In Case You Were Wondering Why the Polygamy Wives Have Such Dopey Looking Hair

C'mon, you know you were. Even Meredith Viera couldn't stop herself from asking such a stupid question during her interview with them. They told her there was no signifigance in their tinny robot voices. Yeah right! They were, of course, lying. Allow me to explain how their hideous hairdos came about. The following story is 100% true! Ish.

It happened a few years ago. You see, I was time traveling back to the year 1969 to visit my groovy hippy lover and attend Woodstock, when something went wrong -- I'm not sure what. Maybe I zigged when I should have zagged -- and the next thing I knew I found myself lying on the ground, surrounded by a bunch of chicks wearing Little House on the Prarie dresses. At first I thought I'd gone waaaaay back to the 1800's or something but no, the women told me it was 1969. I was just at an FLDS compound in Texas instead of the dairy farm in New York.

I slowly sat up, feeling a bit dizzy. Time travel is hard on the body. The women gathered around, fussing over me and made me drink several cups of Mormon tea. My sudden appearance out of thin air had awed them. Between that and the red tee shirt I was wearing (the color reserved for Jesus) they were convinced I was some sort of an angel sent from heaven.

Well, I couldn't resist going along with it. "Of course, I was sent here by Jesus to check up on you people," I said.

Knowing it would take a few hours to reset the coordinates on my time travel thingee (too technical to go into here) and feeling hungry and curious about their beliefs, I said to them, "please bring me some food and tell me what goes on here."

"We are all sister-wives who love each other almost as much as we love our dear husband," said the one in the light blue dress.

"We are modest in dress and thought and do exactly what Dear Husband tells us to do," recited the one in a darker blue dress.

I tried not to be too judgemental, but as they revealed more about their lifestyle I started to get nauseous.

So I took a stab at reasoning with them. I talked until I was blue in the face about how marrying off thirteen year old children to old men was creepy and wrong. I ranted about women's rights, and asked what they thought happened to their sons after the older men drove them off, but you know how hard it is to change people's minds. They simply sat and stared at me, smiling like zombies, till one lady started muttering that maybe I wasn't sent from God after all. Maybe I was an agent of Satan.

The other wives began to look alarmed at this thought. It occured to me that I had better turn things around quickly, since I was going to be stuck there for a few more hours.

"You're right," I said to the disgruntled chick. "I was just testing you all to make sure you were holy. Good job!"

They relaxed then and I breathed a sigh of relief. Who knew what these whack-jobs would do to an agent of the devil? I had visions of being burned at a stake or thrown down a well, while these gentle women threw rocks at me and chanted, "Satan! Satan! Satan!" Thinking about it pissed me off, so I decided to fuck with them a little before I left.

"You know, sisters," I began. "The Lord is very, very pleased with you all. Really, you are doing so well. But there is one little thing.....well, it's your hair. He finds it quite frumpy."

Their eyes grew very big. "But...but we grow it long so that we may wash His feet with with our locks when He comes back, just like we are supposed to," a Laura Ingalls look-alike sputtered.

"Yes, He likes that part." I said. "But He finds those flat braids and buns you wear too boring. He wants you to add a little more ooomph and dazzle. Maybe some poofiness in the front." I thought about giving them some big Bon Jovi type hairdo, but decided that might be a bit too messy for them. They were very tidy and neat. A mohawk would have been cool, but they'd never go for it. I sat and pondered the humiliating hairstyles of my youth till it hit me. Of course! Vanilla Ice!




So I spent the rest of the afternoon puffing and fluffing and getting jiggy with their tresses. The ladies seemed to like their new do's, and I have to admit it gave me tremedous enjoyment to see them sporting lame ass, suburban, wigga hair in the front. Helll yeahhh!

"Word up, yo!" I said. "My work here is done and now I must leave you. Now remember, God himself has given you this hairstyle so you must never, ever change it no matter what your husband says."

"Goodbye, sister-angel," they called, waving until I disappeared into a cloud of sparkling red dust. By the way, time travel is fun but that red dust can really ruin an outfit if you don't watch it.

After that I went to Woodstock and took tons and tons of drugs, so I'd kinda forgotten about those poor, brainwashed FDLS wives and that mean prank I pulled on them, till they showed up on the news two weeks ago. It made me chortle to see their descendants still wearing that goofy style. Even though I do have a bit sympathy for these chicks, I'm glad they are losing their children -- the brainwashing has to end somewhere -- and that creep Warren Jeffs needs to go to jail.

Of course, while watching Larry King interview them (badly, when is that old goat going to retire?) all I could think about was how much I wished I could have convinced the wives to wear a mullet. How rockin would that have been?