Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Adventurerering Inside My Head

I was thinking ABOUT ooh capslock: too bad, I'm not going back to change it. never look back! You can't change the past. Yes, I know that this is only typing and the backspace key was invented for a reason, but I'm going for a certain _feel_ um, immediacy. Ah, yes: vocabulary, the educated man's internet __ing and **ing. Hey, if Chekov didn't use underscore and stars to add impact to words then no one should. And let's not even get started on italics and certain aurthors called Matthew Reilly. That's funny, I thought 'cunt' was spelt.... Maybe that's an auditory joke only.
So, I was thinking about the cult I joined in Cairns and it brought to mind that most awesome of cults, Scientology. The essence is to pay ever increasing amounts of money to feel good about yourself because you are a moron who believes aliens are going to come and grant you eternal life.
Now, I know all about alien visitation: I've had acid flashbacks.
Yeah, guys? Probably not going to happen.
The main trouble with Scientology is that it's really only open to those who are overly endowed with money yet not intelligence.
And you know what that means: yes, the market is already segmented!
My target market is for people of average wealth and below average reasoning skills. And there are plenty of you peo.. I mean, those people around.
Remember: the joke is never about you.
So, to follow in the well defined foot steps of L. Ron Hubbard I am starting up a cult for a bet. With myself. The genius of this well become evident.
First step: change my name.
I am now B. Yourself Simpson.
Next step is to define the cult.
Well, it's exactly the same as every religion and cult ever invented: to make people feel good about themselves. Particularly if you happen to be a dunder-headed slave without the wits or balls to sharpen the spade a little bit and rise up in rebellion and establish a socialist paradise or similar.
The basis of my cult... No, it's not a cult: it's a religion. Religions are, apparently, worthy of respect whilst cults are irrational and exploitative.
So, the basis of my religion is to feel good about yourself by "Being Yourself".
See?
It's in my name. B. Yourself.
Like Jesus Christ and Christianity, and Bhudda and Buddhism, and Insane and Insanity.
All you have to do is to fill in the form labelled "Credit card details" and every month I will send you a letter telling you that you are doing better and will shortly go up a level.
And then... actually, that's pretty much it.
Oh, yeah. Why it works is that no one actually wants to change themselves, they just want to be reassured that they are fine just the way they are.
So, just Be Yourself. You're doing fine.
And the only way you can feel more happy and validated is to be yourself even more/harder! This of course costs a little bit more each month, but that's how you can keep track of your progress. I lied about sending you a letter. On reflection, the important thing is for you to feel better about you, not have your Great Leader tell you so.
Remember: it's all about you. So, if you are vacillating over whether to get plastic surgery or what colour your next car should be just ask "Hmm, what would _I_ do?" (Fuck Chekov).
And then, whatever you think you would do, do that.
Simple!
Look, if you aren't going to be yourself then no one else will.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

Oh cool. Can we call you B-Yo?

Yes, _that_ is an auditory, or aural, joke.

P.S. Chekhov says, "Fucking *fuck* you, you _unpublished_ cunt!"

P.P.S. two suggestions:

1) you only get tax-exempt status (v. important) if you're a religion, not a cult;

2) I think emails will suffice for level enhancements - postage & handling is pretty expensive (as well as very last century) and you don't want that cost eating into your tithing margins; and

3) [never go back] Thinking further, automatic level increases are just a little too...I dunno...WoW? The punters want more ritual for their buck - that's what keeps the Catholics going. I suggest competitive orgies.

anti ob said...

All you have to do is to fill in the form labelled "Credit card details" and every month I will send you a letter telling you that you are doing better and will shortly go up a level.

A _little_ too WoW Fyodor? This sounds like a definition of WoW to me... except they get a computer to tell you you've gone up a level - the cult leaders are too busy guzzling champaigne in the backs of their Ferraris with bikini models whose greed manages to overcome their natural aversion to spotty geeks.

harry said...

"the cult leaders are too busy guzzling champaigne in the backs of their Ferraris with bikini models whose greed manages to overcome their natural aversion to spotty geeks."

Hey, Ob, you lifted this straight out of Fyodor's CV. I recfognise it from the "Where do you see yourself in 5 years" part.

harry said...

Fyodor,

"Chekhov says..." "I visited the district of B______..."

# Why doesn't he just make up the name of a District?
He does it a number of his short stories.

Mindy said...

Funny, I always thought of LMH as the cult Messiah. You, harry dear, were the one coming up with all the money spinning ideas and taking advantage of the young acolytes who thought it would get them closer to the Messiah. What's a job without perks?

Anonymous said...

# Why doesn't he just make up the name of a District?

They hadn't invented imagination yet in the 19th C. B_____ is actually a real town, in the province of Ahrsol, just upriver from Fakmided. The spelling only looks funny because Russians have an aversion to vowels, so the transliterated "B______" is actually a really long "Buh" sound. Hope that helps.

# Hey, Ob, you lifted this straight out of Fyodor's CV. I recfognise it from the "Where do you see yourself in 5 years" part.

Quite true. "Guzzling champaigne in the backs of my Ferraris [N.B. plural] with bikini models whose greed manages to overcome their natural aversion to spotty geeks" has been part of my Glorious Five Year Career Plan for a good 20 years now. 'Cos you gotta have goals. Or gals. Same thing, mostly. Or moistly. I'll stop no