W.W. Felch

If you U-Tards are anything like me you are super stoked for the upcoming basketball season. I have been backing the Utah Jazz ever since I wore my Mark Eaton jersey to my baptism after-party. Granny Jean had given it to me for learning all 13 Articles of Faith, and that jersey fucking owned!

Karl Malone is like an honorary apostle for me, no shit. I just love the man. I even forgave him for that Judas bullshit he pulled at the end when he went to LA. Water under the bong my brother.

And I would be remiss if I did not no-look-pass-the-dutchie-on-the-left-handside to my man Stock. John The Beloved! Again…much righteous man-love for this dude. I modeled my sacrament tray passing on his technique. I looked to John Stockton in all things. His was my go-to haircut all through my Aaronic Priesthood years.

But now I have graduated to the A-Chronic Priesthood. And to be honest with you, these past few years—it has been mighty tough to be a Jazzman fan. You know…you turn on the game, you spark up a joint, and you want your dudes to win—just like they did back in the day.

I think we, the loyal members of Jazz Nation, dwell too often on the glories of the past. We wish it could be all pick-and-rolls and give-and-gos and kick outs to Horny for the trey until the seventh seal is broken. But I am here to testify, as Jah as my witness, it ain’t gonna go down like that.

We need to look to the future my brothers and sisters. And I know that when I contemplate the vast sea of what’s to come I find solace in the spiritual gift of prophecy. There is no better way to ponder the season that will be than with some long, prayerful drags on a Jazz Cigarette. So twist one up and watch some pre-season action…trust me—you’ll be glad you did.

And if you are really feeling up to it, invite over a few elders, break out the hookah, and start talking Cougar Football!

Deliver us unto salvation Mail Man!