Read the Book of Mormon

Starting this Sunday, Gospel Doctrine classes will be studying the Book of Mormon, and will do so throughout 2012. Exciting, isn't it? Most likely, you have not received a study guide yet, so you'll have to be proactive--here's the link to what will be covered in Sunday School on New Year's Day.

I don't have any jokes or weird tangents to go along with this lesson, but don't worry, I plan on sticking to my normal format going forward in my weekly Sunday School posts. I'm also working on a new serialized feature inspired by the Book of Mormon that I've been planning in my head for almost two years, that I hope to finally debut sometime in January.

But I'll take this chance to say that, no matter how lighthearted of an approach I may take on my blog, I sincerely believe in the scriptures and love to read them, especially the Book of Mormon. I agree with the testimony given by President Gordon B. Hinckley when, in August 2005, he challenged all members of the LDS Church to read the entire Book of Mormon by the end of that year:

Without reservation I promise you...regardless of how many times you may have previously read the Book of Mormon, there will come into your lives and into your homes an added measure of the Spirit of the Lord, a strengthened resolution to walk in obedience to His commandments, and a stronger testimony of the living reality of the Son of God.

 At General Conference a few months later, Elder Henry B. Eyring gave some great counsel to those trying to complete the challenge that is very applicable to us as we begin studying the Book of Mormon again. After repeating the above quote from Pres. Hinckley, he said:

That is the very promise of increased faith we need to be spiritually prepared. But if we delayed the start of our obedience to that inspired invitation, the number of pages we had to read each day grew larger. If we then missed reading for even a few days, the chance of failure grew. That's why I chose to read ahead of my daily plan to be sure I will qualify for the promised blessings of the spirit of resolution and testimony of Jesus Christ. When December ends, I will have learned about starting at the moment a command from God comes and being steady in obedience.

More than that, as I read in the Book of Mormon, I will pray that the Holy Ghost will help me know what God would have me do. There is a promise of that plea being answered in the book itself: "Wherefore, I said unto you, feast upon the words of Christ; for behold, the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do.^"

I will act quickly on what the Holy Ghost tells me I should do as I read and ponder the Book of Mormon. When I complete the project in December, I will have had many experiences of stretching my faith to be obedient. And so my faith will be strengthened. And I will know from my own experience what comes from going to the scriptures early and consistently to know what God wants me to do and then doing it. If we do that, we will be better prepared for the greater storms when they come.

We will then have a choice of what to do after January 1. We can choose to sigh with relief and say to ourselves: "I have built a great reservoir of faith by starting early and being steady in obedience. I will store it away against the times when I will be tested in storms." There is a better way to prepare, because great faith has a short shelf life. We could decide to persist in studying the words of Christ in the scriptures and the teachings of living prophets. This is what I will do. I will go back to the Book of Mormon and drink deeply and often. And then I will be grateful for what the prophet's challenge and promise did to teach me how to gain greater faith and maintain it.

 If you've read the Book of Mormon before, I hope you will make it a point to read and study it again this year. If you've never read it, now is a great time to start. It's really easy to get a copy. If you have any questions, please ask.

Secret Admirer 2: Secret Santa

[To briefly recap, back in the fall of 2003 I started getting flirtatious emails from someone who identified herself as "Maybelline Buttacup," or May B. for short. When it became clear she wasn't going to reveal her true identity, I largely lost interest, but as Christmas approached I decided to take one last crack at figuring out who May really was (see my last post for more detailed background information).

On Christmas Eve, I emailed the following adaptation of Clement Moore's classic "A Visit From St. Nicholas." Enjoy!]

'Twas the night before Christmas, and here in Provo
There's a guy named Jeff Hofmann who wanted to know
The identity of his cyber friend May.
He hoped that she'd tell without any delay.
"I'm the lint in your belly button," she said,
And other strange things that just messed with his head.
May's gift for poetry made Jeff want to clap--
It's not surprising he fell into her trap.
He tried to get down to the heart of the matter
But she strung him along--nearly made his heart shatter.

Each day to his inbox he flew like a flash
But the emails and his curiosity clashed.
Though using a pseudonym is May's MO,
Just who is she really? Jeff just had to know.
His life would be filled with extra Christmas cheer
If she would just make her true identity clear.
Jeff thought of May constantly; it made his heart sick.
He had to, just had to, hook up with this chick.
He had to know more about her than her name.
Sure the emails were nice, but it's just not the same.

How he'd love to speak face to face with this vixen
Or to have their lips to each other affixin'.
He just wanted some contact whether big or small;
That's not really too much to ask, after all.

Is May being sincere, or is it all a lie?
Does she really have true feelings for this guy?
For deep down inside Jeff was certain she knew
It takes more than emails to successfully woo.
Jeff tried to find out who she was--like a sleuth--
But despite his best efforts May stayed aloof.
She'd drawn in his heart but for true love to be found
She'd have to stop teasing him, stop fooling around.

Into her messages much effort had been put
But without something more the whole point would be moot
Jeff got on his PC, and he tried to hack
But May's online alias was too hard to crack.
Her eyes--do they twinkle? Are her dimples merry?
Are her cheeks like roses, her nose like a cherry?
It made Jeff upset that he just didn't know.
It made him confused and made his frustration grow.

If things didn't change then his feelings he'd sheath
Like his junior high crush on actress Yasmine Bleeth.
"But if," Jeff thought, "if May decided to tell me
Or visit me how my legs would turn to jelly."
Jeff could put all the emails away on the shelf
If he could be with the writer--May B. herself!
All of the notes have been repeatedly read
And now Jeff just wants to be with May instead.

As I start this last stanza my face wears a smirk
'Cause I'm confident that this last poem will work.
I know you like me; in your emails it shows
But now I want more than poetry and prose.
I've told you my feelings; now I hope that this'll
Get you to stand with me 'neath toe made of mistle.*
Now it's up to you; make the next move and we might
Have a future that could be both merry and bright!

* I'm normally not one for hyperbole, but that's probably the greatest couplet in the history of poetry.

[A pretty clever ultimatum, eh? After the first four lines, all of the end rhymes match the original (well, there's two that are a little slanty) and I was able to use some of Mr. Moore's imagery and adhere very closely to his cadence. It's, in my opinion, one of the more impressive pieces I've ever written--which is saying something, because I think pretty much everything I write is great.

Apparently May didn't agree, though...I never heard from her again. As I said in my last post, I'm pretty sure I know who it is, but it won't bother me if she never comes clean.

Merry Christmas everyone!]

Secret Admirer

[My blog is quickly becoming an anthology for older stuff I wrote. But the alternative would be to actually have new experiences to write about, and it seems unlikely that I'll do enough of that to be able to post with any consistency. Plus, I always find some way to relate it to something current.

I once wrote an epic Christmas poem that I want the world to read (it might even be better than the magi rap I posted a few weeks ago), but first I need to give some background. At the beginning of my senior year of college, I received a mysterious email from someone named "Maybelline Buttacup." Below is the text of that email, received on September 2, 2003 (wow, I'm getting old); all spelling and punctuation from the original message.]

Subject line: Hey Jeff! How's the 1st day of school?

Dearest Jeffy,

How's it goin? Man, I'm so glad I've seen you around...that hairstyle looks awesome! On campus you are the one with the backpack, right? Juuuuuust kidding.
You are the lint in my belly button. You are always with me.
You are the nut in my honey nut breakfast cereal--better known as Cheerios for the name-brand type.
You are the odor in my deodorant. You're fresh baby. So fresh I'm going to raise my hand cause I'm sure--sure you're the one.
You are the double helix in my DNA.
You are the days in my week, actually, seven days without you makes one weak!
If I were mother nature then there would be only one season yearlong--I'd fall for you.
Fall semester has me busy falling for you.
If you owned an orchard, I'd love to be an apple on your tree cause then I could fall for you. Better yet, maybe I'd be the apple in your ever-so-sparkling eyes. Hmm...reminds me of sparkling apple cider, YUM!
Maybe we will reminisce over a glass someday.
Please let me know if you feel the same way dream lover, so I don't have to dream alone.

Fondest regards,

May B.

[Pretty weird and pretty corny and pretty flattering, all at the same time. I wracked my brain trying to figure out who would send me something like this, either seriously or as a prank. My best guess initially was my older sister Lori (mainly because she was the only one who called me Jeffy), and I wrote back the next day suggesting as much (I didn't save my replies). This was the email I got back on September 5.]

Subject line: Lord help the sister who comes between me and my mister

Dearest Jeffy,

Being accused of being your sister is like Marge being accused of being Homer's sister. Seriously, how could Bart be so handsome (as are you) if they were brother and sister? But aren't we all brothers and sisters? But have no fear, I'm not in Murray...anymore.
My heart skips a beat every time I sit here and think of you typing away that reply. It just can't be good for the ol' pace maker.
You wonder who I am:
I am the aloe on your third degree sunburn
I am the Matie in your marshmallow (I'd like to be your Matie.) And you are my Lucky Charm (on a less generic note).
I am the active ingredient in your dandruff shampoo. After some time with me you'll always end up feeling fresh and flake free.
If our love was like the internet, we wouldn't be dial up--we'd be a high speed connection!
You are the static guard on my pantyhose
The double stuff in my Oreo
You are the mysterious fishy odor in my tuna. Like tuna without that smell, life just wouldn't be the same without you.
I can't wait until you respond again. I feel like I am dumping my feelings like a laxative overdose and you're just sitting there with all your feelings waiting for a good drink of prune juice.

Butterfly kisses,

May B.

[That one got decidedly less romantic towards the end. These are the only two of Maybelline's emails I still have copies of, but we went back and forth a few more times--me trying to find out who the real author was, she playing coy and never revealing any truthful information--until I got a little tired of the game, and by the end of September I stopped writing back.

If memory serves me correctly (and it usually does), she wrote me once more in October or November wondering what had happened, and I wrote back saying I wasn't interested in corresponding with someone who wouldn't tell me who they really were. May never sent me another email.

Then, as Christmas approached, I decided to give her one last chance, and I crafted a masterpiece that I figured would impress her enough to get her to end the charade. But this is already long enough--I'll save my Christmas poem for my next post. Stay tuned!]

[P.S. By the end of 2003 I had a pretty good idea who was behind the emails, and at this point I'm about 97% sure that I know Ms. Buttacup's true identity. But I'll let her decide if she ever wants to fess up.]

We Three Kings

[As I mentioned last week, my ward has already completed the 2011 Sunday School curriculum. This Sunday, the last one before Christmas, we'll be having a lesson on--you guessed it--the nativity dating and relationships. (I'm no longer in a singles ward, but there's a separate Sunday School class for singles in my current ward.) There was a lesson on the first Christmas this year, but it was way back in January. Here's the email I sent to my YSA ward all those months ago to help them prepare.]

Last Sunday Bishop Burton said that Christmas should never end. Well, Sunday School is doing its part--the Gospel Doctrine lesson this week is on the birth of Christ!

Speaking of birthdays...last Saturday would've been Elvis Presley's 76th. If you were to use the king of rock and roll's song titles to tell the story of the birth of the King of Kings, it might go something like this:

When Mary and Joseph reached Bethlehem, it was "Heartbreak Hotel"--no room at the inn. Mary had to give birth "In the Ghetto," or its Judaen equivalent, a stable. Meanwhile, an angel gave the good news to some
shepherds, which left them "All Shook Up," since they were used to "A Little Less Conversation" from the heavens. They came to worship the newborn babe, and Mary kept all these things "Always On (Her)
Mind" (see Luke 2:19). Wise men came from afar as well, and after seeing the Lord were told in a dream not to "Return to Sender"--Herod the king. He and others had "Suspicious Minds" and wished to kill Jesus. The wise men "Follow(ed) That Dream," and Herod was prevented from turning this joyous occasion into a "Blue Christmas." Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, others who waited for Christ's birth were also in danger, and were saved by that "One Night" that stayed light even after the sun went down. When that happened, people all over the Americas were compelled to say "I Just Can't Help Believing." Jesus had come, and his "Burning Love" would save us all and make the spiritual "Jailhouse Rock."

Saturday was also the birthday of another king: David Bowie, the Goblin King from Labyrinth. He sings my all-time favorite Christmas pop song.
 
Such synergy!

If you want to read a more accurate and important account of the birth of the Lord, please use these chapters and discussion points as your guide.

Merry Christmas everyone! See you Sunday.

You Better Watch Out

Last week my friend Heidi (who has a hilarious blog that I would link to, but it's private) came over and recruited me to play Santa for her aunt's ward Christmas party. I would've been excited to do it anyway, but then Heidi offered to bake me cookies if I would do it. It was appropriate, since that is the payment the real Santa receives for his work, plus I'm a sucker for cookies, which is why my bowlful of jelly needed no padding to fill out the costume. The picture above is me in the clerk's office at the church, which doubled as my dressing room. (If any kids are reading this: I'm not the real Santa. Just one of his helpers. But Santa Claus is real, so don't stop believin', no matter what some Grinchy adults might say.) The suit had obviously been around for many, many years; I was already planning on blaming the inversion my sleigh had to descend through if any kids asked why my beard was yellow. It didn't come up, though, which allowed me to avoid thinking about how gross it was.

After a performance by some random acapella group, the kids were brought on stage to sing "Here Comes Santa Claus." A few lines in, my wardrobe assistant opened the doors at the rear of the gym where the party was being held, and I walked in, shaking some jingle bells, waving, and yelling "ho, ho, ho." It was kind of weird, because I didn't know if I was supposed to wander around for a while or head straight for the kids, plus I couldn't see very well because I was wearing Kris Kringle glasses instead of my own, and the wig really reduced my peripheral vision.

I eventually made it to the stage. I'm not sure why, but pretty much everyone at this party was dressed up. There was nothing particularly fancy about it (though it was very nice), but it probably helped prevent the kiddos from getting too rambunctious.

All of a sudden, it was happening. This was the first girl in line. I really had no idea what to expect. Would they actually want to sit on my lap? Even the older kids? Would they be excited, or act all too cool for school? Would there be any troublemakers trying to yank my beard off? But everything went very smoothly. The kids were unfailingly polite, and they all interacted with me as if they thought I was the genuine article. Whether they were just humoring me and their parents or actually believed, it doesn't really matter; everyone had a good time.

As each child sat down, I went through the same basic spiel: What's your name? How old are you? Have you been good this year? What do you want for Christmas? This was the part that worried me most: how would I respond to their requests? Even in nonrecession times, it's not wise for Santa stand-ins to promise specific gifts; I tried to avoid that, as well as to avoid saying "I don't think you've been THAT good this year." I found a good middle ground for most of the kids with some variation of "well, you've still got two more weeks where you have to be good, and I'll see what I can do."

After this exchange, I'd try to ask one other question, mainly for my own entertainment--things like, "where should I go on my post-Christmas vacation?" or "I'm thinking of getting a new reindeer--what should I name it?" (One precocious 8-year-old answered Olive, as in Olive the other reindeer.)

There were two little boys that were my favorite. One hopped on my lap, and when asked for his name, said "I told you this afternoon when I saw you at daycare--don't you remember?" I eventually got Christopher to play along by reminding him that Santa has to check his list twice due to his forgetfulness, and he told me he wanted a Thor sword. A few minutes later he ran back up and interrupted another child to tell me he actually wanted a different Thor weapon.

And this kid was my other favorite. I had already spoken to his older brothers, then they brought this little guy (one year old!) up to take his turn. I wish I had a picture taken from over my shoulder--this one doesn't come close to doing justice to how wide-eyed he was. He gaped at me, open-mouthed, too mesmerized to cry. And he was so adorable in his little sweater.

Basically, I'm a huge fan of Santa, and of kids, and of Christmas. I hope I get to do this again sometime. I'll keep practicing my cookie eating, just to be on the safe side

The Meaning of Christmas

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
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[I have Stake Conference this week, so you're on your own to prepare for Sunday School. Last night's Daily Show had a hilarious segment (part 1 above, part 2 below) that reminded me of one of my favorite things I've ever written. After the video is the text of a post originally published on December 21, 2009. I'm definitely a Christian--hence the links to Christ-centered study materials every week (except this week; again, I've got nothing for ya this time)--but I am not offended in the least if I don't get a Christmas greeting while shopping, or if some people or institutions make efforts to help non-Christians feel included (whatever their motivations for those efforts might be). Feel free to let me know what you think.]

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Tree Fighting Ceremony - War on Christmas
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Let me tell you about a dream I recently had.

I don't remember my dreams very often. When I do remember something, it's usually just the gist of it, then when I'm in that pleasant state between being asleep and awake, I semi-consciously enhance and embellish the narrative. So this dream is probably not completely authentic, but it's not totally made up either. It certainly is an accurate representation of my feelings towards certain letters to the editor and commentaries from TV pundits that you see this time of year. Anyway...

In my dream I was working in retail (so I guess it was actually a nightmare). It was probably ShopKo, since I was wearing a red shirt, I worked there when I was in high school, and I only had one customer in my line even though I was the only cashier working. (Seriously, I don't know how the chain as a whole is faring, but I will be shocked if the store by our house isn't closed within two years. It's a ghost town in there.)

Technically, I had two customers, a husband and wife who appeared to be in their late 40s or early 50s. They paid for their stuff, I gave them their change, and wished them "happy holidays." The man then said, "Oh, so you're one of those people who is afraid to say 'Merry Christmas,' huh?" It must have been the end of a long shift, or my shoes were a few sizes too small like the Grinch's, or maybe I'm just a jerk, but I went off on an epic rant. The following retelling probably isn't verbatim, but it's close:

"You're offended that I said happy holidays instead of merry Christmas? Seriously? Why would you care which generic salutation you receive from someone you don't even know? Besides, what is bad about saying happy holidays? Christmas is a holiday, right? When I say happy holidays, doesn't it imply that I wish you a merry Christmas, plus a bonus wish for a happy New Year? Does that mean you'd be even more offended if I said something with no celebratory implications at all, like 'Have a good night' or 'Thanks for shopping with us'? That's what I usually say to people. Just because I chose to say one thing, it doesn't preclude me from meaning something else that I didn't say. And, to be honest, I DON'T really mean it when I say these things. I don't want you to have a bad Christmas, but whether it's merry or not really has no impact on me. So you would rather have me insincerely wish you a merry Christmas, in a sense taking the Lord's name in vain? You want me to break one of the Ten Commandments, just to make you feel good?! Well, fine! HAVE YOURSELVES A MERRY LITTLE CHRISTMAS!"

Happy holidays, everyone!

Shooting the Breeze

Utah was hit by a huge wind storm virtually statewide yesterday, but luckily it wasn't bad where I live. My power didn't even go out, which is impressive considering how often we lose electricity in my apartment complex.

Since I'm not busy today patching holes in my roof or clearing downed trees out of my yard like many of my fellow Beehive State-ers, I'm able to maintain positive feelings towards mighty winds in general, and one Mighty Wind in particular:



I've never officially chosen a favorite movie, but there's strong circumstantial evidence that A Mighty Wind might hold the top spot: it was the first movie I ever purchased on DVD, and it remains the only movie I've ever seen more than once in the theater (I haven't seen a movie in-theater in 2011, and in a more typical year I only see 4 or 5, so that's an impressive feat). Plus, it's so. Dang. Funny.

If you've never seen it, please, please borrow my DVD. I'm always looking to spread the word and share the joy of this movie. I'm a huge fan of mockumentaries in general. I don't think I've ever seen one I didn't like (I keep that streak intact in part by avoiding Sons of Provo). All of Christopher Guest's are great (Mighty Wind, Best In Show, Spinal Tap, etc.), but there are other good ones too, especially this one:



The fake-documentary format has also translated well to television--The Office is still watchable and was a fantastic show in its prime, and Parks and Recreation is my favorite show on TV today and probably in my top 5 of all time. But you really, really have to suspend some disbelief: why in the world would a camera crew chronicle the lives of a bunch of paper salesmen for six-plus years? They wouldn't. There's no way. At least with the movies there's always an end point, some payoff event that's being built to (like a reunion concert or a "scholarship pageant").

Hopefully the Office creators are planning to end the series (whenever that happens) by having all the characters get together to watch the completed Dunder-Mifflin documentary. It would be logical, follow in the proud "clip-show" tradition, provide an excuse for Michael and everyone else to come back, and, if done right, be highly satisfying.

While my love for mockumentaries is genuine, there's another reason for my "revelation" about my fondness for A Mighty Wind--the phrase appears in Revelation 6:13, part of this week's Sunday School reading block! It's the last lesson in the manual, so study up. For the rest of the year, I may take a break from running peripherally-related-to-Sunday-School posts, or I may dust off some "classic" ones I wrote for my old ward before I started this blog, I haven't decided. Guess we'll have to wait to see which way the wind blows.

Hoffmann of the Month: December

The "Hoffmann of the Month" for December is singer/actress/comedian Jackie Hoffman!

Jackie, who turned 51 earlier this week, is quite prolific. She's performed on Broadway in Hairspray, Xanadu and, most recently, Addams Family. Hoffman's eclectic resume also includes appearances in everything from  Garden State to 30 Rock to Grand Theft Auto to Dora the Explorer (voice-over work for those last two).

So she's obviously quite talented (the above video is friggin' hilarious), but the real reason Jackie won the award this month is this--if you read her bio in the above link, you'll see she's a past recipient of a Jeff Award! Anyone who's been honored by my first name, and also qualifies to be honored by my last...well, that's a no-brainer. At this point I don't know of any prizes based on my middle name, probably because "Edward Award" looks awkward and redundant in print.

Take a bow, Jackie! You're the Hoffmann of the Month!