Legal Advice

Today's unlikely voice of reason comes from Fletcher Reede, played by Jim Carrey in the movie Liar Liar. Due to a wish made by his son at his birthday party, Fletcher, a lawyer who is also a compulsive liar, cannot tell a lie for one 24-hour time period.

The scene I refer to here takes place when Fletcher is in the middle of this 24-hour day, and one of his clients, who finds himself frequently in trouble with the law, calls up Fletcher on the phone to ask for help.

"He knocked over another ATM," Fletcher's secretary explains. "This time, at knife point. He needs your legal advice."

Fletcher grabs the phone and shouts, at the top of his lungs: "Stop breaking the law!"

**Disclaimer: Liar Liar is certainly not a family movie. Don't go around telling anyone that the Angry White Loner recommends it for a date night, either.

Nevertheless, I love Jim Carrey's facial expressions in the film, because he is more shocked than anyone else is at the truths he is forced to confess when he can't lie. I also love this particular scene of legal advice because, well, it applies to us all on so many levels.

Stop breaking the law! It's good advice both legally and spiritually. The laws of the land, for the most part (with the exception of such things as abortion and, oh, say, the "Affordable" Care Act), are meant to help maintain order and harmony in our society, to prevent people from injuring or harming others or from infringing on their God-given rights. Likewise, God has given us commandments to help us to progress and to also keep us on a path that will bring us joy. Unfortunately, these commandments are increasingly seen by many in today's society as a means of controlling us, making us blindly obedient, and limiting our choices and/or happiness.

In reality, the converse is actually true.

"Wickedness never was happiness," the prophet Alma wrote (Alma 41:10). When we obey, we have peace of mind and conscience, and we feel joy. It's not an easy choice to make, but it is the one that matters. When we disobey, we feel guilt and regret. Continued disobedience can lead to bad habits, addictions, and, above all, misery. Indeed, this is when our choices and our happiness are truly limited.

It's a crucial but also a tough lesson to learn in this mortal experience, and an important one nonetheless. Looking back on many learning experiences from the past, I can't think of one experience in which I knowingly broke a commandment or law that I achieved any sort of lasting happiness or felt good about myself.

In other words, the story checks out.

I'm no Fletcher Reede, nor am I George Washington. About this, though, I cannot tell a lie.

Sacrament Meeting Sniper

One of the few podcasts I follow is a locally produced broadcast about LDS people and culture. It is called "The Cultural Hall." I first discovered this podcast a couple of years ago when I learned that my friend and Improvables colleague The Artist Formerly Known as the Anxious White Virgin was a regular contributor.

Each time guests are interviewed on "The Cultural Hall," they are asked, among other things, what their current callings are in their wards/branches and also what their ideal calling would be—even if they had to make up a calling that doesn't currently exist.

Not that I'd ever do anything noteworthy enough to be a guest on "The Cultural Hall," but I think today I figured out what my answer would be to the made-up calling question. I would be a sacrament meeting sniper.

Don't get me wrong; I'm fully aware of the whole "Thou shalt not kill" commandment, and I intend to keep it. I also wouldn't aim (see what I did there?) to maim or injure others in the process of carrying out my calling.

No, I would certainly not be the kind of sniper who would use any kind of deadly force. Instead, I would hide out in some sort of carved-out nook or cranny in the back of the gym and, using a silencer so as not to disrupt the meeting nor to distract others in any way, would carefully shoot tranquilizers only at those people who tend to inordinately monopolize others' attention or time. These tranquilizers would pack enough punch to render my victims unconscious for the remainder of the meeting but otherwise perfectly fine physically and mentally upon reawakening.

Anyone saying the opening or closing prayer and going on for longer than 30 seconds? Tranquilized. Any speaker saying anything like "I know that we're out of time, but I have just three more stories to share"? Shot in the neck, and I'm to blame. Any twitterpated young couple displaying their affection for one another in an inappropriately "laying on of hands" or "gift of tongues" manner? Tranquilized with multiple shots.

I also might go so far as to seek out this couple's car in the parking lot and set it on fire. That's what Orrin Porter Rockwell, the Sacrament Meeting Sniper of his day, would have done.

You know who else would get tranq'd? That one person in the ward—you know who he or she is, because every ward and/or ward choir has one—who thinks he/she needs to sing the hymns far more loudly than everyone else, usually employing what I call loco on vibrato, aka the Captain Caveman form of singing I referred to in another post here back in October.

At any rate, that's what I would do if I could make up a calling that doesn't currently exist. But I'm far too nice of a person to actually go out and do that.