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  • Friday, November 16, 2007

     

    Exterminating Angels of Moroni
    "And you know what they call a... a... a
    Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris? "


    Donning our Drudge fedora today we learn that serial wife collector and dog abuser Mitt! Romney was plotting to be Supreme Elder of these Sacred United States of Utah LLC back when he was still doing missionary work in Paris at the tender age of nineteen. But, like all young people, he was impatient with the slow pace of things and the lack of action. And then one day a Tarantino movie broke out:
    And he was eager to move up. After a promotion in early 1968, Mr. Romney complained that he was still subordinate to a fellow missionary.

    “I went into the president’s office and said: look president, ‘ith eitha you orh me that is goin to run thith place,’” he wrote to a friend, again imitating a cartoon character. He said he got nowhere, adding: “Really, it’s not that bad — it’s just that I feel like I’ve been broken.”

    Mr. Romney’s counterpart, Joel McKinnon, now president of a mission in Montreal, recalled: “He just had a million ideas a minute and couldn’t wait to try something new all the time.” When his suggestions were rebuffed, “He was a little frustrated, like he was working with a garden slug,” Mr. McKinnon said.

    Just a few weeks later, though, Mr. Romney and Mr. McKinnon were thrust into new roles. Mr. Romney was at the wheel of car involved in a head-on collision on a country road, killing the wife of the mission president. Mr. Romney, who was not at fault in the accident, was knocked out — even mistakenly pronounced dead at the scene — but quickly recovered. When the president went back to the United States, Mr. Romney and Mr. McKinnon were left in charge of the other missionaries for three months.
    Of course, a fall guy was needed:
    The driver of the car that hit Romney, according to an account in a local newspaper at the time, was a 46-year-old man, Albert Marie, from Sireuil. Marie, according to French Mormons who responded to the accident, was a Catholic priest; in an interview this spring, a priest at the parish in Sireuil confirmed that the church's former pastor, now deceased, was Albert Marie. Many of the Mormons familiar with the accident say they believe that the priest was inebriated at the time of the crash but that assertion could not be confirmed. The priest was traveling with his mother, Marie-Antoinette Marie, and a 48-year-old woman, Marguerite Longué, neither of whom could be located.
    A "drunken Catholic priest" . Yeah, right. As if. Next thing you know they'll be making up some ridiculous story about how he also had a taste for some "altar boy lovin' ". Either way, it's pretty obvious that what we call "cold-blooded murder", they call "emotion-free crisis management". And now the only witnesses that can still be located all happen to belong to a secretive cult that won't let non-believers into their "temples", which is probably where they stash the bodies until they eat them and then weave their hair into magical underwear....

    Look. All I'm saying is : Is it irresponsible to speculate? It would be irresponsible not to. So the next time a couple of nice young men in white shirts and ties come knocking on your door, I suggest you be nice and invite them in for pie and fruit punch. Because you don't want your last living memory to be the feel of cold steel against the back of your head and then hearing someone say, "Tagg. You're it."


     

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