded and insisted they were never members of a cult. Oh yes, said dog, you were baptised after you died. They claim you appeared in the Temple of Mammon in St. George begging to be baptised, and that you accepted the ritual. You are hereby banished from The Fun Place (TFP). So here, said dog, are your passports to the celestial kingdom where you will live out eternity being forced to wear long underwear, pure white clothing, attend church 8 hours every day (12 hours on Sunday), and sing the same 5 hymns over and over again for some control freak who insists on being worshipped. (Apparently the organists who had a wider hymnal repertoire also knew some rock and roll so they were not allowed in the CK and the faithful are stuck with the organ players who followed the straight and narrow and did not stray to places where they might be tempted to learn something of the world. Avoiding even the appearance of evil doncha know.)
At this point George Washington interrupted the story and looked at me petulantly and said "All white? With my gray hair do you KNOW how washed out I look in all white? I can't live eternity looking all washed out!"
The other three rolled their eyes, threw out a few jabs about being a diva, then continued their story.
They knew not what to do, so they quickly conferred with the gate guard with whom they had cultivated a friendship, because you never know when you'll need the talents of a gate guard. He told them the CK was torture, and they needed get back to dog and TFP asap. The four unfortunate souls (FUS) were hied on their way before they could get any further instruction.
When the FUS got to the CK, they found it as excruciatingly boring as the guard had said. As they skulked around depressed and looking all washed out, they began to hear rumors of how certain people were doing things on earth that would get them locked out of the CK. Their ears perked up.
Their excitement soon withered, however, when they discovered that many of the things that could get them locked out were not available. Coffee and alcohol were banned in the CK, no access even on the black market. Sex with a bunch of women? Oops, that was actually encouraged there. Lying? Nope that won't get you kicked out either. In fact, the CK has a daily contest to judge who had told the most ridiculous lie to protect the image of the cult when they were alive. The winner gets to put on an extra layer of long underwear, and they get to act out the part of the wheel when the congretation sings Put Your Shoulder to the Wheel. Apparently with a rotation of only 5 songs, PYSTTW comes up a couple times per hour and the "wheel" can develop quite the sore back. But it's still an honor.
The FUS were quick to point out to me that even though a lying contest may sound like a fun activity, the winner of this particular contest was always some guy named Wilford (who names their kid Wilford???). He had won so many times they didn't even bother recounting the stories anymore, but the FUS gleaned that Wilford (seriously, WILFORD????) had convinced millions of people that some important ghosts had appeared to him asking to be baptised into a cult.
It was but a few days later when the FUS first heard of apostacy. They furtively glanced at each other hoping no one would notice their excitement. Later they met in secret hoping that the Power of Discernment the faithful bragged so much about possessing would not betray them. It didn't. They were able to discuss and plan even as they sat on the hard wooden pews of the church.
They quickly came to the conclusion that the only way out was to commit apostacy, to deny that Joseph Smith was a profit. Just saying it didn't count. The CK enforc... um I mean bishops insisted that it be in writing. One problem. The CK didn't allow pens, pencils, or paper. Even on the black market.
Curiosity got the best of me, so I interrupted their story and asked what WAS available on the black market. They said only 2 items were allowed to be on it, and the first item they had to allow was the black market itself. Remember, everything has to be white, so the first vote had to allow the black part of the market. Second item by popular vote was green jello, banned because ... well, it's not white. They said the gen pop was very happy with the black market choices available.
After satisfying my curiosity, they continued the story.
The FUS remembered that the champion liar (Wilford - tee hee) had said spirits had appeared to him on earth. Could the FUS get someone on earth to see them? They didn't know because they had never attempted it before. But they were determined to try, and keep trying until someone helped them. They quite by accident stumbled upon the secret combination to spirit travel. One of the faithful started a chant by yelling "Who's the man?" Of course the faithful were expected to yell back "The Profit Joseph! The Profit Joseph! The Profit Joseph!" Well, the FUS were not paying close attention during orientation, and they started chanting Stan's the man! Stan's the man! Stan's the man! They suddenly found themselves drifting toward earth.
With that they concluded their tale of woe and asked if I would write to the cult formally resigning them.
The minute I awoke, I turned on the computer and printed out 4 resignation letters and mailed them the same day.
Thirty two days later, I had another dream. George, Chris, Bennie and the guy I don't know (that's right, we're on first name terms now) came to me. They were beaming, wearing Boise State Bronco orange and blue, except Diva George who was in purple. Bennie reeked of cheap whiskey. They just wanted to thank me and let me know they were on their way back to TFP, and told me they'd be there to greet me with a tall glass of coconut rum when I arrived.
Inthenameofcheesyrice
on
Ramen
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 04/11/2011 07:32PM by lillium.
fucking spoil sport, but.... we don't need to make-up shit about LDS, Inc.... The real stuff says it all! Smith - a con-artist and sex addict. Young - believed you had to pay for your own sins with your own blood. Apostle Kimball said: I think no more of taking another wife than I do of buying a cow. Prophet Kimball: I don't know that we teach that.
Come on! The real stuff is worse!
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 04/11/2011 07:27PM by wine country girl.
Come on! The real stuff is worse!
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 04/11/2011 07:27PM by wine country girl.