Politics Oh Mormon, My Mormon!
posted by January 28 at 13:09 PMon
When people often ask me—and oh, how they do ask me! —why I insist on hating and hating and HATING (OMG!!!) Mitt Romney—and picking on all things Mormon by extension—- when everyone knows that Mike Huckabee would gleefully wipe his Bible-beating butt with the Constitution and replace it with “JESUS JESUS JESUS!!!” written in the blood of homosexuals on a napkin if he were left alone for half a moment, I tell them, “Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” and run away screaming like a little girl.
But there are reasons. And here is one of them:
Jeremy Stockstad, Champion of the Oppressed. Allow me to explain.
Mormons, as I understand them (and I understand them good and a-plenty) are an oddly kind, generally harmless, good hearted, and clean-livin’ sort of folk; Friendlier than a “Howdy-do!” and honest as an Indian head nickel. Of course they are insane, but so are you. So am I. So what. Mormons are whatcha call good apples, fly-not-hurters, and other jolly hyperbole. Please don’t make me say, “Some of my best friends are Mormons,” for it demeans us both, and this brings us to Jeremy. Jeremy was Super-Mormon.
In high school, Jeremy was a very close friend. He was loyal as an old spaniel and as Mormon as Moroni’s magic underpants. He was a huge geek. He didn’t care one whit that I was gayer than geese and had probably sold my soul to Satan (which were the persistent rumors, and at least half true). I loved him to pieces.
Shortly after his graduation (he was a few years my senior), my friend Jeremy—who volunteered for Special Olympics and collected for MDA and sang in the Mormon Choir with his Mormon girlfriend and NEVER missed a church service, by golly—said to me exactly these words:
“You know, Adrian? I’ve been attracted to guys all my life, and I can still look at another guy and say, ‘Yeah, he’s good looking’, but I love this church, it’s important to me, and I want to do it right, so…”
He was confessing, and digging of course, and I changed the fucking subject. I wasn’t ready to deal with it. Personal reasons.
Shortly thereafter, Jeremy skittered off on one of those predictable and insistent “Missions” that Mormons are always going on, and then he Josheph-Smithed his little LDS butt off to College in Utah. We lost touch, and that was that.
Three months ago I Googled him for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Holy Moroni!
Here is the story as best as I can piece it together: After college, Jeremy moved back to Montana and married a nice Mormon girl (also of my acquaintance—I know them all, I tell you) and before you could say “Golden Tablets!” they squeezed out a brood of Brigham-youngin’s. How nice. But one day Jeremy met an even nicer young man. (You see where this is going, don’t you?) They fell in love. (Exactly.) Jeremy’s beloved church, which allows for millions of extra wives but zero extra husbands, said, “Well, that’s lovely dear, see you in hell,” and his wife? Well. She grabbed up the kids and ran for the hills. Of course.
But that wasn’t all. She was angry. She was spiteful. (And who could fail to understand?) And being a good Mormon girl, taught that innocent buggery is a sin “worse than murder”, she went a little overboard and started to flex the dusty old muscles of “The Montana ‘Deviant Sexual Conduct Laws’” (that STILL somehow exist in that most backwards of States), in a frantic ploy to prevent Jeremy from ever seeing his children again—far be it from me to call any child’s mother a “heinous cow.”
Anyhoozits: Reacting to these gaily singular challenges, or so the story goes, Jeremy stepped so far out of character that he could have fallen off the edge of it. He came flying out of the closet in a determined, very public, and media-rich spectacle. He marched on the State Capitol, roused rabble with the Montana Supreme Court, and shook lapels in the legislature! He scored protesty interviews with local news stations and write-ups in the rags. He hired lawyers. He testified at teary hearings. I don’t know if he ever got to see his kids again, or what the final outcome was (the story trails off…), but, wow. Quiet, polite, thoughtful, geeky, honest, girlfriend-having, big Mormony Jeremy—thundering at The Man, champion of civil rights, fighting for his children and the basic dignity of h’mos everywhere! I was so proud. So proud.
Ahh…Mormons. God love ‘em.
But then the season changed, politics happened, and Mitt Romney blew into the picture like The Devil’s Sunday morning breath, hard hair a-gleaming, demanding to Rule the Free World and hankering to kick some Mexican ass. When I finally started paying attention (let’s be frank, mostly I just cling to my bong and try to forget global warming), I thought to myself, “THIS is a MORMON? You jest.” I looked at him and remembered poor Jeremy, fighting so hard against his entire religion, his family, his rearing (so to speak) and the government to get them to do the simple, decent thing. I thought of the other four million Mormons I’ve known (many of which turned out to be big fags too, for reasons that go far beyond the scope of this work) and I compared them to the helmet headed Anti-Christ I saw on TV that was accusing John McCain in the most scathing of tones of giving “amnesty” to disenfranchised foreigners in need, and swearing that he would NEVER but NEVER (How DARE you?) do anything so basic and humane as that. Amnesty! Jesus wept.
Yes, Huckabee is evil, of that there is no doubt. No question. But we know exactly what to expect from him—he’s very vocal about it. But Romney. Romney. There is something seriously insidious and disturbing about that man—especially for a Mormon. And if a Mormon—a MORMON!—can go as totally rotten as Mitt Romney so clearly has—with his blinding will to power, relentless dishonesty, and streak of corruption so mean it could startle Satan’s accountant’s cat—-well. Something has gone seriously, seriously wrong with that Mormon. Seriously wrong, indeed. And I pray that the freaky American Jesus save us all from it.
I’ll say nothing further.