In an ongoing effort to increase the readership of this paper (and to line the pockets of the editor) without increasing the already exorbitant subscription fees, The Herald (formerly known as The Servant) has been renamed The Star. Please discard any old copies you may have of earlier editions bearing previous names as they will only confuse historians in the future.
Elder Jeff Jensen wrote from Portugal to report that as of his first week out of the MTC his language training has completely failed him. This is known as the gift of untongues. He says that he does not understand a word of what is said in any discussions and that he has a hard time even staying awake. We are confident that the work of building the kingdom will go forth with great speed with missionaries like Elder Jensen explaining the intricacies of the restored gospel in a foreign tongue that he is only a few decades away from mastering. Even though he spent two months being introduced to Portuguese in the MTC, Elder Jensen never got past thinking that Portuguese was really only bad Spanish. Keep up the good work, Elder Jensen.
Elder Greg Taylor wrote from the MTC that an elder in his district had to have his appendix removed. Always having thought that appendicitis was a good subject for poetry, the staff of The Star (formerly The Herald and The Servant) got together over a few drinks and pizza and produced the following masterpiece.
Listen close and you shall hear
Of the recent plight of an elder dear
As he prayed one night on bended knee
O'er his studies at the MTC.
Daily at six he'd roll out of his cot
To pray and study and learn a lot.
And he thanked the Lord from on his knees
That he'd been called to service overseas.
Not like others he knew so well
On missions in Burly or Pocatell.
For on his mission he was called to go
To a land whose tongue he didn't know.
For two months here at the MTC
He'd study words that were "Greek to me."
So he could preach unto the teeming masses
Of foreign speaking lads and lasses.
He'd soon love foods he used to hate
He'd learn new verbs to conjugate.
His noun declensions were among the best
Like his adverbial phrases and all the rest.
Soon Gospel thoughts he intertwined
With foreign words of lofty mind.
And all who knew this elder bles't
Considered him among the best.
One day last week he took his meal
Of potatoes mashed and breaded veal.
And after dinner his thoughts did slide
To a throbbing pain in his lower side.
He almost missed his language class
With what he thought was only gas.
He still continued to persevere
'Til his groans were heard both far and near.
With a martyr's grace he bit his tongue
And bore his pain like a worthy son.
But his leaders when they heard him shout
Said, "That thing's infected, it's coming out."
They rushed him to the surgery suite
And stripped him bare from head to feet.
They opened him up with a well placed cut
And peered into his steaming gut.
While in that state, all drug induced
They deftly cut his appendix loose.
So he, a scrappy little fighter,
Could serve again, four ounces lighter.
If there's a moral found in this poor tale
I'll post it in the morning's mail.
For appendicitis, like boils or gout
Is a touchy thing to rhyme about.
Since the inception of the recipe corner, there has been some misunderstanding in the mind of the readers as to the exact purpose of this feature. Some have thought it was to publish only outlandish sounding concoctions with no regard to the fact that these items were never really eaten. Indeed, it seemed by the feverish submittals from all over the globe that each missionary was trying to outdo all others in making good and gentle people faint on hearing of their gastronomic perversities.
Well this editor has had enough of this foolishness. From this moment on, only true and verifiable recipes will be printed here. We are not fools here on the editorial staff of The Star (formerly The Herald and The Servant). We can tell the fake recipes from the genuine ones.
We do not believe that, for instance, they serve mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese and pork chops, etc., in the MTC. Neither do we believe for a minute that they eat rice and fish in Portugal and sweet potatoes in Ecuador. Those things are outrageous in the extreme. Rather we are convinced that Elder Michael Jones was correct in every detail in reporting eating roasted roaches in the Bronx, New York. Additionally we know Elder Barry Port to be telling the ungarnished truth when he wrote of the preparation and serving of hairball soup. That recipe was so true to detail that Moroni himself could have just as well printed it in his now lost work, A Survival Guide for Stripling Warriors.
Let's all clean up our act and get with the program of only printing what is true and uplifting from now on.
This paper is published to the missionaries serving from the Plano 8th Ward. It is also distributed to their parents, local ecclesiastical leaders, and an assortment of other chowderheads who happen to be in the halls at distribution time. It is the editorial policy of this paper to only print true and unvarnished versions of the facts as we understand them. Any impulse to alter the facts in any way, other than to make ourselves look better, will be strongly resisted.