There are two kinds of thirty-something North American Mormons: those who can complete the phrase, "And if you want to study a Mormon, I'm a _______"—and those who can't. If you can, chances are you were a middling-sized kid in the late seventies someplace along the Mormon corridor. During your early childhood, your parents acquired a cassette tape from Brite Music, a multi-level-marketed music production company. And at that moment, most of the neural networks in your hippocampus—neurons you might later vainly wish to devote to Bayes' theorem, or the Krebs cycle, or the location of your car keys—were forever captured by the lyrics and melodies of Janeen Jacobs Brady.
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