Many years ago, I remarked to my then-girlfriend Eva how awesome it would be to be the leader of a bizarre cult. Being a profoundly lazy man, I’ve always envied the life of leisure such a vocation would afford, living tick-like off the social security checks of others. My time would almost entirely be spent fornicating with my harem, cherry-picked from among my broken and attention-starved devotees.
Eva tossed my dreams aside like soiled Kleenex. “Every guy I’ve ever dated has wanted to be a cult leader,” she said.
Although Eva was, and is, a hell of a gal and a great girlfriend, the off-handed comparison to her previous paramours rankled me, not least because of her baffling inability to readily discern the many, many qualities which better suited me to cult leadership than any of those other losers. For one thing, I was way better looking than those dudes, and equally as important, I made a whole lot less money, two indispensable qualities for a deranged, would-be-messiah.
Eva’s air of smirking smuggery began rapidly to fade as I related to her my plans for the hypothetical cult. In fairness, the majority of my notions were every bit as prosaic as she’d indicated: enriching myself through plundered bank accounts, using my disciples like indentured servants, and of course, boundless oceans of frightening, quasi-ritualized sex. But the kicker was when I told her I’d name the unholy enterprise after her–the Evangelical Victory Association (EVA), which would provide us some deniability as a legitimate church. I’d come up with that final detail entirely on the fly, but as it happened, it was the thing which sold the story.
Once I’d finished, I waited for Eva to laugh. She didn’t. Instead, she stared up at me, seeming suddenly very small, her stranger’s eyes hard and bright. When she spoke, her voice was deliberate and her tone carefully measured. “You’re scaring me,” she said.
Dedicated with much affection to that most bestest of exes, Eva Chaos. ∞ T.
Cult leaders always make the same mistake. They claim that the end of the world will be coming soon. When it doesn’t happen, they have to commit suicide. Place the destruction date a thousand years into the future, and the ritualized sex in the harem can go on and on and on.
I like the way you think. Have you ever thought of freelance cult consultation?
That’s a good idea. However, I don’t like Kool Aid.
Carrie Rubin said:
Hmm, if this is the route you choose, may I suggest a large quantity of penicillin? Actually, with bacterial resistance the way it is, you’ll need a vat of something stronger.
That life was really more appealing “in theory.” I like how I live now.
Besides, penicillin’s only gonna help with the clap, and these days, that’s practically a genteel relic of happier days.
William Miller said:
I’d have no patience being a cult leader. If the losers who’d want to follow me were that emotionally needy, the whole thing would just be a big pain in the ass. I’d probably find myself yelling at them to close the refrigerator door if they stood there lingering too long, looking for the fucking Kool-Aid. It already takes more energy than I can normally muster just to be the father of two careless young boys. Who left the goddamned storm-door open?! You trying to air-condition the whole Doomsday compound or something?
Well, that might work, too–some people are in to being yelled at.
Back in the day when I was determined to avoid working a 9 to 5 gig, it never occurred to me to announce that I wanted to start a cult, much less name it after who I was seeing at the time, Miss Gulch’s sister. Besides, I was just resigned to working freelance.
Well, I’m not sure I would have named it after her if she’d had a more complicated name (the GFs to either side of her chronologically were Catherine and Jeanette, so I dodged a bullet with EVA).
So, where do we send the money?
PO box forthcoming. Nice to see you, Bumba!
I really enjoyed that.
I, too, am profoundly lazy (though I’m a hard worker, go and figure) and was destined for a life of leisure (landed gentry?). If it’s my destiny than why….
By the way, there any number of things us lazy folks can do without having to start a cult, which i imagine isn’t as easy as it sounds.
Believe it or not, I understand how someone could be a profoundly lazy hard worker. And like you, I feel that my true calling is to be a gentleman of leisure.
Think of it this way. If you were, you’d have to get an entire new wardrobe. Silk robes, scarves, big glasses and that voice of yours — well it’d have to be somewhat altered to pull off the cult leader thing. Eva, so that’s the one that got away, huh? At least she “saved” you from that fate.
Yeah, I guess you could say Eva was the “one who got away.” She was the next best fit for me after my wife, and helped to smooth out some of my rough edges. We’re still in contact on FB. She has a boy the same age as my older boys.
And your comment about “big glasses” reminded me of a funny story, which I’ll save for a future post. Look for the title “Big Kanye Glasses”
Thanks, as always.
My friend, I look forward to it. You make me laugh in the times I need it the most. 🙂
Alex Autin said:
I think this definitely speaks volumes for Eva’s taste in men. I don’t think I’ve been involved with any man who would settle for cult leader. They’re much more into total global domination….
They’re much more into total global domination….
Well, unless the gentlemen you dated went by the names Stalin, Hitler or Gates, I’d say I probably came closer to my dreams than they did theirs!
I don’t think Eva was good enough for you. I’m glad you tossed her back – anyone that has an air of smirking smuggery should never be trusted.
You’re sweet. Actually, at the time, I probably wasn’t good enough for Eva, but she dated me anyway. We were at different places in our lives; she was a lot more grown-up (although she had a major thing for Justin Timberlake, who was underage at the time, so she’s sort of a sexual predator!). She was a very caring and supporting GF, though.
She was really good for me, though. You know the old cliche about how women always want to change men? In my case, it’s been true, and I think entirely a good thing. I’ve dated three women (the third being my lovely wife) who helped make me a better person. In two cases they didn’t get to reap the benefits the way that maybe they should have, but I’m still grateful.
I don’t like people enough to want them around in large groups all of the time. Also, the robes really don’t show off the hard work some of us have been doing to keep in shape. Sexy robe? No such thing.
It’s not what you wear, but how you wear it. And judging from your photo (which I believe I’ve already called “hunky”), you can wear just about anything. I prefer robes with horizontal stripes. Very slimming.
I thought horizontal stripes made you look fatter.
Oh, so I’m just a big fucking tub of guts and I need vertical stripes to slim me down? JEEZ, man–I just called you hunky.
But yeah, vertical. That’s what I meant to say.
I didn’t mean to fat shame you. It’s me. I’m having a fat day and, well, I took it out on you. I’m sorry.
El Guapo said:
I’m not sure if you’re going for an Oral Roberts thing here, or a David Koresh effect.
Perhaps Sun Yung Moon?
Either way, make sure at least one of your followers has an in for discounted Bryll Cream.
I like to think I have kinda a Bagwan Rashneesh thing going.
El Guapo said:
But do you have the gold Rolls Royces for your followers to blow kisses at?
I do, but I don’t have all 93 yet. I’m 92 short currently, and my one gold Rolls Royce is actually an ancient Mercedes with 175K on it.
I don’t think today there’s anyone dumb enough to follow a cult leader anymore. If a meteor hits earth and sends us back to stone-age ignorance, new religions will have ripe fertile ground again. But I guess it’s fun for you to daydream.