The Book of Lemuel (humor)

Little known to the body of the church, during the summer of 1990, a hitchhiker traveling across the

southwest desert made a marvelous discovery while searching for a place to bed down in a cave. Unable

to sleep, the hitchhiker began picking at a crack in the floor of the cave, and to his dismay, found nothing

less than a lid to a stone box. Upon removing the lid, he discovered a set of aluminum plates, a

switchblade knife, and a pair of fuzzy dice.

In his desperation for food, the hitchhiker sold the plates to an archaeologist from BYU, whom he met at a

Kentucky Fried Chicken in Shiprock, New Mexico. The relics were reportedly sold for $100 and a bucket

of the Colonel’s extra crispy with extra coleslaw and mashed potatoes. Archaeologists have determined that the plates date from approximately 600 BC and contain writings in reformed Egyptian, which seem to parallel the narrative account of the Book of Mormon. It is thought that the engravings were written by several men, or by one slightly schizophrenic man. The church has delayed comment until the plates can be fully translated. But we are proud to present this premier look at the translated portions of these plates.

_______________________________________________

Dear Diary,

I, Lemuel, having been born of nagging parents, therefore, I have been harassed much of my life. Not only by my parents, but also by my younger brother Nephi, and my older brother Laman, with whom I get along best. There. Now maybe my parents will get off my back about keeping a record.

Lem

Dear Diary,

It has finally happened! My father is a lunatic. He has decided that he "feels" we should leave the big city and head into the wilderness. God only knows where. He started talking about leaving after he came home from yelling at people to repent. He said they threw rocks at him. I think one must have beaned him on the noggin. He then went and laid on his bed for about 12 hours straight. I thought he was in a coma.

Lem

Dear Diary,

It looks like dad is serious about the leaving thing.  He says that he had a dream in which God told him to leave Jerusalem.  I guess it couldn't have had anything to do with the staccoli he ate before he went to bed.  I always have bad dreams like that if I eat pizza before I sleep. Laman and I are resisting, but it looks like we have to go too. We don't really have to, I guess, but if we don't, how will we eat? Dad is loaded with gold, which we can't take into the wilderness because it's too heavy. Of course, that mama's boy Nephi is eager to go. He makes me sick. I think I'll hurl my lunch if I see him again today.

Lem

Dear Diary,

We have been living in a tent for three days now. My neck hurts from lying on the ground. It must show because Dad and Nephi keep commenting on my stiffneckedness. There are mosquitos everywhere and I have blisters on my feet. Today Dad said, "O that thou mightest be like unto this valley, firm and steadfast, and immoveable in keeping the commandments of the Lord blah, blah, blah." Whatever. Constant nagging. He never lets up and Nephi isn't much better. Have to go now.

Lem

Dear Diary,

Hi. I'm Lemuel, and I'm retarded.

Dear Diary,

I didn't write that last entry. Laman must have gotten a hold of the plates. Sometimes he's a real jerk. I wish there was a way to erase engravings. Maybe the jeweler can fix it. Dad says we have to go back to town and get some brass plates from Laban. Sure, like Laban's going to say, "Here, take them. Maybe you want my coat, too? You want I should die of pneumonia? Then you'll be happy." He hit me once when we were younger because I spit on him. I'm not going!

Lem

Dear Diary,

Just back from the city. It was all right. The walk back was murder. Laman was picked to talk to Laban. He went over and got drunk with him. The he hit on one of his woman so Laban pummeled him bloody. After that, we went back home and got our gold and tried to buy the plates from Laban, but his gang chased us away and stole our stuff. Laman was furious.  I thought the vein on his forehead would blow up.  He got a stick and we beat Nephi and Sammy with it until we got tired. Finally, Nephi found Laban by a wall. He was hammered, so Nephi chopped off his head and took the plates.

Lem

Dear Diary,

Now Dad wants us to go back home and get Ishmael and his family. He probably wants us to marry his daughters. He's got about a million kids. I guess I don't mind so much about going back to Jerusalem this time. Some of Ish's daughters have nice bods but nothing upstairs. But hey, what more could a man want? I'll write more when we get back.

Lem

Dear Diary,

Just got back. Ishmael's daughters are better looking than I remembered. But there's one that's really ugly. She's hanging on Laman like a bad suit. Nephi's been on our backs the whole time. He keeps telling me to repent. Sheeesh! It's not like I'm Cain or something.

Lem

Dear Diary,

I've had it out here. I'm no camper. I've had diarrhea for the last two months. I haven't been writing much lately because things have been really hard. Now the old man's got a ball he stares into for about 8 hours a day. He says it tells him what to do. I'm going to bed. Mom's pregnant, I think. Either that or she has a tumor. I think she's too old to have a baby.

Lem

Dear Diary,

Mom was pregnant. She had a boy. Named him Joe. We all have families now and most of us have at least one kid. I have two -- Frank and Jessie. They're terrors, but I guess they'll grow out of it. I've got to write more often, but I always put it off. I don't know why, but my wife is getting really buff. I'm worried about it because she's almost gotten bigger than me. Laman's wife is huge. She's stronger than eight cows. But then, I always told Laman he had an eight cow wife.

Lem

Dear Diary,

O, yeah! Would that there was a good Deli in the wilderness! I'm craving some bagels and lox, maybe pastrami on rye. Nephi says God told him to build a boat. He's never even seen a boat. Jerusalem's land locked. I've never seen more than a glass of water at one time, let alone the ocean, and Nephi thinks he's Noah all of a sudden. He can't even shoot a bow. He broke his last week. We went a day without food because of it, but Nephi probably called it a fast.

Lem

Dear Diary,

Laman just gave me a tattoo. It really hurts. He rubbed salt in it before I could stop him. He said it makes it feel better. It hurts like the dickens. I don't know why I let him do it. He can talk me into just about anything. I can't believe it's been eight years since we left home and here we are on a beach with a ship that probably won't even float. Mom had another baby called him Jacob. I can already tell he's going to be nothing but trouble.

Lem

Dear Diary,

I'm really seasick. We've been having a party here on the ship Nephi made. It works pretty good. We've been floating around for about two weeks now. We tied Nephi up yesterday because he's so stiff. Laman got really mad at him when he was drunk. It's been stormy a lot. If it gets much worse we might sink. Everybody says God is punishing us with the storm and that we should untie Nephi. Right! But maybe we'll untie him after Family Home Evening.
Lem

The Book of Stamps: Written unto the Dead Letter Writers

Chapter 1:
1) In the beginning was the mailbox, and the mailbox was void of letters.
2) And the missionaries said, Let the mailbox be filled, and the box was not filled.
3) And the missionaries beheld the continuing void, and were not pleased.
4) And lo it was the first day of the week and there was no mail delivered; but though this was tolerated, yet this was not good.
5) But on the second day was the mail delivered, yet the box remained empty.
6) Yea, even from the second day unto the seventh was the mail delivered.
7) Even so, the box retained its void.
8) And yea, great mists of darkness spread forth from the void and enshrouded the missionaries.  Yea, and it did bring much sadness to their otherwise cheery days.
9) Even the long hours of fruitless tracting, being chased by the fouls of the air, and being pursued by the beasts of the filed were not as disheartening as the lack of sacred objects known as letters.
10) Yet they persisted.

Chapter 2:
1) And lo, on the second day of the second week the mists still encircled the sacred box.
2) And on the third day, from within the depths of the void was a single post card.
3) And this postcard put forth a single ray of light which pierced the darkness and overcame the mists.
4) And the missionaries were well pleased, and there was much rejoicing.
5) But lo, their joy was not to last, for the mailbeast had made a mistake, and the postcard was verily for someone else.
6) But if their joy had been so exceedingly great over someone else's mail, how great would be their joy at partaking at their own mail?

Chapter 3:
1) And we give unto you the parable of the two letter writers.
2) At the hour of noon a certain scribe sat down to write a letter.
3) And the scribe did think of many things to write, but lo, he spent so much time thinking that he did not write.
4) Nevertheless he felt good because of his good intentions.
5) Yet at the same hour a publican sat down and wrote a few words as he ate.
6) Yet he felt guilty at not writing enough.
7) And lo, the twenty and four months passed, and the missionary returned home and passed by the scribe's house;
8) Yea, he went even unto the house of the publican and did visit the publican.
9) Verily a letter is like unto a prize in a Cheerios box; the which if a man sees it is there, he selleth all that he has that he may buy a case of Cheerios that he may obtain it.

Chapter 4:
1) Even more blessed than a missionary receiving mail is a friend or relative writing letters.
2) And if you should spend five minutes writing one letter to a missionary, how great shall be your joy?
3) And if your joy be great with one letter, how great shall it be with many letters in the mailbox of a missionary?
4) Else why do they build post office boxes if letters are not written at all? Yea, why do they build post office boxes?
5) Yea, though I speak with the tongue of men and angels, and write not letters, I am nothing.
6) Letters never faileth; but if there be good thoughts they surely shall; where there be unsent mail they shall vanish.
7) When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: But when I became a missionary I put away my childish things.
8) Even as I have put away my childish things ye must replace them with unchildish mail.
9) And now abideth thoughts, intentions, mail; these three. But the greatest of these is mail.
10) Yea, if thou loves me, write me letters.

Chapter 5:
1) But some will say, A letter! A letter! We have already written a letter! What need have we to write anymore letters?
2) Know ye not that there are more days than one? And more events than one in a day?  Why think yet that these events need not to be reported?
3) Yea, and ye need not worry that your letter will go unanswered;
4) But you should say, I will go and write the letter as that a missionary requests.  For I know that he giveth no requests except he be prepared to respond.
5) And we give the parable of the self-addressed stamped envelopes.
6) When the missionary departed into the far off land he gave a certain number of self-addressed stamped envelopes to his friends.
7) Unto one he gave five; unto another he gave two; and unto another he gave one.
8) And while he was gone he that was given the five envelopes wrote five letters, and in his zeal wrote he five letters more.
9) The same with him that had two envelopes; he wrote two letters and then two letters more.
10) But he that was given the one self-addressed stamped envelope became slothful and careless.  And he lost the envelope, even that which was  given him.
11) And when the missionary came home he went unto all his friends. And he that had written 10 letters was warmly greeted.
12) The same with him that had written four.
13) But he that had written none at all was given nothing more than a fishy-grip like handshake.

Chapter 6:
1) And it has been said: Blessed are the letter writers for they shall receive mail in return.
2) Blessed are they that keep in touch with a missionary for they shall know of all that happens to him.
3) Yea and your letters are the light of a missionary's day.
4) A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid.
5) Neither do men write letters and put them in a desk, but in an envelope that it giveth light unto all that are around the missionary.
6) Let your letters be so read by missionaries that they may see your good works and show an increased love unto you.
7) And we give unto you the parable of the prodigal letter writer.
8) A missionary had two friends while he was laboring in the field.
9) One was faithful and wrote every week unto the missionary.
10) Meanwhile the other friends spent his stamp money on riotous living and wrote no letters.
11) But after twenty and three and a half months he felt deep sorrow and did write a letter unto the missionary.
12) Who when he received it did go and kill the fatted macaroni and cheese box and did feast, for he was merry.
13) For it was meet that he should make marry, for the letter writer which was lost was now found.

Chapter 7:
1) Unto you is given some stationary, and some paper, and some envelopes, and some pens and some pencils.
2) For the writing of the letters, for the cheering up of the missionary, for the improving of your English skills.
3) Till the missionary returns home, till we all come to be gathered together again in the bond of friendship.
4) To everything there is a season and a a time and a purpose.
5) A time to contemplate writing and a time to write.
6) A time to put letters in the envelopes and a time to stamp the envelopes.
7) A time to mail the letters and a time to start the process over again.
8) Now we beseech you brethren concerning the coming home of our missionary and the gathering together to  meet him.
9) That you be not soon shaken in mind, nor troubled, neither by word nor by any letters from us that the return of the missionary is at hand;
10) Let no one deceive you by any means, for that day shall not come unless there first be an abundance of letters; and the man of mail be revealed a true friend.

Chapter 8:
1) And the missionary said unto his friend, Lovest thou me?
2) And the friend said, Of course I love thee! Then the missionary said, Feed my mailbox.
3) He saith a second time, Lovest thou me? And his friend saith, Thou knowest I love thee.  he the said, Feed my mailbox.
4) He then spake a third time saying, Lovest thou me? And the friend said, Thou knowest all things and thou knowest that I love thee.
5) Then the missionary said, STUFFEST MY MAILBOX!
6) And the vision is become unto all as the words of a letter which is sealed in an envelope that men deliver to one who is  not serving a mission saying read this I pray thee.  And he saith: I cannot, for it is not mine.
7) And the letter is delivered to him that is serving a mission saying, read this I pray thee.  And he answereth, Why sure!
8) Therefore you should proceed to do a marvelous work among a missionary, even a marvelous work and a wonder by writing a letter.

Chapter 9:
1) And the word of the missionary came unto his friend saying, Moreover thou friend of mine, take thee one piece of paper and write upon it for the missionary, and his companions, and the house of the Iowa Des Moines Mission.
2) And then take thee and envelope and write upon it for a missionary and for his companions, and for the house of the Iowa Des Moines Mission.
3) And join them one to another into a letter, and they shall become one in the hand of the mailman.
4) For what doth it profit a man if he say he hath thoughts, but write not a letter?  Can thoughts save him?
5) If a brother or sister have a birthday,
6) And he say unto them, Happy Birthday! Notwithstanding you give them not a cake with candles, what doth it profit?
7) Even so, thoughts without letters are dead, being alone.
8) But if we say we have no thoughts, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.
9) Therefore, since ye have thoughts, write ye letters.

Chapter 10:
1) And now we wish to tell you the story of the anti-letter writer.
2) And there dwelt in the land at the time a certain anti-letter writer who went about convincing the people that there was no need to write letters.
3) Indeed so persuasive were his arguments that many people did cease to write letters to missionaries.
4) Then a returned missionary did confront the anti-letter writer and didst dispute the arguments.
5) Then it came to pass that the anti-letter writer did ask for a sign that letters should be sent: then he would believe.
6) Then the returned missionary said, As surely as letters are to be sent, thou shouldst be struck down.
7) And then at that moment, the anti-letter writer was run over by a mail truck and was dragged even unto the post office, where he was subsequently mailed to Zimbabwe.
8) And thus we see the end of him who perverteth the ways of the mail; and thus we see that the mailman does speedily drag them down to the Post Office.
9) Now when the general public saw this they were pricked in their hearts, and said, Men and brethren, what shall we do?
10) Then the returned missionary said unto them, Repent every one of you and write then letters unto each missionary, that he may forgive thee of they thoughtless state.
11) So now we leave you.  Be of good cheer; remember this last vision.
12) For I saw the dead small and great stand before the judgment bar, and another book was opened which was the book of letters; and the dead were judged by the letters, or lack thereof, that they had written to the missionaries.
13) So now we ask, what manor of men ought ye to be? Verily, you ought to be LETTER WRITERS!

Trying To Do The Job Alone

Dear Sir:

I am writing in response to your request for additional information for my insurance claim. In block 3 of the accident claim form I put "trying to do the job alone" as the cause of my accident. You said in your letter that I should explain that statement more fully. I trust the following details will be sufficient.

I am a bricklayer by trade. On the date of the accident, I was working alone on the roof of a new six-story building. When I completed my work I discovered that I had about 500 pounds of brick left over. Rather than carrying the bricks down by hand, I decided to lower them in a barrel by using a pulley which was attached to the side of the building at the sixth-floor level. Securing the rope at ground level, I went up to the roof, swung the barrel out, and loaded the bricks into it. Then I went back to the ground and untied the rope, holding it tightly to insure a slow descent of the 500 pounds of bricks.

You will note in block number 22 of the claim form that my weight is 135 pounds. Due to my surprise at being jerked off the ground so suddenly, I lost my presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope. Needless to say, I proceeded at a rather rapid rate up the side of the building

In the vicinity of the third floor, I met the barrel coming down. This explains my fractured skull and broken collarbone. Slowed only slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until the fingers of my right hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley. Fortunately, by this time, I had regained my presence of mind and was able to hold tightly to the rope in spite of my pain.

At approximately the same time however, the barrel of bricks hit the ground and the bottom fell out of the barrel. Devoid of the weight of the bricks, the barrel then weighed approximately 50 pounds.  I refer you again to my weight in block 2. As you might imagine, I began a rather rapid descent down the side of the building. In the vicinity of the third floor, I met the barrel coming up. This accounts for the two fractured ankles and the lacerations of my legs and lower body.

The encounter with the barrel slowed me enough to lessen my injuries when I fell onto the pile of bricks. Fortunately, only three vertebrae were cracked.  I am sorry to report, however, that as I lay there on the bricks in pain, unable to stand, and watching the empty barrel six stories above me, I again lost my presence of mind, and let go of the rope. The empty barrel weighed more than the rope so it came down and broke my legs.

I hope I have furnished information required as to how the accident occurred, because I was trying to do the job alone.

Sincerely, The Bricklayer

*We know that we never have to do any job alone.  As missionaries, we have companions.  When we are married, we have a spouse.  Throughout our whole lives, we have the Gift of the Holy Ghost as our constant friend, guide, and comforter.  And, of course, we always have our savior, Jesus Christ.  Isn't it a blessing to know we never have to explain that we did the job alone.*

The Jerk (humor)

So there I was, sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone call I had to make.  I found the number and dialed it.  A man answered nicely saying, "Hello?"  I politely said, "This is Patrick Hanifin and could I pleases speak to Robin Carter?"  Suddenly the phone was slammed down on me!  I couldn't believe that anyone could be that rude! I tracked down Robin's correct number and called her.  She had transposed the last two digits.  After I hung up with Robin, I spoted the wrong number still lying there on my desk.  I decided to call it again.  When the same person once more answered, I yelled "YOU'RE A JERK!" and hung up.  Next to his phone number I wrote "Jerk" and put it in my desk drawer.  Every couple of weeks when I was paying bills, or had a really bad day, I'd call him up.  He'd answer, and then I'd yell, "YOU'RE A JERK!"  It would always cheer me up.  Later in the year the phone company introduced caller ID.  This was a real disappointment for me.  I would have to stop calling the jerk.  Then one day I had an idea.  I dialed his number, then heard his voice, I made up a name.  "Hi!  This is Herman with the telephone company and I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with our caller ID program?"  He went "NO!" and slammed the phone down.  I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're a jerk!"  And the reason I took the time to tell you this story, is to show you how if there's ever anything really bothering you, you can do something about it.  Just dial 722-4822 (not a real number, btw).
The old lady at the mall really took her time pulling out of the parking space.  I didn't think she was ever going to leave.  Finally her car began to move and she started to very slowly back out of the stall.  I backed up a little more to give her plenty of room to pull out.  "Great," I thought, "She's finally leaving."  All of a sudden this black camaro came flying up the parking aisle in the wrong direction and pulls into her space.  I started honking my horn and yelling, "You can't just do that, Buddy! i was here first!"  The guy climbed out of his camaro completely ignoring me.  He walked toward the mall as if he didn't even hear me.  I thought to myself, this guy's a jerk.  There's sure a lot of jerks in this world.  I noticed he had a FOR SALE sign in the back window of his car.  I wrote down the number.  Then I hunted for another place to park.  A couple of days later, I'm sitting at my desk.  I I had just gotten off the phone after calling 722-4822 and yelling "YOU'RE A JERK!" (It's really easy to call him now since I have his number on speed dial).  I noticed the phone number of the guy with the black camaro lying on my desk and thought I'd better call this guy, too.  After a couple rings someone answered the phone and said, "Hello."  I said, "Is this the man with the black camaro for sale?" "Yes it is." "Can you tell me where I can see it?"  "Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house and the car's parked right out front."  I said, "What's your name?" "My name is Don Hansen." "When's a good time to catch you, Don?" "I'm home in the evenings." "Listen, Don, can I tell you something?" "Yes." "Don, you're a jerk!" And I slammed the phone down.  After I hung up I added Don Hansen's number to  my speed dialer.  For a while things seemed to be going better for me.  Now when I had a problem, I had two jerks to call.  Then after several months of calling the jerks and hanging up on them, the whole thing started to seem like an obligation.  It just wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be.  I gave the problem some serious thought and came up with a solution.  First, I had my phone dial Jerk #1.  A man answered nicely saying, "Hello." I yelled "YOU'RE A JERK!" but I didn't hang up.  The jerk said, "Are you still there?!" I said, "Yeah..."  He said, "Stop calling me!" I said, "No." He said, "What's your name, pal?"  I said, "Don Hansen." "Where do you live?" "1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house and my black camaro's parked out front." "I'm coming over right now, Don! You'd better start saying your prayers." "Yeah, like I'm really scared, Jerk!" and I hung up.  Then I called Jerk #2.  He answered "Hello."  I said, "Hello, jerk!"  He said, "If I ever find out who you are..." "You'll what?!"  "I'll kick your butt!" "Well, here's your chance!  I'm coming over right now jerk!" And I hung up.  Then I picked up the phone and called the police.  I told them a big gang fight was going down at 1802 West 34th Street.  After that I climbed into my car and headed over to 34th street and parked my car under the shade of a tree half a block from Jerk #2's house.  There were two guys fighting out front.  Suddenly there were about 12 police cars and a helicopter.  The police wrestled the two men to the ground and took them away.  A couple of months go by and I get a call for jury duty.  I was picked to be on trial of two guys charged with disorderly conduct.  As luck would have it, it happened to be the same two guys.  I might have influenced the jury, because when they announced the verdict, they said, "We the jury find the defendants to be guilty, and a couple of jerks!"

Ice Fishing (humor)

Guy buys a brand new Grand Cherokee for $30,000+, and has $400.00+ in monthly payments. He's pretty proud of this rig, and gets ahold of his friend to do some male bonding with the new ride. They go duck hunting and of course all the lakes are frozen.

These two Atomic Brains go to the lake with their guns, the dog, the beer and of course the new vehicle. They drive out onto the ice.. Now, they want to make some kind of a natural landing area to attract ducks - something the decoys will float on. Remember it's all ice, and in order to make a hole large enough to interest a flock of ducks - a hole big enough to entice ducks to land, they needed to use a little more than an ice hole drill...

Sooo, out of the back of the brand-new Jeep Grand Cherokee comes a stick of dynamite with a short 40-Second fuse.

Now to their credit, these two rocket scientists DID take into consideration that if they placed the stick of dynamite on the ice at a location far from where they (and the new Grand Cherokee) would be waiting and ran back quickly, they would risk slipping on the ice as they ran from the immenent explosion and could possibly go up in smoke with the resulting blast. After a little deliberation, they come up with lighting and THROWING the dynamite, which is what they end up doing.

Remember a couple of paragraphs back when I mentioned the vehicle, the beer, the guns AND THE DOG ???? Yes, the dog. The driver's pet Black Lab (used for retrieving - especially things thrown by the owner).
You guessed it, the dog takes off at a high rate of doggy speed on the ice, reaching the stick of dynamite with the burning 40 second fuse about the time it hits the ice - all to the woe of the two idiots which are now yelling, stomping, waving arms and wondering what the hell to do now...
The dog is happy and now heads back toward the "hunters" with the stick of dynamite. I think we all can picture the ever-increasing concern on the part of the brain trust, as the loyal Labrador Retriever approaches. The Bozo's now are REALLY waving their arms - yelling even louder and generally feeling kinda panicked..
Now finally one of the guys decides to think- something that neither had done before this moment, grabs a shotgun and shoots the dog. This sounds better than it really is, because the shotgun was loaded with #8 duck shot and hardly effective enough to stop a Black Lab. The dog DID stop for a moment, slightly confused, but then continued on. Another shot, and this time the dog - still standing, became REALLY confused & of course scared.. Thinking that these two Nobel Prize Winners have gone TOTALLY INSANE, the pooch takes off to find cover with a now extremely short fuse still burning on the stick of dynamite.

The cover the dogs finds? Underneath the brand new Grand Cherokee worth 30-some thousand dollars - the $400.00+ monthly payment vehicle that is sitting nearby on the lake ice.

BOOM !

Dog dies, vehicle sinks to bottom of lake, and these two "Co-Leaders of the Known Universe" are left standing there with this "I can't EVEN believe this happened to me" look on their faces.

Later, the owner of the vehicle calls his insurance company and is promptly informed that sinking a vehicle in a lake by illegal use of explosives is NOT covered on his policy... He had yet to make his first car payment.