Having spent last evening watching FOX News, I’ve been informed that there really is no reason for the country to waste its energy on holding a presidential election this year. Despite numerous polls that suggest otherwise – okay despite all polls that suggest otherwise – Mitt Romney will clearly be the winner so we might as well just go ahead and anoint him as Grand Poobah now. With our economy hurtling downward faster than a speeding bullet and our national debt skyrocketing to equally depressing levels at the same pace, scrapping the entire election process would be a smart financial move. $5,285,680,883 was spent on the 2008 federal election cycle and estimates are that this year that figure will easily top $8 billion. Though but a drop in the federal budget bucket, the trickle down effect of the money that Sheldon Adelson and the Koch Brothers would save and could instead reinvest in America as job growers would have an enormous impact on our economy.

It’s hard not to agree with that logic, and it’s equally hard to object to Mitt’s accession since his stance on any given subject drifts in the wind like a pair of balls in boxer shorts; it’s difficult to disagree with someone who is so agreeable to changing his opinions. But while that is all well and good, the major hurdle Mitt faces to achieving a countrywide referendum that places him in the White House immediately is not about where he stands but rather what he’s standing in. The idea of their president wearing magic underwear still concerns much of the electorate.

Ever since 1992 during an interview on MTV when then Governor Bill Clinton disclosed he usually wore briefs, the overarching presidential qualification question in the collective American mind has been: boxers or briefs? No one bothered asking George W. since his answer was a forgone conclusion: Depends. President Obama decided to sidestep the question when asked, knowing as a black man where that puppy was headed. But he did note, alluding to the latter if not the former, “But whichever one it is, I look good in ‘em.”

With Romney, however, a third B enters the equation: The Book of Mormon. The faith that Romney proscribes to requires its adult membership to wear a special type of underwear, called Garments by the faithful. Not all Mormons do, so early on in the race whether Mitt wore his faith or Fruit of the Looms was still a question. Inadvertently Mitt laid that question to rest by campaigning in his shirtsleeves to demonstrate his commonality with the working man. The problem with wearing $2,300 shirts, however, is that unlike with those bought off the rack from Sears, your undergarments clearly show through. No one needs to ask Mitt if it’s boxers, briefs, or magic underwear anymore, we all know now his answer would be: “I’m wearing Joseph Smith.”

Those unfamiliar with Mormon underwear incorrectly assume that, adhering to the standards of proper cult indoctrination, one style fits all. But in fact, the Mormon community has choices. Not from where they purchase their underwear mind you, official Mormon undies are only available directly through the church (eBay refuses to allow listings for Mormon underwear now because of this). But the faithful may wear either the traditional onesies or the newer two piece outfit – though strict adherents claim wearing the new scanty set that only covers the body from knee to neck is a direct route to hell.

Mitt, trailblazer that he is, wears the new two piece garment with the low scooped neckline that would send any ladyboy into a orgasmic fit over bared cleavage (well, okay, it’d still need some rhinestones). The airy version that Mitt prefers is an upgrade to the traditional garment which is notoriously hot and uncomfortable to wear. Both styles have heavy, bulky seams so wearers are easily identified. Kinda like gaydar for Mormons.

Officially known as the Garment of the Holy Priesthood and the New Name, and affectionately known as Garmies by insiders, Mormon underwear is worn as a symbolic gesture of the promises made to God. The garment is always worn under other clothing, next to the skin. For most people who wear it, the garment – which has a number of occult-like markings sewn into it – takes the place of regular underwear.

The sacred undies are handed over at the Mormon equivalent of a confirmation service, which can only take place when the would-be initiate has reached the age of 19. From then on the garment is worn day and night with only a very few instances where the garment might be removed, such as for swimming, using the bathroom, or being intimate in marriage. To the truly devout, the reasons for keeping the garment on far outweigh the reasons for taking it off. And one of those reasons is its magical properties.

The Mormon Church aka The Church of Latter Days Saints, likes to downplay the magical properties of Mormon underwear these days, preferring to claim its protective properties are against sin. But Mormon historian Hubert Bancroft described the underwear’s powers in his book, History of Utah, “The garment protects from disease, and even death, for the bullet of an enemy will not penetrate it.”

Unfortunately church founder Joseph Smith who came up with the magic underwear forgot to dress appropriately one day and died in a hail of bullets; his companion Willard Richards, who was wearing his Garmies that day, emerged from the attack unscathed. And Mormon folklore is full of stories of Saints’ miraculous escapes from danger, frequently attributed to the power of the holy threads. One well-known believer, Willard ‘Bill’ Marriott, head honcho of the Marriott hotels chain, often tells how his Garment prevented him from suffering hideous burns when he was caught in a boating accident.

My own personal involvement with magic underwear began at birth. My mother has always enjoyed telling the story of the Mormon lady she shared a room with in the maternity ward who wore a special pair of flannel underwear with loads of little pockets sewn into the garment. Okay, so maybe Moms was a little too intrigued by another woman’s undergarments for it to be a healthy thing, but I’ve heard that story a few thousand times ever since I was a small child, who, not yet knowing where babies really came from assumed the Mormon lady’s new baby boy got pulled out of one of those magic pockets.

Years later an ex-boyfriend who was raised as a Mormon but was no longer practicing, possibly due to his fondness for wearing thongs, moved in with me. His mother – proving mine was not alone in needing a bit of couch time – would attempt to entice him back into the flock every year by sending him an official pair of magic underwear on his birthday and at Chistmastime. Abandoning the religion we are raised in is easier than abandoning some of its trappings so while Chuck stuck to his g-strings he couldn’t bring himself to throw out the magic underwear either. Fortunately we were living in a large house with tons of storage space; Chuck slowly began filling an unused closet with his Mormon underwear stash.

No problemo until we brought in a third roommate, Mark, who discovered Chuck’s pile of underwear while looking for room to store his stuff. A bit concerned about the household he was getting himself into, he broached the subject that night at dinner. “ So, what’s going on with that closet full of weird underwear?”

Chuck turned bright red, a chromatic effect not easily pulled off by a local boy. I managed to keep a straight face with my reply, “Oh, that’s just Chuck’s magic underwear.”

Mark’s concerns were not relieved by that answer.

I’m not sure how Mitt is gonna work around his magic underwear, but his faith is the one thing he seems to not waffle on. On the plus side, since the magic underwear supposedly protects its wearer from harm and can repel bullets and other weapons, we should be able to save some money on wages by dispensing with Secret Service protection.

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