DCP's backhanded compliment to the late former pope

[Wonhyo]

No, Peterson absolutely meant to disparage him with his statement. The phrase he uses is clear:

“.. Ratzinger has now entered into a new life after decades of attempting to serve God in the best way he could…”

Peterson's genteel slam of the late Pope Emeritus is also evident in his statement of "attempting to serve God" instead of just "serving God". Because all a non-Mormon can do is try to serve God...

[Philo Sofee]

No, Peterson absolutely meant to disparage him with his statement. The phrase he uses is clear:

“.. Ratzinger has now entered into a new life after decades of attempting to serve God in the best way he could…”

Peterson's genteel slam of the late Pope Emeritus is also evident in his statement of "attempting to serve God" instead of just "serving God". Because all a non-Mormon can do is try to serve God...

At least he hasn't gotten to the gutter of Holland... yet. Let's hope his intelligence and moral compass surpasses Jeff's.

[Res Ipsa]

A commenter on SeN:

Laralee Nelson
2 hours ago

The POB members are just continuing their time-honored role of allowing you to have a noticeable influence in what they think about and what they do in their lives. Your posts have significance to them, if only to allow them to build up pressure they 'must' release. After all, one of the best ways to 'silence' an opponent, is not to encourage them or even pay attention to them. So by constantly being focused on you, they validate your importance to them.

Hmm. I can’t decide…

Poe's law is an adage of Internet culture saying that, without a clear indicator of the author's intent, any parody of extreme views can be mistaken by some readers for a sincere expression of the views being parodied

Even this continuation is unclear…

Perhaps I'm unusual, but most people of my acquaintance, if there is someone in their lives that they find objectionable, just ignore and avoid them if circumstances permit. They don't spend their valuable time or their emotional energy obsessing about them, or even thinking about them. So you mean something to them, in a twisted sort of way, unfortunately.

Poe would be proud.

[Marcus]

Peterson's genteel slam of the late Pope Emeritus is also evident in his statement of "attempting to serve God" instead of just "serving God". Because all a non-Mormon can do is try to serve God...

At least he hasn't gotten to the gutter of Holland... yet. Let's hope his intelligence and moral compass surpasses Jeff's.

Not by much. I ran Peterson’s phrase ”…has now entered into a new life after decades of attempting to serve God…” past a handful of my Catholic relatives. The universal reaction was one of revulsion and disgust. He is single-handedly giving Mormons a very bad name.

[drumdude]

Moreover, my personal view of our universal human condition is that “attempting to serve God in the best way we can” is the best that any of us can hope to achieve here in mortality.

DCP is so modest and humble before God. Except you know, he thinks that certain rich and privileged Mormons have done so well on Earth that they have earned their guaranteed salvation through the Second Anointing. Kings and Queens in the afterlife. Strength in the loins and so on and so forth, worlds without end.

Pretty good reward for an attempt, if you have the money and connections!

[Doctor Steuss]

Has Dan ever lost an argument, an academic controversy, a chess match, a checkers match? Has he ever been wrong?

Yes, he has. He has even written about one such incident before:

While I was vacationing in Berlin some years back, I was invited to dinner by Wolfhart Pannenberg. I thought it was to be an informal affair, with only he and myself in attendance; however, as I approached the table I was met with the piercing gaze of Martin Petzoldt. He and I had met while I was at an engagement in Cairo, and it was unfortunately not the most cordial of encounters. You see, Father Petzoldt had (like many) been casually introduced to anti-Mormon literature the morning of our meeting. He had devoured the pamphlets and booklets with exuberant glee, and was elated with the opportunity to pounce upon a deluded poor Mormon such as myself. Naturally, his excitement quickly dissipated as I solidly countered each talking point, leaving him embarrassed and flustered. While I had offered him a hand of condoling fellowship there in that lovely café in the backstreets of Cairo -- that my guide had brought me to with his family to enjoy the 90th birthday celebration of my guide’s grandmother, Traudl Wallbrecher -- I was unsure if his ego or his heart were at the lead.

Much to my delight, Father Petzoldt had not only healed from our last encounter, but had ran into an old acquaintance of mine who was on assignment for me in Leipzig. That old acquaintance was able to help Father Petzoldt not only gain a better understanding of the LDS faith, but to help him to put aside the dark feelings he harbored towards me (which, if some are to be trusted, were likely entirely warranted, given my penchant for drowning puppies, and tripping widows for sport).

Upon the conclusion of our meal, we decided to charter a plane to Paris, in order to take a stroll, and discuss various aspects of theology, philosophy, and life in general. There in the streets of Paris, my feet needed reprieve from the day’s journeys, so I sat down at a table. In my exhaustion, I failed to noticed that the table was occupied by a chess board, and a young player sitting opposite of me. He asked me (in French, of course) if I would like to play a match with him. I humorously, given the whirlwind of borders that my day had involved, responded in perfect German that I would love to. Surprisingly, without a moment’s hesitation, he set up the board.

What I assumed would be a quick leisurely match dragged on for the better part of an hour, with my traveling companions forming the hub of a wheel of onlookers that had grown to well over 100 people. It was at this moment that my phone rang, and I saw that it was none other than Neal A. Maxwell. Naturally, I answered the phone, while continuing the match at hand. In a distracted state, I set myself up to a hear those dreaded words of “check mate.” After such a long match, it was disheartening to lose so suddenly while not being entirely focused on the match.

As I walked away dejected, with my companions consoling me, I overheard a man berating the boy for taking so long to win. An onlooker tried to reign the man in, “Mr. Bacrot, please do not be so hard on the boy.” The man whipped around, pointing angrily in my direction “There’s no reason my Etienne shouldn’t have won in ten moves or less against that man!”

[Res Ipsa]

So he lost, but only because he took an important call, but he really won because the boy should have beaten him sooner?

[Doctor Steuss]

So he lost, but only because he took an important call, but he really won because the boy should have beaten him sooner?

Sorry, I was having a bit of fun.

Here a Poe, there a Poe, everywhere a...

[Marcus]

So he lost, but only because he took an important call, but he really won because the boy should have beaten him sooner?

Sorry, I was having a bit of fun.

Here a Poe, there a Poe, everywhere a...

That was a great story, Dr S!

[Everybody Wang Chung]

While I was vacationing in Berlin some years back, I was invited to dinner by Wolfhart Pannenberg. I thought it was to be an informal affair, with only he and myself in attendance; however, as I approached the table I was met with the piercing gaze of Martin Petzoldt. He and I had met while I was at an engagement in Cairo, and it was unfortunately not the most cordial of encounters. You see, Father Petzoldt had (like many) been casually introduced to anti-Mormon literature the morning of our meeting. He had devoured the pamphlets and booklets with exuberant glee, and was elated with the opportunity to pounce upon a deluded poor Mormon such as myself. Naturally, his excitement quickly dissipated as I solidly countered each talking point, leaving him embarrassed and flustered. While I had offered him a hand of condoling fellowship there in that lovely café in the backstreets of Cairo -- that my guide had brought me to with his family to enjoy the 90th birthday celebration of my guide’s grandmother, Traudl Wallbrecher -- I was unsure if his ego or his heart were at the lead.

Much to my delight, Father Petzoldt had not only healed from our last encounter, but had ran into an old acquaintance of mine who was on assignment for me in Leipzig. That old acquaintance was able to help Father Petzoldt not only gain a better understanding of the LDS faith, but to help him to put aside the dark feelings he harbored towards me (which, if some are to be trusted, were likely entirely warranted, given my penchant for drowning puppies, and tripping widows for sport).

Upon the conclusion of our meal, we decided to charter a plane to Paris, in order to take a stroll, and discuss various aspects of theology, philosophy, and life in general. There in the streets of Paris, my feet needed reprieve from the day’s journeys, so I sat down at a table. In my exhaustion, I failed to noticed that the table was occupied by a chess board, and a young player sitting opposite of me. He asked me (in French, of course) if I would like to play a match with him. I humorously, given the whirlwind of borders that my day had involved, responded in perfect German that I would love to. Surprisingly, without a moment’s hesitation, he set up the board.

What I assumed would be a quick leisurely match dragged on for the better part of an hour, with my traveling companions forming the hub of a wheel of onlookers that had grown to well over 100 people. It was at this moment that my phone rang, and I saw that it was none other than Neal A. Maxwell. Naturally, I answered the phone, while continuing the match at hand. In a distracted state, I set myself up to a hear those dreaded words of “check mate.” After such a long match, it was disheartening to lose so suddenly while not being entirely focused on the match.

As I walked away dejected, with my companions consoling me, I overheard a man berating the boy for taking so long to win. An onlooker tried to reign the man in, “Mr. Bacrot, please do not be so hard on the boy.” The man whipped around, pointing angrily in my direction “There’s no reason my Etienne shouldn’t have won in ten moves or less against that man!”