So; I’m mildly interested in the fact that Mitt Romney — one of the however-many insolent, petulant, presumptuous megalomaniacs vying to rule your life come ’08 — is a Mormon. So was I! Yep, I was born with both the Mormon gene and the Lutheran gene. However, I guess the Mormon gene was dominant, so I ended up "a Mormon" and was even baptized right here in the Mormon Temple of Oakland. Not that I remember it, of course. Since I was "born a Mormon," I guess that free-will voluntary adoption of the faith was immaterial, and I was baptized as an infant.
Yea, yea; I know. That’s how things were done. No harm intended. Fine, but let’s just keep in mind, from here out, that people have minds for a reason. Let’s at least allow people to develop them independently before indoctrinating them into a religious discipline. …Or, is it…? Ah, yea; righhhhhht. If you do that…oh; well, you get the picture.
Anyway…supposedly, seven of 10 or some other "majority of Americans" (so cozy-cuddly cum-fortin’, innit?…that "majority" word?) are willing to vote for a Mormon. Good. For. Them.
Impressive, I must say. After all, everyone knows that Mormons believe in all sorts of crazy shit — and I aint just talking about the harem of young teenage girls considered the very birthright of some. No, I’m talking about the Joseph Smith thing. You know. There were those heavenly visitations by angels, and then, finally, Moroni, the son of the Nephite prophet Mormon came along with the Golden Plates, Urim and Thummim, and Laban’s sword, which, naturally, Nephi (the original dude) had used to kill Laban himself — which I think was around 600 B.C.
Now, is that all far fetched, or what? And I assure you: I didn’t even try. Do I really need to?
Ya gotta at least understand why some conventional Christian denominations might be put off by all of this nonsense. Pure fantasy. I mean, everyone knows that what really happened is that the archangel Gabriel appeared to Mary to reveal that she would give birth to the Son of God by means of parthenogenesis (no doing the nasty!). And, you know, he was God. And he was the Son of God. And he was a Ghost (albeit a Holy one). But only one, really. Three in one! Makes perfect sense, don’t ya see?
And of course, God — as all powerful being — had to send his son — er, himself — to live a sinless life (by his own definition), to be killed by those whom he was dying for, all so that he can forgive everyone. As should be perfectly logical to anyone, a being powerful enough to create sinful, flawed beings is powerless to overlook their flaws without himself being brutally tortured and killed by those same flawed beings in some 30-year-long process, only to be followed by (so far) two millenniums of religious ritual in recognition of how flawed we all are. Rather than have our (all powerful) creator just un-fuck us, we’ve got the go through the whole process and so forth (aren’t’ the "laws of nature" sumthin’?).
So; can you believe those Mormons? What do they think they’re tying to pull? Do they really think anyone’s dumb enough to believe any of that shit about Moroni?
Update: As Ryan has already pointed out, and as my dear mother lovingly wrote to inform me as well, turns out I wasn’t baptized in the Mormon Church at all. I was "blessed," by my great-grandfather, no less, whom I never knew, have heard nothing but wonders about, and whom I believe was a church elder, or something (but don’t quote me on that, ’cause I’m sayin’ I aint sure). See, I told you I didn’t remember. Typically, lying involves some sort of purposeful deception. Beyond that, I’ll leave it to Ryan to illuminate me as to the important distinction between being blessed and being baptized. I’m sure there are perfectly "logical reasons."
Something else I ought to hit on. Due to the nature of my personality, my kind-of crusade as concerns religion here, and my childhood experiences, regular readers could get the idea I had a rotten childhood, or that my family was less than fantastic. Nothing could be further from the truth. I love my family, and I dismay that I punish them so with a lot of this, but I gotta do what I gotta do. I think they understand. If not, they’re welcome to let me have it this weekend when we’re all sitting around the campfire.