My ULCER Ego
May 1st, 2008 by Stephen Erastus Knudsen III
I would be very ungrateful today indeed if I did not stand before you and bear witness against the recent slander that has come against me. I can take the mockery and the ridicule. I can accept the tar and the feathers. But to suggest that I am merely a fictional character derived from a BYU satire class?
Oh, heaven, where is the pavilion that covereth thy hiding place? How long shall mine eye, yea mine pure eye, behold from the eternal heavens the wrongs done upon me thy servant? How long shall I suffer these wrongs and oppressions, before thy bowels be moved with compassion toward me?
So allow me to move my own bowels and speak out against this tyranny. I will tell you about MY alter ego (or should I say my “ulcer” ego, because that kind of rhymes with “alter,” and I’m kind of clever, too). You want to know more about this “Glenn” guy (if that is his real name…)? Well here it is:
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He does not brush his teeth regularly, and rarely does he floss. It’s why he has so many crowns and fillings.
He walked by 108 people yesterday on his way home from work and stopped not one, nary a soul to discuss the true and living gospel.
He doesn’t believe that I never said it would be easy, I only said it would be worth it.
He often resorts to the bottoms of chairs and undersides of desks rather than entrust a tissue with its intended manufactured use.
He stopped trying to translate figures 9, 10, and 11 from facsimile no. 2 in the Pearl of Great Price when he was oh-so-close to cracking it.
He watches The Office, and Lost, and Battlestar Gallactica (the new, less-inspired one).
He is not reverent.
He leaves piles of clothes next to his bed.
He opens his eyes during prayers.
He frequently slept in and listened to rock-and-roll music while on his mission (obviously not at the same time).
He has – you know – sometimes with his wife for reasons other than procreation.
His children do not know who Zenos is.
He mocks.
He believes in buttprints in the sand.
He hasn’t done hometeaching in more than two years, and when he did do it last, he didn’t really magnify it very well.
He does not believe the revealed doctrine that Cain is really Bigfoot.
When he was a kid, he used to wonder what would happen if he just stood up in the middle of church, ran around flapping his arms like a crazy person, and then shut off all the lights.
He usually says he agrees with his hometeacher and the missionaries, even though he usually doesn’t.
He has a secret crush on Veronica Mars, and she isn’t even Mormon.
He eats too much and exercises too little and suffers from the “can’t see my belt buckle blues.”
He thinks the nursery rhyme song is “little old house in the middle of the woods, little old man by the window stood” when we all know it is really “little old house in the middle of the woods, nice old man by the window stood.”
His favorite holiday is Halloween. Plus, he celebrates Christmas in December from the Roman tradition, not in April as modern scripture dictates.
He does not believe that Brigham Young really had the foresight to install elevator shafts in the Salt Lake temple before elevator shafts were even invented (Oh yeah? Then how do we have elevators today I’d like to know!).
He believes the false and pernicious lie that Joseph Smith had more than one wife – some who were even married to other men at the time.
No one ever stops him and asks why he is smiling only to learn that it is because he knows the truth and they don’t.
He believes that the human mind has the power to create physical sensations that we interpret as “promptings from the Holy Ghost.” Of course anyone with any faith knows that the human mind has nothing to do with it at all.
He believes that Catholicism, and Protestantism, and Hinduism, and Buddhism, and Shintoism, and Islamism are all equally valid alternative religious traditions to Mormonism. (Thankfully he thinks the Anglicans are just silly).
He believes that our middle finger is inherently no less offensive than any of our other fingers.
He believes in folklore.
He no longer listens to a single word I say.
So take that Mr. Thinks-He-Can-Call-Me-Fictional-Mormon-Folklore-Satire-Think-You’re-All-That-And-A-Bag-Of-Chips-Blogger-Guy. May the dust of all the feet of every righteous foot which hath ever trodden upon the straight and narrow path of righteousness be dusted off eternally upon you. And when you are crying and sad and rueing the day you forsakethed the holier things I have to offer, know that all this shall be for thy experience and that mockery never was happiness – sucka!
