The Twenty-Year Plan: Mormons Target America

by Dr. Gamal Shataturd

When we emigrated from Cheyenne to Provo in January, 1967, little did I imagine that the Mormon religion would become center-stage in world news. After I was laid-off from the cheesecake factory, my interest in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints grew, and I began to discuss, dialogue, debate, and send threatening letters under assumed names to Mormon leaders throughout the world from a Christian's view of the religion. Over the past seven months, I have had the privilege of participating in over 12,000 debates and discussions on eight continents and three planets in two galaxies plus exposure on T.V. and radio, and whole bunch of free stuff! "Latter Day Saints Exposed" was released in 1988, but was given the new title “The Truth about Mormonism” after we were sued by a Salt Lake City based adult magazine of the same name. Mormon Shmorman is now in its third printing in the three years it has been published. It is the only book which challenges the book of Mormon in substance, style, language, contents, and overall entertainment value. Our publications can be located on http://www.word-to-your-mormon.net/ or http://www.church-of-latterday-AINTS.org/.

This is my analysis of the Mormon invasion of America, the agenda of the Church of Latter Day Saints and visible methods to take over America by the year 2020! We have yet to see the lengths to which these violent, blood-thirsty fanatics will go to accomplish their mission. Will Americans continue to sleep through this invasion as they did through last year’s Superbowl?

Mormon goals for 2020:

1. Elect Mitt Romney president and force everyone in the United States to become Mormons. This includes moving the national capitol to Provo (a.k.a. “Povo”) and changing the name of our nation to “Mormonia.” (Doesn’t that sound like a fun place to go on vacation?)

2. Send all new converts on twenty-year-long missions to places like the Yukon Territory and Northeastern Siberia, while they “spread the word of God” from their villas in the Bahamas.

3. Reinstate prohibition: that should at least get the Catholics to move out!

4. Not only outlaw the drinking of any and all kinds of tea-based beverages, but also remove the letter “T” from the English alphabet altogether; I pity the fool who has to enforce that rule!

5. Take control of as much of Hollywood as they can (with seven more “Napoleon Dynamites”), as well as the press, TV, radio, walkie-talkies, g-mail chat, cups connected by strings, interjections, gestures, cattle calls, emotional outbursts, clever puns, and smoke signals by buying the corporations or a controlling stock.

6. Get all five original members of the classic 80’s hair band “Hanoi Rocks” back together for a slammin’ reunion tour throughout the Western United States and Japan.

7. Use the taxpayers’ money to fund Mormon terrorist group at home and abroad, such as “The Flaming Utards” and that infamous trio of luscious latter day lady agents “Brigham’s Angels.”

8. Force everyone to wear name tags with their place of birth on them: failure to do so will result in being reassigned a name.

9. Accelerate Mormon demographic growth via:

a. Massive immigration (20 or so annually since 1985)

b. Multiple marriages: you think polygamy is all fun and games, but just remember: four wives means four mother-in-laws, too!

c. Conducting the 2010 census only in areas heavily populated by Mormons (do you think anyone actually complains about not being sent a census form in the mail?)

If we don’t do something now, these wolves in white shirts and name tags are going to turn the US into a Mormon playground. And it won’t be the kind of playground with swing sets, monkey bars, and the random oddly-shaped sculpture representing principles of contemporary minimalism!

So whatever you do, DON’T FORGET TO FILL OUT YOUR CENSUS!

Dr. Gamal Shataturd, BS, BO, WWJD, LOL, CKNY, and a member of the Queens Community College Board of Scholars, has traveled to over 2,000 countries. He is a Palestinian Arab, Latvian, Chinese, Cherokee Indian, Black Christian American of Hispanic origin, who is an author, lecturer, Gangsta-rap producer, and member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. He is also author of the best-seller "When Passions Flame in Rio" and his tenth book - "Lesbians and the Kabala" - was published in the spring, 2003. You can contact him at 422 Shatturd upon Soilengruagarden, UK 37895, phone 1-234-567-8910 or on the net at http://www.shatabook.com/.

This article was published by Walter Koenig's Interplanetary Press.

John Lennon and the Philosopher's Stone

Today in class, I asked my students to write about the person they idolize. Assuming Japan to be pretty rock savvy, I chose for my example John Lennon. The picture below was included in their worsheet, but just to be sure, I asked if anyone knew who the person in the picture was. The answers were startling:


Who is this man?

Harry Potter 90%
Jesus 2%
My Mother 2%
John Lennon 1%

Metal Mike

He rips his guitar to shreds like Marilyn Manson does to a chicken. Boring pentatonic scales don't mean a thing to him. Standing next to Robbie Halford of Judas Priest, he is a dark angel among Gods of Metal. He is METAL MIKE!!!!

But back in the mid 90's, I knew him just as Mike, the soft spoken and oddly charming Polish guitar instructor at Sweetest Sounds in Lyndhurst, New Jersey. This man who now plays huge stadiums all across the world with the likes of Steve Vai and Ingwie Malmsteen was once teaching an eighth-grader how to play Bush's "Glycerin" on his dad's old Gibson.

It's hard to believe that someone like me, who tends toward a smoother, jazzier sound could have been taught by such a hard rocker. Yes, of course, I am a closet metal head, but when it comes to music production, I tend toward the softer. But that's him, Metal Mike, the man who taught me to play guitar.

Perhaps my best memory of Mike is the fictional band we created. It had some weirdo name like "The Country Batboy Family Band." That's because Mike and I were obsessed with "Batboy" from the "Weekly World News" tabloid, and we used to make songs about him in country style. We also played "The Addams Family" theme song a lot for some reason. Mike always did enjoy the darker side of life.

When I first saw Mike playing with rock legend, Robbie Halford, I couldn't believe it. But thinking back, he was a great guitar player, and a Northeastern European to boot. Now I can only hope one day, when I get my wikipedia page, there will be a little blurb in the trivia section: John learned to play guitar from Metal Mike of Halford.

Here's some vids of Mike:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6L1a-F6rhRA
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OXhIc3rpUUg&feature=related

Mr. Big

On a side note, I saw "Mr. Big" perform in Kanazawa last night. It was awesome. Everyone in Japan says I have a voice like Eric Martin (or Egg Martin, which is what it sounds like when Japanese people say his name). I would be ecstatic if I was in my forties and could still hit the high notes on "To Be With You." Billy Sheehan and Paul Gilbert, the bass and guitar players, had an amazing chemistry, and performed a few really off the hook solo duets. They ended the show by all switching instruments and playing "Smoke on the Water." Awesome harmonies, great and unique solos involving two-necked guitars and multiple musicians playing one guitar at the same time, this show was definitely worth the money. Mr. Big... Who knew?

Where are you, Anya?

It all started off with a glass of sake at James' place. It always does, doesn't it? Two hours later, we're jamming out to George Michael and Elvis with two Russian girls, an American student from Massachusettes, and a Hirdur (Hirdur (hir-dir`) proper noun - a sassy Iraqi girl named Hilda from Ontario prefecture, Canada).

Anya was on her way to James' place with my bike key. She borrowed my bike a few weeks back, and since I lost my key at school, I needed the spare. In typical Russian fashion, she was "five minutes away" from us for about a half hour; where would Russians be without that magical word probka (traffic jam)? On time most probably.

Downing a small drink, we waited outside for the blonde bombshell from Novosibirsk to appear. After about five minutes, she rode past James' house on her bike. "Anya! Anya!" we called out, but no response. Afraid she would soon veer too far off course, I yelled something in Russian: KUDA POEHALA! (Where the hell are you going?). Unfortunately, the blonde girl riding this particular bike who stopped at the sound of threatening words in her native language was NOT Anya. It was sure fun explaining why an American guy was yelling at a stranger in Russian.

Anya dialed up, "I'm coming in my car. Be there in 5 minutes." After about 15 minutes, James and I got tired of waiting and decided we would wave her car down as she passed. Sadly, Anya decided to take a different route to our house, and so we ended up just waving at strangers like a couple of jerks (or Japanese politicians). A mere second before the lovely girl appeared behind us, a brown van drove by with a surprised driver. It was a girl I had taken out on a date back in January, who happens to also work at my base school. Yes, Yuko, I've stood at that intersection everyday since our special time together, waiting for the moment when you just might pass by. Imagine how much more awkward her "ohio gozaimasu" (good morning) is going to sound when I show up to work tomorrow.

Anya had come with Julie, an exchange student from Massachussettes and fellow psuedo-vegetarian. The four of us went to Peace Street Kitchen for the best (as in ONLY) vegan cuisine in town. Afterwards, Yulia, the new Russian student and lovely Tanya's replacement, met up with us and we headed back to James'. James brought the bottle, I brought the guitar. We were set.

Soon Hirdur joined the group, and we had ourselves a regular drunken orchestra (well, we were pretty sober actually, I'm not a big drinker). Whether it was Elton John's "Circle of Life" or Mr. Big's "To Be With You," all of us were ready to rock out to the hits. As it turned out, Julie is a wonderful singer, and our rendition of Extreme's "More than Words" was so fantastic, we decided to perform it at the ALT charity show this month. Where does Toyama get all this talent from?

What a blast Monday night was indeed! The life of John Di Lascio: Seinfeld Season 9.

They Don't Like Me... They Really Don't Like Me!

Back in 2006, when I was studying in St. Petersburg, the NGO which sponsored my program invited me to represent them in a forum on education for the upcoming G8 in Moscow. The guest of honor would be Margaret Spellings, president Bush's Secretary of Education. With dozens of professional teachers and administrators in attendance, I assumed I would just be sitting in the back somewhere, listening to everyone else talk about the importance of good relations between the US and Russia.

To my great surprise, not only did they sit me right next to Ms. Spellings, but they had me do most of the talking. As I soon realized, behind this decision lie some very shrewd logic. Ms. Spellings had a lot of meetings to go to: she wasn't going to remember a bunch of awkward old chicken ladies banging on in broken English for 2 hours (Russians have a tendency to ramble on). They needed a good-looking young lad, an up-and-comer who could charm the secretary: a face she'd remember when it was time to review funding for our program. As it happened, I hit it off so well with Ms. Spellings, who told me she wanted to adopt me, that my company decided to hire me to run their Siberian office. It was my 2004 DNC Obama moment.

Charm is a funny thing though. Sometimes you can skip ahead three spaces on the great game board of life with a few cheeky remarks or a flirtatious smile (even with other guys). But not everyone receives that attitude so warmly. There's a woman at my school in Kureha - let's just call her Ms. Rivers (the translation of her name). Ms. Rivers doesn't like me. It doesn't matter what I say or what I do; I can't win her over. I'm not completely certain what first sparked her contempt for me, but I think it might be the very thing which won over the heart of Margaret Spellings back in Moscow.

First let me say a few things about Ms. Rivers, ah screw it, let's just call her Deborah. I don't like making blanket statements about people, but if lil' Debbie loves her job of teaching Junior High School students English, she hides it well. Never cracking a smile, always scolding the kids for not knowing the answers, it's no surprise the kids' faces light up when I walk into the room. It's frustrating for her indeed: I teach about half the classes she does, I have a lot of free time in the teachers room, I don't have to prep that much, and the kids love me. And so with these little coals fueling her engines, Debbie gleefully used an opportunity to point out what she felt was a shortcoming in my approach to teaching.

I was listening to my headphones, as many teachers do, working on something for the next class, when Debbie came up to me and said, "Excuse me, but I need a worksheet from you today and all you ever do is play on the Internet, this is not your job to play on the Internet." I was livid. I had already gotten a bad rap from her a few months ago over not wearing a tie. So I approached her and said the following: "Look, I'm glad you feel comfortable telling me when you disapprove of something I am doing. Any time you have a specific criticism of my work, please tell me. But don't just make a blanket statement like 'all you do is play on the Internet.' That's very insulting especially since I work hard at this school and care about teaching the kids." Debbie showed embarrassment. Charm aside - sometimes you need to as tactfully as possible hand someones ass to them.

I made a compromise with her that day: I would always finish making worksheets for her class before doing anything else (because all of the other teachers trust my ability to run a class efficiently). When it comes to people like Debbie, sometimes it's easier to just meet them half-way, but you'd better call them out on their bullshit before you do it, or else they'll walk all over you.

I don't know why some people look at me and see a charming young lad, while others see a snotty little know-it-all prick. You eventually have to sit back and realize that no matter how high of an opinion you have of yourself, you can't control what others see when they look at you. I've encountered many situations in my life, both in relationships and with coworkers, where it's been so easy to say "but I'm so awesome, how could you not like me?" Indeed, John, you are awesome, but not everyone sees it that way. After all, someone out there looks at lil' Debbie and says "wow, what a great girl!" Who are you to say they are wrong? All we can do is be happy with who we are inside, and know that when we do that, other interesting people will appear in our lives as well. The rest, we just have to learn to deal with.

American Terrorism

This week someone decided they could make a valuable statement about the sanctity of human life by walking into a church and shooting an usher to death in front of his family and children. The assassination of obstetrician George Tiller was a disgusting attack on a law-abiding citizen that should make even the strongest pro-lifers shudder. Randall Terry, a divorced, homophobic pro-life advocate who disowned his gay son (almost as good a role model for people of faith as boob-jobbed, nude model Miss California), made the following infuriating statement:

George Tiller was a mass-murderer. We grieve for him that he did not have time to properly prepare his soul to face God. I am more concerned that the Obama Administration will use Tiller's killing to intimidate pro-lifers into surrendering our most effective rhetoric and actions. Abortion is still murder. And we still must call abortion by its proper name; murder. Those men and women who slaughter the unborn are murderers according to the Law of God.

So why was George Tiller's murder wrong according to Terry? For one it didn't give Tiller a chance to become a Christian. More importantly though, it was a tactical error for pro-lifers who will now be pigeon-holed as fanatics. Terry seems to ignore the fact that a woman and her children just saw their husband and father gunned downed during Sunday services. Excuse me for turning a bit Keith Olbermann here, but there's really only one thing I could possibly say in response to Mr. Terry's irresponsible attitude. But since some of my readers might be offended by vulgarity, suffice to say it's three words, and it rhymes with "cluck blue, Jerry."