Because I was bored this morning, and avoiding those pesky revisions, I was Web surfing when I happened across a Web site that had Trapped by the Mormons on it. Now, I’ve explained that I took this name from a campy old silent movie that was pretty silly, even though many people have chosen to believe that I am trying to say I am actually TRAPPED by the Mormons. They send me nasty emails that say, “There are millions of people who want the true gospel of Jesus Christ, we sure don’t need to trap a skanky ass bitch like you.” But in Mormonspeak, so it’s more like, “There are millions of people who want the true gospel of Jesus Christ, we sure don’t need to keep an A-POS-TATE on our roles.”
Anyway, I found this site that stated they are REMAKING the movie Trapped by the Mormons. Hmmm. Are they sure ONE wasn’t enough?
It actually sounds kind of amusing. The woman being lured to Mormonism through hypnosis is actually being played by a drag queen. This may sound far fetched, but have you SEEN the pictures of Brigham Young’s wives?? I swear, some of them shaved alongside Brigham.
Anyway, I didn’t hear about this movie before, so I’m guessing it won’t be mentioned in the next Academy Awards, but hey, I thought it was amusing.
My favorite new friend. I perused your blog and kill an hour at work. I must say that I thoroughly enjoyed your writing but feel that you are to restrained. I can understand why you are restrained, living behind the Zion curtain and having be figurative beaten by the omnipresent authoritarian cult of Joseph Smith. Although I don’t live in the land of Brigham Young, I have had a few encounters with the Cult that endears me to the your writings.
I always had a problem with a group that professes to honor family so much, but actively destroys any family they can recruit from. That they are willing to destroy the relationship between children and parents, brother and sister for the sake of getting one more rube on the church rolls. To invite them to their daughters eternal union, then make them sit on the door step like beggars and heathens. Then when the Cult ends up with a destitute person, saddled with 5 children and no earthly husband, (but will be reconciled on a planet near the star Kolob) that has been shunned by their family because of the turmoil wrought by their conversion and then the attempted conversion of the rest of the family, the Cult, no longer waiting to support them, tells this poor soul, they need to seek help from their family. Seek the financial help of her family so she can continue to give 10% of that help back to the coffers of the cult.
Having given up their natural family for their new shinny Mormon family, going against their father’s wishes they are lost. Lost like Chava, Tevye’s third daughter in Fiddler on the Roof. Tevye ripped his garment and shunned her for leaving with a Russian a godless communist, one of them who harm the Jew of Anatevk.
Like Chava, who will never be accepted among the Russian because she is Jewish, and will never be accepted back among the Jew whom she betrayed.
This poor woman, without support from anyone in the world, because she listened to the lies of the shinny eye, young earnest missionary Elder, who jiggled the Mormon lies with a promise of security and wealth with the hint of sex thrown in by the proximity of young men, converting young women. But only if she kowtows’ to all the male authoritarian in the Mormon church. Her eternal husband, the president of the Ward, the Bishop, chosen apostles and the living profit. No matter how many of her dead Jewish relatives she baptize and no matter how dedicated she it to her tithing, no matter how many of her sons and daughters she send out on secret missions of conversion, she will always be that harlot that divorced her husband on earth living behind the Zion Curtain.
Obviously I am conflating a relative and a fictitious character from a Broadway musical, but it often seems like a tragic drama.
The hint of sex thing I mentioned above is as real as it comes. My sister, after her recruitment, attempted to pull in the rest of the families with an endless parade of missionary coming by and invitation to her siblings to attend youth functions at the ward. I agreed to attend the “lessons.” I arrived at the local ward and was greeted by two young women I had never met before. Alone with the two of them in a small meeting room, I asked where are the Elders, I thought I would be meeting with them.
“We are Sisters,” they explained, like the Elders, on missions themselves and they were going to be giving me the lessons that night.
“I never saw you riding around town on bikes.” I commented.
It turned out that they got a car.
Even at the young age of 17 I got it, they weren’t there just to teach, but to entice. Now how slick is that.
I listen and agreed with the precepts and they built the lessons. At one point they said they should stop. I said why? I have no place to go, let’s hear what you have to say.
With each step in the lesson the question was asked of me, “do you feel this is true?” Not do I believe, not are the facts right, but do I feel this can be or do I feel it is true?
Funny way of putting it.
“Yeah, that feels true.” I answered through the night.
Very energetic these young women. Good looking too. It was nice to be cloistered with them. The odor of soap and the fall of their long hair. Despite the long dresses and high buttoned shirts, their womanhood was evident and enticing.
Then the mood was broken. I said, no, I don’t feel that is true. That I didn’t feel that Joseph Smith had talked with the angels, Jesus and was a prophet of god.
Good night they said.
“Wait, isn’t there more?” I asked.
Yes there is, but we can’t go on because you don’t feel that Joseph Smith is a prophet, talked with angles and found the golden tablets.
“But I want to hear more.” I wanted to hear their truth.
I was back outside in the cool night air, to walk home under the street lights of the neighborhood streets. I never seen or heard from those sisters again. I guess there was only one shot to feel that it was true, to drink the lure of a fecundity in the bosom of fictitious precepts supported by well meaning people who think they are Christians.
John