I Think I Want To Be A Cult Leader


 

Give me money

 

With all the press Scientology is getting nowadays, I took a look at some of the closely held doctrines propagated by its followers. Chief among them is that an alien race decided to inhabit our planet so they dumped a bunch of life forms here in order to allow L. Ron Hubbard to write a bestseller and munchkin Tom Cruise and perpetual massage happy ending seeker John Travolta to further their careers. But what sort of cult should I lead?

Let’s see…how about the Earth was created when a black hole expelled a bunch of useless material that it didn’t want to digest? Good start. Then a an alien race that looked like artichoke hearts took all this crude matter and just sort of sprinkled it in the outer arm of the Milky Way. Governing over all was an androgynous alien being named…huh…Alex.  It created Man first, then discovered it had been doing too much stardust the night before and had to create a more intelligent creature called Woman. The two genders lived on Earth for a number of years, living peacefully and drinking much liquid formed by rotten grapes.

Things were going pretty well until Alex got bored and decided to shake things up a bit by applying conscious thought to the species. Man began thinking he had dominion over all creatures (including Woman) and Woman began thinking that Man’s brain was made up entirely of Hummis, and promptly put an end to Man’s way of thinking by creating sports and technology. Unable to continue his egocentric ways in light of these new toys, Man accepted his role of subservience, gleefully unaware he had done so.

About this time, the head of the Artichoke Associated told Alex that playtime was over and they were on there way to conquer the planet. The order was giving to institute Operation Political Correctness, which consisted of making us so afraid to offend anyone that we wouldn’t warn each other of our impending doom for fear of upsetting each other.

Steve, leader of the Kumquat Konsortium, came to me in a vision induced by copious amounts of Wite-Out inhalation while operating heavy machinery, and appointed me as the person to deliver the news of our future fate so that we can band together to keep the Artichokes from overtaking us.

Oh, it’s pure rubbish to be sure, but it sounds just wacky enough to get some rich backers and some celebrities to jump on couches on my behalf.

So…who is the first to sign up?

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