In my town there are protesters called the women in black.

Every so often they will gather — two to seven or so of them — dressed in black to represent, I guess, mourning, in a small park across from the library.

They stand there silently, marking with their presence their opposition to whatever — the war, perhaps.

It’s a harmless way for them to spend their time, and it probably makes them feel good. Still, I can’t help but think, what a waste of woman-power. It seems to me that more good would be accomplished if they used those hours to actually help somebody.

The topic of how we, as a society, choose to spend our free time interests me.

For most of history, most people didn’t have free time to manage. Suddenly in the 20th Century, large numbers of people had large chunks of unstructured time. What to do?

Television provided an easy answer, and billions of hours of free time were gobbled up by westerns and sitcoms and variety shows.

Today, is the Internet the great new time-waster? Many would say yes. But it differs from TV in an important way.

Spend ten minutes and watch one of the most interesting and important talks, shy of General Conference, that I’ve come across.

I couldn’t get the video to embed, so here’s a link to it.

There is a danger in having been involved with musical theater. After that, heck, anything can happen.

For example, when you get married, the toast to the bride could turn into, well, a production number.

Don’t worry if you can’t read all the signs at the beginning, the good stuff starts to happen right after that.

The bride’s classic jaw-drop when more and more people jump up to sing and the moment when the groom gentle dabs away the bride’s tears have made Amy’s Song my favorite internet video.

When I was young, my [non-LDS] mother impressed upon me the need for careful punctuation by reciting this phrase:

“Good, by god, I’m going to Arkansas.”

A missing comma, she explained, gives this alternate version:

“Goodbye God, I’m going to Arkansas.”

This came to mind when I read that archaeologists, planning to exhume Parley P. Pratt and rebury him in Utah, could find no trace of him in his grave.

Parley had a great sense of humor. I’d like to think that he’s laughing about this.