Brother Joseph (I'll be back)

Sometimes the peepingstones show me visions of alternate realities -- things that could have been, should have been, or things that actually are, but are just too glorious and unfathomable to either fathom or understand it in the glory that the Lord would have us fathom it. But I try to fathom with the best of them.

Like today, I saw for the first time an actual picture of the actual Joseph and Emma Smith. Apparently, he became the governor along the path to his bid for president. And I also knew he had spiritual fortitude, but I never knew he was this buff. This picture was taken as Joseph was once again covenanting to be faithful in all things.

(Emma sure doesn't look too happy though, does she? [sigh] Women!)

Inappropriate

I picked up a strange transmission on my peepingstones this morning. I'm not sure where this came from, but I am pretty sure it is inappropriate.

(I also need to apologize for my silence this past week. I had to remove my visitor. After three days of his wailing and gnashing he just became a nuisance, so I sent him back where he came from, right up through the sea. It was pretty magnificent, actually (I didn't realize that I had that kind of power -- my own righteousness surprises even me sometimes!) And you know, now that he is gone, I actually sort of miss him. But I can always check up on him with my trusted peeping stones).

The Beast

My visitor slept all day and all through the night. And at times he talked in his sleep. Something about western plague of evil, and great Satan, and Lady Gaga. He still smells like a sea bass, but he seems to have dried off mostly.

But he also seems to be in injured and in pain, because he keeps shouting in weird languages, which was annoying, because it interrupts my scripture reading. I am almost through with the New Testament, and he keeps stopping me dead in my tracks when I get to the Book of Revelations, chapter 13, which has always been my favorite. He just blasts through the place and howls like he's blowing -- oh, I don't know -- ten horns out of seven heads or something. I was really excited when he first showed up, but now he's just starting to annoy me.

And another thing -- I'll tell you what -- the guy snores like a Beast! It must be the beard. And I swear he must have eaten only garlic. Or locusts without the honey. If he doesn't stop it, I swear I may just invoke the power of my peepingstones and send him back up through that stinky sea where he came from.

[sigh] I need to calm down. I need to get back to my roots and remember my goal to be the peaceful, humble, meek, salt of the earth -- yes, I need to be more earthy, and remember my righteous mission of meekly and humbly striking fear into the hearts of the wicked and those who would appose the will of all that is good and decent in the world. Sometimes I don't know what comes over me.

Overheard

My visitor is still sleeping. He looks so peaceful and serene. I am sure he is some kind of new celestial missionary companion or something. I can’t wait to find out more about him. But as I was pondering our future together I heard the following conversation coming through on the peepingstones.

Man’s voice: They’re spinning this like justice has been done, but this is only the beginning.

Woman’s voice: You just know a Jihad is coming, cuz there had to be people lined up to take his place.

Man’s voice: Well, it only took us 10 years. He was under Clinton’s nose the whole time.

Woman’s voice: If he hadn’t been messing around with Monica.

Man’s voice: Yeah – he was putting Jihad on her!

(I have no idea what any of this means.)

The Visitor

Something is different in the bosom of Abraham today. I awoke to find an unexpected guest. I'm actually quite excited. I have heard voices before, so I have known that I am not alone here, but this is the first time I have actually seen someone else since arriving here in my glorious translated state. He's still asleep, and I don't want to wake him, and yet there is something oddly familiar about him, as if I have seen him somewhere before...

He appears to be a little dark-skinned (maybe he was from Mexico, or Arizona), and I'm surprised that they didn't shave him when he was translated -- maybe they were going for the "prophet of old" look. He is also dripping wet, which is actually what woke me up this morning (the unusual smell of sea bass). But I really can't wait to talk to him and find out what ward he was in and if he knew any of my cousins, or any of my cousins' cousins. It will be just like the mission field again. I hope he brought a picture scrapbook!

Oh, this is such a joyous day. I am no longer lone man in the bosom of Abraham! Now I know how Adam felt.

Wait... that sounds kind of weird.

Ask Stephen

So Steven, does everyone get to wear PJ's in Heaven or are you just a bad ass that refuses to wear the white robes? Just curious.

Your fond admirer and devoted follower,

Woozer

*********************************

Dear Brother Woozer,



A few things by way of comment:



1. First of all, a abhor short cuts and the people who make them. They are lazy and the fastest path to the evil one. My name is spelled with a "ph" - not a "v." And while I appreciate that you used the full name "Stephen" as opposed to the more vulgar short cut "Steve" which so many rowdy ex-Elders do these days to try and get a laugh, you did still take a shortcut - perhaps unintentionally -- with the "ph" sound. But the devil cares little about intentions -- mistakes are mistakes -- so care and attention to detail is of the utmost importance, especially when dealing with something as important as names. Because as we learn from the great prophet Michael D Tannehill, it is by names that we are saved -- so watch it (Mormon Expression podcast episode 61).



2. There must have been a glitch in my peepingstone, because the words came out a little blurry. It looks like you asked if I am a bad sport for wearing PJ's. The picture you are referring to was taken of me during my earthly mortal probation while serving on my mission actually. You can't really see it, but the other missionaries in the apartment thought it would be hilarious to put baby powder on my side burns to make my hair look grey, and they called this my stake president pose. I was not amused at the time, nor am I amused now. But rest assured that I do not wear these PJ's in my translated state, nor could I, because in fact...



3. It is a little known fact that resurrected and semi-resurrected beings are resurrected with their white robes sealed and grafted to their eternal bodies. We can't take them off at all, which yields some wonderful blessings (no shopping, no competitive trends in fashion, no laundry, etc) and poses a few problems (see earlier post on "pissmakers"). I am pretty sure this is different for those in the highest degree of the Celestial Kingdom -- I am hoping so, at least -- I will let you know when I get there.

Thank you for your inquiries,



Yours in eternal humble righteousness, 



Elder Steven Erastus Knudsen III

Testimony Time

Today is Fast Sunday in the Bosom of Abraham. And I would feel remiss if I didn't stand before you today and express my eternal gratitude for all of the wonderful blessings that I have had throughout my life, both when I was alive, and now when I am... When I am... [sniff]

I'm sorry. I didn't expect to do this...

I want to thank my parents, who in life would teach me correct principles.

I could always count on my mother to make sure that I had cleaned my room until it was sufficiently clean. And that...

I'm sorry.

...and that my clothes were neatly pressed. And wrinkle-free. And that I always went to every church meeting. Even when I was the only deacon in the quorum -- and was the deacon's president, and my own first and second counselor -- she would drive me to the presidency meetings, because that's what the Lord requires.

And I could always count on my Father to be reading scriptures whenever he... whenever he wasn't at work. And when I would talk to him, rather than shush me, he... he...

I'm so sorry, I promised myself I wouldn't do this!

...he bought me my own set of scriptures, with my own set of colored marking pencils. And we sat in the same room studying our scriptures together in solemn brotherhood, feasting upon the Lord's words together, father and son, (like Luke and Vader, even though I don't know who that is!) Such a marvelous example of choosing the better path.

And that's how I know that the church is true! And that's how I had the strength to... [sniff] to persevere! To sacrifice! To do what had to be done to make it where I am today, here... alone in... [sob]

I'm sorry. I didn't expect to be so emotional.

There aren't any tissue in the Bosom of Abraham.

What is this place?

Overheard... The Ugly Kid

Sometimes I pick up conversations through my peepingstones. Just today I heard the following:

I have a deep belief that once we get to the other side, many in Mormon-ville will be shocked by how things really are and what really matters. Some examples will be the ugly kid who grew up in Utah and never had a chance to be adulterous because he was so ugly. In his mind, he would have, if only he had been given the chance. Instead he will say that he was chaste his whole life, but on judgement day he will find himself with the adulterers. These are things that I don't talk about much and put me at odds with many people in my ward.

I don't know who this person is or what he looks like, but if his outside reflects his inside at all, he must be the most handsome guy in the world.

Lehi's Dream

Ever since I was a deacon I have prayed that I -- like Nephi -- could be blessed to experience Lehi's dream. It still hasn't happened, even in my translated state. But last night I did dream that Osama Bin Laden raised his arm to the square and cast himself out of the Garden of Eden. I felt the spirit so strong!

Celestial Mia Maid Service

As can be expected, things can get rather untidy from time to time in the bosom of Abraham. It's not that I am an untidy person. Quite the contrary. I am resolutely fastidious in every pure and cleanly detail. It's just that my mind is often turned to more weighty things, so it doesn't hurt to call in a maid service every once in a while.

So imagine my surprise this morning when I was serviced by none other than the one and only Fanny Alger. Yep, this is really her -- resurrected in the prime of her youth and glory, just as she was promised. She even baked a quiche. Sort of helps you understand the whole polygamy thing now, doesn't it.

Funeral Potatoes

It has been a glorious Easter here in the Bosom of Abraham. It gets a little lonely, so I do try to dublicate the traditions I celebrated while in my mortal state -- even some of the more harmless heathen ones -- and I couldn't resist doing a small easter egg hunt this morning. The only problem is that I colored and hid 24 eggs but I was only able to find 21. I hope the other three don't make these new living arrangements too uncomfortable over the next few weeks and months. I'll keep looking.

But I did find something interesting as I was observing my peepingstones before bed tonight. A rather irreverent Swearing Elder back on earth asked the following question:

"Do you think that Mary Magdelene served funeral potatoes at Jesus's funeral?"

It's a terrible question, for many reasons. First, because as we all know, Jesus did not have a funeral. He was entombed quickly, resurrected even quickerer, and when the women came to mourne, he was gone. Second, Mary Magdelene probably wasn't a very good cook -- I mean, just think about the way he first met her. Women like that don't usually make very good cooks I wouldn't think, which is why they have to try and attract men with other less flattering allurements. And lastly, it's just a thoughtless question because I doubt very much that she would have had access to kosher mayonnaise.

But nevertheless, I have an advantage with my peepingstones that the truth of all things are just within my reach, so I asked the question, and I shook the stones, and I looked inside the glass for my answer. It said, "My sources say no."

Just kidding. My peeping stones are not a child's magic eight ball toy. I just wanted to prove to you all that even translated righteous beings maintain a certain degree of humor.

The peepingstone actually showed me that funeral potatoes were actually first served to Joseph of Arimathea by early Irish Christians when he visited the British Isles with the Holy Grail. Of course they did not know that their veins were surging with the blood of Ephraim until about 1820 years later when that fact was revealed to the Prophet Joseph Smith. At that time, not only was the truth about their lost sacred lineage restored to the world, but so was the recipe for funeral potatoes. And here it is in its unadulterated purity:

Ingredients (just as the ancient Ephraimite Irish used to make it):

32 oz bag of frozen shredded hash browns
2 (10 3/4 oz) cans cream of chicken soup
2 cups sour cream shopping list
1 1/2 cup grated sharp cheddar cheese
1/2 cup melted butter or margarine
1/2 c. chopped onion
2 cups finely crushed corn flakes
2 Tbs butter or margarine melted

How to make it:

Grease 9x13 baking dish and preheat oven to 350
In large bowl combine soups, sour cream, cheese, onions, and the 1/2 cup of melted butter.
Gently fold hash browns into mixture.
Pour mixture into pan.
Combine crushed corn flakes and the 2 Tbs. of melted butter and sprinkle on top of potato mixture.
Bake for 30 minutes.

So Mr. Ex-brother Swearing Elder -- don't knock it -- for this recipe is truth, and all truthful recipes cometh of good, for spuds shall not be mocked.

Inappropriate

Today is Easter, not Father's Day. But that is not the only reason why this card is so gosh darn inappropriate.

(I actually looked into the peepingtone to translate Fig. 3, and trust me -- you don't want to know).

Eye on Chest Hair

I don't want to be judgmental, but I am pretty sure that this man is not wearing his garments. This sort of thing would never be allowed in the bosom of Abraham. We have very strict bosom standards here.

Taj Mabob

Sometimes when I glance into my peepingstones I see disturbing visions. Like this one. I think it needs a caption. If I had spent more time watching television in my youth instead of reading scriptures and cross referencing to Nibley (a natural pre-requisite for translation to the Bosom of Abraham, you see) I would probably say something about this tourist's shirt and the Brady Tiki curse. But of course I don't know what that is...

...even though the Brady family should totally have their temple work done for them by now. Alice would make a great second wife to Carol. If only Mr. Brady hadn't been born with those pre-determined tendencies. (Why did a loving Heavenly Father do that?) Never mind. Forget I ever even said that.

Prayers for Catherine

I said some prayers for Catherine today. I have prayed for Catherine since I first saw her back when I was in the mortal sphere many years ago.

I didn't usually attend the movies (and even now they only come in kind of fuzzy on the peepingstones), because of the filth and my desire to avoid the appearance of evil, but since this one (Zorro) was about the descendants of the Lamanites, I figured it would be OK.

I thought that Ms. Zeta-Jones was the loveliest daughter of Eve I had seen since I had seen. Well, at least since Eve herself, who I saw daily on the big screen every morning in the temple. In fact, it has always been my desire (and the main emphasis of my prayers) that one day maybe she will, in fact, become my Eve, and I will become her Adam. I already had the temple work done for Audry Hepburn and was planning on having her sealed as my first wife before I saw Ms. Zeta-Jones. I decided to give her the honor instead, and now I just have to wait a few years I guess. And now from the looks of it she has some kind of disease. Another testament to my perseverance and faith? You never know. But I can at least wait a little while longer. Charity is, afterall, long suffering. I just hope she doesn't smoke.

Prayers Needed

I prayed for this man today. Maybe you should, too.

Anyone know if the misisonaries have had a chance to bring the spirit to touch his his soul yet? The Lord gives men humbling experiences like these to make them greater.

Just wait.

You'll see.

What came first?

Monday morning in the Bosom of Abraham is about the same as any morning in the Bosom of Abraham. I start my daily routine with scripture reading, of course, followed by a brief shower (cold, as always) and a brisk scrubbing of my teeth.

Clearly, several habits from mortality have continued with me into this sphere -- like the way I chuckle to myself as I think about the millions and billions of people addicted to coffee. Why yoke yourself to such a vile substance that becomes your sole means of kickstarting things in the morning? With a dedicated attitude towards stretching, flexibility, and a double-jointed knee, I have been blessed with the ability to kickstart myself anytime I want. And my teeth stay mostly white to boot. Coffee flavored ice cream isn't any better. And if you don't avoid the coffee isle in the supermarket, then you are cheating. I don't even know why they allow coffee isles in the supermarkets in Utah.

The other downside of coffee drinking is the consumption of daily trivia that passes for news. Lazy worldly people will sit with their newspapers in one hand and a coffee cup in the other and pour over the latest gossip. I have my peeping stones for that. And just one look tells me that things are right on track. Earthquakes in diverse places, wars and rumors of wars in the middle east and on late night talk shows, celebrities being arrested for drunken domestic violence -- all of the important stuff. It just means that we are getting closer to that great millennial day. So rejoice!

And in that spirit, I thought I would share with you my favorite breakfast receipe. The hard boiled egg. Here's how you do it:

1. Boild some water

2. Put in an egg

When you remove the egg, be careful not to burn your fingers peeling away the shell. But if you do, it is your own fault, cuz don't say I didn't warn you. And if you must use salt, remember moderation. But there is something more hearty and enriching to your soul about the dry taste of an unsalted hard boiled egg. Be careful not to rob yourself of that. The same thing goes for buttering your English muffins. But I don't want to over complicate things. That will be another recipe for another time.

Why I won't be seeing the Book of Mormon Musical

I recently picked up an interesting read through my peepingstones from Brother Michael Otterman, who -- it has been revealed to me -- is a veritable modern day Aaron for President Monson, who is a veritable modern day 15th successive prophet-like person from Brigham Young, who was a vertible modern-day Moses.

Brother Otterman will not be seeing the Book of Mormon musical, and I don't blame him. The church does good things for real in Africa, and in other places. And missionaries remember African dialects after they have served there. So why should he go see people make fun of the church? It just makes sense. In fact, I didn't even need to read his article to know that.

I won't go see that musical either. Mainly because of the whole bosom of Abraham thing. But also cuz I accidently heard about the entire production here. It sounded terrible (there were cuss words).

Plus, it's in New York. I think that's where they filmed The Sopranos. And that was on HBO.

Blessed are the Pissmakers

It's not easy being a translated being. I remember I used to think it would be. I prayed and fasted for it, (obviously, as we all should). But when it finally happened... well, there are just certain earthly abilities that you miss.

I mean translated beings are supposed to experience neither pain nor sorrow, right? But it's also true that this life is the time to prepare to meet God, and that whatever state you attained to in this life is how you will be when you enter into the next -- not that I am dead -- I am only translated -- which is better -- I still have my body, you see.

But that also has it's challneges. Because, well... there is just no gentle way to say this:

There is no way to relieve yourself when you become a translated being. This is something the three Nephites never told us.

You are changed in the "twinkling" of an eye -- not a tinkling -- and if you haven't prepared ahead of time, well, too bad. You're stuck. It's my own fault, really. I should have been listening more carefully to the spirit. I did feel like I needed to go right before it happened. But that is another story for another time.

Suffice it to say, it is something I really should have planned for, but now I'm just sort of just stuck in gotta-go limbo. The Lord must be testing me again for greater things. I have just sort of come to expect that by now. But count your blessings, brothers and sisters. You don't know what you have until it's gone.

I just hope it is taken care of in the resurrection.

Kobe's Beef

Here in the Bosom of Abraham, I occasionally play with my peepingstones the way one might play with the knobs on a radio reciever. And it works, too, because I occasionally get news of things going on in The World out there that you live in (it is getting so much wickeder!) But my peepingstones also show me versions of futures that could be but yet aren't -- prophetic futures yet to come.

Like today, when I heard that a certain basketball star, decended from father Cain, made a so-called "inappropriate slur" to a ref (leave it to the liberals to strip away our basic rights to free speech. This cost him 100 thousand dollars -- nothing free about that. And he was only making fun of gay people, who -- if they would just choose to repent -- wouldn't need to choose to be offended in the first place -- see what I mean by increasing wickedness in the world?).

Anyway, as I was playing with my peepingstones I saw a vision of what would happen if this basketball star -- instead of calling the ref an insulting -- called him an insulting MORMON! How would that make ME feel as a proud, righteous, translated Mormon living in quite comfortably in the Bosom of Abraham? And as I pondered, the following revelation blazed forth before my eyes, and I wrote:

1. And it came to pass, that Kobimamba in a moment of anger did lift up his voice unto the striped one and didth shout out, "Raca, thou fool! Thou artest an effing Mormon!" And his comments were published throughout all the land.

2. And it came to pass the all the children in the lands to the north, and to the south, and to the east, and to the west did witness the deeds of Kobimamba, and did in unholy mimicry also cry out in their moments of anger, "Raca, though fool! Thou artest an effing Mormon!"

3. And verily thus did it spread throughout the land that "Mormon" became a cuss and a by-word even unto the most very pure in heart. Even unto the land of Zion.

4. And thus did the prophet Boydoni did lift up his voice to the people, and didst deliver unto them the Lord's will that "Mormon" was no longer to be used by the faithful members of the Lord's church, for the true name of the Lord's church was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

5. And it came to pass that the faithfull heeded unto Boydoni's words, and verily all of the faithful LDS children in the lands to the north, and the lands to the south, and the lands to the east, and the lands to the west did from that day forth cry in their moments of anger, "Raca, thou fool! Thou artest a fetching LDS!"

6. And once ye have recieved these things...

And that's when the revelation went blank. But up to that point the further light and knowledge was brilliant to behold.

Hanging by a thread

Apparently I'm not the only one here in the Bosom of Abraham, because I heard some voices today talking about the upcoming presidential election back down on earth where all of you out there in cyber space are. Remember how prophet Joseph said that in the last days, the country would be hanging by a thread, and someone named Mitt Romney would come along to save it? Well, from what these voices were saying, it's about to happen. And it makes total sense:

Earthquakes in diverse places? Check.

Tokyo is diverse. Cuz diverse means difference than us, right? And who is more different than us than the Japanese? They are just crazy.

The moon turning to blood? Check.

The moon turns around the earth where there is constant bloodshed everyday, mostly from all the abortions that president Obama makes everyone's tax dollars pay for. Which brings me to the most convincing evidence:

Anti-christ.

Need I say more?

So stock up on the canned yams and the 50 gallon barrels of cracked wheat. Mitt Romney is coming to save us. Cuz we are already danging by a thread. The voices said so. And I'm pretty sure that one of them was Glenn Beck (now you know where he went).

The Word of Wingdom

A new revelation, received through the peepstones, delivered to me here where I reside in the bosom of Abraham, transmitted as I do for the edification of you all out there in cyberland -- whatever that is. The spirit whispers to me that it is something awesome to behold.

A Proclamation to the World:
The Word of Wingdom

v. 1-3 Message of truth, three degrees set out: v. 4-7 conditions of Celestial world, V. 8-11 conditions of Terrestrial world: v. 12-13 conditions of Telestial world; v. 14 blessings of obedience.


1. He who hath ears to hear, let him hear the message of the word of truth.

2 For in the house of Wings there are many mansions. How shall I liken these that you may understand them?

3. For there are mansions like unto the stars in their glory which are Telestial, and mansions like unto the moon in its glory which are Terrestrial, and mansions like unto the sun in its glory which are Celestial.

4. He who hath eyes to see, let him read this proclamation of the words of truth, for unto each glory is assigned inhabitants who are judged by their works in the flesh. These are they who must abide in the glory thereof.

5. For whosoever liveth the law to its fullest, who obey the commandments and transgress not the law, these are they who shall inherit the Celestial Wingdom. These are they who place no other sauce before me, for there is but one true sauce, and it is the Red Hot of Durkee or more recently of Franks™. And to this sauce should be added only enough pure butter as to dilute its potency sufficiently, and enough white wine vinegar, purely distilled, with perhaps a dash of freshly ground pepper (to give it that little extra kick) for there are many degrees within the Celestial Wingdom. Any more or less than this cometh of evil.

6. And pertaining to the inhabitance of the Celestial Wingdom, these are they who in life devoured their wings with thankfulness of heart, and left not extra meat nor skin upon the bone, but bit off the ends and sucked the marrow ‘til it was dry. These are they who shall inherit the Celestial Wingdom. But verily I say unto you that he who cannot abide Celestial laws cannot abide the Celestial Wingdom. For no unclean thing can enter therein, including those who waste meat upon the bones, or those who abuse ranch-based salad dressings of any kind,

7. For verily I say unto you that ranch and blue cheese were not made for the dipping of wings, but were intended for vegetables such as carrots or celery, and for the healing of bruised cows (but only on Tuesdays). Woe unto he who dips his wing into sauces such as these, for surely it will be unto their eternal condimentation.

8. And for those who were honest men, enjoying the idea of wings but never partaking in the fullness of their glory, being deceived by the craftiness of men and the irresponsibility of restaurants, fast food joints, and pizza chains (who have absolutely no business selling their corrupted excuse-for-wings in the first place) these are they who shall inherit the Terrestrial Wingdom.

9. These are they who, rather than harvesting all the goodness of each wing, peeled off the skin, refused to bite into the bone, dipped into the forbidden sauces, and did not pick their wings dry. These are they who ignorantly threw old wings in the garbage when they thought that they were full; for verily I say unto you, wings were made for the enjoyment of man, and not for the enlargement of landfills. If ye love me, eat my commandments.

10. He who hath tongue to taste, let him savor the truth, that uneaten wings shall not be wasted, but shall be saved and preserved and reheated in their original sauce, for what good is new sauce with old wings?

11. And to those who would re-use old sauce on newly cooked wings, verily I forbid it. And yea, these are they who shall inherit the Terrestrial Wingdom. But again I say unto, yea and verily and all the rest of it (sing me on down – can I get an Amen?) he who abideth not the Terrestrial law cannot abide the Terrestrial Wingdom.

12. And the rest are those of the.... um... let's say Telestial... yeah, Telestial world, whose glory is likened unto the stars, and the really dim and faint ones at that, like the ones you might have to look through a "tele" scope to see (get it?); Liars, who feign righteousness but secretly dip in ranch or blue cheese when they think no one is looking; Murderers, who throw away perfectly good wings or eat wings before they have been sauced for the purpose of avoiding spices; Adulterers, who use any sauce other than the Durkee or of Franks™.

13. These are they who shall not partake of the first batch of wings delivered in the morning of the first preparation, but shall pay for their sins with paper cuts on their feet, dipped in a burning lake of hell-fire ranch and blue cheese damnation, mixed with a tablespoon of lemon juice, perhaps a sprinkle of paprika, and a tiny dash of salt until it hurts really really bad. For wings shall not be mocked.

14. But verily, to those who keep and honor my laws, to them shall I open the windows of heaven, pull back the venetian blinds, remove the screens, and pour out great gifts and blessings untold; and ye shall have my mark stained across your lips, and shall be numbered among my gaggle, and ye shall be my friends. Let’s eat. Amen.

Life in a Bosom

Perhaps I haven't made it clear what it is like to be a translated being who resides in the bosom of Abraham. It's pretty neat, actually. And it's really not as bad as you might think.

Except on Thursdays. Taco night.

Trust me when I say that you don't want to reside in the bosom of Abraham immediately after Taco night. The bosom of Elijah? Maybe. He doesn't seem to have the same response to fresh jallepenos. But Abraham... well... let's just say it's no picnic.

But otherwise, this translated lifestyle certainly has its perks.

Latter Days

I know it is wrong to say anything bad about the Bretheren, or even the sweet sisters who they let speak in General Conference, but I have to admit that I was a little dissapointed in this past weekend. I was so excited when I saw all the Earthquakes in New Zealand and Japan -- the Tsunami and hte nuclear devastation. I just know that as we creep closer to the Mayan/Nephite calander date of December 2012 that we will see more of the predicted Signs of the Times come to pass -- I marked them all very clearly in McConkie. But the Church doesn't even publish Mormon Doctrine any more. And there was very little mention of it in General Conference at all. I think the Lord is just testing those of us who are faithful -- expecting us to read between the lines. Well, I know what to expect. And I am holding fast and true. I'm pretty excited to see what is happening in the world. Those crazy rebels in Libya are in a far better place now -- and it's not like they couldn't have seen it coming if they had only been paying attention. Why is the world so blind?

Why Thurimm and Yummin?

The glory of God isn't just intelligence, it is also obedience, which can fly completely counter to intelligence -- or at least to the so-called intellectuals. This is true wisdom. God also wants us to eat good food. That is why He has revealed to me in these latter days the final peeping stones - the Thurimm and Yummin -- through which I will reveal to you all the hidden mysteries that are hidden and mysterious. And maybe some good recipes from time to time. Because I tried pomogranite juice with diet (non-caffinated) Pepsi the other day, and it was pretty good. And if you have questions -- I will look into my Thurimm and Yummin and answer them for you. I am Stephen Erastus Knudsen III, a valiant follower of the Prophet Joseph Smith. I am not starting my own church as He did. But who knows. Maybe some day. But for now, as for me and my house, I am a proud member of third ward and follow the Inappropriate Bishop Higgins.