Oh by the way, folks,
Today we express our bewilderment at why Mormons think they've gotta explain how their magic underwear isn't really magic underwear. It's just the equivalent of special clothes worn by lotsa other religions.
Hey, folks, it's none of my business what kinda underwear anybody else wears. If I should ask a Mormon about it he'd be perfectly within his ethical right to lie about it anyhow. Not only that, but it'd be canonically invalid for me to forcibly rip his clothes off to find out.
Back in ancient times (and to a lesser extent even today) you wear clothes that designate your station in life or your religion. Ancient Roman senators wore purple togas, nuns wore habits, hunters wear camo, farmers wear overalls, Pastafarians wear spaghetti drainers on their heads, etc.
And if you wanna go incognito and just be yourself, like me, you just wear plain old ordinary jeans and a flannel shirt.
Well anyhow, yesterday's chiro-quack-quack knee-jerk was fun but accomplished nothing. Then it rained, but I saw some work getting done up the street anyhow but I don't know whether it was tron undergrounders or industrial site workers.
Then the church pot luck dinner was 9 people. The presento afterwards was how to spread our Christian faith unto those who have no faith, totally ignoring the fact that those who have no faith consider faith to be intellectual debauchery and Christians to be delusional cretins who hallucinate three-headed sky-zombies.
Today it's a wee bit cold and awful windy, but it appears to have quit raining. Maybe nothing will happen unless the tron undergrounders snag another gas line.
Signs of life