Jane and I went to Cedar City, Utah for a short working vacation. I wanted to see if I could buy into a vacation home away from Henderson, Nevada, a respite from the blandness of that community. I wanted a place that had seasons, rain, snow, mist, fog, as varietal as wines. I am writing this in the hotel lobby of the Crystal Inn late at night, restless, anxious, can’t sleep and the air conditioning hum in our room is driving me batty.
In the morning, on Sunday, we will drive out to Cedar Breaks, a national park that is said to be geologically beautiful and from there out to Brian Head, a recreational area that gets an abundance of snow which makes me associate toThe Shining. We were searching for a small condo. I can’t ski, and at 73 in a few weeks who needs that lunacy; this trip perhaps is a fantasy, no, it is a fantasy, but it serves to get me away from the blandness of Nevada. (Odd, but years ago I would be writing these night notes on foolscap and a pen but here I am composing on a monitor. Have I lived much too long?)
The late night is making me woozy, although I had two cups of coffee and I can’t sleep as well.Our first evening in Cedar City had its moments and I was introduced to what I term a Mormon Martini in the Depot Grill on Main Street. The food was good. Jane ordered her favorite, a Grey Goose martini with an olive. Here we both quickly noticed that the drink was not quite up to standards. The glass was not brimming with hooch and appeared malnourished. Asking the waitress who had the face of a fat Grace Kelly why the drink seemed to lack in force, for Jane had sampled it and found it wanting, we were informed that the booze was measured out exactly, that the alcohol was dispensed to a set amount. She further told us that here in Mormon country that was prescribed by the restaurant, at least in this one; in other words we paid the full amount for the drink although it did not measure up as a drink.
So we came to understand as we fled the North Korean mind control police that our drinks were monitored and prescribed; we later heard this night from a restaurant manager that here in Cedar City if you want beer with a shot of whiskey you must first drink one or the other before getting more from mommy. You are not allowed to serve two drinks at the same time to a customer before the customer finishes one, or you can only have desert if you finish your supper. Ah, conditions.
Besides digesting our meal we had to digest what had happened to our minds. At least I thought that the menu should have a disclaimer about all this for the tourist or newcomer to cult land. And then we searched the town for a decent cup of coffee, for this same waitress informed us that coffee was served in her restaurant in what amounted to be expresso cups. Yes, coffee was served in what amounted to an expresso cup, for it is a “stimulant.” We both assumed that this is part of Mormon doctrine as they are not allowed to drink coffee, which means that you are not allowed to drink coffee, ah, there’s the rub. Like all religions we must hear their evangelical message whether we like it or not. Curious, why do repressive regimes seem always to be in beautiful country, like Germany or Utah? Is there some kind of twisted relationship?
Like addicts searching for a fix we found coffee and pastry in our own hotel where we struck up a conversation with the restaurant manager who had left Las Vegas about eleven years ago for his own reasons, but had experienced for himself the Mormon quirks. He disabused our notion that we were being alcoholically Mormonized. He felt that they were just scrimping on booze, which also made sense as well. It depends on how you see it, for it could be a blend of both. He shared how he came to Cedar City and came across the disavowal of coffee as a stimulant in a local convenience store. When ordering a container of joe the manager refused to serve him that. Stand back and consider. No coffee because it is part of our cult and here in cult land you must follow our belief systems. I told the manager that substantiates my belief why Romney sucks in bed.
All through this charade Jane and I were laughing at the lunacy of it all, and I mentioned to her that the Stepford Grace Kelly had no idea she was a conditioned slave. Then I had the chilling feeling of what it must be like to “live” in a repressive regime anywhere in the world. I would die off quickly, given my personality and high blood pressure. I don’t eat shit. However, it is compelling, is it not? to travel 187 miles from Nevada and to come upon this state of Mormon mind. All through history men have tried to tell other men how to live. Mormonism was the wet dream of the charlatan Joseph Smith and what a load of crap it is. Unfortunately if you enter crapland hold your nose while you get out as soon as possible.
Joke: what do you get if you cross a Mormon with a Scientologist? Answer: a Mengele martini.
