Cult leaders, for all their insistence on spic ‘n span brain-matter, have pretty dirty minds, if you ask me. Polygamy is raunchy business, and a cult without polygamy is like a hand without an index finger: What’s the point, errr…? Well, that joke almost worked, then, Bam! it did thanks to my indecisive pause. Intrigued by my wit and charisma, are we? I have the makings of a cult leader, eh? I was thinking the same thing. We should meet for some Kool-Aid. OH YEAH! Little known fact: The People’s Temple cult really used a knock-off brand, Flavor Aid.
My first promise as a potential cult leader: I would not skimp on the supplies necessary for mass suicide. There is no way I would buy off-brand. Only the best before I lay you to rest, I always say. We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s revisit this polygamy business.
When my cult is just getting started, I don’t flatter myself to think I’ll have too many followers. My initial goal is to have at least 7 female followers. That way, as per the requirement of my cult, each woman will have to legally change her name to one of the following: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. You see where I’m going with this. Well, just to keep ’em guessing, I’ll throw a wrench into the mix: I will sleep with each woman on a night different than their given name. Obviously, when my cult balloons to greater numbers, I will have to have each woman legally change her name to a number, 1-366. Yes, that means one unlucky woman will only get to be with me once every 4 years.
To be completely honest, I have not really finalized the beliefs my cult will subscribe to. Beyond polygamy, I’m pretty much just gonna spitball some shit. Maybe I’ll follow in the footsteps of other millenarian movements and haphazardly choose a date for the end of days; that’s bound to pick up a few followers, right? Perhaps I’ll invest and build a giant compound for my peeps, cleverly name it H2O, stockpile an inordinate number of weapons, and build a barbed-wire fence surrounding the place. I will, obviously, have the barbed-wire facing inwards. My first test to see if my brain ablution took will be attempting to convince my peeps that the barbed-wire is to keep the outside world out. Well, let’s see how this cult thing will play out for me:
Eventually, my outlandish and suspicious activity will pique the curiosity of the public. The religious folk will be the most fervent, labeling my ideologies as utterly ridiculous, fantastical bullshit. I will respond by tweeting: “I am rubber and you are glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.” As you can imagine, my scathing, spot-on retort will usher in an age of new age of enlightenment. People will abandon their religions in favor of logic and secularism. My cult, now being the only made-up alternative to science, will graduate into a religion-status. My followers will increase exponentially. The scientists, fearing my powers as a demagogue, will strike me down, but, like Obi-Wan, I will become more powerful than they can ever imagine. Such is the effect of a Martyr! And so, my religion will sweep across earth, science will be snuffed out by the ethos attached to my demise, and, in my honor, the world will intentionally blow itself up on the day that I haphazardly chose for the end of days. That will be my legacy.