The Chargers

The title of this blog is actually an attempt to gain the sports fan readership. They've been tricked. Yesterday my mom took my brothers, my sister and I to the Timp Caves. I was not particularly excited about this trip, in fact I was vocal in saying that I didn't want to go look at a stupid hole in the ground. After seeing it, I still wasn't convinced that it was all that great. I mean, I could have had a comparable experience if I went on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland, plus I would have been sitting, not to mention listening to a pirate song and watching very "real" looking pirates fight each other.

What got me even more was how much they charged to go into the place. It cost money to drive into the park. Then it cost money to hike to the caves and listen to some guy with an awful sense of humor tell us about cave formations. He really reminded me of Dwight K. Schrute, except he lacked a certain element that might have actually made him funny. In fact, he even looked like Dwight when he turned out the lights and was holding a candle to his face. However, I would never trust him, because he said his name was "Bob," when his name tag actually said "Robert." I didn't know which to believe.

Why in the world would we have to pay to go see the caves? Well, this is America. We have taxes, which basically means we pay the government to work. So, obviously, we have to pay to look at a natural formation in the country. It makes perfect sense. On the way down, my mom wanted to visit the gift store to see if they had playing cards. I'm glad it was closed. We wouldn't have been able to afford them anyways. If the place charges seven bucks a person to hike three miles, I can only imagine how much it would cost to buy some fun.

Pass the Conference Bowl

Yesterday in Seminary, it was the Conference Bowl. I was hoping that it was a bowl of candy, or maybe a bowl of popcorn, but it's actually a competition to see who's class has the best knowledge of what happened in Conference. At least, that's how it's supposed to work in theory. However, because you can use notes, not to mention the notes of anyone in your class, it's actually a competition to see which class has the best notetakers. I prefer the candy.

Of course, I'm sure you're all dying to know how I did. Well, I got to go up there once. My question was asking for the name of the document created by the leading Christians under duress from Emperor Constantine. Of course, I know all of you are just screaming "It's the Nicene Creed, you moron!" I didn't scream that, but I did write Nicene Creed on my whiteboard, and quickly pushed the button to ring in my answer. No one else knew the answer. A lesser man might boast about this, but mostly I'm just concerned. Why is it that the question I answered instantaneously, without any thought, was actually a matter of Catholic history?

I won't try and answer that. I'll let whoever reads this blog leave their own sarcastic reason. Just bear in mind I wasn't the only 0ne who was out of line. Bro. Lowe, my seminary teacher, was cheating, just as he always does, letting the students in his class use his notes. "Low on the competition, high on the happiness," he declared. "Lowe in the competition, high on happiness," I revised, ad libbing a newspaper headline.

I'm sad to see that Conference Bowl has degenerated to the point where even the Seminary Teachers are cheating. What was once a noble tradition for the pure in heart is now just an excuse to call other classes mean names. Classes set themselves above each other in a show of pride. I need something to drown my sorrows in. I need to eat to relieve the pain of my soul. Pass the Conference Bowl, please.