Romantisme in the WasteLand

My base camp/staging area for my jaunt to Lake Powell was the city of St. George, Utah. I took to cruising/wandering the main strip and this White Building all lit up caught my eye. So like a curious cat that needed to be killed I decided to check out the White Building.

At first I thought the White Building might be a government building like the Los Angeles City Hall. But as I got a closer look it said St. George Temple. Temple? What are Jews doing in the middle of Nowhere, Utah setting up a temple? To answer my questions, I decided to enter the visitor's center near the entrance at the front gates. I said my "hellos" to the elderly caretaker gentleman, as I started looking around at the exhibits.

After reading the captions next to the exhibit, I learned the Temple was built by the followers of the Church of Latter Day Saints, Mormons. Panicky, I said to my self I have to leave before its too late. It was too late, someone had eyed me for being a non-LDS and came forward to proselytize my ass into being a Mormon.

I was ready for any brainwashing . I had already deprogrammed my self from the Catholic Church at the tender age of 7 by playing hooky all through out Sunday school. So by the time my confirmation was supposed to take place the teachers said I had never taken any classes and was not eligible for confirmation. My parents were dumbfounded and aghast.

But I met my match that evening. Her name was Euget Tronnar. A French social worker doing missionary work in St. George, Utah. Why did she have to be French? I dig French women: Audrey Tautou, Isabelle Huppert, Catherine Deneuve, etc. She was a brunette, with a supple figure and she smelled nice.

I have a familiarity with these types of situations, its like the pretty sales girl who makes her hard sales pitch and we all know sex sells.

"So what do you think we do in the temple?" she asked with her lovely French accent.

Orgies was the first answer that came to my mind. Burnt offerings, human sacrifice, deflowering vestal virgins were some of my likely responses. But instead I said, "You pray?"

"That's not the only thing we do in the temple," she replied. Oh, so this how she was going to draw my interest. Guess what we do in the temple? But what I really wanted to know was her own personal conversion into becoming a Mormon. Tell me of the the time when heroin addiction had sunk you so low you were whoring your ass on the Paris streets, or the time when ennui and depression had so blackened your life the only option was sticking your head in an unlit gas oven, or the time when you were made a hopeless dungeon slave. But Mormonism came into your life and saved your from the dregs. Where was the redemptive value of being a convert to the Church of LDS? She blew this inquiry off and went on with her Disneyeque sales pitch.

Model of the Temple and that little flash is the summer home of Brigham Young.

Have been going to the gym Jesus? Because you look so big and muscular. What do you do to make yourself look so big? "Take on the burden of all men's sins" you say. Looks too heavy for me, man. I'll leave it to the religious professional like Jimmy Swaggart.