I'm Not Naming Names, but . . .

After nearly three months since it all went down, things are really starting to take shape on the Island of Misfit Toys. The Angry White Loner even has not only one but two callings and is proceeding to share the love as only the AWL can.

Just before Gospel Doctrine teachers were called, I also volunteered to teach a lesson from the Old Testament. Why? Because I'm a glutton for punishment, possibly. Or because the chicks dig me.

Take your pick.

Another huge reason I volunteered to teach was that the lesson that week focused heavily on my namesake, Jonathan, who was the son of the Saul, the king of Israel.

Jonathan was an absolute rock star, but he didn't get the attention nor the women that his friend David got. Upon killing Goliath, David became a great hero—something like the Tim Howard of his country. David was also anointed by the prophet Samuel to become the next king of Israel.

As a prince of Israel, Jonathan had every right to be jealous and envious of David. Jonathan had also earlier achieved a rather significant military victory of his own but did not receive the fame nor recognition that David did. Nevertheless, Jonathan remained true to his friend David and helped to save his friend's life from Saul on multiple occasions.

He was an amazing example of friendship and sacrifice and is really a pretty great guy to be named after. If you also look at the etymology of the name Jonathan, it breaks down to "God's Great Gift."

At least, that is what a framed picture my parents gave me when I was a teenager tells me.

Contrast all of this with an episode of "Gilmore Girls" I recently watched, like all of the cool kids do. In this episode, Rory finally cuts the umbilical cord from her mother and goes off to college. She and her frenemy Paris meet one of their roommates, who is named "Tannina" or something akin to that. (It was late; I can't even read my own handwriting.) Paris then, skeptically, asks her if she even know what her name means, and the poor, scared girl replies that she hasn't the faintest clue.

Granted, that's just a random sample. But it does bother the AWL a little bit when he sees the rising generation growing up with names that sound like types of medications, rejected names for elves in the Lord of the Rings/Hobbit universe, or names that were thought up while playing and losing at Boggle. Names like, for example, McFlurghan. Or Buckley.

There's also been a new trend this week. No, not of U.S. presidents casually mentioning, in passing, acts of terrorism on U.S. citizens in airplanes, then telling a bunch of jokes about his vice president/making fun of the GOP, then bravely leading America forward by venturing off to attend a couple of fundraisers to round out his day.

No, the new trend I refer to has been all over Facebook this week, one of people sharing their first names and how their names could be spelled out as an acronym with adjectives used to describe that person. Well, I think that's great. I think taking a look at your own name, what it represents, and also how you represent that name is certainly a worthwhile use of time. So is learning whom you were named after, if that is the case, or even what the word origin of your name is. I'm always intrigued to hear stories like these.

What's in a name? Upon further review, plenty.

Weeping, Wailing, and Gnashing of Teeth

"There shall be weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth, and this because of their own iniquity" (Alma 40:13).

What an eventful week it has been. In case you spent the week stranded on a deserted island or have been out with the flu, one of the leaders of the Ordain Women movement was excommunicated from the LDS Church, the 10th Circuit Court of Appeals upheld Judge Shelby's ruling overturning the gay marriage ban in Utah, and the United States Supreme Court ruled in favor of Hobby Lobby's challenge of the contraception mandate in Obamacare, among other things.

So many strong emotions about it all. So very many. And, sadly, a great deal of contention as a result.

Yesterday after church, I unfortunately found myself involved in a rather contentious conversation about one of these topics, and it was a horrible, ugly, empty feeling. It was not a situation I had sought out nor one I was happy to be a part of, and I'm embarrassed for both myself and my friend's sake that it ever occurred.

Your very own Angry White Loner has blogged about this friend before. He's one of those people who, as President Hinckley once said, has left the Church but cannot leave it alone. He also seemingly falls into the category, as one institute teacher of mine called it, of "toxic personalities"—people who are impossible to please and who place the burden of their happiness on everyone and everything else around them. On everyone else, that is, but themselves.

After this conversation ended, I made the decision to unfriend this person from Facebook—that is, until I discovered that he had unfriended me first. Well, so be it.

This doesn't mean I will go out in public in disguise just to avoid this person, nor will I rev the engine of my car like Cruella DeVil should I see him crossing the street. In fact, I told him I hoped we could meet someday and that I could take him to lunch so that we could talk things over in person. I also told him I would be praying for him and that I would look for him at future social activities involving others of our age/married status.

Nevertheless, cutting ties with this person on social media, which is far too intertwined in all of our lives, was the right thing to do—for me, at least. Even the great Nephi reached a point that he had to move far away from his brothers Laman and Lemuel, because it had become dangerous for him to remain in their presence—both physically and spiritually. He still loved and forgave his brothers, yet he and his crew packed up and got the heck outta there.

At the same time, my heart breaks for this friend. The bitterness inside him has grown like a cancer, and he seems not to see it in himself. He has lost his testimony, has left the Church, and has replaced it with . . . apparently only vitriol, hatred, cynicism, blame, and, above all, misery.

What do you do with a friend like that? I don't know. But I'm going to figure it out, one day at a time.

In the meantime, I'm going to rededicate myself to accentuating the positive. Even an Angry White Loner can work at this. In spite of the whirlwind that the last week was, there is still goodness and beauty out there to be sought after, as we read about in the 13th Article of Faith. I'm glad to have you who are reading this as friends, because you more than likely wouldn't be reading it if you didn't consider yourself to be a friend of mine. Otherwise, I would just be some plumb loco quack philosophizing into the nameless void. And that, if it were true, would be utterly ridiculous.

I'm grateful to be surrounded by so many people who build up rather than tear down, which is what real friends do and is also, in its essence, what the gospel of Jesus Christ is all about. I'm grateful to have the opportunity to work on improving my own weaknesses and imperfections, some of which were made all too clear to me recently.

I'm a work in progress. We all are. How lucky I am to have such good friends along with me to enjoy the ups and downs of the ride.

Blah Blah Blah

Sometimes, you just sit there, staring at the blinking cursor. This goes on for a few seconds. Then, it has been a few minutes. Soon, minutes upon minutes have passed, and, before long, it's been an hour. By this point, the cursor is not only just sitting there, but it's also flat-out mocking you, you silly knucklehead who can't even put a few lousy words together.

Type something, for the love of bananas! it screams at you. Even Stephnie Meyer made a career out of this, writing about shirtless werewolves and sparkly vampires and teen angst and mustache dads and a crucial subplot involving the loch ness monster working as a welder by day while dreaming of being a dancer at night. Probably.

Writer's block. It happens to the best of us. It also happens to me.

The Angry White Loner does not only blog for "fun," because that's what this is (right?), but he actually also does a good deal of writing for his job. Yes, believe it or not, folks, I'm a professional.

Some people make a career out of using a lot of really swanky, cool-sounding words but, at the same time, don't actually "say" anything at all. They just babble, blather, bluster, cackle, cajole, chinwag, converse, discuss, double-talk, flibbertigibbet, gab, jaw, natter, parley, pontificate, quip, schmooze, whine, yak, yammer, and yap, over and over again. Some of them, in fact, even become *ahem* president of the United States.

It's almost like they have nothing better to do than to Google synonyms of the word talk.

Maybe I should have gone into politics. I wouldn't be the first Angry White Loner to do so, and I certainly wouldn't be the last.

Gotta Get Up and Try

"Gotta get up and try, and try, and try"
 -P!nk, "Try"

I recently saw the 2013 movie Ephraim's Rescue, which had been in the #1 spot in my Netflix queue for months. Took ya long enough, huh, Netflix?

For those not familiar with the plot, Ephraim's Rescue is based on the true life story of Ephraim Hanks, who, among other accomplishments, helped lead the rescue of the Martin and Willie handcart companies in the winter of 1856, saving the lives of many of the destitute people stranded somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Wyoming.

But I repeat myself. It really isn't too hard to imagine if you've ever driven lengthwise across Wyoming along I-80, which I have done and lived to tell about.

The film also recounts some of the other miracles Ephraim, who was blessed with the gift of healing, carried out during his lifetime of service and sacrifice. It touched me deeply, partly also because I am a descendant of handcart pioneers.

If you haven't seen Ephraim's Rescue yet, then go and buy it. Netflix takes too long. Obviously.

One of the parts that impressed me most, and there were many of them, is a scene in which someone asks Ephraim how he is able to do all of the good that he does. His response is simply, "I try."

It's a simple yet a powerful response, and it contains and important lesson. Sometimes, all it takes is that we try.

Take, for example, the Israelites who were bitten by the poisonous serpents in the desert, as recounted in Chapter 21 of Numbers. To be healed, all they had to do was to look at the brass serpent that Moses held up. Tragically, many of them refused to look and died. (See also Chapter 33 of Alma.)

All they had to do was to try.

If we give our very best effort in life—if we just try—then the Lord will do the rest. I didn't really understand the concept until a recent Sunday School discussion, but that is the very essence of grace.

If it applies to the big things, it also applies to the little things, or so I am wont to believe. Just trying it out will help us to learn new hobbies or learn new things, to meet new people, to ask out that girl or guy you've known for years and always wondered about, to find out likes/dislikes, and so forth.

Naturally, we need to then follow through and work at many of these things. But the first step—the initial trying it out—is usually the hardest. Obviously, this also doesn't mean trying out things that are clearly stupid and/or dangerous, such as jumping out of an airplane without a parachute. Or voting for Obama.

That's just not common sense.

Angry White Sandwich

Apparently, Burger King now carries a sandwich called an "Angry Whopper" on its menu. As you might have guessed upon reading that little tidbit, it has been calling the Angry White Loner's name.

Birds of a feather and all that stuff.

No, Burger King isn't compensating me to say any of this. When I was 18 years old and worked at BK for a year, they didn't really compensate me then, either. Not that I am bitter. Or angry.

Suffice me to say that if you, like President Obama, think that the minimum wage is too low now, it was even worse Back in My Day.

Anyway, for dinner tonight, the Angry White Loner tried out an Angry Whopper, which is much like a regular Whopper, except that it hides out in the basement all day and sulks and listens to Evanescence and writes numerous blog posts about how women just don't "get" it.

In addition to the usual hamburger toppings like ketchup, pickles, lettuce, and tomatoes, it also contains such "angry" food elements as bacon, pepper jack cheese, chipotle peppers, and a very hot "secret" sauce that may be made up of battery acid, lighter fluid, or the blood of the alien in the Alien/Sigourney Weaver film franchise. Or all of the above. Who knows for sure?

On a scale of one to 10, the Angry Whopper has a spiciness level of about 45. It's far too spicy for my tastes.

Just about the right amount of angry, though.

And Now, a Word from Our Sponsor . . .

And now, a word from our sponsor . . .

Me.

The Angry White Loner has received more feedback on this blog over the past month than he has in all of the previous 10 months combined. Most of it has been positive, while some it has not. Getting negative feedback, though, is not necessarily a bad thing. Through it all, he has learned who has really had his best interests at heart and who has been willing to offer constructive, rather than destructive, criticism. After all, true friends tell you what you need to hear rather than what you want to hear.

At times, I have even considered whether it is really worth it to continue this blog. Or to express my opinions in a public forum at all. Every time I have done so lately, it seemed like three or four people were right there to burn me at the stake about one little thing or another.

One thought, however, prevails: Having an opinion is a good thing.

Certainly not if that opinion is contentious, hateful, overbearing, or rude, of course. One can express opinions and can disagree politely while still being respectful and tolerant of opposing viewpoints.

People who don't really have any opinions, well, are much like the sheep in George Orwell's Animal Farm, sitting around and waiting for someone to tell them what to think and/or for a bandwagon to jump on, because, hey, it's hip and trendy, and everyone else is doing it, and there's a catchy jingle involved. Before long, they're chanting, "Yes we can! Yes we can!" And we all know what a complete disaster became of that.

Sorry. I meant, of course, "Four legs good, two legs bad! Four legs good, two legs bad!"

I just finished reading David McCullough's excellent book 1776, and I was reminded, once again, that some of the best blood that has ever been spilt in this land came from George Washington and his Continental Army. They achieved something truly miraculous, while being outmanned and outgunned, in besting the British during the Revolutionary War. Thanks to them, we have a free land and a Constitution, which includes the First Amendment, granting us all the right to the freedom of speech, among other rights.

One of my favorite classes in college was all about the freedom of the press as it is found in the First Amendment. To this day, it remains among the best education I have ever received.

For now, I'm going to keep on writing and making observations. I will not be perfect in this process. I certainly am not anywhere near smart enough to be right all of the time. I can write only from my point-of-view and not another's. If anything I post leads to a discussion, well, that is most likely a good thing. I will also try to do so "with Malice toward none, with charity for all," as Abraham Lincoln said so wisely in his second inaugural address in 1865. I will also try to focus on lighter topics more frequently.

If a friend has constructive criticism for me, I will listen to it. If that criticism is destructive, well . . . that person was probably not a good friend to begin with. If a friend chooses that this blog is not worth his/her time, well, that is an option, of course, and is perfectly fine, as well.

I will accept compliments, too. And plates of brownies.

Love Poetry for Dummies: "Backhanded Compliments"

"Backhanded Compliments"

I received your card dated Thursday last week;
They are words that I'll cherish and savor.
And now, in my own humble manner and words,
I'll kindly return you the favor.

I saved every one of your love letters, she said,
But your writing's not clever or sage;
After all, it's a crime to waste paper,
And I needed to line the bird's cage.

Most people find you funny and charming, I guess;
But, of course, "most people" also elected Obama;
For charming's just a prince in a fairy tale,
And who really needs that false kind of drama?

When we met, you were tall, dark, and handsome;
But five minutes later, I came to my senses.
I saw someone short, light, and ugly when I
Put in my contact lenses.

I look forward to each new date spent with you
Like I look forward to paying my taxes;
Did you really think this was all going somewhere?
I'm just holding out until your last credit card maxes.

So, this is just to say, I love you more than my luggage;
It's old and broken, and I need a new set of bags.
On second thought, I like my luggage better than you;
And all of this rhyming is making me gag.

The Condescension of Friends

As a follow-up to my last post, which was on the topic of bullies, today I'd like to address another form of bullying: condescension.

For those who may not be familiar with the term, condescension means, for lack of a better sentence or a simple definition: "I'm better than you, I'm smarter than you, and, doggone it, I'll go out of my way to point that out to you as often as I can, you moron."

Those who are condescending to you may not necessarily be smarter than you are, but they act like it regardless of that fact. Not surprisingly, when I conducted a Google search for images relating to the topic of condescension, several photos of President Barack Hussein Obama came up. I'm not kidding.

To back up their vast array of knowledge, the condescending trot out their college diplomas and say, "Look at this, stupid!"; they quote from a scholarly book no one has ever heard of except for them and their best friends, who happen to run MENSA; they reference a random class they once took a decade ago and were so immediately skilled at that the professor was fired, and they stepped up and began to teach; or they may even resort to name dropping about the famous folks or celebrities they pal around with.

The motto of the condescending person may as well be, as Dave Barry once wrote: "Everybody has their opinion, and yours is wrong."

Most people who fit the above description of the condescending person are not people whom I would want to be nor am I friends with. Naturally, these people should be avoided like the plague.

It's a much more subtle thing, however, when condescension appears in the form of your own circle of friends. These aren't people who necessarily maintain a friendship with you because of how well you get along or how much time you spend together currently but are nonetheless affiliated because you went to school or worked with them, or you lived in the same neighborhood growing up, or you both happened to be members of a memorable college or institute class, or the like. Past shared experiences of one kind or another bond you as "friends" even though they may do less-than-friendly things to you in the present, such as point out in front of a group what an idiot you are; write things on your Facebook wall that may attempt to be funny, pithy, or clever but come across only as rude and insensitive; single out the flaws in your creative efforts while giving little (or, in many cases, zero) positive feedback or encouragement; and on and on.

To be fair to people who fall into this category, I don't think they mean to do it, or at least they don't recognize exactly what the effects of their behavior are. To paraphrase Cole Sear (Haley Joel Osment) in M. Night Shyamalan's The Sixth Sense: "I see condescending people. Walking around like regular people. They only see what they want to see. They don't know they're condescending."
Now, I'm not saying that it isn't good to be smart, to have a good education, to read a lot of books, or anything like that. What I am saying is that it is more important to be charitable than to be smart, because it is possible to be both - but charity is the greatest. Condescending people tend to mix up the order of these two qualities, putting being smart above being charitable.

For an example to illustrate this point, I think back to when I was called to be deacon's quorum president in my ward at age 13. I was set apart to this position but was not given any sort of training as to what a deacon's quorum president should do or how he ought to act. At that vulnerable young age, I stood up to conduct my first deacon's quorum meeting and made some announcements before sitting down in my chair. One of the counselors in the bishopric, who was sitting in on the meeting, then proceeded to lecture me - in front of the entire quorum - about what I had just done wrong and how a deacon's quorum president should act and pointed out multiple things I should have done differently, all to my great embarrassment.

This man wasn't wrong in the sense that I could have done a better job or that I had not presented myself well, but to do it in front of the entire quorum, to me, was not only condescending but very hurtful and wrong. It was the kind of thing that makes some people drop out of church attendance and go inactive.

In the Book of Mormon, Jacob spoke of those who “when they are learned they think they are wise . . . wherefore, their wisdom is foolishness and it profiteth them not." He also added: “But to be learned is good if they hearken unto the counsels of God (2 Nephi 9:28-29)."

I got over my little episode as deacon's quorum president. I hope that the counselor in the bishopric did, too. I've since met many people and had friends come and go, and I've known many humble people, as well as a few who, like the aforementioned well-intentioned but poorly executing counselor in the bishopric, were also condescending and who are now people I largely try to avoid. I'm always most impressed by those who really are far more educated than me and have every right to be condescending but who don't act like it, whatever office or position they may hold. Instead, they choose to be humble and are down-to-Earth enough to speak to me as an equal and on my level.

Movie Review: "Red Dawn" (2012)

Up until now, do you feel like movies have really failed to capture the excitement of a half-dozen guerrilla warrior teenagers robbing a Subway sandwich shop at gunpoint?

I know that I certainly have felt that way. Fortunately, Red Dawn accomplishes this and much, much more.

The plot is quite similar in nature to the original Red Dawn - which was also, for you trivia buffs, the first PG-13 film in film history - that came out in 1984. Without warning, communist soldiers from a foreign land parachute into a small Western town as part of a nationwide attack. All heck breaks loose, but a group of high school students, aided and advised by one of their older brothers, who is a Marine, band together to wage guerrilla war and to take back their town.

The differences? It's North Korea invading us and not Russia; the setting is Spokane, Washington, instead of Colorado; and Chris Hemsworth (aka Thor), rather than Patrick Swayze, plays the older brother/Marine. Also, there's no Charlie Sheen in this one, so that's a plus.

In addition to the aforementioned scene of Subway pillaging, there's plenty of good actions sequences this time around - a lot of urban warfare in and around Spokane, if that's your idea of entertainment. Even so, it doesn't quite measure up to the original, Charlie Sheen's absence notwithstanding. There were a couple of times when the people around us were chuckling at a few unintentionally funny bits.

At one point, I actually expected a cameo from one of the Wolverines from the original film. Picture, say, Charlie Sheen throwing grenades at North Korean commies while shouting out his catch phrase: "Duh! Winning!" Well, at least that's what I half-expected.

It's definitely a feel-good movie (you know, when people aren't getting blown up and stuff) that makes you think about this country we live in and the freedoms we enjoy here. I would even dare say it's a patriotic film, as the group of high school kids have to think seriously about what it means to be free and learn to cherish those who, in the past, fought for the very freedom they inherited at birth.

Also, as clips during the opening credits attest, Obama is still the president when this all happens. (Insert your own punchline here.)