General Conference is once again upon us with its parade of old farts dusting off their haggard, antiquated messages of obedience, rule-following and doing-as-you're-told. Why it seems like it was just six months ago that I had to endure the crackly voiced audio sedatives echoing throughout the house from every TV and radio.

All this while I'm forced to watch NBC sports in old-school standard-def resolution on the local UPN affiliate because church-owned KSL is broadcasting Boyd K. Packer in 1080p. Like I need 16:9 aspect ratio and 2,073,600 pixels to hear him tell me how bad I am because my arms can reach my penis. But golly won't the organ sound nice in 6.1 surround sound. The organ in the Conference Center, not the one my arms can reach... perverts.

I guess I should ease up. I'm sure the leadership of the LDS Church has probably had just tons of new revelations straight from Jesus Christ himself they are just busting to share with us. I mean, they have that weekly board meeting with the Big Man himself every Thursday. Their colostomy bags must be overflowing with the latest news from the upper rooms of the Salt Lake Temple. Important and ground-breaking stuff like... "gays are bad", "women, we know you all feel second-rate but trust us, God thinks you're s'special and s'sweet." and "seriously, gays are bad." Oh, the joys of modern revelation. We thank thee, oh God for a prophet to guide us in these latter days.

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You know that thing they say about asparagus? I bear you this witness that I know these things are true.

In the Count of Monte Cristo, Ah man.

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The weather today has been shitty, to say the least. Especially in contrast to the string of warm, sunny days we've been experiencing here in Salt Lake. Even more especially when compared to the great weather I enjoyed on my recent vacation to southern Utah.

I found myself suddenly melancholy about my return to work as well as the crappy-ass snow storm while sitting in a marathon meeting today. In a twist of irony, because it is snowing, I wore my hiking shoes today. The very same shoes I wore all weekend. The very same shoes I sat around the fire in. The very same shoes that still smell like said campfire.

As I crossed my legs to recirculate the blood to my tingly-from-sitting-on-my-ass-in-a-meeting-way-too-long left foot, I caught the hint of mesquite from my shoes.

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One of the advantages of not sleeping at night is the opportunity to get a picture like this.

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As a young Mormon missionary working in and around Nauvoo, Illinois, I got to hear a lot about the so-called martyrdom of Joseph Smith, Jr. The LDS Church's official version of the events covers, ad nauseam, the who's, what's, when's and where's but comes up short on the why's.

They're quick to tell us all about how Joseph Smith was killed by an angry mob of anti-Mormons on June the 27th of 1844 but not entirely forthcoming on who specifically was behind the mob. They're quick to tell us how he was unfairly jailed in Carthage but a bit murky on exactly what he was jailed for, saying only "charges of civil disturbance".

They also neglect to ever delve into why he was killed. Not that I believe any motive justifies the murder of another man. I don't. I'm just saying that calling the murderers anti-Mormons without any explanation to motive simply doesn't tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

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I'll be spending this weekend camping and hiking in southern Utah with friends and family. Our frequent trips to the great National and State Parks always conjure the memory of a trip we took a few years ago with some very good, very evangelical Christian friends.

Dave and I stood overlooking the massive canyon carved from the rock by the Colorado River at Dead Horse Point. Dave read from an etched-metal sign to his young daughter. "This canyon was formed from millions of years of erosion by the swift and muddy water of the great river..." He was then quick to teach the youngster that the sign was, in fact, incorrect. "Actually, this canyon was formed only thousands of years ago when God flooded the Earth at the time of Noah. The Earth is not even millions of years old, as we know from reading the Bible."

"Wow," I thought, "he's gonna have some 'splainin' to do when we get to the dinosaur footprints this afternoon."

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The Fiddley Swag Shop now includes handsome, Garage Frog Brand Beer items.

I test drove the new Garage Frog Beer Stein this past weekend and it made my already delicious Hydraulic Pale Ale taste like it was poured by a busty, naked angel. I offer my hearty endorsement that this is the finest Garage Frog brand stein available on the market today. Accept no imitation.

Need something to wear? In the shop you'll also find men's and ladies t-shirts as well as my personal favorite, the Garage Frog Homebrew Apron.

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Allow me, if I may, to comment on a few current event items.

Except for you queers, that is...
Everyone knows the LDS Church proudly displays a sign reading "Visitors Welcome" on the front lawn of all its buildings, right? Well, the gay rights group Soulforce was recently told by the LDS Church that their members are to "not enter church property for any purpose."

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For the first time in months, I'm not really in the mood to write a post. Instead of giving y'all a big, fat digital fuck you, I'll try to muster something worth reading.

I can't pinpoint exactly what's put me out of the writing mood. Perhaps it's the skant ration of sleep I've been getting thanks, in no small part, to the forty-five point six pounds of snot that's been living in my head for almost two weeks now. Maybe it's the insurmountable pile of work I haven't been able to crawl out from under in almost six months. Or maybe it's just the Elton John I'm listening to... but then again, no.

All I know is that I am in desperate need of a vacation. Oh sure, I'm taking a couple days off here and there over the next few weeks. That will be nice but it just won't cut it. I need the kind of vacation that makes you not just forget what day of the week it is but that makes you forget what city you are in and what year your kids were born.

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In sharp contrast to our regular get-togethers, Saturday's St. Patty's Day shindig was a smashing success.

I brewed a special Irish (read dyed green) blend of homemade beer in advance of the occasion and invited only my side of the family. I assured them all that this was a beer-drinking event in order to ensure to them that my in-laws would be nowhere in sight.

My favorite, long-lost aunt M'Lisa, whom I haven't seen near as much as I should, arrived first. Soon after, her husband, then my dad and his new, finally-age-appropriate wife. Eventually about twenty beer-swilling friends, neighbors and relatives were assembled to partake of the malted sacrament.

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More from the "I can't believe I'm letting you read this" file...

April 5, 1990 - 11:36 PM

Drawn in pen. I must have really meant it.

That's Lisa Mangum dropping my ass out of an airplane!

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Is it just me or do you miss the good ol' days when you could get kids and doctors to sell your cigarettes for you?

You've come a long way, baby.

"Those Girl Scout Cookies are so good. I ate all of them and now I have diarrhea."

"Maybe you should send them a letter so they can put that on the box next year."

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June 26, 1988

Right now it's 2:09 in the morning. I've stayed up with [my cousin] John again. We've moved in with G-ma & G-pa. Were moving to West Jordan. I opened up a letter from Tiffany that she gave to me. I love Tiffany very much & I think she feels the same about me. At least that's the impression that I got from her letter. We had a testimony meeting at Youth Conference and she bore her testimony. I feel she is so strong in the church & in the gospel and it makes me feel really good. I don't know what to do about Kathy though. At times she feels very much against the church & at others she seems very interested. I don't understand it. Aaron is getting to be a very good friend & confidant. I feel that I can tell Aaron anything and not be hassled or critisized for it. I just get good advise. John is leaving Aug. 17 for Munich, W. Germany for his mission! I'm so excited for him. I've also gotten my Patriarical Blessing recently. I turn to it often for councel & Guidence. I don't know what else to write, I've got so much running through my head, When I sort some of it out, I'll write it down.

-Pete Dunn
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A thorough cleaning of the home office last week yielded a journal, circa 1988.

Mar. 13, 1988

It's been way too long since I wrote, I know. I called Kathy today and Invited her the region dance on Friday. She said she might go. I don't know if she's finding a way to say "no" or if she's trying to find a way to say "yes". Today Aaron & I fasted & prayed for her because we heard last night that she tried to commit suicide. I feel sorry for her because she's so stressed out. I felt the Spirit more today than I ever have before. And I also think that I came closer to Aaron last night. We stayed up till 1:00 AM talking about the Book of Mormon. I'm going to Grandma's house tonight and I'm excited cuz I'm going to type in my phone directory program that I wrote. I'll close this entry with the fact that I know Know what it's like to have and use the Spirit of The Lord.

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OK, Utah Fiddleyites. It's official. I am now shamelessly campaigning. I want to win this thing. I'm counting on you to show your love, loyalty and devotion.

Go vote for Fiddley.com as Best Local Blog at Salt Lake City Weekly.

Best of Utah 2007

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There are many paths to Fiddleyhood. Many of you have found my site by word of mouse, or through a few of the Ex-Mormon bulletin boards and mailing lists. Others of you have come to me through some very interesting search engine queries.

You wouldn't be surprised to know that I get quite a few hits from searches for lots of Mormon keywords. All manner of garment related searches like, "do Mormons wear underwear?", "temple garments under bra" and the like. What may surprise you are some of the really strange search terms more than a few of you have come up with.

Here are some of my favorites:

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Back in 1969, my grandfather was a Bishop in the Monument Park Stake on the very exclusive, very Mormon, east bench of Salt Lake City, Utah. This was at a time where there were only, believe it or not, eight stakes in the Salt Lake valley. In other words, everybody knew the family. They were high-profile and well-respected. To this day, I often meet people whom I've never met who know my grandfather and refer to him as "Bishop".

My mother was 19 at the time. My father, just a bit older. Of course, they weren't my mom and dad then. They were just two crazy kids in love... in love with sex. As a result, late in 1969, my older brother was conceived. There was just one thing missing... the ring.

Yep, my brother is a bastard. Well, except that in February 1970, my parents were rushed into an ill-fated marriage in order to save face for my mother's family among their friends, ward members, and colleagues. To this day, when my dad hears the word shotgun, he ducks.

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I committed my first felony today. Well... the first one I'm going to tell the entire planet about. It felt great and I'm not sorry about it at all.

I packed a single 12oz bottle of This Old Man's Amber Ale in a box with styrofoam and shipped it UPS to a friend in Virginia.

Yes, my faithful Fiddleyonians (or as I've begun to call you lately, lunatics), importing or exporting any alcoholic beverage over Utah state lines is a crime. There is no license for exporting beer from Utah even available in the Beehive State. Even if there were, it's likely that no individual would have access to one.

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Ladies, for your convenience, I have put together this handy chart. The index is useful whether deciding what to wear to aerobics or for a weekend bike ride. Conceivably it could be applied to other fashions as well (ie, bikinis, miniskirts, knit leggings, etc) but has been specifically tuned for spandex use.

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There's a volcano on my nose. Not a pokey-outie kind like Mount Vesuvius or Mount St. Helens. No. Mine is like the one that lives underneath Yellowstone that threatens to devour the entire center of North America.

Yesterday, there was some seismic activity. Several fissures appeared in the crust of the earth near, but not exactly on the epicenter. These tremors make me look like I lost a hockey fight.

Except no one would ever believe that I was playing hockey. Unless you know Stephen Hawking or Paul Reubens, I am the least athletic person you know.

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"Why do you love Star Wars?"

"Umm... the guys are cool."

"The characters?"

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