A mormon friend told this story: A mormon man was driving with his new bride with a “just married” signs in the window.
They cross the Canadian border while giving his new wife’s cousin a ride. The Mountie (or Loonie, or Toonie, or whatever the fuck they call the Canadian border patrol) asked, “Do you have any guns or alcohol in the car?”
“Of course not,” the man said. “We are Mormon.”
“Of course you are,” the border guard said (picture Norm Macdonald in the role). He smiled and waved them into Canada.
A few miles later, the mormon man and his wife and his “other wife” start laughing. They realized those damn Canadians have a dry sense of humor.
“Of course you are…”
Thinking about Bigamy?
All this got me thinking about bigamy. People assume it’s some huge benefit to men. Crazy, power-hungry cult leaders seem to love that shit.
But what a bullshit system bigamy has to be. What kind of a selfish asshole can go through life disappointing multiple women at the same time.
With divorce and remarriage, the dismay comes in cycles — like the circle of life. It starts off with “a bang” (or two) and lots of excitement and maybe a little crying. It slowly spirals into tedium, and circles the bowl of disillusion and anger. Finally it is flushed away with death or divorce.
Sure there’s moments of happiness, and for me it’s a billion times better than being single.
But with bigamy, there’s at least one spouse who is deep in the bowels of disappointment and moving toward that angry “kill phase” at all times. And a few years in, however many wives you might have on the line, they will all join the plot to kill “the dumbass.” They may not go through with it – but they are thinking it (all the time).
If your psyche can get past multiple instances of relationship entropy crap, then you have to deal with the physical demands.
Who the fuck could keep up with the honey-do lists?
The best advice came from one of my father’s friends. I was walking past his house on a hot day in Ohio. He was covered in sweat and grass clippings, with a hedge trimmer in his hand and 10 different recently used home and garden tools strewn around him.
“Beware of red-heads who make lists,” he said.
I learned the hard way the color of the carpet or drapes doesn’t make a difference – – everyone with a vagina keeps a list of tasks that some dick must perform if dick ever hopes to see that vagina again.
If I had multiple wives like the one I’ve got, I’d have to hire a project manager and a team of handy-men.
If you survive the lists, then you have the fucking gifts. Valentine’s Day has to be the most popular day for bigamist suicide. “I just can’t face another day of flowers and teddy bears,” KaBoom.
At one point I had a focus group of females suggest gifts for my little Bear. If I had two wives, I’d need a marketing and purchasing team to track all the fucking anniversaries and make it through Mother’s Day.
And don’t even think about taking out all the trash, keeping all the cars running, dealing with decorating fights (imagine how many fucking “throw” pillows a house with multiple wives would have…).
And knowing my luck, they would all want their own children. You know each kid costs about $500,000 to raise through college-age right?
I’d have to start a porn internet site and deal drugs on the weekends to pay for all that shit.
Groucho Marx had a great line to a woman who suggested bigamy: “Bigamy? No, that’s big-a-you”. Funny but wrong.
“Bigamy? No, that’s some grade A Bullshit right there.” (Not funny but true).