The New York Times compared it to an act of the Roman Emperor Caligula. One night in 2004, at one of Washington's worst dinner parties, members of Congress brought a shining crown and robes to a billionaire mystery man who calls himself the True Father.
The place: The Dirksen Senate Office Building. The VIP: Sun Myung Moon, leader of the Moonies.
Here for the first time is the unnerving, absurd and politically-embarrassing story of Reverend Moon, publisher of the Washington Times, but better known as a 1970s cult leader, the L. Ron Hubbard of the East...yet today a strange Washington institution to whom D.C. insiders shamelessly pay homage, as Moon jet-sets around the world with members of the Bush family and gives maniacal speeches better suited to Marvel Comics than Politico.
Years ago, Moon was widely considered a dangerous madman, the next Jim Jones. He inspired TV specials with names like "Escape From The Moonies." His cult separated college students from their families, persuaded them to take to the streets by the hundreds to sell flowers and underwrite Moon's mansions and yacht. So completely did they surrender to Moon that he even assigned them spouses at fabulous stadium weddings.
Naturally, most people who remember Rev. Moon and the social turmoil that followed him think he disappeared, died, was deported. In fact, as you will read in King of America, Moon is richer and better-connected than ever. And an all-star cast of Washingtonians show up in his story.
The joke is that Moon fits in just fine.
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In 2004, author John Gorenfeld scooped the Washington press corps when he exposed a creepy dinner party on Capitol Hill. With lawmakers participating, the Times publisher held a ritual coronation for himself as the "King of Peace." Wearing a majestic cape and coronet, he declared himself Messiah. The New York Times editors compared the event, sponsored by a U.S. senator, to an act of the Roman emperor Caligula.
That, as you might imagine, was just the tip of the iceberg.
We could go on. The Chicago Tribune has reported that Moon controls the U.S. sushi industry. He does business with Kim Jong-Il. Moon now officially regards himself as Emperor of the Universe, claiming the imagined endorsements of dead U.S. presidents.
Weird sex and weirder violence, influence-peddling and blasphemy...The author invites you on an arresting journey into 40 years of political decline, told through the saga of Moon and his senseless relationships with figures ranging from Jerry Falwell to Pat Boone.
Read about the state of America in King of America. Then laugh. Or cry.
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