[get context here] Gluttons for Punishment The only significant way in which Snow and I ever got the better of Roper and Steed was with their nicknames. I don't remember which of us thought this up, but if we ever wanted to rile up the sisters, we just
[from my ongoing memoir] There was one group we tried not to tangle with, though: our archenemies, the Jehovah's Witlesses—er, Witnesses. If we were dogs, then the Jay-Dubs were cats. If we were water, they were fire. If we were Superman, they were Lex Luthor. We did
For the remainder of the hour, Elder Fowler and I wound Buddy Van Rijk in an increasingly constrictive net of dogma, woven from strands—even by Christian standards—of ever more tenuous logic. It was the type of snare that can only constrain a willing captive; one misstatement on our
previous: Hymn #5: The Tracting Song You wanna sing something really scary . . . .? This one’s a parody I wrote myself back in my missionary days, though it’s not quite as incisive as Brother Smith’s efforts. Sung to the tune of Michael Jackson's “Thriller” It’s close
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