For material created during the 2006 calendar year.

On the first week I skipped church,
my bishop sent to me
A home teacher preaching to me.

On the second week I skipped church,
my bishop sent to me
Two visiting teachers,
And a home teacher preaching to me.

On the third week I skipped church,
my bishop sent to me
Three emails,
Two visiting teachers,
And a home teacher preaching to me.

On the fourth week I skipped church,
my bishop sent to me
Four phone calls,
Three emails,
Two visiting teachers,
And a home teacher preaching to me.

On the fifth week I skipped church,
my bishop sent to me
Five plates of cookies,
Four phone calls,
Three emails,
Two visiting teachers,
And a home teacher preaching to me.

On the sixth week I skipped church,
my bishop sent to me
Six major guilt trips,
Five plates of cookies,
Four phone calls,
Three emails,
Two visiting teachers,
And a home teacher preaching to me.

On the seventh week I skipped church,
My bishop sent to me
Seven First Presidency Messages,
Six major guilt trips,
Five plates of cookies,
Four phone calls,
Three emails,
Two visiting teachers,
And a home teacher preaching to me.

On the eighth week I skipped church,
My bishop sent to me
Eight links to FARMS,
Seven First Presidency Messages,
Six major guilt trips,
Five plates of cookies,
Four phone calls,
Three emails,
Two visiting teachers,
And a home teacher preaching to me.

On the ninth week I skipped church,
My bishop sent to me
Nine rumors about my sexual orientation,
Eight links to FARMS,
Seven First Presidency Messages,
Six major guilt trips,
Five plates of cookies,
Four phone calls,
Three emails,
Two visiting teachers,
And a home teacher preaching to me.

On the tenth week I skipped church,
My bishop sent to me
Ten predictions of divorce,
Nine rumors about my sexual orientation,
Eight links to FARMS,
Seven First Presidency Messages,
Six major guilt trips,
Five plates of cookies,
Four phone calls,
Three emails,
Two visiting teachers,
And a home teacher preaching to me.

On the eleventh week I skipped church,
My bishop sent to me
Eleven promises of damnation,
Ten predictions of divorce,
Nine rumors about my sexual orientation,
Eight links to FARMS,
Seven First Presidency Messages,
Six major guilt trips,
Five plates of cookies,
Four phone calls,
Three emails,
Two visiting teachers,
And a home teacher preaching to me.

On the twelfth week I skipped church,
My bishop came to me
And we had a beer and watched football.

Best Original Mormonia Poem

To be announced Mid March 2007

Best Original Humorous Post Regarding Mormonia:

To be announced Mid March 2007

Best Top Ten List Regarding Mormonia:

To be announced Mid March 2007

Best Sarcastic Remark Regarding Mormonia:

To be announced Mid March 2007

To be announced Mid March 2007

Best Acronym For FARMS or FAIR:

To be announced Mid March 2007

Best New Name For BYU

To be announced Mid March 2007

Best Original Mormonia Limerick or Chiasmus

Some say Mary was a virgin PURE.
Others could swear she was a WHORE.
But if she can do IT,
With a holy spirIT,
She is certainly not a BORE.

Ol' Joe liked to pull down the panties,
Of young girls, teenagers and grannies.
The desire was such,
Couldn't do it too much!
Lost his life in the search for more fannies.

There was a Morm prophet named Brig,
Who no one considered a prig.
"Bring me those lasses,
I covet their asses!
Who says I'm a chauvinist pig?"

There is an old prophet named Gordon,
And Tithing bucks he was a hoardin'.
"I'll buy me some malls, cause I've got the balls,
And It's tax-exempt dollars I'm Sportin'."

As a missionary feeling frustration
I was given to much masturbation
I felt guilty for it
Because leaders abhor it
Now their words seem just like flatulation

There once was a FAIR guy named Dan;
He couldn't find his ass with both hands!
So, shaking his head
He burped and he said,
"These donuts go straight to my can!"

Gordy learned brown nosin' early,
Learned to tickle ass with his pearlies,
Now he's right there on top,
Above the rest of the slop,
He beat them all out in the corp. hurly burly.

The saints came a settlin' in Zion,
Ol' Brig, "It's the Place", was a cryin',
They all took Brig's direction,
Even the Mount Meadows insurrection,
And Ol' Brig, he came forth with his lyin'.

Brigham's lonely wife #37 was named Alice,
Who used Moroni's horn for a phallus.
At night she'd climb Salt Lake temple's central spire,
Without garments or a single stitch of attire,
Seeking love from a statue instead of the prophet so callous.

American Indians once were white?
(God had to curse them to make things right.)
It's Mormon theology,
But bogus biology.
Someday the Indians will fight.

American Indians once were white?
(God had to curse them to make things right.)
It's Mormon theology,
But bogus biology.
Someday the Indians will fight.

The age of consent in Nauvoo
Was eighteen years, it is true
But if you were bad
They'd just get your dad
To trade exaltation for you

An angel whose name was Moroni
Rode a tapir, but called it pony
Had a sword made of steel
flames that were real
Scaring girls when Joe's own sword got "boney."

There once was a prophet name Joe
Who claimed plates colored gold
When people asked him to show them
He'd claim they were taken by Mormon
Now don't that really blow?

There once was a prophet named Hinckley
Who wouldn't do anything kinky
With his wife Marjorie Pay
Who suspected him gay
But with Dew he'd be stinky.

There once was a prophet of god
Told many women to hold to his rod
Their salvation would be secured
If his "revelations" they just endured
What a sack-of-shit lying fraud.

There once was a cult so blinded
By it's own arrogance, but nobody minded.
We're the best they all said
We've got god at our head
Ignore the truth, it's all behind us.

Thomas Monson thought himself a poet
Though nothing original, don't you know it?
Stealing from Shakespeare, Wordsworth and Frost
How expensive his poetry Library cost
Putting audiences to sleep with his dribbling shit.

Godhood exaltation was taught by Lorenzo Snow.
He was a prophet many prophets ago.
Current prophet Hinkley is vague,
Avoids this topic like a plague.
All he can say is, "I don't know."

There once was a prophet named Gordon
Who blew a hole in his colon
He was so full of shit
That it no longer fit
Now he lies with "depends" on.

There once was a prophet named Joe,
Who was looking for girls on the go,
But then there was Fanny,
Who he hired as a Nanny,
Who in biblical terms Joe did know.

There once was a prophet named Brigham,
Who's favorite thing was to pick em,
But Eliza R. Snow,
Brigham never did know,
So some wives ol Brigham didn't dig em.

There once was a prophet named Taylor,
Who lived much his life like a sailor,
So he went underground,
And he never was found,
And he died without seeing the jailor.

There once was a prophet named Woody,
And rumor was Woody was moody,
And his weak manifesto,
Was for some just in jesto,
And the Senate wouldn't seat Senator Smooty.

There once was a lady named Sherrie
Who waited her life just to marry
Nobody would boink her
Cuz she was an oinker
So she had a dildo named Larry.

Brigham's lonely wife #37 was named Alice,
Who used Moroni's horn for a phallus.
At night she'd climb Salt Lake temple's central spire,
Without garments or a single stitch of attire,
Seeking love from a statue instead of the prophet so callous.

There once was a kid named Joseph,
Who emphatically stated he'd "SEEN STUFF"---
Out in the woods where the wild mushrooms grow,
he nibbled on some,
and was sure he DID KNOW THE TRUTH.

There once was a fellow named Brigham
Who went overboard with polygam.
Going limp at third base,
He said, "This is the place
To wiggle my finger and frig 'em."

There once was a prophet and seer
Who humped every whore he got nea,r
Til' one night his wife
Took an old rusty knife,
And rendered him into a steer.