Please welcome a very funny woman (and my SIL), Jessie Jensen, with her first BCC guest post. She tweets as @JessieJensen, if you’re into that sort of thing, and you might have seen her popular “baby names” posts on her Bloggity Blog.

For better or for worse, Johnny Lingo is an inescapable part of Mormon lore, as immovable as the everlasting hills. This short film, the joint creation of the Sunday School General Board and (what is now) BYU-Hawaii and abounding in abysmal wigs, has been delighting LDS audiences for all the wrong reasons since 1969. If you’re unfamiliar with the storyline, you can view the thing in its entirety here, or you can save yourself 24 minutes of cringing and check out my handy GIF guide instead. Consolidated cringing!

*****

We begin with the announced arrival of the much-anticipated title visitor.

Johnny, a successful trader, has returned to the island to strike a deal with Moki, the father of a (purportedly) stupid, ugly girl named Mahana.

Mahana won’t come out from her hiding place for the bridal negotiations, resulting in her abusive father gifting viewers the single most quotable line in LDS cinema:

The villagers arrive at Moki’s hut, and he and Johnny begin the haggling…

OR SO YOU MIGHT THINK.

Jude Law Johnny Lingo

Meanwhile, the ladies waste no time boasting their perceived worths.

“Really? My husband paid five cows for me.”

Women, amiright?? Always slighting each others’ purchase prices.

The crowd collectively agrees that the most Moki could possibly ask for Mahana is one cow, and that Johnny would be right to counter with a strictly-severed-appendages-only offer. Moki consults his counsellor then demands,

Johnny holds up his hand to silence the villagers, and THEN (wait til you see!)

Moki can barely reply.

Then for some reason there’s this old white guy, who is sorta the narrator, because we wouldn’t trust a Polynesian to tell the story correctly? I guess? Anyway, he asks the second most important question (the first of course being, “How will this inflation affect the island’s economy?”),

Why, indeed. Why, indeed.

The most eligible bachelor on the island, Johnny Lingo, has just offered an unprecedented eight cows for undesirable Mahana. His next stop is the general store for a gift for his new bride-to-be.

This mirror isn’t good enough for Mahana. After some back and forth, Mr. Harris eventually gives in and orders a fancier one, because…

Meanwhile, Mahana hides in the hut and doubts that Johnny will bring the cows at all. Well with THAT attitude!! She’s wrong, of course.

Moki is the proud new owner of eight cows, Johnny is the proud new owner of Mahana, everything’s settled, all that’s left is for her to timidly place her perfectly manicured hand in his.

****

Months later, the two return from their honeymoon. Mr. Harris locates the mirror Johnny ordered, which has been collecting dust in his shop,

Mr. Harris sets off to greet the newlyweds. As he approaches their home, he sees Mahana’s father storming away, hollering about having been cheated. Cheated?? What on earth could Moki mean?

Mr. Harris forgets his manners and spends the next few minutes staring intensely and repeating her name.

Blah blah blah, something about Johnny wanting a wife who knew she was better than all the other wives…

If you’re thinking that one of the coolest people you know is named Jessica Jensen, you’d be right. She originally blogged with us last year, resulting in the epic Jonny Lingo .gif post. She lives in Phoenix and has been married 9 years to a perpetual student. She supports him by doing office support for an engineering firm but she plans on those student/provider roles reversing in the future. She also blogs when she feels like it at her Bloggity Blog.

I wore pants to church last Sunday for the first time. My main reason for doing it was very simple: I just plain wish women felt comfortable wearing pants to church. They’re more practical than skirts (especially for mothers of young children), they’re often dressier than, well, dresses, they warm your legs in the arctic temperatures of the Young Women’s room, and what year is this again? And while I do hope for greater visibility for female members of the church, I specifically chose not to participate in the designated Wear Pants to Church Day because I didn’t want to heighten the controversy. So I waited it out a few weeks instead.

Maybe this is a non-issue in your ward, in which case can I come visit you? I do love my Phoenix ward but generally speaking it’s at best ultra conservative and at worst glaringly sexist. Several weeks ago, the Gospel Doctrine teacher asked, “How does Satan attack our families?” and the proffered answers managed to malign each of the following groups: Older single women, divorced women who don’t remarry, women who think they’re “the same” as men, women who asked for entry to the Priesthood session, women who erase their femininity (an allusion to pants?), moms who work, women who aren’t moms, and The Gays.

A world of pure imagination

To further illustrate, I recently discovered that my Young Women won’t be able to organize their annual silent auction this spring to raise funds for camp. When I pressed for an explanation at a planning meeting, I was told, verbatim, “Well, the Young Men are low on funds, so if the Young Women try to raise money, too, it will be a strain on the ward.” All the other leaders nodded and accepted it with no resistance. I sorta made a scene and the shaking didn’t subside until I’d been home for thirty minutes, but as far as I know the decision stands. It’s really a shame, because I would have crocheted a truly kick-ass baby blanket to contribute to the cause.

For these above reasons, which are just a small sampling of the treats my ward has offered over the past two and a half years, I wasn’t quite sure how people would react to a display of feminism. I’m sure plenty of people in my ward would conflate women wearing pants to church with Ordain Women and by extension Satan (see second paragraph), so maybe I should have been nervous. I wasn’t; I was mostly just curious. I made the conscious decision to really dress up my wide-leg trousers with a floral blouse, velvet blazer, pearl necklace, and heels, so that it would be abundantly clear I was A) not trying to erase my femininity, and B) dressier than Sister Denim Jumper, and off I went. (Nothing against denim jumpers. They can be lovely. My mom had one when I was young that I really enjoyed. My point is that a Mormon chapel is the only place on earth where a denim jumper is considered more appropriate than a nice pantsuit).

I received a lot of down-and-up-and-down-and-up-and-down looks from both sexes, and the man who inspired this tweet, written long before I wore pants to church, gave my lower half a six-second-long unblinking stare. And while I didn’t discover any secret feminists emboldened by my outfit, I wasn’t called into the Bishop’s office, either, or worse, the Extraction Room. (Do church buildings still have those? As a kid, I used to give that door a wide berth and wonder about the horrors that must take place inside.) I didn’t hear a peep from any of my Laurels, and I’m hopefully optimistic that it’s because it was no big deal to them, and not because they were shocked into silence.

All things considered, I give my pants-to-church experience 4.5 out of 5 stars. Highly recommended. My favorite part of the entire day was when a Mia Maid regarded me with interest then asked her advisor, “Can I wear pants to church?” The advisor replied, “Yes. There’s nothing official that says you can’t, as long as it’s your Sunday Best,” but then her own daughter asked, and she said no. So. One miracle at a time.

When I returned home from work a few weeks ago, I broke into a wide grin at the happy sight of a familiar Mazda Protégé in the parking lot. She’s a scientific wonder affectionately known as The Maz; 24 years old, baby blue (in places), boasting all of her 406,000 kilometers with every inch of her peeling, rusting, dented and pockmarked body. She’d just spent nearly a month at the shop before coming home to us, her engine once again purring like a kitten. “It’s not worth it,” the auto shop had told my husband, Jon. “Why don’t you just go buy a used Corolla instead?” O ye of little faith.

That’s the first major repair she’s had in twelve years. We figured if we put $700 under the hood and she ran another year, it would be worth every cent. We ended up paying significantly less than that, yet Jon swears there are all sorts of new parts inside that weren’t on the bill. There are only two possible explanations: 1. Nephites, or 2. The shop turned the repair into some sort of team building exercise. Synergy!

Some old cars are cool. Not so The Maz! We don’t drive her because she’s old enough to be awesomely vintage (she’s not), or because it’s funny and cultish, like driving an El Camino or wood-paneled AMC Eagle. We drive her because my husband bought her, and she still runs, and otherwise we would have to go buy something else.

I wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d up and died years ago, but she keeps going with very little coaxing. Just in the time we’ve had her she’s lived in Rexburg, Idaho, Fort McMurray, Alberta, Palm Springs, Las Vegas, Tucson, and Phoenix, all with no air conditioning. But hey, you can’t argue with 40 miles to the gallon, even if it is just because she only weighs like 500 pounds and you’d die instantly in a fender bender. Plus, if we can keep all her bits and pieces together til next year she’ll be considered a Historic Vehicle and is no longer subject to emissions testing. There’s even an elite Historic Vehicle license plate option! I must have it. ONE MORE YEAR! ONE MORE YEAR! ONE MORE YEAR!

But maybe Jon and I are taking the “don’t go into debt for anything other than education and a house” advice a little too far, for she is not a pretty sight. My grandpa once gifted us one of his treasured coupons for a free car wash and shoved us out the door. When we returned, he sat at the window puzzling and puzzling over why the car looked the exact same as it had before we left. That was almost 10 years ago, and time has not been kind to her. Cosmetically, she’s begun deteriorating at what seems to be an exponential rate. My pride got the best of me last winter when I refused to continue driving her to work even though our other car costs at least twice as much for my commute. Someone left a note under a wiper blade last summer; at first I thought it must be a visual pollution complaint from a neighbor, but it was actually a guy named Anthony expressing his interest in buying her. Jon and I doubled over in laughter, but then I started thinking about the life circumstances that might lead Anthony to that desperate act and it made me sad.

Yet despite her shortcomings – her age, lack of air conditioning in 115 degree weather, the fact that all of her insides are essentially fused together by heat and rust and time so that tinkering with one piece almost always leads to the subsequent disintegration of many other pieces – we’re quite fond of her. The day Jon went to pick her up was a bit nerve-racking. The auto shop had just finished remodeling their administrative office and hadn’t kept in touch very well during the process; we weren’t exactly sure if Jon was going to be driving her home in triumphant glory, or calling a scrap metal company. The question was answered for me in spectacular fashion when I received the following text:

“She lives, she lives who once was dead!”

Priorities!

Last week I was going through my old high school keepsakes (mine fit in a hatbox, my husband’s span two countries, but this is neither the time nor place for that complaint) when I came across what used to be one of my most valued possessions. It’s a list in my 16 year old sparkly pink gel pen handwriting entitled “The Man of My DREAMS!”, the result of a Mutual activity planned with extremely limited resources and no imagination. In lieu of doing anything fun, we did this. Before we set to scribbling, my friends and I were charged by our leaders to treasure our lists, never settle for less than what we knew we deserved, and try to become the women these men were looking for, which would be good advice were it not for the darkly implied “AKA DON’T TOUCH WIENERS OR ELSE YOU WON’T BE.”

My list is a full page, front and back. There are a couple of fleeting moments of something bordering on insight, but for the most part it’s embarrassingly materialistic, unnecessarily specific, and clearly parroted from EFY talks. To name just a few:

RM and worthy priesthood holder – honors it (Frankly, I’m impressed with teen me for not saying “Returned with Honor!”)
Can cook
Makes me laugh
Wears a watch
Appreciates EVERYTHING about me (Everything…? Teenagers are so dumb.)
Good taste in clothes and music (my favorite music circa the time I wrote this: Avril Lavigne, Creed, the Crossroads soundtrack)
Isn’t afraid to compliment me (“I really, really want to tell her I like her shirt…BUT I’M JUST TOO SCARED!”)
Good kisser
Republican (In my defense, it was beaten into me ad nauseam by my leaders that it was of the utmost importance to marry someone with your same political affiliations, and I didn’t know mine, so I wrote down my parents’.)
Attractive
Could wear a hat, but doesn’t 24-7 (…?…………????)
Dances with me – even if he’s no good at it (I’m sorta surprised “good dancer” wasn’t a requirement, at this rate.)
Affectionate
Wants to take care of me (And there it is. The most embarrassing one.)
Loves children (One of us had to.)
Older than me (This one makes me snicker. I don’t think I quite had a 10 year age gap in mind when I wrote that.)
Wants a dog
Can take me to the temple (Let’s stop using this wording.)
Lets me choose the ring
Buys me stuff (Ugh.)
Makes me feel better about myself (Double ugh.)
Someone I can imagine spending the rest of my life with without getting scared (Clearly my leaders’ marriage obsession was subconsciously terrifying to me.)

I was super into it – after all, I’d been taught that marriage and family were an inevitability for me, so why not plot out the details at 16? – but I distinctly remember having the thought, as I so often did as a female Mormon teen, “I’m sure the Young Men aren’t doing this.” (Just like sweeping the dusty trails of Camp Liahona, a required daily task at girls camp despite the very real risk of hantavirus exposure. “We are ladies! We might be camping, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still strictly observe gender roles to the detriment of our health!” When I asked a couple of Young Men if they had to use a broom on the trails at scout camp, they looked at me like I was simple.)

For the sake of full disclosure, I was married at 19 to a man who ticked nearly every box on my list – no watch though – and we are still happily married 9 years later. So, to my single brothers and sisters, a suggestion: Have you tried writing a list of qualities you want in your future spouse, and cherishing that list, and trying to become who that person is looking for?? I mean, it worked for me.

Wedding-centric Mutual activities pepper most Mormon womens’ memories, I’m sure. My cousin’s wife told me about an activity from her youth gone horribly, and hilariously, wrong. Someone thought it would be a good idea to set a gaggle of Mia Maids clad in their mothers’ wedding dresses loose on the temple grounds for a photoshoot, and a concerned citizen called the cops. I had assumed those sorts of activities were a relic, but it turns out that was optimistic of me. About a year ago, I accidentally arrived early to Mutual. The worst. I burned time by skulking in a dark hallway waiting for someone I recognized to show up. A bulletin board for the Young Women in a different ward caught my eye so I moseyed thataway and was greeted by a photo of a grinning girl in a wedding dress and veil, holding a plastic bouquet, her braces glistening. She couldn’t have been older than thirteen.

You can’t rappel in a wedding dress.

As others arrived for Mutual that night, I pointed out the photo and expressed my concerns to leaders and youth alike. At first some people were defensive – “It’s just a fun thing to do!” – and the wheels didn’t start turning until I asked, “How do you suppose this looks to investigators?” One leader admitted it could be off-putting, then continued, “But someone could post an explanation underneath.” Uhhhhhhh………what explanation.

I am so fortunate in my calling as an advisor to six intelligent, engaging, spiritually gifted Young Women. My Laurels talk about college plans and careers, they talk about extracurricular activities, they talk about missions. They discuss how to share the gospel with friends, they are inquisitive about the scriptures, they bear testimony. I could never imagine interrupting those conversations with, “But are you spending enough time thinking about your future husband and what your wedding dress will look like??”

In conclusion, please, no.

I want to know what your ward did for the big day. Did the speakers talk specifically on motherhood? Were there any flashes of brilliance or cringe worthy moments? Did the Primary kids adorably scream-sing “I Often Go Walking”? Did anyone mention Heavenly Mother? Were gifts given? Was it a thing the moms are expected to keep alive?

My contribution is secondhand because my husband I were visiting friends and family in Las Vegas and their ward started at 8:30. 8:30! Mother’s Day is usually awkward for the childless Mormon anyway, so we were both down with skipping. I regretted it immediately, though, when my brother-in-law returned with his report: The Elder’s Quorum sang all three verses of Love at Home plus a bonus invented verse glorifying moms who drive their children to school and sports. My husband crooned ♫ There is beauty all around when moms stay at home ♫ for the rest of the day, and it never got less funny.

Your turn.

There are three people in my life who have a true phobia of public speaking: My grandma, an 85 year old life-long member who has never spoken in Sacrament meeting; my husband, who gave a handful of talks for mission purposes and never again; and my sister Annie, who once observed with growing dread a member of the bishopric approaching her in the hallway and burst into tears before he could even finish asking the question. Pro-tip: If you hate public speaking, do that. He hastily retreated and has never made eye contact with her since!

As someone who has an actual phobia (though not that particular one; mine is much stranger), I empathize. And while I’m fairly certain that my Perceived Righteousness will never come down to my ability to face my own irrational fear, for people with a severe aversion to public speaking, it could. When I was in high school, there were six minutes left at the end of a Stake Conference and the evil first counselor called on my friend to spontaneously come up and fill out the rest of the meeting with her testimony*. She was poised under the pressure and people were in awe of her for months. But what would have been the overall opinion of a panicky Young Woman who flat-out refused the request? Who sat frozen to her pew, shaking her head, wild-eyed?

Anyway, I thought a couple of polls and a discussion were in order. I tried to cover every possible angle but there’s always the comments section to expound on your choice in case I failed.

Me, I’m somewhere around the 4th option. I’d rather not be asked and I’m always nervous to speak, but I do a serviceable job. Fortunately, we’ve mostly lived in wards where couples share the pulpit each week, so Jon’s phobia has automatically disqualified me (thanks, honey!)

Additional discussion: Do you have any full-blown phobias? How does that color your responses? Do you conflate willingness to speak in Sacrament meeting with strength of testimony, even subconsciously?

*Yeah, don’t do this.

The only aspect of this post I can take credit for is providing the photo which catalyzed a side-splitting bit of fun in the BCC permas (current and emeritus) Facebook group today.

I snapped this on my way into Sacrament meeting this morning. It was only my fourth week attending my new ward and the first time in my life I’ve ever seen reserved stake presidency parking. I shared the image, asked “Is this a thing?”, noted that the stake Relief Society presidency’s reserved spots were conspicuously absent, and then the fun began.

First came the bribes. Cynthia offered me $20 and maybe even some jam to sneak over in the dead of night and stencil the RS spots in myself. Kyle pledged another $5. Tempting! But then Angela opined that this was a “Scout project gone wild” causing Cynthia to revoke her bribe and rally for the Activity Days girls to make a project out of stenciling the Relief Society spaces instead.

But things went to a whole new level when Sunny jumped into the fray. Running with the oft-repeated notion that all church members are equally important, from a nursery leader all the way up to the prophet, she flooded the thread with genius suggestions of alternative stenciled parking space ideas. It was a beautiful thing to behold; more inspired than anything I heard in church. We were in awe. Crowd favorites of hers include:

Front Row Family

Former Bishop

Visiting Authority

Pioneer Stock

Pays on the Gross

Modesty Police

Extended Family of General Authority

Self-appointed Greeter

New Convert (valid only two Sundays after baptism, after which you will be assigned a numbered space)

Investigator

MoTab Hopeful

Totally Should Have Been EQP

Modestly Hot

Ward Basketball MVP

Possesses Library Key

Romney Campaign Contributor

Year Supply

Two Year Supply

Calling Magnifier

Totally Quit the Porn

All Kids Married in the Temple

ZL in First Area

Never Felt Unequal

Tastiest Sacrament Bread

Totally In With All the Youth

DoTerra Rep of the Month

Top Name Extractor

This is a sample, people, A SAMPLE. Her genius was contagious. Contributions from others:

The Least of These (Jacob Baker)

Consistent Sunday School Conversation Derailer (Ben Park)

Newest Priest (Emily Jensen — you can thank her for the title of this post, too)

Token Minority (Sam Brunson)

Eagle Scout Mom “but not YW medallion mom” (Mark Brown)

War in Heaven General (BHodges)

And perhaps my favorite comment of them all: “Reserve one for Elijah, too.” (Jeremy G.)

Permas, which favorites did I miss? Everyone else, any suggestions of your own?

I had the idea to give Saturday’s Warrior the GIF treatment shortly after my BCC debut. Because of the length of the film, it didn’t make sense to summarize the entire plot by way of animations like I did with Johnny Lingo, but I thought surely that corny musical from my childhood could produce at least a handful of worthy “reaction GIFs” instead. AND I WAS RIGHT. So right that I had a hard time paring them down to even two posts.

I can’t hide my residual affection for Saturday’s Warrior, so I won’t even try. I have watched this movie more than any other in my entire life (approximately three times a week from age 4 to 6, and if you think I’m exaggerating ask my poor family). I was obsessed; I pretended Pam was my wise older sister, that I had a younger one in heaven waiting to come to earth, and I had a monumental crush on Elder Kessler. I memorized the lyrics and choreography of the songs I liked and made a ritual of skipping past the ones I didn’t (“Sailing On” and “Didn’t We Love Him?” = FAST FORWARD!) I can still conjure up the exact feeling I got when I first noticed the picture of the Salt Lake City temple in the Flinders’ living room: No one in the movie actually says “Mormon” or “LDS” so I think I didn’t even realize they were a Mormon family until my 20-somethingish viewing. I begged my mom to let me introduce my best friend, Kristen Jordan, a non-member, to its glory. After about a week of my relentless hounding, she finally asked Kristen’s parents how they would feel about it and their answer was an emphatic prohibition. I cried and cried. Suffice it to say, this movie imprinted on me, and I’d be lying by omission if I didn’t admit that I grinned like a maniac rewatching it for the first time in at least 15 years. Grinned and grimaced, but there was decidedly more grinning than grimacing.

One quick aside before we dive into the GIFs: You can’t write about Saturday’s Warrior without mentioning the false doctrine that imbues its 115 minute runtime. The two most egregious examples I noted:

1) The movie makes it seem as though bare shoulders are allowed in heaven, and
2) All the characters’ names are the same in pre-mortal life as they are on earth. Aside from what this says about agency, I simply refuse to believe that there are spirits in the pre-existence named Payzlee and Traigyn.

On with the show? Yippee!

Suggested application: This GIF could come in handy when trying to talk an internet commenter down from making a fool of themselves.

When you casually name drop Heavenly Mother in Gospel Doctrine class

Keywords: Yearning, longing, desperation, intense food craving

Lighten up any online abortion debate by sharing one of the following two GIFs in the comments section!

This is how I felt my first week in my new ward when all the Relief Society ladies were openly mocking feminists.

^ For those uninitiated, Emily is reminding Jimmy about that one time he promised to make his parents conceive her. Not sure exactly how he managed it, but (spoiler alert) he did! One more on this topic for good measure:

Suggested application: Use this GIF to underhandedly accuse someone of being involved in secret combinations!

More GIFs to come; my computer is too slow to deal with them all in one post. Until then…

Saturday’s Warriors GIFs are back. Between this post and the other one I hope to have supplied you with a Flinders Family-approved reaction GIF for nearly any situation.

Announcing a pregnancy? Consider using this gem:

And bookmark these next two which will certainly come in handy when blogging your birth story:

When the results of your Disciplinary Council are pending.

Applicable for a wide range of situations: from picking a scab to cooking meth!

Getting amped for an Institute dance

When you feel like you should probably comfort someone, but you also sort of don’t want anything to do with them. (Interchangeable with this GIF.)

We all know a guy.

When you learn that Strong Bad email is coming back

When the @LDSChurch Twitter account uses clickbait headlines.

Not even once

When your husband eats the last of the Triscuits.

LET ME LOVE YOU!!!

Keyword: PWNED. (Also, I’m pretty sure Jimmy flings himself the wrong direction.)

I’ll leave you with my favorite one.

If you have a better caption for any of these, then BY ALL MEANS!

Up until ten days ago, I’d never even heard of Fascinating Womanhood, a how-to-save-your-marriage manual-cum-lifestyle popularized by a Mormon housewife in the early 60s. Thanks to historian and author Julie Debra Neuffer, that situation has now been rectified. Neuffer’s new book, Helen Andelin and the Fascinating Womanhood Movement, gives an unprecedented look into the personal experiences and social/political climate that spurred Andelin’s pursuit of an antidote for divorce, the growth of her idea into an international enterprise, and the supposed enemies she made along the way (“…the feminists, the abortionists, the liberals, the BYU Family Relations Department, and the General Presidency of the Relief Society.”)

Concerned by rising malaise among housewives, Andelin considered it a calling from God to find the cure. Concurrently, Betty Friedan made the same observation and famously published her perceived solution in The Feminine Mystique, the book widely credited as the catalyst for second-wave feminism in America. After years of obsessing over the issue, Andelin, however, had come to a much different conclusion than Friedan: To experience happiness in marriage, women should be utterly submissive, defer to their husbands in all things, change their personalities, maintain trim figures, deny themselves of all optional activities, ball their fists and stomp their feet like petulant children when angry, wear ribbons in their hair, and act helpless and dumb. This, according to Andelin, was the only way to a happy, adultery-proof marriage. She even took it a step further – if you fail to take these measures, not only will your marriage fail, but your children will become delinquents, too!

Fascinating Womanhood explains that all women should strive to become the Ideal Woman, who possesses both angelic attributes (a “domestic goddess” with an “unblemished character,” among other things) and human qualities (“radiant health” and “childlikeness.”) This Ideal Woman is named Angela Human. I’d accuse Andelin of being a bit heavy handed and unoriginal in the name, except that she didn’t invent it. Much of Fascinating Womanhood, including Angela Human, was lifted word-for-word from pamphlets produced in the 1920s. Throughout her life, she explained away accusations of plagiarism by repeating her belief that God had put the pamphlets into her hands for the benefit of the world.

A devout Mormon, Andelin spent years trying to secure the endorsement of the church. Despite obtaining audience with several apostles and appealing to at least 4 different prophets by mail (and one – Joseph Fielding Smith – in person!), she never succeeded. The church, though embroiled in ERA opposition, distanced itself from her particular philosophy. Julie’s description of Andelin’s intense, physical anguish as a result of these failed opportunities – feeling that leadership was uninspired, lamenting the red tape that separated her from her spiritual leaders, struggling to remain in the church – was one of the few moments where I ached for her.

But then I reminded myself of the downright harmful ideas she promoted to millions of women all across the globe (3 million copies sold to date, people) and my sympathy waned. To name just a few of the quotes that made my eyeballs bug out of my head*:

“Happy wives are helpless wives.” (58)

“Women’s needs are the same the whole world over – to make men happy, to understand the masculine nature, and to be loved.” (31)

“Love, she said, ‘will never blossom forth until we surrender to a man.’” (33)

“A husband didn’t want to see a depressed wife, taught Andelin, so a wife who was depressed should not be surprised if her husband left her.” (35)

“God, believed Andelin, measured a woman’s worth not by her relationship with him but by her relationship with her husband.” (54 – I assume this is a conclusion she drew from the temple experience)

“[Bottle-feeding] makes it all too easy for a mother to leave her baby for long periods of time to pursue her own self-interests.” (64)

“When a man was cross, said Andelin, whose own husband was often cross with her, he was usually justified.” (36)

Just when I was beginning to worry about the effect the book might have had on women in abusive relationships and wondering whether Andelin ever addressed such situations, there was this: A “success story” from a woman who was physically and verbally abused so terribly that she attempted suicide then spent months recovering in the hospital and undergoing electroshock therapy. After being introduced to FW by a friend, she wrote to Andelin “We have not had an argument in months…And, I’ve been able to go off my medicine.” (38)

This is, of course, an extreme example. Other fans were delighted to report in their own success stories that they’d been gifted things like dishwashers, vacuum cleaners, and a grocery allowance (one woman was even allowed to keep the change once!) as a result of becoming more Fascinating. My personal favorite was from a woman who happily declared that baking her own bread, as Andelin recommends, made her breasts grow larger.

There’s lots more compelling, yikes-inducing information in this book (I haven’t even touched on Andelin vs. feminists, accusations of hypocrisy, major business-decision blunders, and paranoia) and at under 200 pages it’s a quick yet illuminating read. Some might be left wishing for a bit more in-depth analysis, but that’s a testament to this gem of Mormon history in Julie Neuffer’s talented hands. I only have a smattering of minor complaints: I found the organization of the content into six non-chronological chapters a bit of a misfire. It resulted in bouncing all over the timeline, with several bits of information played on repeat throughout the book (at one point I said aloud “We get it! Women were teaching the courses without official certification!”), and certain pages felt crammed into an unrelated chapter just because there was no better place for them. Also, Harold B. Lee is described as the president of the church in the spring of 1971 (he became prophet in summer of 1972) and lastly, I was confused by Neuffer’s statement in the book’s conclusion that women today “are marrying younger and having more children.” Record scratch?

That’s me being hyper-critical, though. I definitely recommend the book. Above all else, it made me want to troll the original Fascinating Womanhood book on Amazon, recruit Gloria Steinem to do dramatic readings of the more ridiculous passages, and go express several opinions to my husband just because I can.

——————————————————————————

*With the amount of nonsense emanating from some of Andelin’s quotes, it shouldn’t have hurt my feelings when she said that women who aren’t good homemakers are failures in life, but it sorta did :(

This is how easy it is to volunteer for a service project.

Today in our third block we had a combined meeting with the adults and youth about justserve.org. The website has apparently been around for a couple of years (though today was the first I’d heard of it), but they’re now expanding it into the Phoenix valley. Our bishop joked that they’re doing the pilot program in CA, TX, and AZ first because “we want to make sure we get it exactly right before Utah screws it up.”

The initiative – they want to steer away from calling it a program – is all about easily connecting people with a large variety of volunteer opportunities. From the “About Us” page on the website:

“JustServe matches churches, civic organizations, non-profits, and governmental agencies that need volunteers with volunteers willing to help. JustServe.org links you to service opportunities in your community so you can make a difference wherever you are and however you want to serve.

Once we know what the needs are, we tell you about them here on JustServe or through Facebook, and then you can go and help get the job done. We make it easy to sign up and show up, on your time and in your way.”

Most exciting to me was the goal of the initiative with regard to missionary work. It was acknowledged that many missionaries are struggling to remain productive during the day and the hope is that missionaries will eventually be doing up to 20 hours of community volunteerism per week through this initiative resulting in, among other things, “improved productivity and sense of fulfillment” (I’m reminded of a past blog post by John Fowles). There was video from San Jose, where the program has already been implemented, showing missionaries donning food bank T-shirts to sort and box up goods, and it was emphasized in the presentation that missionaries will not proselytize while performing these services (but can answer questions about the church if asked, of course). “There is no catch,” our bishop explained. “This is pure service.”

On the logistics side, stakes where the initiative is implemented will organize a JustServe committee which “uses JustServe guidelines to evaluate agencies and send opportunities to their area’s community outreach specialist to post their JustServe opportunities on JustServe.org.” Once those opportunities are online, anyone who has registered (open to users 13+) can click to volunteer. It was explained that stake committees will ideally be comprised of a member of the stake presidency, the stake community services specialist, a stake Relief Society representative, a missionary high councilor, a Young Single Adult representative, and missionary zone leaders. Ward members may also suggest volunteer opportunities.

In addition to providing the vehicle to more fulfilling missionary experiences, other goals of the initiative include strengthening family (it’s recommended that families browse the website for FHE inspiration), engaging less-active members, clearing up misconceptions about Mormonism, and improving interfaith relationships within the community. As President Thomas S. Monson said in his inaugural press conference in 2008:

“We have a responsibility to be active in the communities where we live…to work cooperatively with other churches…It’s important that we eliminate the weakness of one standing alone and substitute it for the strength of people working together.”

Have you heard of this initiative? Has it been implemented in your area? Do you, too, have a certain Lady Gaga song stuck in your head now?

Church is different things to different people. It can be a respite, a haven. It can be divisive; it can knit us together. It is often boring. It can fill us with peace or with pain, and sometimes both within the same meeting. It can be the source of angst and pure joy. But I hope we can all agree that church is the best when it’s funny. The following are my favorite remembrances of irreverent laughter – the kind that causes you to slump over in your pew to hide your shameful shoulder-shaking and tear-wiping from God and the bishop.

That time my husband quoted Mean Girls during Fast and Testimony meeting. A visitor was well past the 10 minute mark when Jon leaned over and whispered “He doesn’t even go here!”

This: “O God, the Eternal Father, we ask thee in the name of thy Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this water- -bread. My bad. O God, the Eternal Father…”

That time a missionary prematurely made his way up to the pulpit to give the benediction (in his defense, The Spirit of God really is more of a closing hymn than intermediate). When he reached his destination, he and the concluding speaker both stood there, regarding each other, before the missionary realized his mistake and hastily took a seat on the stand.

The best over-the-pulpit Freudian slip of all time: The bishop stood up to announce that next, we would be singing the beloved Christmas hymn “With Wandering Eye.”

The best over-the-pulpit Canadian slip of all time: The second counselor stood up to announce that next, we would be singing “Upon the Cross of Calgary.”

My favorite program typo ever (well, that I’ve personally witnessed. This one wins everything, if real): My then-boyfriend circled “choister” and wrote next to it “Rhymes with oyster?”

That time my friend Lianna, through a brilliant pantomime, jokingly accused my sister of having taken a handful of Sacrament bread, squished it into a ball, and stored it to nibble on throughout the meeting.

That time my friend Christa pointed out that a ward member was cleaning his fingernails with a large knife during the passing of the Sacrament.

That time my husband made an astute, whispered comparison of Facebook to drugs during someone’s testimony. “I got on it because my kids and a lot of my friends were on it.” “That’s what they say about meth.”

Honorable mention because I didn’t find it funny at the time (more like bewildering), but it IS: That time my parents had an uncontrollable laughing fit during Sacrament meeting. The speaker was reading “The Night Before Jesus Came,” a terrible spin off the Christmas poem. When she got to the part about flying to the window, tearing open the shutters, and throwing up the sash, my dad leaned over to my mom and whispered, “That’s why I don’t eat sash anymore.” It’s important that you know how composed my parents typically are, particularly at church (very). I’ve never seen them lose control like that. My crying mother hunched over and started furiously reading her scriptures to try to counteract it, and the speaker even paused to give them an admonishing look.

Second honorable mention because it didn’t technically happen at church but must be included: That time my sister, during a session in the Salt Lake temple, stood up in the middle of the room, clutching her envelope and gazing expectantly around for a good six seconds, before realizing with horror that it wasn’t yet time to move to the next room. My mom and my other sister were also present, and all four of us completely lost it.

What’s the hardest you’ve ever laughed when you were supposed to be reverent? Spill.

Have you seen this? It’s a survey from the BYUSA Student Advisory Council regarding the dress and grooming portion of the Honor Code. You’ll notice that this survey never actually asks for student attitudes toward the Honor Code; it seems to be more about figuring out where the dress standards could be enforced more strictly and nudging students (“If you feel that it is appropriate”) to provide specific violations. I do not encourage you to click that link and troll the completely anonymous survey; it was no fun at all. Not one bit.

^Phew!^

It starts with general questions like participant’s sex (except they call it gender, of course), year in school, and home country. Then it starts to get good.

I read the above question four times and still didn’t quite understand it, so my answer reflects that.

You mean on-campus, right? 90%.

Wait, daily attire, underlined? Maybe we’re not talking about on-campus after all. “Sometimes.”

Except for when I’m overdue for an upper lip tweeze, amiright ladies??

Personally? Not at all. Academically? Very.

Enough of that, bring on the open-ended questions!

I’m sure you knew that LDS.org is the place to look for images of temples, missionary work, and people with hands on their heads. But did you also know that in the depths of the media library, there is a picture of a bearded man wearing suspenders strumming a guitar with a harmonica attachment? Or a picture of a young couple assembling empanadas? There’s a photo for nearly every occasion! Here is just a small sampling of the many hundreds of pictures you could, with a little creativity, incorporate into your next Sunday School lesson:

“My favorite part was when he hands the gun over to her and she uses his shoulder as a rifle stand.”
“YAASSS”

“I learned how to make these homemade Hot Pockets on my mission to Arrrrhentina.”

*Please don’t slam the door in my face please don’t slam the door in my — SON OF A BISHOP!*

“This is a ball.”

“Sweetie, pay attention, this is very important. I asked, ‘What do a chewed up piece of gum, a cupcake with all the frosting licked off, and your friend Braelynn have in common?’”

“No helmet and no stirrups! See, I TOLD you my parents care nothing about my personal safety!”

“Breaking that mission rule wasn’t my proudest moment, kids. But it was up there!!”

“Girl, you make me have to hum my favorite hymn.”

“Well, Mr. Biederman, to put it simply: I woke up this morning and thought, ‘How can I make things even more awkward between us?’”

“So I said ‘rectum?? Damn near KILLED ‘um!’”

♫“Well I come from Beaver, Utah with my banjo on my knee, I’m goin’ to Cedar City, my true love for to see.”♫

“I honor my Indian roots with my clothing, and I honor my Utah roots with my hairstyle.”

“… and Jesus was like, ‘It was then that I carried you.’ Okay, time for the activity portion of FHE!”

“Wut.”
“Please just do it.”
“K.”

“Sure, men have the priesthood, but women have something equally special.”
“Motherhood?”
“What? No. Fatherhood is the equivalent to motherhood. I’m talking about the healing power of essential oils! I’d love for you to learn more by attending a business opportunity meeting at my home on Thursday evening.”

“I’m ready to defend The Family, now!”

And this wouldn’t be much of a photo caption post without a photo caption contest. I saved the one with the greatest potential for you guys. Your mission, should you choose to accept it — CAPTION THIS PHOTO:

My husband and I just got home from backpacking Havasupai Falls. The exhausting 20 mile round-trip trek into and out of the Grand Canyon was worth every step (even though I currently walk like the kid in Jurassic Park after he got electrocuted on the fence).

I ran out of superlatives before we even reached the water.

Descending into the canyon at sunrise

Tree of life

These rock formations overlooking the small town of Supai are called “the Watchers.”

I have never been so awed by Earth’s majesty:

Havasu Falls, 100′ high

Of late, I haven’t been doing all that well, spiritually. (Call it a minor case of Pavilionitis.) But for three days this week, I was completely overwhelmed by the magnificence of God’s creation.

Mooney Falls, 196′ high

Inside the campground

Human for size reference

I swam in a turquoise oasis by day, tearfully viewed billions of stars by night, and clung to an almost desperate prayer of gratitude the entire time: Gratitude to God for creating such a beautiful place, gratitude to my friends for inviting me to see it, gratitude for a strong, capable body to carry me there, and gratitude to the Havasupai (“people of the blue green water”) tribe for sharing this incredible treasure.

Sounds among the vales and hills,

In the woods and by the rills,

Of the breeze and of the bird,

By the gentle murmur stirred –

Sacred songs, beneath, above,

Have one chorus: God is love.

My Relief Society is implementing a weekly “spotlight” so we can get to know each other a little better. The questions, emailed in advance to the featured sister, are as follows:

1) What’s your family nickname?

2) What’s your favorite food?

3) What’s your favorite color?

4) Where have you lived?

5) Married/children?

6) When did you come to know that the Church is true?

7) What calling have you had that blessed you the most?

8) What’s your favorite scripture?

9) What are your hobbies?

10) What’s a goal you have set for yourself?

Aside from numbers 5 and 7, they’re all questions you would ask of Primary children in a similar scenario. If we’re going to do this exercise, why not make the questions a bit more thought-provoking? Surface-level prompts like the above will do little toward helping us connect with our sisters. (I just can’t imagine anyone seeking out the Spotlightee after the Relief Society lesson and exclaiming, “No way!? I  love Mexican food, too!!”)

I understand wanting to steer clear of potentially fraught or too-personal topics, but surely there must be some middle ground between “What’s the most emotional, heart-wrenching thing you’ve ever experienced? Please describe it in great detail” and “What’s your favorite color?” (favorite color!)

For example:

• If you could meet any female historical figure, who would you choose?
• If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would it be?
• What’s the strangest food you’ve ever eaten?
• What’s the best advice you’ve ever been given?
• If you could choose your next calling, what would you pick and why?
• Outline the perfect day in ten words or less.
• If you could time-travel, when and where would you go first?
• Do you consider yourself more introverted or extroverted?
• Aside from scripture, what book has influenced you the most?
• If you could instantly master one skill, what would it be?

I would have magnified the crap out of this task, is what I’m saying.

————————————————————————————

…What’s that? Why yes, it would be fun to hijack this post with a list of unusable subversive questions, too! Unusable subversive questions such as:

• Net or gross?
• What’s your favorite way to spend Stake Conference Sunday?
• What do you personally do, on a daily basis, to defend The Family?

And that’s as far as I got because Steven Peck came along and in five minutes eclipsed anything I could have ever come up with in a hundred years of brainstorming. This post belongs to him, now.

1) Who is your favorite character in literature? Suppose you had to dress like them for a year. Would you like that?

2) Imagine you lose your memory and are recruited for a year of international intrigue. Who from the ward would you pick as your romantic partner before your memories were restored and life returned to normal? (Bishop keep an eye on these answers!)

3) Suppose an angel directed you to kill a ward member’s dog. Who would you choose and how would you do it?

4) Describe your daily work as a short Klingon play that does not in any way refer to what you do for a living.

5) Imagine an evil dictator takes over and picks random people to be executed on TV, but the person chosen gets to pick the means. What would you choose? (Remember this is to be a spectacle so use your imagination!)

6) Suppose you were assigned to pick a book for someone about to be trapped on an island for a year, someone from the ward that you really don’t like. What book would you choose?

7) What is your least favorite idea from Freud? Why do you think you picked that? Does that imply anything about the way you were raised? Why do you suppose you are hesitating in answering this question?

8) Who is your favorite anchor on Fox News?

9) What is your favorite color (if you are a woman) and football team (if you are a man)?

10) What is one idea you learned in seminary that you think may be wrong? What would you correct it with? Who do you think could really correct it? Why do you think it hasn’t been corrected yet?

 

One more:

 

You are high in the mountains with a broken leg and without a fire on bitter winter night. As the physicist you were with departs to go get help, she tells you that given thermodynamic considerations she has calculated there are only two ways you will live to see the dawn: 1) To cut up and crawl into the grossly bloated rotting carcass of a nearby buffalo, or 2) to drink the contents of a thermos she brought full of coffee, whiskey, and tea. It also contains a poison that will require drinking this concoction for one year. Which do you choose?

Your turn!

I have a dear friend I met through work (obliquely – he’s not an employee) named Bobby. We soon discovered that we’re kindred spirits, despite the fact that we have almost nothing in common: I work in an office, he’s a firefighter and EMT; I’m almost 30, he’s almost 50; I’m white, he’s black; I’m Mormon, he’s nondenominational Christian. But on those happy, rare occasions when our schedules align for lunch, we have hours-long, reflective conversations about a wide range of topics including religion, politics, current events, feminism, and racial injustice. His stories often make me cry (once I’m safely back at home – I’m not a public crier), like his retelling of the time an elderly white woman, in middle of a heart attack, screamed for her purse and clutched it tightly with both hands after Bobby stepped in to perform a life-saving maneuver on her.

But the biggest gut punch I’ve had from him lately wasn’t an anecdote on racial tension. 15 years ago, he worked as a corrections officer inside a prison. Two years after he changed jobs, he was leaving a bar late one night and heard someone shout his name from across the darkened parking lot. As the figure approached, Bobby realized with sudden dread that it was one of his previous inmates. Afraid for his safety but trying to act casual, he opened his truck door and leaned against the driver’s seat, placing his hand on the pistol stowed underneath. The man walked quickly up to him with a stoic expression on his face and…pulled Bobby in for a crushing, overly-long bear hug, repeating how glad he was to see him again, and thanking him profusely for treating him with respect when he was in prison.

Bobby has never carried a gun since.

The church has had a longstanding policy that children may not be baptized without parental consent. Therefore, most of the people that this new policy directly affects are worthy, believing children whose righteous desire for baptism has the full support of their gay parent(s). Of that group of individuals, the few that this policy doesn’t manage to drive away will continue to attend church and hear messages contradictory to their home life. Yes, they will often feel dissonance. Their hearts will ache at times. In that regard, they will be in the company of many others who, for a whole host of reasons, do not experience The Ideal at home. Except that these children, these precious, worthy souls, will have to navigate those waters without the Gift of the Holy Ghost to comfort and guide them.

What is our strategy to not lose these children forever?

There’s a little musical on Broadway; perhaps you’ve heard of it?

This was a hard list to write, and even harder to sort. But here goes:

15. The Schuyler Sisters – I’m always awed by the harmonized vocal runs in this song. Also, there’s always a Peggy. WORK!

14. You’ll be Back – King George, ostensibly channeling British pop star Mika, singing to the colonies as though they’re his estranged lover?? Say no more. (Well, just one thing more: “Da da da da daaaaaaaaaa da, da da da di-ya da, da da da da di-ya da…”)

13. Farmer Refuted – Some might consider this song a lightweight. But I love the hell out of it, and I’ll tell you why: A) Samuel Seabury’s increasing frustration with Alexander’s interruptions, B) his utter dependence on his prepared notes (with which he will not break eye contact), C) the juxtaposition of his outcry of “For shame!” with the rebels’ “For the revolution!”, D) Hercules’ and Alexander’s sick burns (“Oh my God, tear this dude apart” and “My dog speaks more eloquently than thee,” respectively), E) “Don’t modulate the key then not debate with me! Why should a tiny island across the sea regulate the price of tea?!” and F), perhaps the best line in the entire musical, “I’d rather be divisive than indecisive.”

12. One Last Time – Excerpts of Hamilton’s brilliant speech-writing and Christopher Jackson’s pipes are on full display here, and it is a beautiful thing. Also, maybe weirdly, George Washington telling Alexander “Relax, have a drink with me” is one of my favorite moments in the whole musical.

11. Non-Stop – I love the frantic, ground-covering pace of this song, and Burr’s soliloquy on the Federalist Papers is always moving. Favorite line from this song: “Burr, we studied, we fought, and we killed, for the notion of a nation we now get to build.” Most quoted line from this song: “Lezzgo.”

10. Ten Duel Commandments – The first time we heard this song, we knew there was going to be a tragic reprise later on. But the obvious foreshadowing doesn’t damper our enthusiasm for this morbid count-down (count-up?). I can even forgive it for supplying the tongue-twistiest line in the entire play: “’Specially ‘tween recruits.” It almost always comes out “’tween we-cwoots” for me.

9. Say No to This –This song has it all: Flattery, intrigue, scandal, crippling guilt, a pimp husband, extortion, and the delightful line “Uh oh! You made the wrong sucker a cuckold!” Also, Maria Reynolds’ soulful alto voice is downright SEXY. There, I said it.

8. It’s Quiet Uptown – This is a hard listen. I usually skip it when it comes up on shuffle, but always look forward to ugly-crying along to it when listening to the entire musical. Forgiveness: Can you imagine?

7. Cabinet Battle #1 – I love the Cabinet Battles almost equally. However, it wouldn’t do to have them both on the list. While the line “Do whatever you want, I’m super dead!!” is certainly persuasive, ultimately Cabinet Battle #1 won the coveted spot on my list, thanks to Hamilton’s spectacular takedown of Jefferson re: slavery, and the delicious use of the word “intransigent.”

6. Dear Theodosia – If this stripped-down lullaby from founding fathers to their newborn babies immediately following the Revolutionary War doesn’t move you, then you’re a Death Eater.

5. Washington on Your Side – Just from the first couple of notes, you know this song is furtive, conspiratorial, and enticing. It’s a slow-burn with massively appealing harmonies, it builds to a big pay-off, and ends on a cliff-hanger. Of the two uncensored F-bombs in the musical, this one is by far the most satisfying.

4. Wait for It – Hey! It turns out I was mishearing my favorite line from this song: I always thought it was “I am indomitable, I am an original” when apparently it’s “inimitable.” They both work. I sort of like it better my way. This song is great.

3. Yorktown – Immigrants get the job done, and I cry every time – usually during the almost-reverent drinking song, but if not then, always during the back-and-forth shouts of “We won!” at the very end. Because America.

2. Alexander Hamilton – If you’re not hooked after the incredible, full-body-chills-inducing opening number, Hamilton just isn’t for you. Move along.

1. Guns and Ships – Enough said. Yes, I have it memorized.

Any egregious omissions? (I would imagine most fans would have “My Shot” and/or “Room Where it Happens” on this list.) Any major re-orderings?

Choosing only 15 out of 46 is really, really hard you guys.

On Monday my mom mailed me a Much Anticipated Envelope. It contained the “Born in 2015” insert from her local newspaper, the Post Register. This annual publication announces the births of babies born the previous year in Rexburg and Idaho Falls, and is a veritable treasure trove of delightfully bad baby names. (Mormons, as you may know, love made-up and/or misspelled baby names. “Why use vowels when ‘Y’ exists?” is actually the Idaho state motto.)

On Thursday, the parcel arrived. This is my ninth consecutive year blogging about this newspaper insert (but my first time here at BCC!), and I still get giddy with anticipation, tearing open the envelope and flipping to the first page, pen poised and paper at the ready. I cackle with glee as I first list, then categorize, the most egregious examples.

Please note: Many of the names you are about to read were difficult to classify, as they span multiple categories. (A complex Venn diagram might be a better representation.)

And a couple of ground rules before we begin:

• Don’t exclaim “Mormons aren’t the only ones that name their babies weird names, duh!!” because I’m not saying that. When did I say that?
• If you mention Le-a or the -jello twins in the comments, best case scenario is that I delete your comment, worst case scenario is that I mock you publicly. There are plenty of real bad names to go around; there’s no need to repeat urban legend! So unless you have a birth certificate to back up your claim, I don’t want to hear it. I’m a Le-a birther.

Got it? Ready to begin? Are you sitting down? …Lezzgo.

First up, Mix-n-Match. This is a historic category, best explained with the following chart:

Step 1: Pick a syllable from column A.
Step 2: Pick a syllable from column B.
Step 3: Now you have a name!!

Examples from this year’s crop of names:

Brynlee
Kyler (x2)
Kylar
Cayson
Kynlee
Jaelyn
Zaylee
Kaydri
Brailee

The Typical Drivel. (After years of doing this, I’m used to names like these, but that doesn’t make them good names. Or even names.)
Braxton
Oakley/Oaklie
Jossilyn
Payzlei/Payslee
Ashtyn
Madilynn/Madelyn
Kaidence
Cohyn
Dallie-Ann
Beckette (this is a boy. I thought that was relevant.)
Kairi
Taila
Brighten

Multiple Capitalizations
TyLynn
BrynLee
Elizabeth LuWynn
Briggs LeRoy

Celeb-inspired
Hesston
Dempsey (she will be ‘Dumpsey.’ To everyone.)
McCartney

“How come SHE got a real name and I got a made-up name??”
Twins named Kiana and Kadis

There’s a whole world of names out there beyond “Two-syllable US cities that start with the letter B,” you know
Twins named Boston and Brooklyn
(I spent 60 seconds thinking of names for their future children that could fit the theme. Berkeley…Billings……….Barstow.)

Are you just looking at things in the room and naming your kid after them?
Ledger Hutch Hyde

Hopefully a typo
Thedore (Thedore is dressed as Yoda in his picture, and it is ovary-exploding cute)

Aaaaaand the category you’ve been waiting for…
WTF??
Kayzin
AnnDe
Tymberlee
Tivian JoLyn
JaKoby
Rexalyn*
Zoei Reign
Embyr Serenity
Lenyx (x2! Same spelling for both!)
Jazlin
Riglee (though very descriptive of a baby, I will concede)
Roczen
Torrick
Gannon LaMar

*Ask your doctor if Rexalyn™ is right for you

The Absolute Worst Name This Year
Tannin (no, srsly. Click that link. And this one. But especially the first one.)

Some more categories, just for fun:

Longest name
Stephanie Cheyenne Leigh Williams (30 letters)

Shortest name
Rudy Meng

Most Mormon name
Dallin/Dallen
Layton

Least Mormon name
Trinity

Worst real name
Bart Levon

Most intersectional name
The Lenyxes. I considered them for three categories – Drivel, Celebs, and WTF. Those compounding misspellings, including that unnecessary Y thrown in for good measure, gave it the winning edge.

Most smile-inducing name
Ivy Lou Bean

And a round of applause for the parents of these children. My favorite names this year!
Wyatt Paul
Ronan Gabriel
Josephine Kate
Clara Louise

Three notes before we adjourn:

• This year more than ever, I noticed middle names that must be nods to older relatives. Mormons have long loved their weird names, but in older generations it was a distinctly different style. The baby’s parents and grandparents are listed in each ad, and sure enough Elizabeth LuWynn is a proven namesake. I strongly suspect middle names LeRoy and LaMar are family names as well. (Sentimental or not, they’re still bad names and deserve inclusion).
• I always learn so much about Mormon baby fashion trends from the accompanying baby photos. Last year taught me that cabbage-sized flower headbands are being phased out for pearl necklaces. This installment taught me that if you failed to take a picture of your baby girl in a lacy romper or tutu, you are nothing. NOTHING!
• Last year I did some number-crunching to see what percentage of babies in the insert had made-up and/or misspelled names; a staggering 53% did. This year appears to be about the same, but I’m not doing the tallying again on account of it took forever.