When spring is upon us. The sun is shining, and the snow has melted. The world turns beautiful in Mormonland. But just as quick as the sun shines away that winter depression, the immediate realization that parking is now a thing of the past and all the beautiful shit you want to see is gonna be all peopled up. Don’t even try to go up in the mountains. Even Hurricane is booked solid for the next 4 months. These words are pronounced differently in Mormonland. The Utah accent is more like a lack of an accent. Like leave it to beaver shit. They have a town called Hurricane, named after a hurricane, but these douchebags pronounce it “Hurrikin”. They say the founder of the town had an accent that sounded like that. Fukin’ stupid if you ask me. It’s fuckin’ “HUR-RI-CANE” asshole! There’s also a place called “Tooele” that they pronounce “Tuella”. They even do the whole west coast thing with the word caramel and take out a whole fucking vowel. “Carmel” THERES TWO FUCKING A’s PEOPLE!!! Then there’s the word “mountains” It’s like they put a little hiccup where the “t” goes. Mou-an. Fuckin weirdos. I can’t talk too much shit cuz we talk funny as fuck in NOLA. We got streets like Tchopitoulas, Calliope and Burgundy that we call “Bur-gundy”. We also say shit like “yall”and “cold drink”.
There's almost like a completely separate community of non-Mormons. And this particular group is chocked full of people that were raised Mormon. The apostate population may outnumber the true Mormons unless they’ve been planted here by the aristocracy. You know like spies. Maybe they report back on what us layfolk are up to and get to live undercover gentile lives. Yet another loophole. However, some communities are welcoming in some subsections of Mormonland. Like motorcycles. Riding a motorcycle out here and you’re automatically part of a club. Not like a 1% biker club but just a motorcycle rider. They all throw this little peace sign wave when passing other riders. I experienced this in Lafayette Louisiana, mostly on the interstate, but New Orleans they don’t really do that shit. Mormonland customs have a way of wearing off on you though. See I’ve gotten so used to the little biker wave that when someone doesn’t wave, I take offense. It’s like moving to the east side from the west. Or visiting Louisiana after assimilating to mormonland. The new normal takes the old normal’s place and next thing you know you’re throwing peace signs at other motorcycles, eating funeral potatoes and saying shit like “Tuella”.
I remember my first pass through Mormonland. I got to that big arch right outside of Moab and couldn’t believe how beautiful it was here. And Moab is pronounced “MO-AB" not “Moab”. I took a note that I wanted to visit someday, because I never had a clue that Utah would be so beautiful. Who the fuck knows about Utah? Dude they fucking know. My first time at Aces High Saloon I saw a sticker that said “Utah sucks. Don’t move here.” I didn’t take it personal. I’m from New Orleans. I’m not a transplant, I’m a refugee. But as soon as I ventured out to see the beautiful landscapes, national parks, and hikes in the summertime I learned about the worse part of Mormonland yet. It’s not the mysterious possibly extraterrestrial race of Whites that we know as the Mormons and the excessive litters of children have. It’s the insane amount of tourist that come here peopling up the place, filling parking lots, creating hours long lines, filling up bathrooms and clogging up the goddamn roads. Campgrounds are booked solid, the highways are just lined with RVs and shit, big vacay housing vehicles that you should need a fukin’ CDL to operate because NOBODY KNOWS HOW FUCKING DRIVE THEM! Oh yeah, you’ll be doing 20 mph in a 70 behind these assholes. It doesn’t do much for my distaste of humans that’s for sure. I know this because I travel these roads for work. And nothing can fuck up a peaceful drive through the mountains like some filthy gang of humans trying to operate oversized vehicles on narrow, curvy inclines. Fuck them. Another thing I know because I travel for work is about the legend of the Mormon Cricket. That’s right, MORMON Crickets.
So, I was driving through Nevada somewhere between the brothel town and Reno. Don’t ask me how I know about the brothel town. Shout out to Riley at Mona’s Ranch, whoop whoop! And I stopped at a rest area in the middle of nowhere. There were these huge crickets everywhere. All over the ground, in the bathroom, all up the walls, everywhere. Swarms of them. I had never seen such a large cricket. We had big ass rhinoceros beetles back home when I was kid, big grasshoppers, big roaches, but I’d never seen huge crickets. I couldn’t imagine that this was a normal everyday thing, so I summoned the great wisdom of google to investigate my discovery. The first thing that popped up was the “Mormon Cricket”. So, what do these big ass crickets have to do with the Mormons? They have their own crickets too? How do these people just keep getting creepier? Yet I know I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface on the weirdness of the cult, but nevertheless, I am consistently amazed. Apparently in 1848 there was a thing Mormons call the Miracle of the Galls. Legend has it that Mormon pioneers were almost taken out by these things. The crickets swarmed the crops and nearly destroyed them all leaving the Mormons without food. But the cult did its creepy freaky prayer magic and just like that, Joseph Smith sent swarms of seagulls to eat up the crickets and now we have Salt Lake City. I know it sounds like bulllshit, but the internet said it so it must be true. And the Mormons probably told them so…
If I was a Mormon cult member, I’d change the spelling of Hurricane and Toole to match its pronunciation. Caramel would also be pronounced as it’s spelled. I’d ban children from public places until they were 25 years old. I’d also encourage motorcycle riders to keep both hands on the handlebars while riding. I see you; I know you’re on a motorcycle too dude. I would maybe put a brothel town in Utah. There would be a Waffle House near every interstate exit. And I’d have the crickets and seagulls knock over every one of those damn RV and clean up our streets. Because these days there are way too many humans and not nearly enough crickets in Mormonland.
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