Rank McBadden: Faith Detective
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EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
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It was another dreary, hazy day, like so many other dreary, hazy days before it. Kind of dreary, hazy day where you could open up the window on stretch out your arm through the dreary, dreary ese haze, like a thick, heavy vapor of thick grey split pea soup minus the split peas and minus to soothe where your outstretched arm just seemingly disappears into the dreary, hazy Suplicy buck, so dreary, so hazy that you can't even see your own fingers at the end of it, a lesser man might start to doubt. He even had fingers. But I'm no lesser man. I'm Wreg MK Baton Faith detective. Knock on my door may have surprised a lesser professional or a woman like any of the so many unsuspecting, non priesthood wielding women thinking they're alone enjoying a fleeting moment of peace. Completely naked, standing in a glass shower, arm extended upward, rinsing conditioner from their hair with cool water rather than warm water because it's somehow better for your hair that way, eyes closed water, beating around their years, not able to see or hear you silently staring at them through the crack in the bathroom door until of course she does. And kind of freaks out at you yelling. Don't do that. Why do you always do that? Which only makes you scowl, of course. Disapproval. Because if I really always do that, then why aren't You weren't prepared for it when it happens. Like me, Rancic, Baton, former Eagle Scout and Eagle Scouts are always prepared. Hello? Excuse me. Hello. The door opened and she glided into the room like a tall drink of water. Kind of fancy fancy water like that boozy fruit water with a few slices of lemon square, chunks of cucumber, a sprig of mint, maybe a dash of sage. Sometimes addicts and whole close can add a little bit of a after kick. Maybe if you freshly cut strawberries or some beats and easy on the ice pair shaved just how I like him. And she had some really killer ****. Was anyone there? Exactly. Is anyone there? Perfect question for days like today, lazy, turgid, like a one time energetic and philanthropic turtle run down in the prime of life, captured and mounted and displayed on a wall like some sad suburban hunting trophy all over, stuffed to the max with board of those is the life of a faith detective. I've been there, done that. I have seen every faith crushing anti Mormon argument to its devastatingly logical conclusion and bounced right back up again. Unscathed. Zero. Scathing like a tow headed, Dickensian workhouse popper governing his neighbors, Gruebel daring to ask for some more. Such is the life I lead a cash only life. This is the profession I call home. Hello? Are you ranked MK Bad faith detective? That's what it says on the door. Lady. Go away. But I need your help. It's Johnny. I think he's I think he's dead. She handed me a photo of a man. He looked dead the way a man looks when there's no longer any life in him or when. Maybe he's just really hungover or super stoned. That's probably what a lesser man would see. But I'm rank that baton, Faith, detective, And what I saw was a man who started believing that God was not a big G, omnipotent or omniscient God, but was rather a little Jean, still learning new things, still gaining new power and experiences, kind of doing all this on the fly kind of God. It was obvious by that arrogant smirk on his fat, lifeless face. Excuse me, them. Did your husband believe that God is progressing and knowledge in a still learning new truths? White? Yes, of course. But he wasn't my husband. He was my life coach and secret podcast Lover Way met it. A weekend retreat. And it's just so dreamy. Waas So dreamy, I'm afraid your life coach fell victim to the first oldest deadliest heresy in the book. That's right. He died from the first of seven. Totally riel. Totally deadly, non hyperbolic and mostest, un superlative. Deadliest of heresies. There. Seven of the man. Let me tell you about the first way. Welcome back to infants on Thrones. I'm Glen OSS land. And today we've got a smack down for you. It's been a while since we've had Smackdowns, right? So I've got John Hammer and Bob and Randy and myself, and we're reviewing Bruce R. McConkie is 1980. Speech that was delivered at BYU called the Seven Deadly Heresies