The Heart of a Broken Story

Lost Devil Sure

2008-11-05T16:15:00.002-08:00

For many, election night came to a bitter sweet conclusion as hope for a tolerant, hate-free society flowing in the wake of Obama's victory gave way to a halting vision of discord with the passage of Proposition 8. Let's piece this one together.

One of the primary contributors to the proposition 8 campaign was none other than the Church of Latter Day Saints, an organization whose member Mitt Romney ran for the Republican presidential nomination. As you probably realize this group is headquartered in Utah, which is situated a seemingly safe distance from the humble hills of California. Yet, their message managed to tumble its way into the valleys and ghettos of this golden state, and ultimately their money and their deceptions swayed the hearts of enough Californians to turn the tide for their bigoted proposition.

My anger and disillusionment about this development is only tempered by the supreme irony of all this. Consider: The Mormon church created a culture of fear around the idea of gay marriage, distorting facts and using the visages of children to play on voters emotions in order that they might restrict the nuptial rights of ordinary citizens of the state of California. Rights that are guaranteed to all Mormons.

This all occurred immediately following federal raids of polygamist mormon compounds in Texas, which were havens of child abuse, statutory rape, and domestic violence. This all followed the arrest of fundamentalist Mormon leader Warren S. Jeffs for his role in marrying underage girls to much older men and his practice of polygamy.

Now, I know that today these cases represent a minority of the Mormon population. Yet, that was not always the case. The Church of Christ of Latter Day Saints was expelled from the state of Illinois for its practice of polygamy.

In 1862, (Republican) Abraham Lincoln signed into law the Morill-Bigomy Act, which made bigomy a felony punishable by a 500 dollar fine or 5 years in prison. At the height of the Civil War, the issue of marriage and the Mormon church were so prevalent as to attract the attention of the national legislature. This act was upheld by the Supreme Court in 1878 and strengthened by the Edmunds Act of 1882, which created a committee to ensure polygamist suppression in Utah. By 1887, 50 percent of the Utah prison population consisted of polygamists. It wasn't until 1890 that a timely and oh so fortunate "revelation" caused the church to ban polygamy, and with much surprise they received statehood in 1896.

So, this "church" that fought so hard for the right to abuse women and force them into abusive polygamist relationships, this "church" that fought tooth and nail to have the right to marry as they wanted to, this "church" whose scum bag of a founder, "god's prophet," Joseph Smith died a bloody death in prison, these are the people who now support an amendment to the US Constitution to ban marriage between same sex couples.

These people should not even be part of the United States let alone have any say over how its citizens are governed. I want to say something like, "I hope your tabernacles burn." But violence has only increased the mormon resolve to oppress women, gays, and children. Thus, I will say that if you claim to be mormon and you claim to have any responsibility as a human being or as an American, please just think for yourself for one minute.

Think about why any human being should be discriminated against because of race or belief or gender. Because the Mormon church's history is one of hate and violence and abusive marriages. This is the kind of thing the church has worked hard to distance itself from. So why do they continue this legacy by being hateful, oppressive, meddling, and bigoted towards loving human beings who want nothing more than to be treated with equality to have the right to marry.

A fanfic that about Joyce the VP

2008-10-30T12:23:00.000-07:00

"You're doing great, really, just hang in there. You let us worry about those poll numbers," said a voice on the other end of the line.

She heard a click, and then flipped her phone shut and set it down on the table next to her bed. She lay atop the duvet and spread her hands out, eventually turning over and letting them explore the cold lump of the empty pillow next to her. Closing her eyes, she began to breathe out a silent prayer, letting familiar words tepidly shape her lips.

The next morning, she got up at 5 AM. She ran on her treadmill as she watched the news, watched some woman's, watched her own face appear at intervals, speaking some strange words. That woman looked good, especially her hair. Joyce let herself smile. These days things were all about permission. This was something Joyce was unaccustomed to. She didn't ask permission to run for mayor. She didn't ask permission when she eloped. God, was that 20 years ago, already? Now she was learning new rules everyday, rules that made no sense. People made fun of her children's names, questioning even that sacred privilege of a mother. Stepping off the treadmill, Joyce looked out the window at the lake in her backyard, "Arizona, what a shithole," she thought. In hours she would be on a plane , another plane, to the unforgiving compound of The Candidate, going to learn another set of rules.

A car picked her up at 7. She sat in the backseat and listened to a faceless 30-something in a suit telling her what she felt about the most recent news out of Pakistan. "How does God let these people stay in power?" she asked.

"Good one," replied the suit. Then he went on talking about the campaign position on Iran.

She let his words float past her, her eyes following them on out the window towards the rich greens and whites of Alaska, God's land, full of his natural bounty. "That's what I believe in," though Joyce. God had given her so much, just like he had to Alaska. Even her youngest child, sweet infant, was a challenge from god. What did Iran have to do with any of this? God's work, that's what she was doing. "Isn't it great?" she said, cutting off the suit's talking point.

"Excuse me?"

"What we're doing for people."

"Well if I didn't believe in it, I wouldn't be here," said the suit with practiced solemnity.

"He doesn't understand," thought Joyce. "None of them do." Steve would. If he were here, if she could spend just an hour with him, without waving and smiling at some lens. If they could talk again, about sports, about hunting, about oil. What she wouldn't give to go fishing and stop pandering to fags and hussies. She closed her eyes and waited for the car to arrive at the airport.

Accept it

2008-06-29T16:53:00.000-07:00

The concept of acceptance is widely heralded. Perhaps every bigoted organization in history has made some claim to be accepting of some value or other. The fact is, "acceptance" like so many other seemingly unblemished human traits is easy to twist into a maxim, a crutch, a knife to separate the "accepted," the "accepting," the "acceptable." To accept anyone or anything is to deny its unacceptability. That is, if you accept a truth, you reject its fallibility. If you accept a person you reject their detractors. And, if you consider yourself to be accepted, acceptable, you set yourself up for stunning disillusionment.