Hold it. I thought LDS didn't vote only or primarily on the basis of their faith. I thought, as I was lectured to over & over again by LDS FReepers, that they exclude or almost exclude faith issues. I thought that candidates were weighed on their own merits, not upon the foundations of the identity of voters (like the common bond of LDSism).
Yet, somehow, you're able to characterize & say you represent vast numbers of Mormons. What? Do they vote as a near monolithic voting block?
And the "toast" timing of your comment is rather strange, coming on the day after Romney's defeat. It's almost as if you're saying, with this one comment, "Now that our candidate--our being "LDS"--has lost, LDS voters will monolithically shift our allegiance in the general election to somebody else."
How is it we were repeatedly told that to support or not support a candidate on the basis of their faith was "bigotry," but you're now implying that waves of Western voters supported Romney primarily or only because of the Mormon ties?
I also am disappointed to see a perfectly good political forum turned into such an antagonistic religion forum.
OK, when Joseph Smith published in the 1830s his first vision, he said that ALL creeds that Christians have, whether they be creeds about God, creeds about the church, creeds about the family, creeds about social life, creeds about governmental life, on & on...ALL of them were an "abomination in his [a personage's] sight."
So who started this religious war, this church conflict, this political skirmish? (That's right, Joseph Smith!) Smith was the antagonist.
I mean how would you like if I came along & said EVERY Mormon creed was an "abomination" to God? How would you like it if I came along & said EVERY Mormon professor was "corrupt?" Have I or anyone who challenges LDS ever said that on these threads? (I haven't seen that)
Yet LDS missionaries do that door to door daily. The LDS church publishes that nonsense daily.
Our message should be: “How can we understand and appreciate each other so we can work together for a common political purpose,” not “I am right and you are wrong and we are not going anywhere until you admit you are wrong.”
I think there is certainly room for this. But it has to be done as we also discuss & dialogue & debate our most deepest differences. (It can't be done in a vacuum)
You will have to say something rational for me to respond.
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, “If only Casey could but get a whack at that —
We’d put up even money now, with Casey at the bat.”
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat;
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey’s manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey’s bearing and a smile lit Casey’s face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt ‘twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt.
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in Casey’s eye, a sneer curled Casey’s lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped —
“That ain’t my style,” said Casey. “Strike one!” the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
“Kill him! Kill the umpire!” shouted some one on the stand;
And it’s likely they’d have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey’s visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said “Strike two!”
“Fraud!” cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered “Fraud!”
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn’t let that ball go by again.
The sneer has fled from Casey’s lip, the teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out.