Lindsay Lohan

Hollywood actress Lindsay Lohan has fueled speculation that she has converted to Islam after deleting all of her posts on the social media platform Instagram, simply leaving her account bearing an Arabic greeting.

from the Jerusalem Post

When Lindsay her posts all deleted,
with bushwa her actions were treated.
She's now LDS
or wears a headdress,
or has the marthambles untreated. 

Marriage is ordained of God

And again, verily I say unto you, that whoso forbiddeth to marry is not ordained of God, for marriage is ordained of God unto man.   

Doctrine & Covenants. Section 49:15

God ordains that marriage be a part of mortal life,
even though it sometimes leads to sorrow and to strife.
Nothing worth the having ever comes too easy, so
the state of matrimony sometimes makes a man feel low.
But those that stay the course and don't give up will find at last
that marriage trains the heart and soul to always be steadfast. 

For LDS Readers Only -- Clinical Notes on the Returned Missionary

THE IMPULSE that propels a returned missionary (RM) to make a fool of himself with women is of mysterious origin. Doubtless, Hugh Nibley could solve the mystery in a moment; but he was too busy explaining Egyptian graffiti. It seems quite likely, however, that the initial impetus can be traced back to the Understanding (always capitalized) most missionaries in the field have with some sweet young thing (SYT) back home. The SYT unfortunately understands the Understanding somewhat differently than the missionary. While the missionary is either frying in the tropics or freezing in some arctic region, constantly urged on by a dog-eared photo of

himself and the SYT, the SYT finds herself widowed at an inconvenient age and does not long remain deaf to the entreaties of other men (usually RMs). The upshot of all this is that the poor fool (PF) out in the mission field receives a wedding announcement one day, on expensive cream-colored paper, telling him that his Understanding has been misunderstood. Moreover, the SYT artlessly scrawls on the announcement that the PF needn’t feel bad about not sending a present mMr. SYT’s daddy is loaded. His final slap in the face occurs a year later when Mrs. SYT writes to the PF, still toiling away in distant regions, saying that they are going to name their first child after him. (Bishops know that this is the self-sacrificing stuff of which Relief Society presidents are made.) He starts lifting weights and attending social events where he giggles witlessly when he spots a former mission companion with his wife. The foolish compulsion toward the opposite sex blossoms when the dupe returns home as the celebrated RM. After two long, dry years, he finds himself yearning for tieless companionship. He peruses the home ward and decides that unless he wants to marry for spirituality alone, he’d better check out the nearest University Ward. There, instinctively, the RM immediately begins looking for Miss Right. (If he happens to obtain an education at the same time, so much the better.) He flings himself on all available females with the wild abandon that drew praises from his mission president when he applied it to breaking tracting records. In his mind, the RM begins to misperceive the merely polite response of female ward members and thinks himself irresistible. At this point, he feels obligated to formulate a systematic plan of action and draws up a document listing all the qualities he desires in his mate. Such documents are kept carefully hidden from the public view and are never openly discussed by the author, unless he is invited to address a fireside audience of over five hundred. The RM’s list mandates that the longed-for mate be a superb cook, an excellent musician (i.e., she can play Primary tunes flawlessly on any piano), thrilled by the thought of babies by the dozen, able to stay thin even during pregnancy, and unable to utter a cross word. Ivlost of these lists omit good looks--but that is only because the RM assumes that only diaphanous beauties will be coming his way. While the RM is carefully matching his list with the women he dates, he undergoes an interesting transformation. Hair sprouts from every pore of his face and Levi’s are worn like a second skin. Ties are almost uncompromisingly avoided, as are shirts of white or any other color found in nature. The RM’s dating patterns become predictable. His first date is with a cousin. This is to get into practice again. The second date is usually with a chance acquaintance in the University ward, arranged on the spur of the moment. The woman thinks it mundane, but the RM is convinced that a new Understanding has been reached. For the next two weeks, he flushes in her presence, hums old Bread tunes incessantly, and sells his car to buy the rings. Upon discovering that his Understanding is the woman’s Irritation, he goes into shock for at least 24 hours. When he recovers, he does not remember anything between the time he got off his mission and when he came out of shock. Only the fact that his car is missing makes him the slightest bit suspicious about the events in between. The RM soon feels up to dating again. He has a short fling with an attractive, earthy woman who cooks only organic food. He gags down soy milk and nibbles on tofu-carob casserole before fleeing. After a large antidote of pizza, he generally runs into the female owner of an over-used Kodak Instamatic. She has slides of every single unimportant event in her life, from the Heritage Halls Preference Dance to her recent pilgrimage to New Jersey, where her ancestors once farmed. The RM endures several thousand of her photos before he comes to his senses. He then hides in someone’s attic for a month, giving out the news that he has perished at sea, or is waiting for a lady missionary. He emerges from his enforced imprisonment a sadder, but wiser, fellow. This is usually when he falls in love with someone he home teaches. Though love may be the byproduct, home teaching in a student ward is designed to provide RMs with physical exercise. Called upon at least once a week to move yet another female home teachee out of one apartment into another, the RM strains every muscle while cramming the home teachee’s solid mahogany dresser into his compact car. While recuperating from back strain, this helpful RM realizes that he is deeply in love with the home teachee. Not puppy-love, like the previous affairs, but the Real Thing. The Real Thing lasts exactly one date--during which the female home teachee burns dinner, has an embarrassing fight with her latest set of roomies, and spends the rest of the evening sporting a broad grin which does anything but hide the bright green pieces of broccoli casserole lodged between her bicuspids and incisors. Doubtless, Hugh Nibley could solve the mystery in a moment; but he is busy explaining Egyptian graffiti. Unless the real Real Thing happens at this crucial time, the returned missionary now desires nothing so much as a long bachelorhood. He starts lifting weights and attending social events with other RMs, where he giggles witlessly when he spots a former mission companion with his wife. This final stage lasts anywhere from a few months to several years, depending on the humidity. It is marked by vain attempts to avoid the judgmental gaze of a marriage-minded bishop and to cover a gradually receding hairline, thinning tresses flapped over his scalp from just above the left earlobe. Soon the RM abandons the University ward (except for an occasional visit to look over the new crop of Freshman co-eds) and joins the swelling ranks of Special Interests in the nearest Singles ward. His natural habitat.

 TIM TORKILDSON hails from Minneapolis. After a thoroughly middle-class childhood and adolescence, he kicked over the traces and joined Ringling Bros., Barnum & Bailey Circus as a clown. After several years traveling with the circus, and a brief jaunt to Mexico to study pantomime, Tim served a mission in Thailand, from 1975-1977. Upon his return, he again joined up with the Big Top, but unfortunately had an argument with Michu the Midget, billed as the World's Smallest Man. Tim had the great satisfaction of shoving the World's Smallest Man into a nearby wardrobe trunk. Circus management took a dim view of this, however, and Tim found himself free to pursue another profession. He chose the field of broadcasting, and currently is employed by KBTO radio, in Bottineau, North Dakota, as their news director. Tim has authored several plays, dozens of short stories and poems, and one novel. This is his first piece to see the light of day. If he doesn’t get a raise soon, he’ll probably write some more. (Editor's" Note: How does one shorten such a bio?) 22 Sunstone

China’s Poplar Trees: A Spring Nuisance That Snows White Fluff

From the New York Times:  Here’s the trouble: Every spring, the female poplar trees and their willow tree cousins blanket the streets of Chinese cities with cottonlike balls of fluff known as catkins. They get into everything, clogging car radiators and irritating people’s eyes. In some places they come down so thickly that they can disrupt traffic and even cause fires.

There was a young man from Beijing

whose thoughts, when it came to the Spring,

did not turn to girls

but rather great whirls

of catkins that made his eyes sting. 

The Good Samaritan at Ringling Brothers (Not Me)

Years enough ago, I was a cocky young first-of-May with Ringling Brothers Circus, spending my first season in clown alley trying to learn all I could from the old slapstick masters while thinking I was hot stuff.

“I quickly fell in with the circus hierarchy, which decreed that the roustabouts — those weary and abused men who scooped up the animal droppings, and who put everything up and then pulled it all down again — were the only thing lower than clowns. The roustabouts were, indeed, a motley crew — wasting their slim earnings on nothing but carnal and bibulous pursuits. I spoke to them only when it was absolutely necessary.

“Their circus uniform was dark blue Levis and a light blue cotton twill shirt with the Ringling logo embroidered on it. Each man had three sets of clothes, which were gathered and washed once a week — leaving each roustabout in an extremely fragrant condition during the warmer months. They bunked together in one train car, and their breakfast was coffee and doughnuts. For lunch they got a dukey box — a baloney sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and a mushy apple. They had to get their own dinners.

“That year, the show played Madison Square Garden for two months in the spring. The train was parked about 10 blocks away. So I walked to the Garden each day.

“One morning as I was making my way down the street, I noticed a man lying in an alleyway. He was dressed in the Ringling roustabout uniform. I assumed he’d been out drinking the night before and had gotten rolled and dumped in the alley.

“Serves him right, I thought self-righteously, as I arrogantly stepped over his legs. He can sober up by himself and get down to the show under his own power.

“I had not gone more than a few yards when I heard a melodious voice shout: ‘Somebody give me a hand here, please!’

“I looked back and saw a very, very elegant lady stepping out of a limousine to rush over to the roustabout.

“My conscience, never a very active organ before, smote me, and I turned back to help. I told her I was one of his fellow workers with the circus up at the Garden.

“We put him in her limo, where she used her silk hanky to wipe some of the dried blood off his face. He had come to while we were helping him into the vehicle and weakly explained that he had been on his way to the show early that morning when he had been robbed and then pistol-whipped.

“He insisted on going to the show and refused the lady’s suggestion that he should be taken to a hospital. She then handed him all the money she had in her purse, plus several complimentary passes to the Metropolitan Opera, where she was singing.

“As we drove up to Madison Square Garden, she gave me a quizzical look and asked: ‘Why didn’t you stop to help him?’

“I had no good answer to give her. Instead, I blushed furiously.

“After we had been dropped off, I helped the roustabout into a side door and over to the elephant tubs where the roustabouts congregated before each show. His comrades took him from me and were about to thank me for helping him out, but I couldn’t stand their misplaced gratitude and fled to clown alley as if pursued by fiends.

“I’d like to use my extreme youth at the time — being only 17 years old — as an excuse for my callow and unfeeling behavior. But I know that I have had to struggle against a cold and callous and judgmental heart all of my life.

“I do remember that roustabout’s name, some 45 years later. Vlady. From Poland.

“I hope he doesn’t remember anything about me.”

The Doctrines of Devils

. . . that ye may not be seduced by evil spirits, or doctrines of devils, or the commandments of men; for some are of men, and others of devils.
Doctrine & Covenants. Section 46:7


The devil has doctrine indeed,
confusion and hatred to breed.
Seductive to hear,
it never brings cheer
to those who will give it much heed. 

Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus to End Its 146-Year Run

From the New York Times:  Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey circus announced on Saturday night that after 146 years of performances, it was folding its big tent forever.

The slapstick troubadours are gone; the cotton candy fades.

The acrobats and teeter boards are naught but lonely shades.

The lions and the tigers and the pachyderms retreat.

The windjammers are silent; no parades go down the street.

No bleachers now for crowds to sit upon with green delight.

No more the trapeze artists in their stupefying flight.

For Ringling Brothers is no more; the big top is deceased.

And life’s a little flatter sans that fascinating yeast.

Brutal is the reign of all who Christ disdain to follow

"Brutality reigns where Christ is banished. Kindness and forbearance govern where Christ is recognized and his teachings are followed."
Gordon B. Hinckley 


Brutal is the reign of all who Christ disdain to follow.
Their governance is shameful and their undertakings hollow.
Built upon ungodly pride and trusting in the flesh,
their fruit will canker long before it's gathered in to thresh. 

How fair the justice and the love of those who seek the Lamb,
who govern by His precepts and interpret without sham. 
Their service will be honored and their deeds will cast a light
to guide the faithful and the meek through ever-growing night. 

Newfoundland Is Big on Bologna: Fried, Stewed and Layered Like a Cake

No matter just how it is sliced,

Bologna is still cheaply priced.

In Canada they

Do eat it all day

(on birthdays it’s layered and iced)

Hygge

A cup of hot cocoa for me

Results in a warm rhapsody.

This snuggled down weal

Is hygge I feel

(unless it’s a Valium spree)

(Hygge: A quality of cosiness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being (regarded as a defining characteristic of Danish culture).