Chapter 11: Missionary Life


I hope you’re starting to get the picture of how every human upon Earth is right, which makes every one of us wrong.

I hope you might one day understand that sometimes what you might think is good and right, another might think is bad and wrong.

The things that Grandpa knows and is trying his best to explain to you might be hard for you to understand and accept sometimes. You have been brought up in this world and taught the way that world wants you to understand things. “Christopher knows some things” that might not be what you have been taught and have had inculcated (refer to a preceding chapter about this important word about your upbringing) in your mind from the time you were a little child.

I can promise you that what I know is the Real Truth … the only Real Truth. There is no other.

The Real Truth is, you will also know what Grandpa knows … what the Real Truth is … immediately after you …


Yep, the moment that your pre-mortal Self awakens from the dream of mortal life you have been living, your post-mortal Self (who is the exact same person as your pre-mortal Self) will immediately recognize that your entire mortal existence was nothing more than an experience that occurred in your brain—the same brain you had before you connected to a mortal infant’s body, which is the same brain you will continue to have after you disconnect from the mortally aged body (die) that you presently recognize as the only YOU that exists.

You can fight this Real Truth all you want, but it will never change the Real Truth of what it is: things as they really were in the past, things as they really are in the present, and things as they really will be in the future.

There is another option that some of you might be considering: mortals completely end upon death; that there is no pre-mortal life and no post-mortal life. And if you think this way, you’d be closer to the Real Truth than those who believe that who they are presently as a mortal is who they were in a pre-mortal life and who they will continue to be in a post-mortal life.

How and why so many people believe that who Grandpa Christopher was before he was born in (connected to) the infant body of Christopher Marc Nemelka on December 2, 1961, is the same person he will be once Grandpa Christopher’s body ages and eventually dies is important to understand.

First, whenever you are considering Real Truth, reflect back on the advise I gave you about accepting anything as Real Truth, things as they really are. If you cannot see it, smell it, hear it, taste it, or touch it, don’t even think about it because it can’t be real.

If you want to be safe in knowing Real Truth, you must always base your conclusions on empirical evidence, which is best defined as a conclusion based on, concerned with, or verifiable by observation or experience rather than theory or pure logic.

Empirical evidence is the litmus test for Real Truth. If you say that something is a litmus test of something, you mean that it is an effective and definite way of proving it or measuring it.

ALWAYS use empirical evidence as your litmus test of knowing the difference between Real Truth and theory or pure logic (i.e., belief).

Do not trust any theory. Do not trust your own logic.

It is very logical to my LDS/Mormon family that Families Are Forever—the LDS/Mormon catch phrase … a thing that catches people’s attention and makes them want to know more. Many scientists hold strong to the theory of evolution and the Big Bang. It seems logical to them. But if we apply the litmus test for Real Truth of the idea of families being forever, and of the ideas of evolution and a Big Bang that created the universe, the logic fails miserably.

(I’ve touched upon evolution and the Big Bang in preceding chapters and will get back to them later. Let’s talk about Eternal Families for a moment.)

Nothing that you can see, hear, smell, taste, or touch proves that families are forever … and thank the Real Truth for that! How would like to belong to your particular family forever? How would you like your dad to be your eternal patriarch and the head of your eternal family? Most people wouldn’t.

And what about all those divorces … all those two parent families? What does empirical evidence say about these?

Hey Cory! Your daughter, Sarah, along with all those celestial grand babies she had for your eternal family, do not belong to your priesthood line of authority. They belong to Sarah’s husband’s.

Let’s say that all your daughters were righteous LDS/Mormon and had righteous LDS/Mormon priesthood holding husbands. And let’s say that your righteous priesthood holding son-in-laws were part of their own father’s eternal family and priesthood line. Where does that leave yours in the eternities? Oh, in your only son, Cory David, Jr., right? I know, I know … the Lord will work all these kinks out in heaven.

Alrighty then.

But besides this illogical and unempirical belief, religious people who believe in a premortal life have another very important kink to straighten out:

If God created your premortal Self (you’re a spirit child of God) then YOU must have had some sort of body or you couldn’t have had a brain and couldn’t have existed. So you’re created in God’s image as one of His spirit children in a preexistence. You must have looked like a human, or at least like your heavenly parents.

So, if you exist before you existed (preexistence) then whatever you were, whomever you were before you existed, must be the same person you will be after you die.

But the question remains,

How can one pre-exist before one’s existence? If one didn’t exist before one’s pre-existence and one exists after the existence in which they existed previously, what the fuck is existence? But anyways …

Cory, you believe that your God-created, preexistent spirit body entered Cory’s body in 1960, right? Isn’t this the same God-created, preexistent spirit body that will leave Cory’s body when you die?

I know … these are mysteries that you pay 10% of your wages to not have to answer. You pay those whom you believe know these answers so that you don’t have the personal responsibility of finding them out for yourself.

Cory, that’s why you hate me so much, huh? Because I make sense, much more sense, than those from whom you receive your self-worth and value.

If I am right, then everything that you value about yourself, about your religion, about your eternal family is valueless. Then who are you? Who is the REAL YOU?

I’ve always wondered what my dad, Gloria, Cory, and my other LDS/Mormon family members might be like if they were non-religious. I have no doubt that if they were non-religious, they would have never treated me the way that they did because they are religious.

But as Grandpa explained, they had to treat me the way that they did. They had to be angry at me and fight the idea that their lifelong religious beliefs could be wrong. People get angry when they don’t have a good comeback or appear to be less intelligent than the one with whom they become angry. Anger is a way that a person can hide self-doubt and low self-esteem. The physical expression of anger can dominate the emotions of the person to whom the anger is directed.

It was my brother Cory I called in March of 1990, shortly after our father tried to get me arrested in Snohomish, Washington. I sincerely wanted to know what the fuck all that was about. Cory’s response,

“You’re a false prophet!”

Yeah, really!

Now, I want you to consider something here. I’m only doing this to prove why people hate and treat others badly. I do not in any way present the following to mock Cory. I know the REAL Cory. I only wish he did too.

Here is a picture of me and my granddaughter Aydyn. This picture was taken on September 3, 2016, a few minutes before we joined the rest of the Nemelka family at my dad and Gloria’s 50th Wedding Anniversary.

At the time, Cory weighed well towards 300 lbs., was balding and did not look healthy. We are only 1 year apart. It was at this wedding anniversary that I went up to Cory and gave him a hug. We hadn’t spoken for many years. The difference between how Cory’s physical body looked and how mine did was very noticeable.

I am not pointing this out to aggrandize myself or to make Cory look bad. I’m using this as an example of what makes people hate others, or rather, feel uncomfortable in another’s presence. People feel uncomfortable when they do not believe that they are as good as another. When one feels less than another, one tends to find things about the other that supports one’s feelings that he or she is just as good.

“Look at that skank wearing that tight dress! She’s probably slept with every man in town!” women might say about another woman who they know looks pretty good in that dress.

I was my usual self at the Wedding Anniversary, gregarious, outgoing, and personable to all. I went from table to table greeting family members and many of dad’s and Gloria’s friends of the past 50 years.

There I was, the False Prophet, working the room, not to preach anything to anyone, but to truly show all those present that I was sincerely glad to see them and appreciated them coming to celebrate our parent’s wedding anniversary.

I can’t imagine how Cory perceived me that day. But it is reasonable to assume that the only way that he could perceive me was to convince himself that he was right with God and I was not.

In the next chapter I will attempt to explain why this happens in our mortal minds—why we put others down to raise ourselves up—why it is a normal and acceptable thought process.

For now,

This self-protection is a normal reaction of our mortal brain reacting to inequality and self-loathing. It is a feeling that arises involuntarily—one of those random thoughts that pops into our head.

What I am trying to say here is that being mean to others is normal, justified, and is perfectly inline with the reality of who we are and why we exist. Being mean is something that few of us can avoid. “Being mean” is when we do something to or think something about another person whom we want to demean so that we feel good about ourselves. If everyone was okay with who they are, no one would be mean. There would be no reason to be mean. Random mean thoughts would not pop into our head.

I bet if one were to ask Barry Bright or Harry “the Hulk” Quinonez why they wanted to beat me up in High School, they’d probably respond something similar to, “Chris thought he was all that and a bag of potato chips!”

Kids want to fight other kids when one of them feels that their presence around other kids (their peers) isn’t as important or valued as much as the one they want to fight. Kids feel that if they can fight another kid and whip him, it will prove their value and worth.

I was the new kid in town, tanned from the San Diego sun and an athlete. From their perception and perspective, I came in and took over the school and thought I was hot shit. My presence devalued theirs and everything that the kids who had grown up together at West High felt was theirs to own. And if their girlfriend thought I was cute … Oh my! Beating my face in a bit might make me a little bit less cute.

Little did these boys know then that I was praying to my Heavenly Father to let me quit going to school. I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t want to be hated. I didn’t see myself as anything special, in the least.

If I had only known then what I know now. I would have understood why it was important for me to go through those experiences. I needed to be hated and threatened. I needed the experiences in order to prepare me to fulfill my role as a True Messenger.

A lot of people want to fight me now. A lot of people want to kill me. A lot of people hate me. And if the people with whom I deal with on a daily basis while I am living in Europe knew who I was, they would hate me too.

I mainly deal with people who are marginalized and not very successful in life. If these knew my views on religion, especially the popular Catholic Church headquartered in Rome, I would be killed. The Italians will never discover who I am. To the Italian people, I am a long-haired, bearded, smily, very nice man who looks a lot like Jesus would look as an older man … But anyways.

Italians are some of the proudest people on Earth, and also some of the most religious. Italy is the birth place of Christianity. Italy was once the greatest nation on Earth when the Great Roman Empire ruled the world. Italy sided with Germany and Japan during World War II. The Italians lost that fight. But the nation of Italy was not actually beaten by the United States and its allies. The Italians knew that they were going to lose the fight, and once they started losing, instead of getting beat soundly and losing their sovereignty and control of their nation, they overthrew their leader, Mussolini, and joined the Americans against Germany. To protect their self-worth of being Italians, they supported the strongest and most powerful.

If I asked an Italian about the war, their response would be that the Americans couldn’t have won without their help. If they hadn’t switched sides in 1943 and begin to fight with the Allies, the Axis powers (Germany, Italy, and Japan) would have won. Yeah, really!

My brother Cory will never let me beat him and lose his own sovereignty (supreme power and authority as my older brother). He will never acknowledge me as his True Messenger and one who knows more than he does. Cory must be a patriotic American and support the United States of America. He must be a member of God’s only true church upon Earth. He must believe that the LDS/Mormon people are a righteous people who keep the statues and judgments of the Lord, and all his commandments. He must believe that I have judged them and that I am wrong and am following the devil. Cory must remained convinced that he is right and that I am wrong or he will lose all the self-worth and value that he has received as compensation for working for the god of this world.

My mentors wrote a story about Cory, me and my other brothers … sort of. Their story is perfectly exemplified in my own life. They would tell a story about four brothers, Laman (Mike), Lemuel (Cory), Nephi (Christopher) and Sam (Jody). Nephi would come to know the Real Truth about all things. Laman and Lemuel would mock their younger brother for his claims. Sam would remain a silent supporter of his elder brother, Nephi, his entire life.

The two eldest brothers were convinced that their church and the members of their church were righteous and that their younger brother, who thought he was called by God to lead them away from the Church, was a manipulator, deceiver, and had judged the Church.

Mike and Cory would say,

“And we know that the people who are in the land of Utah are a righteous people; for they keep the statutes and judgments of the Lord, and all his commandments, according to the law of Brigham Young; wherefore, we know that they are a righteous people; and our brother hath judged them, and would lead us away if we would hearken unto his words.” (Compare 1 Nephi 17:22)

If given the chance, they would have beat me up and supported me being arrested and jailed when our father made his attempt. If Jody would have actually supported me, they would have disowned him too.

Not only once did my dad, Mike and Cory tell me that I was dead to them. Yep, they killed me in their minds. They had to. I could not be right or they would be wrong. If I am right, then their religion is one of the most deceptive and destructive psychological forces responsible for much of the division and meanness of this world.

Isn’t it mean to tell a gay person that he or she is disobeying God and that they will suffer eternal hell outside of an eternal family unit if they do not repent of having homosexual relations?

Isn’t it mean to tell a person that they cannot belong to an eternal family unit unless the person goest to the temple and is sealed; and that the person cannot go to the temple and be sealed as a eternal family unless one does it the way that God wants it done: through the power of the LDS/Mormon priesthood authority?

From December 1980 to April 1982, I was in Buenos Aires, Argentina being mean to the Argentinian people.

I was serving an LDS/Mormon mission and telling everyone that I could that their religion was wrong and of the devil, and that they needed to repent, be baptized a Mormon, pay 10% of their income, stop drinking alcohol and coffee, attend church every Sunday, accept that God only talks to the President and Prophet of the LDS/Mormon Church and to no other, that they needed to prepare themselves to go to God’s temple and receive the saving ordinances, along with many other things, or …

… they would suffer in hell and lose their families.

That fucking shit was just downright mean!

When I got to Argentina in February 1981, I was greeted by our mission President, Joseph L. Bishop. President Bishop was one of the most successful mission presidents of his day. During one of my first Mission Conferences, President Bishop would praise the missionaries for all of our baptisms. He actually said at the Conference, “You’re making me look good in Salt Lake City!” Yeah, really!

Bishop was only my Mission President for a few months. He was so successful in Buenos Aires that shortly after he returned to Utah, the Church General Authorities would ask him to write a book called, The Making of a Missionary. Bishop would become the President of the Missionary Training Center (MTC) where all new missionaries go before they are sent into the missionary field. I spent 8 weeks in the MTC. There, we were taught how to be mean to others, cut down other religions and tell people they were going to hell because they were following the devil … but in a nice, politically correct way. Yeah, really!

Although I saw President Bishop as somewhat of an arrogant leader, he seemed to be in the class of all the other LDS General Authorities. Who was I as a young missionary to question him, or question God for placing him where God needed him to be. Luckily for me, a very humble, Wendell Hall, would replace Bishop. President Hall was the exact opposite of President Bishop: simple, not physically attractive or overbearing, just a very nice man.

And more luck for me, the Falklands War broke out between Argentina and Great Britain in April of 1982.

Before the war broke out, I came to know the family de Olexen of Paso del Rey, Barrio Asuncion, Moreno (“Facundo Quiroga 1372” was their actual street address). I wasn’t mean to them. I couldn’t be mean to them. I did not teach the Olexen family anything about God’s church. The mother, Estefania Piotroski de Olexen (“Fany”) became my best friend. I would know no other women my entire life (until I met Patricia Ward in California in 2002) that I would see as the epitome of the most wonderful human being I had ever known. Fany’s daughter, Alicia, was one of the most incredible girls I had ever met. I cannot explain how good, pure, and outright wonderful both Fany and Alicia were. Her father and two brothers, Ricardo and Fabian, were also wonderful people.

As ironic as it might seem, I had met an incredible family, and not one time was I ever inspired to teach them the Gospel of Jesus Christ, according to the LDS/Mormons. I just couldn’t be mean to them.

Fany owned a small vegetable and fruit stand at her home. She had a list of a lot of poor people who owed her money. The Olexens were very poor. But I had never met a woman with the sense of humor and as kind and strong as Fany Olexen. Later in life I would send Fany as much money as I could every month so that she would use it to pay off the credit purchases she was owed by those poorer than she. When it was discovered that I was sending money to the Olexen family in Argentina, oh, my, the rumors began. Many believe that I had sex with Alicia while on my mission that resulted in a child … and that’s why I was sending money to Argentina all those years. Yeah, really!

There’s no doubt that I fell in love with the Olexen family. There’s no doubt that I thought Alicia was one of the best girls I could possibly have as a wife. I wanted to take her back to the United States after my mission. But I did not have sex with her. She was fifteen years old. What I did do was promise her that I would come back for her.

When the Falklands War broke out, the United States sided with England. Our proselyting was reduced and we were told not to go out into the streets and expose ourselves to the hatred that the Argentinians began to have for Americans. About that time, I was assigned a Greenie Companion (brand new missionary). Unable to preach openly, and restricted in our activities, I decided to take my new companion to see the Olexen family … yes, not only so I could see Fany, but Alicia too. I would leave my companion with the other family members and isolate myself with Alicia, which was against the rules. Yes, we kissed. But that was all. I don’t think my companion ever saw me kiss Alicia, but he knew I liked her a lot.

Long story short, my Greenie wrote home about my affair with Alicia. His parents told the Church authorities, and they contacted President Hall. I was summoned to the mission headquarters in Buenos Aires.

Now, here’s where it gets eerily weird. While I was waiting for my meeting with the President, not really knowing exactly what was happening, the phone rings at the Mission Headquarters. No one was available to answer, so I did.

“Hola. Las oficinas de la Mision Norte,” I said.

“I need to get a hold of Elder Chris Nemelka,” my father’s voice boomed over the phone.

“Dad?” I responded incredulously.

“What the hell do you think you are doing? You don’t date girls as a missionary!” he yelled … yeah, yelled.

My dad proceeded to tell me that he was contacted by Church authorities who were concerned about my dating a girl. He angrily filled me in on the bullshit that he was told by Church authorities. I assured him that the information was not correct, that I was seeing a girl but nothing bad happened. Well, to the Mormon God, kissing a girl while you’re on your mission is bad. I promised Dad I would behave from that time on.

I entered President Hall’s office and ripped on him for assuming that I was fucking a girl. In turn he ripped on me for dragging a new missionary to the Olexen home so that I could see a girl. I told him everything that had happened between me and Alicia and he was satisfied that no harm was done.

At this time, the LDS/Mormon Church had just announced that missionaries would now serve one year and half long missions instead of two. I hadn’t quite reached the 18 months when the fiasco about Alicia happened. Since we couldn’t do much missionary work anyway because of the war, President Hall and I discussed me leaving earlier with an honorable release. It was probably the best because I still wanted to see Alicia. President Hall arranged for me to leave a month early.

Now here’s the greatest irony of all:

While the LDS/Mormon leaders were worried about one of their missionaries kissing a girl in Argentina, MTC President Joseph L. Bishop was calling young sister missionaries into his office and sexually assaulting them. Yeah, really!

Once I became who I am, the True Messenger and Author and Proprietor of The Sealed Portion of the Book of Mormon; after the true God had chosen me; after the “Three Nephites” and “John the Beloved” had chosen me over every other LDS/Mormon priesthood holder, even over every General Authority of the Church, the Church leadership had no choice but to make me a monster, make me unworthy of church membership, and make it appear that there was a reason why the devil was able to enter into and possess my soul on June 16 1987 …

I kissed a girl …

And I like it.

This was never the way I planned Not my intention … Lost my discretion It’s not what, I’m used to Just wanna try you on I’m curious for you Caught my attention

You girls are so magical Soft skin, red lips, so kissable Hard to resist so touchable Too good to deny it Ain’t no big deal, it’s innocent

I kissed a girl and I liked it.

Cory never went on a mission. His son, Cory David, Jr. never went on a mission.

Cory is destined to go to the Celestial kingdom where he will join our father in his eternal family unit.

But because I kissed a girl on my mission, I’m going to hell.

Now, that’s just fucking mean!