G. tells us his muse is a goober. Mine is a crusty old retired Sith Lord.
For the last few years, I’ve mused that the Church was inevitably going to have to separate from the BSA, and create the “Mormon Scouts of America.” Of course recent events have brought that possibility to the fore. But “MSA” would be a terrible name, so let me be the first to broach the subject of what to call the Mormon Scouts. (more…)
The other day I installed a cloak hook near the entrance of the domicile I share with His Majesty.
My cloaks can be heavy, and I also thought it might be prudent to be sure the hook could support the weight of His Majesty’s winter jacket, so I took some time to install the hook securely. I located the stud (much easier with the Force than with a stud locater, by the way) and made sure the hook was screwed firmly through the drywall into the stud. I figured it would easily hold a couple of cloaks and winter jackets.
I stood back to admire my work (funny; don’t you always do that when you finish any handyman project?) and just then His Majesty came storming through the door in a frightfully sour mood. He glanced at me, glanced at the hook, and without a moment’s hesitation he grabbed the hook and tried to swing from it. That was too much weight, of course; there was a loud crack and the hook came out of the wall, doing serious damage to the stud and drywall. In fact, since this is a load-bearing wall, the damage to the stud could wind up being a significant problem.
My jaw hit the floor, or would have, if the vocorder wasn’t in the way.
It turns out His Majesty has been thinking about original sin.