So, cults are cool again

do the comtey comt

“Then, a transformable cult will achieve over a withered dogma the empirical predominance that must prepare the systematic ascendancy attributed by positivism to the emotional aspect of religion.” -Auguste Comte, Appeal to Conservatives

I’m a firm believer that the world moves in waves. Cults are making a comeback, so grab yourself a
kool-Aid and enjoy.

Cults are ruled by people we know, like my acquaintance Omar. In case you didn’t know, people named Omar are always fantastical. Always. They also always wear cult robes. Now, some cults have special ceremonial robes, but you really want to find a cult that just wear their robes all the time. Robes have many perks, like warmth, not having to figure out what to wear in the morning, always in style, and many possibilities. The robe’s main purpose is for identifying other members of your cult while out in the real world.

I have an active imagination, and it could be that I’m reading a book based on the beginning of worldwide cult. It’s called The Possibility of an Island by Michel Houellebecq, to sound like the nerd that I am. You would say, there’s no way the whole world would decide to have 7 wives and 49 children on 350 acres of your private, self-sufficient compound. Actually, as I found out today, depending on what your selling, anyone could be convinced to buy if you sell hard enough. Here’s an example of stellar salesmanship:

pimp juice

“I want to die at 60.”

“Well, if you were in this cult I’m reading about, you would die when you couldn’t have sex anymore. Then, they recreate you out of the DNA you gave them before you died. When you are recreated, you’re old enough to have sex.”

“That’s not a bad idea. Maybe I’ll just freeze myself at 40.”

“That’s what Walt Disney did. Only he was old.”

In this book, the world decides the same thing, and they all join the cult. A friend and I decided that starting our own cult could have promising and positive feedback on our spiritual and financial bodies. Enter Snuggies. In case you haven’t heard, they are the blanket with sleeves. At first your reaction should be, “Why?! That is so absurd! Just use a blanket and cope!” But then, upon observing the stands full of fans, and the three color options you are given, you realize it looks more like papist robes. Or perhaps, cult robes? Besides, you have to at least have another member in mind, you get two Snuggies for the price of one, and how about that book light!

exhibit a: snuggle

exhibit b: snuggie

Unfortunately for M. Night Shyamalan, he was ahead of his time with that movie, The Village. There is bound to be an influx of cult movies with the impeding end of the world that is upon us. I hope The Watchmen movie picks up on the presence of cults in the actual comic. That is, as the world’s end seems unavoidable, the Jehovah’s Witnesses and other cults will come out with their pamphlets to recruit, but to mostly say, “Remember when I was speaking to you about the end of days, well, I was right. I just wanted you to know.” As you see more cult material this year, I want you to know that, I was right.

-posted by samsquared

Public Conversation

I’ll start a conversation with just about anyone. Most strangers seem to know this about me, because they readily start conversations with me. Often times, the friends I am with just sit back and watch, as though they were a studio audience. This particular time, my friend had lost her voice the day before. Had she wanted to talk, it was virtually impossible to hear her, much less have the ability to interrupt the shitstorm that is a conversation with me. On a Friday night, this man stumbled onto the bus, and made eye contact with us. Luckily for him, the seat directly in front of us was free for him to lounge on, and he took it by force.

With lazy eyelids bouncing up and down with the wheels of the bus, he looked at us.

“Whasssss your name?”

“My name? My name’s Sam.”

“Sam. Sam.” He takes a swig of his black plastic bag.

“How you doin’ Sam?”

“Oh, I’m good. How are you?”

“Good. I’m real good.”

“What’s your name? I didn’t get your name.”

“Say, are you wearing make-up, Sam?”

“Yes.”

“You know who you look like, you look like the Joker!”

“Maybe that’s because I am. You enjoying the public bar?”

“Oh yeah, this the 800. The 800 bar. The Old E 800 bar.” This is accompanied by him pointing out each word on his can of beer in the plastic bag.

“You still didn’t tell me your name. What’s your name?”

“Jesus. You can call me Jesus.”

“Oh so you’re Jesus? You’re the second coming?” He nodded to assure me. I addressed the rest of the people on the bus. “Did you hear that? We have the new Jesus here with us! The new Jesus!”

“You’re funny, Sam. Why doesn’t your friend talk, Sam? Hey, Ashley! Why don’t you talk? Ashley! Say, what’s your friend’s name? Why don’t she talk?”

“Actually, her  name is Ashley.” It was not.

“Nahhhhhh, you joshin’ me. You’re kiddin’.”

“I am not, I can’t believe you guessed it right.” Ashley was laughing too hard to defend herself and had no voice, so of course I ran with it.

“I can’t believe I guessed her name! That shit’s crazy. So what you ladies doing tonight, Sam? Where you going? I don’t even know where I’m going. I don’t know where my stop is…”

“Maybe going dancing, we’ll see.”

“Oh! You like to dance? What you like to dance to? Do you know how to PB&J?”

“Wha? Peanut Butter Jelly Time! Peanut Butter Jelly Time!” I keep chanting this, getting louder, and singing to everyone, while the new Jesus starts rapping.

“Now tic-tac-toe, oh yeah, tic-tac-toe, ya got it, Where he at? There he go!
Peanut Butter Jelly with a baseball  bat.”

Needless to say, it was time for me to leave. I left my poor friend Ashley with the new Jesus. Maybe she would be the next Mary Magdalane, who knew. Only Friday night would tell. Jesus later pressed his cell phone to Ashley’s face, requesting she enter my number to his phone. Ashley of course, declined, but without first thinking maybe she should give Jesus my number, just for leaving her alone with him.

-posted by samsquared