I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be picking on the nice people who provide such awesome comic relief each and every Conference weekend, walking up and down the streets of Salt Lake City, trying to save us big stupid MORE-mons from ourselves. But the naughty part of my spirit says, "Oh, come on, just do it. Anything for the blog."
I mean, why not? Picketing is the way to get things done.
Heaven knows, all the times I've picketed my children's dirty bedrooms, I've never been let down - they're always spotless within minutes. When I go down to WinCo and march and chant and hold up signs saying, "Your Twinkies are too durned expensive" - immediate satisfaction. Sometimes, I'll even get out my little finger-sized picket signs and hold them up to my scalp. "Gray is gay! Brown is ... what I'd rather have!" I tell you, the transformation is amazing.
I really do wonder, though - how many Church members standing in line for Conference actually pay attention to these people? If you took a poll of people who left the Church, what would be the percentage of people who said, "They were holding up a sign telling me I was going to hell, so I left"?
And if that's all it takes for them to leave... what kind of Church members were they in the first place? Do we really need these people sitting around with us at ward potlucks, letting their children run up and down the cultural hall while they're eating our funeral potatoes?
Maybe these picketers are onto something.
Maybe next time we have a ward dinner, I'll picket it. "No more hot dogs cut up into baked beans!" "You call that thing a SALAD?" "Just because you put cheese on your food storage barley casserole, don't think I'm coming near it without a taser and a HAZMAT suit!"
OK. Well, enjoy Conference. I know I will. I just wish I could be down in Salt Lake... and I wish I could say that I had nothing but pure intentions... but...
I have a feeling that Super Soaker squirt guns would probably be involved.