SAINTS OF SATIRE
When it comes to sacrament talk testimony rankings you'll find (somewhere above food storage but below repentance) the hands-on-hips declaration; "now I know God has a sense of humor." You can recognize it because it is always followed by a mandatory chuckle from the congregation. But what exactly delights a deity? What can make a god giggle? According to 2 Kings, bald jokes are out of the question, at least if you're a child that can't outrun a she-bear. Is it a sin to be like Sariah in Genesis and laugh within ourselves when faced with the more drastic, peculiar-people-type behaviors? Perhaps, the more pressing question is how unholy does humor have to be to keep us from getting into heaven? Luckily, we have a city of satirists sacrificing themselves to determine the answer to this grand experiment.
But we'll get to them later. First, let's talk about me. This is going to be a bit of a confession. Before you judge me, it's not my fault that we don't have Catholic-style confessionals. Bishop's offices don't have as cool of lighting, and poor Prodigal Press has made the tragic mistake of giving me a platform. Now you all have to deal with it. After turning in my second academic paper about Shakespearean dick jokes as they apply to Provo dating, I looked in the mirror with an addict’s eyes and realized that I may just have a problem.
What is this all-consuming drive to display the absurdity of ourselves? Could we even escape it if we tried?
That was too meta of a question for me to handle on a Tuesday afternoon, so I told my recording angel to shove it in the footnotes of my life in six-point font so that I could promptly avoid answering it. Now, I have begun seeking the wisdom of the Provo saints of satire, hoping against all reason that they can provide me with an explanation, or at least, good company.
"I think the best thing anyone can do at a university, or any place, is just not taking it so seriously," shared Isabella Vaclaw, an editor for the Alternate Universe. The Alternate Universe (@alternateuniversebyu) have stories that cover everything from fry sauce flavored products at the BYU Creamery to unabashed critiques on Cosmo’s bizarre human feet. While the stories may technically be fictitious, they speak to the BYU student soul in a way that feels indisputably true.
According to the authority of the Family Home Evening Resource booklet, “Humor can ease tension, relieve uncomfortable or embarrassing situations, change attitudes […] and add sparkle to life […] Proper humor is flavored with understanding.” I’m not entirely sure why this definition seems to be pulled straight from a LaCroix or Goop Instagram caption, but I think it is on to something. Provo certainly has its share of tension, discomfort, and embarrassment. Receiving relief from those tribulations is truly a balm of giddy Gilead.
"Be able to laugh at yourself!" Vaclaw prescribes. It’s certainly advice worth considering. Young adult life is stressful. We are constantly navigating multiple areas of adjustment. Over the past two years we've juggled stressors of pandemic proportions, made life-changing personal career and academic decisions, and paced through the Wilk looking for one stupid available booth on the stupid second floor so we could eat our stupid Wendy's. Our circumstances can throw us into a world of unchecked emotions, and humor can be an incredible outlet.
"Provo is a really goofy place. It's kind of weird to ignore that goofiness," Vaclaw continued.
Goofy? You call valuing family to the point of having our married student housing nicknamed "the rabbit hutches," goofy? Actually, when I write it out that way, I think I see the point. When asked if Vaclaw would have been involved in similar projects if she attended another university, she stated, “For sure, but BYU is nice because the content to be satirized is so extreme here. I don’t know if at another university we would have enough content to put out articles every day.”
It’s true. We exist in the bizarre intersection of religion, college frivolity, and whatever alien culture Cosmo clawed out of. Our little corner of the valley is absolutely drenched in stand-up material! And yet, there are no officially recognized humorous publications on campus.
That's where publications like the Alternate Universe come in, bravely filling the barren gap of Brigham-themed banter. And, now, Provo is filled with many of these vigilantes of humor: social media accounts dedicated to satire, parody, bad date stories, and bizarre cultural nuances that simply exist nowhere else.
But the good work isn’t always easy. “Generally speaking because BYU is a private religious university, you [...] feel like you need to walk on eggshells when you’re making fun of yourself,” admitted Vaclaw. “No one really wants to make fun of BYU, or it’s not comfortable [to do so] sometimes.” She expressed that the comedy groups at BYU often feel restricted, but on the brightside Vaclaw believes that “Alternate Universe and other news sources, accounts, clubs, whatever that aren’t backed by BYU have a lot more creative freedom to be funnier and also tell more truth. So just, a slight middle finger to BYU.”
Elder Richard L. Evans once said, “There is both dignified and undignified humor. There is raucous, loud-mouthed humor, uncouth humor. There is evil, offensive humor. And there is high-minded, delightful humor.” We asked ten local Instagram parody/humor publications to arrange themselves by what descriptions they identified with most in Elder Evans’ quote.
As you can see here, Provo satirists identify with many sections of Elder Evan’s quote (although, there is an obvious undersupply of “evil” publications). Even so, the mission of these publications is essentially the same: to provide connection and critique in an accessible, “delightful” way. Humor can be an effective mechanism to communicate concerns to people who might not have considered them otherwise.
Let’s consider the work of BYU Ratlickers (@byu_ratlickers). The BYU Ratlickers page was started at the height of the pandemic by BYU students Rachel and Lucie. The project started as a creative expression of frustration with how the public health crisis was being handled locally. The account posted photos of “ratlickers,” a renewed bubonic-plague era term to refer to anti-maskers. While this may not seem like satire, it certainly falls within the parameters of surveillance parody. Rachel shared that the account focused on “using humor to get students to be safe and conscientious.” With tensions reaching fever pitch around the topic of COVID-19, the BYU Ratlickers account delivered a serious message in a way that was accessible to a wide range of local viewership.
Humorous accounts can effectively bring awareness to pressing issues in the Provo community. An account dedicated to Provo’s Worst Dates (@provosworstdates) posts submitted stories about cringey romantic encounters that occur in the unique world of Provo dating. These posts may seem like they only function for entertainment, but the admin of the account believes that they are also doing important work. “We really need to teach people about consent,” they shared. Sure enough, the comment threads on the account are full of people discussing the importance of boundaries and the ramifications of problematic dating behavior. The admin shared that they hope the page inspires its followers to “do their own research on sexual harassment and assault!” Moreover, they hope followers will “make an active effort to be more respectful to their date and take precautionary measures when going on dates with people they do not know.” It can be difficult to have meaningful, open, and effective conversations about topics like consent. This is especially true on a large-scale community level. Often, people will ignore what they feel does not apply to them. "Provo’s Worst Dates" facilitates these discussions with stories that garner widespread interest. The account brings awareness to how prevalent these issues are in the Provo community and how important it is for everyone to be involved in these conversations.
Critiquing and promoting connection may seem like opposing forces. However, satire allows for community bonding to occur across the spectrum of opinions by creating a space to laugh together. Mormcore (@mormcore) is an “earnest satire” page dedicated to “[making] people laugh and sometimes think.” From locust-seagull tarot cards to a pedigreed pet seer stone, Mormcore encourages its followers to reconsider their assumptions about the interplay between sacredness and culture. “I want people to reconsider what they call sacred and what they call profane, and I also want people to normalize earnest appreciation for dorky local things. Not everything needs to be ironic, just like not everything needs to be holy.” The account also highlights the shared experiences of our local community to promote connection. “It's my hope that more people can get along across a spectrum of positions, unified by comedy and by a shared appreciation of the things that define us in this goofy culture.”
Another meme page titled CTRhaha (@ctr_haha) shared that their work is often sentimental: “I try to be a fun place for people to be reminded of the gospel and the upbringing we all have in common as well as a place to bear my testimony occasionally. I want people to judge less and love more.”
Humor is essential for helping navigate the emotional turmoil of everyday life, however, the humor that has found a home in Provo provides more than mere individual stress relief. These accounts work to promote open-minded conversation and bring awareness to potential cultural failings, all while entertaining the local community. Comedy can help us to critique and consider, but it can also allow us to find our common ground.
The good news is that the next time you're staring at your apartment fridge and questioning how so many curly-fonted wedding announcements can spawn overnight, you’ll know you're not alone. Together we can embrace all of the peculiar, frustrating, and brilliantly unique parts about our life here in Provo. Satire is one way we can stomp on our soapboxes in a way that still “sparkles” with connection, community, and understanding.