Hills Like White Lamanites

[Moksha]

Yikes, the Invisible Noose of Apologetics is at work!!! We're pulling for you Brother Steves.

[Tom]

This is a stunning—and most welcome—development. I believe it’s been more than five years since Dr. Bobberson gifted this board with his writing.

I hope that Cassius will invite Dr. Bobberson to join the faculty this fall.

[Gadianton]

I agree Tom, we'd all love to hear more from Bobberson. I know he travels the world extensively and is very busy talking to important people and removing groceries from the car whenever there is a trip to the supermarket, so who knows.

[Everybody Wang Chung]

I miss the Bobberson stories. It was clear that Bobberson had intimate knowledge of the inner workings of Mopology.

Wherever Bobberson is now, I hope he/she is doing well and prospering.

[Dr. Shades]

It was clear that Bobberson had intimate knowledge of the inner workings of Mopology.

Agreed. So much so that I originally thought he must be a closeted (in the apostate sense) member of FARMS. But I can't think of anyone at FARMS who writes as well as he does, so I can't be entirely sure.

[Tom]

Part VII: Moments of Regret

Howell stood with his plate perched on his arm, tapping his finger on the side of it as he waited in line for the prime rib carving station of the cruise ship's buffet. He'd loaded his plate with poached shrimp, crab legs with a small ramekin of drawn butter, rolls, French fries, slices of glazed ham, a small iceberg lettuce salad with ranch dressing, and a cup of chili. Eventually he made it to the front of the line where the carver, dressed in a white chef's jacket and a tall white toque, carved him off a thick, bloody slice of beef and put it on his plate using a two-pronged fork.
[snip]
To be continued in Part VIII: Photo Opportunity

I don’t know whether everyone here is aware: Dr. Bobberson returned last week in all his power and glory. See the link above.

[Doctor CamNC4Me]

A glorious update, indeed.

-Doc

[Everybody Wang Chung]

OMG! How did I miss this? Thanks and may God bless you Bobberson!

A Kerrycature of Merlyn Young of the Hinton Institute:

[drumdude]

Howell Lambeth’s inner monologues have me rolling in stitches.

Please God let this be the same mole that leaked the Dehlin expose at the Maxwell Institute. Hopefully he made the transition over to Interpreter without detection.

[Bob Bobberson]

Part VIII: Photo Opportunity

The sun was just beginning to disappear beyond the horizon when Brett Steves pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of the Stake Center. His palms were sweating as he shut off the ignition and climbed out of the car. There was a cold wind blowing out of the north and he zipped up his windbreaker as he made his way into the building.

Inside, it was quiet and dark, save for a set of lights leading down a hallway, towards the Stake President's office. The place smelled exactly like every other church building that Brett had been in: a combination of Cheerios, dust, and cheap carpet cleaner. On the walls hung framed portraits of the General Authorities, various temples, and the standard image of Jesus. Brett made his way down the hall and could see that the office door was open a crack. He steeled himself and rapped on it, and and voice said, "Please come in."

"Brother Steves! Welcome. Please come in and have a seat, young man." Stake President Leonard gestured towards a folding metal chair and Brett sat down in it.

The Stake President was seated behind a solid wooden desk, and to his right were two men in dark suits. One of them was blonde, with a receding hairline and the other had a salt-and-pepper crewcut and round, wire-rimmed glasses.

"Shall we start with an opening prayer?"

"Yes, of course," said the man with the crewcut. SP Leonard folded his arms across and bowed his head and began to pray. He asked the Lord to bless them that they might tell the honest truth, and also that they would be able to discern the truth, and that if the Adversary were in any way intruding in the talk they were about to have, that they'd have the strength and presence of mind to cast him out. He thanked all the men in the room by name--Brett, Elder Krautheimer, and Elder Haynes--for traveling for the sake of this important discussion. He said all these words in the name of Jesus Christ, and then everyone said, "Amen!"

"Well, then," said Stake President Leonard. "I suppose we should get started?" He turned to the two men, and the one with the crewcut--Elder Haynes--spoke:

"It's good to me you, Brother Steves. As you may have heard, I'm Elder Daniel Haynes, and this is Elder Sterling Krautheimer. We're here partly at the request of Stake President Leonard, but also out of concern for you and your spiritual well-being."

"Yes: that's right," said Leonard. "I want to personally emphasize that that is priority number 1 here: your spiritual well-being. We all want to make sure that you remain in good standing with the Church."

"Sure, okay..." Brett stammered. "I guess I don't understand where the concern is stemming from, though..."

Elder Krautheimer coughed into his fist and then bent to his side where there was a backpack on the floor. He reached into it and pulled out a laptop and opened it up.

"In the interests of being candid with you, Brother Steves," said Haynes, "Elder Krautheimer and I are here on the behalf of the Strengthening Church Members Committee."

Brett took this in and felt himself go numb. He looked at the faces of each of them men in turn, hoping on some vague level to detect some sign that this was a joke or a prank. His mouth had dried up completely and when he swallowed reflexively, his throat almost seized up. "Okay," he managed to squeak out.

"Now, you may have heard rumors about what we do," said Elder Haynes. "That we 'spy' on people and so forth, but that's not the truth. Our role is strictly ecclesiastical. Our mission is to help members who are maybe struggling with some of the more difficult aspects of Church history and doctrine."

Krautheimer nudged Haynes, and Haynes paused to look at something on the laptop. He glanced over briefly and then returned his attention to Brett. "Is all of this making sense to you, Brother Steves?"

Brett looked down at his hands and thought they looked farther away than normal. "I think so," he said. His mind was a blur. Of course he'd heard about the Strengthening Church Members Committee: about how they spied on Church dissidents and maintained detailed dossiers on anyone who was critical of the Church. Merlyn Young had once boasted on the boards about being an "agent" of the Committee, and told of how they'd cornered a wavering member and had grilled him with questions for over three hours. When posters pressed Merlyn about the outcome of this 'interrogation," he implied that it had been a failure and that the member had wound up being excommunicated. He looked up at the three men and wondered how much he should say.

"Good, that's good," said SP Leonard.

Elder Haynes nodded. "Yes," he said, and he turned to Elder Krautheimer, who had been busy scanning whatever was on his laptop.

"So, let's start from the top," said Krautheimer. "Have you ever heard of a website called MormonDiscourse.com?"

Brett's entire body felt weak. Oh my God... he thought. Do they know about that?? About all of that? He began trying to recall everything that he'd written on the site and could feel himself entering a state of mild panic. Then he realized that he still hadn't said anything and that the three men were staring at him.

"Uh, um, yeah. I've heard of it. It's a message board," he said.

Elder Krautheimer began typing. "Have you ever posted on this so-called message board?" asked President Leonard.

As he sat there, Brett racked his brain, trying desperately to guess at when the men knew. Had he been ratted out by someone? Had he forgotten to delete his browsing history, and Ginny had seen that he'd been to the site? But then he remembered the eerie message that Grendel's Mother had sent to him: Watch your back. So had the Hinton Institute apologists ferreted out his identity and ratted him out? He knew they were waiting for him to answer. "I'm not sure what you mean," he said.

"It's a simple, straightforward question," said Elder Haynes. "And I urge you to be honest with us. As President Leonard noted at the outset, this is all about you and your spiritual welfare."

When he had been on his mission, Brett had heard about the Elders who had confessed to masturbating, and about how they'd been sent home, humiliated for life, all because they told the truth. He had had a conversation with his companion at the time about how this seemingly created a motivation to lie, and he sensed now that he was confronting a similar dilemma. His face felt hot and he was certain that he was turning red.

"Did you ever post any messages at MormonDiscourse?" said Elder Krautheimer. He smiled slightly. "More specifically, did you use the screen name "Skeletor" while posting there?"

His heart was hammering in his chest. "Uh, I'm sorry...Would you mind if I used the restroom real quick?"

A brief look of exasperation flashed on Haynes's face. "Of course," he said.

Brett stood up and hurried out of the office and made his way down to the men's room. In the mirror, he looked disheveled: there were beads of sweat at his temples and his neck and cheeks were flushed red. He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror again. How much do they actually know? Can I lie my way out of this? He began to think about what was likely coming: a Church Court of Love. Excommunication. Divorce from Ginny. Custody battles. Child support payments. If he confessed and apologized and repented, would that fix things? But it wouldn't change the basic truth of the matter, which is that he no longer believed that the Church was true in any meaningful sense. If he repented, he would still be living a different sort of lie. There was no way out.

He turned the cold water back on and used his hand as a cup to drink a few handfuls of cold water. He thought for a moment about simply leaving: about walking out of the building, getting in his car, and driving home, but he knew they wouldn't leave him alone, and besides, that was the coward's way out. And so he used a paper towel to dry off his face and then he drew in a deep breath, and went back out to face the three suited men once again.



"Here: right here. This is the exit," said Herb McConkie. He was seated beside Nephi Clark and Mitch Findlay was in the back seat, and they had made the drive up to Logan. "It should just be a few blocks over yonder," he said.

In the back seat beside Mitch was a cooler with sandwiches, chips, cookies, and root beers. They had specifically set aside time and arranged for this outing to be a legitimate event. They planned to surprise Howell, Merlyn, and the others later in the afternoon.

"Here, here: this is it," said Herb, and he pulled into the parking lot of a building with "Logan Supplies Inc." sign jutting up from the roof. As the car pulled to a stop, he doubled over briefly with laughter and began slapping his thigh. "I can't wait to see the look on Howell and Merlyn's faces!" he said, and they hopped out of the car.

Herb and Nephi walked over a bit and stood beside each other, and meanwhile, Mitch fiddled with a digital camera he'd brought along.

"Okay," said Mitch. "Move a little to the left, so that we can be sure to get the company name in the picture. There! That's good." He snapped a couple of photos. "Okay, now say 'Cheese'!" He took a couple more, and then he had to pause because all of them had begun laughing again.

"Do you want me to get one with you and Nephi?" said Herb.

"Sure," said Mitch, and he handed the camera over and stood next to Nephi. Nephi stuck out his tongue and grabbed his tie and pulled it up, like he was strangling himself, and Mitch held up his hands in an exaggerated shrug. Herb snapped a few more photos and they broke out laughing again.

When they had settled down, Mitch Findlay asked, "So how long has Brett Steves been working at this place?"

"I don't know," said Herb. "I just know he won't be working here much longer!" They all howled with laughter once again.

"All right, all right," said Nephi. "Let's do a couple more pictures and then we can head over to the park to have some lunch."



To be continued in Part IX: A New Direction