For all their own whining about persecution, those Mormon @$$-Holy-O's sure know how to stick it to everyone else. Now we have Mormon @$$-Holy-O's rampaging across the country making everyone else's home state a stinking hole of Mormon values, just like theirs.
If you see a hole when you’re crossing the road and you fall into it, who is responsible for that — you or the hole?
For my first 23 years, adherence to Mormonism and its whack-job rituals determined my entire existence.
Birthdays were celebrated by ritual advancements: baptism, ordinations, mission. Indoctrination starts early. Jesus wants me for a Sun-BEAM!
Sundays were occupied in ritual remembrance of Jesus’ apocryphal ritual suicide. OMG...again? The guy died 2,000 years ago—get over it already!
In their temples, Holocaust victims' spirits were rescued for eternity through ritual holy handshakes and through-the-veil groping. So were the spirits of all their Nazi murderers. "We interrupt you for this short announcement: The Final Solution is now being played out in Planet Kolob's Celestial City. All interested bigots, please report there immediately. Thank you."
In daily life, simple tragedies like car accidents, cuts and bruises, rabid dog attacks, and speeding bullets were averted through the ritual wearing of holy underwear. Holy underwear, Batman!
The common cold, mental disturbances, and various other maladies, ailments, addictions and afflictions were magically “cured” through ritual incantations: rancid olive oil rubbed into the scalp, and a half-hearted prayer muttered by some uncaring half-worthy Peter Penishood...boy! I feel better already!
But I had a condition no amount of ritual could cure. A condition, it turned out, that was so diabolically natural, common and benign that, having been trapped, bound, and blinded by the craven irrationality of Mormon ritual, I turned myself inside out and damn near almost killed myself trying to excise it. Until one day when I understood that I must choose between living an insane obsessive-compulsive neurosis, or just simply living. My condition fixed me: I stepped sideways and avoided that hole in the road.
Heterosexual Mormons try to claim that being gay is a lifestyle choice, but as with so many other things they’re too Mormy-centric and 19th-century and ignorant and sheltered to know what the hell they’re talking about. The decision is not whether one will be gay or heterosexual. There's no deciding those things.
The choice which must be made is whether or not one will live an authentic life.
Throw the Mormon church out and start living beautifully. Life is too short for stupid ugly junk.
8^D
Ed. Created by Kerry Rutz.
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