Cult, Worship, Cult leader

Hallelujah! A New Church!

Let’s call it 35 years, give or take. 35 years of trying to do the right thing and get on in life, keep my head above water.

A lottery win would be nice or a job that paid above the average wage (or even the average wage) but in most respects I am happy trundling along keeping out of debt (mostly) and having a few quid in my pocket to add some little luxuries or excursions now and then. Lately, however, despite my continuing efforts I find myself getting kicked squarely in the bollocks on a regular basis, figuratively speaking. Money is getting proper tight and my financial future looks like it will be mostly a piss-filled gutter of woe unless I make a change with some haste.

The thing is, several years ago, I took a path that gave a deal of freedom to do as I please regarding which hours and how many of them I worked and still earn a living flexing my creative muscle. Now this route is beginning to crumble beneath me at a pace and seems to offer nothing more than a vertical plunge into misery. Which leaves me in a predicament I’m not sure how to get out of without mental and physical ruin that will not end well for me…and as many bastards I can take with me.

My skillset is limited, my age is against me and I suspect my employment history of the past two decades does not make me the ideal candidate to re-join the general population after so long in solitary. I could be considered a ‘creative’ of sorts and so to many, including those who run the creative industries, I am seen as a ‘sucker’ willing to do almost anything for such high payments as ‘exposure’ and ‘portfolio building’. Working in a speculative way used to be okay, I did alright hitting pay dirt regularly enough but lately I’m getting more and more ‘It’s not quite right’ or ‘It’s not what we’re after’ responses and they come with a big fat FA in the pay packet. Sadly FA pays for FA in this world and I’m finally getting the message that it’s time to gee up my ailing cash donkey before it expires in the fiscal desert with my leg trapped under it there to fry beneath the burning sun of expanding debt.

Want proof of my inadequacies? I’ve already failed the many supermarkets’ on-line psychometric tests and apparently “Piss off” is not the acceptable response to a customer who starts swearing at you when working in a call centre. Manual labour is also out as I now possess the skeletal integrity of a 92 year old Mother Superior and every so often my left foot thinks it is standing on an upturned plug until I rest if for a few hours. Physically fecked, mentally inadequate and wallowing in skill poverty…not a great opening for a CV or ‘Mission Statement’ or whatever bollocks they call the piece of paper we have to expose at job interviews. Documents which generally contain more fantasies than a CS Lewis novel that turn out to have the solidity of swirling smoke under the slightest of scrutiny.

With my options limited I have to think creatively (and hence possibly ironically) about my future but I believe I’ve come up with the perfect answer…I’m going to join a cult.

The first positive is the complete stripping of all responsibility. Food, shelter, clothing, the full bollocks will be taken care of by the ‘Great Cosmic Warlock’ or some such and all in return for me recycling my urine to pour on the vegetable garden. I won’t need to struggle to earn money because the system will work on barter, like in ‘Mad Max 3: Beyond Thunderdome’, and I’ll write poems or sarcastic, tongue-in-cheek articles in exchange for the services and goods I need; a Limerick for plumbing in a shower unit seems a reasonable transaction to me. The cult will be based somewhere nice in the countryside which will enable me to engage with nature, lower my stress levels and in turn make me content with my place in the universe. No contact with the outside world would free me from the shackles of the internet and fucking dancing kittens, rather we’ll train kittens to dance for us in the real world and the ones who won’t dance we will make into stew completing the circle of life as it should be. Disease would be unheard of because we all know it is the doctors who make us ill to keep themselves in a job and broken limbs are fake news put about by Black-Ops units from GCHQ. The world could be flat or hollow or possibly triangular or a combination of all three depending on which side of the campfire you sit during philosophy hour and there will be a philosophy hour because we will have nothing to distract us from actually living our lives to the full, spiritually, mentally, physically. In short it will be perfect. Now I have decided that the life of a cultist is for me, based on what I know of their setup, I shall do some research into which one I will join…

Riiiight, after looking into several cults it appears most, if not all, of them are not as I expected nor outlined in the last, some may say naive, paragraph before I went searching for one to join. Some require you donate your money, a problem in my case as I have fuck all money and as that was one of my prime reasons for joining a cult in the first place that’s a bit of a Catch-22 situation. If I had money to give to a cult, I wouldn’t be looking for a cult to give money to.

Others are a bit heavy in the old Doomsday department, which isn’t exactly what I’d call upbeat. They appear to be awaiting Armageddon or The Second Big Bang and none of them can agree on a date for this ‘happy’ event. This finality also comes from many different quarters: God or gods, demons, aliens from space or under the sea, global eco-disaster, but they all seem to agree this is a joyous thing to be embraced. Some even provide pills to be taken on the special day so you don’t miss out by surviving the catastrophe/joyous event if somehow it doesn’t come to pass…again.

Murderous tendencies can also play a part in the old cult circles there being quite a few examples of that from the past and I’m pretty adamantly against that…in general. I think an excessive use of drugs and the proliferation of forehead swastika tattoos are a sign the cult might err towards the murdery. There can also be a sexual element to cult life, notably an unpleasant one, with the ‘Great Cosmic Warlock’ probably requiring you to shove your thumb up his arse on a regular basis, for example. I give this warning as it always seems to be the women who are left holding the shitty end of the stick (or thumb) in these arrangements with bloke cult members in some cases being able to acquire whole gaggles of wives, though I use that title advisedly. As a rule of thumb (I’m stuck with that train of thought now) I advise women to avoid cult life at all costs, I’m pretty sure the blokes who lay down the rules are lying, sexist, misogynistic opportunists but that’s just my opinion.

What I appear to have done, approaching this subject, is confuse ‘cult’ with ‘commune’ and I now know they are completely different animals. That said, I’m not sure a commune is for me either; all that fecking guitar/ukulele/lute/tambourine playing at sing-a-longs looks and sounds torturous and the endless vegetarian diet would drive me as nutty as the menu. I also can’t carry off a kaftan, I hate wearing sandals and I think wind chimes should be muffled. Dream-catchers are bollock nets in my opinion and folk music is an egregious misspelling of the genre by two letters.

So what now? I’m still skint and can’t get a job. I can’t join a commune because hippies are my natural enemies and I can’t join a cult because, as surprising to me as it is to many others who know me, it appears I’m too mentally stable for that particular stable. Luckily I have a solution, I am going to form my own cult and attract followers to, as Bill and Ted will once again soon say, a most excellent existence. As is the way with all good cult leaders I shall be referring to myself in the third person from now on.

The name of the cult shall be ‘Sifentology’ and the headquarters will be somewhere sunny and decidedly first world. Members, for their own convenience, will not have to upheave and relocate to the HQ (in fact staying the fuck away will be a requirement of cult membership) to reap all the benefits of this new way of life that Sif shall open up for them. Sif is thinking an on-line presence for cultists is plenty close enough to Sif. Membership will be a very reasonable fifty quid a year and the compulsory monthly courses guaranteed to produce self-fulfilment, happiness and a much more orgasmic sex life a very affordable £2,742 each module…plus VAT. (Sifentology operates a no refund policy and exam results are final and incontestable although resits are allowed with the payment of the appropriate fee.) Successful completion of the exams at the end of the courses will allow neophytes to rise up the ranking system of Sifentology until they finally stand on the top of ‘The Pillar of the Adepts’ as one of ‘The Shining Few of the Golden Rain’.

Courses so far created are: The ins and outs of breathing; The perfect dietary needs of a Sifentologist; Masturbation without blindness; You too can think like a millionaire; How to alienate friends and family; Gullibility and how to exploit it; Walking, one step at a time; Ask the Universe and it shall supply – why that’s not working for you; Your rewards await you in another life and how to collect them; Authority and payment – why you should never question them; Sifentology and Facebook – vital throat ramming techniques.

As Sifentologists climb the ladder of Sifentology to eventually touch the heart of the only Truth that is true, fantastic franchisee opportunities will be granted so to expand the teachings of Sifentology to the very tips of the ten tentacles of the world (which is not hollow or flat but in fact a chrome-plated squid as laid out in the arcane knowledge recently imparted to Sif by…Fhwarrg the Bawaarrrg, The Great Cosmic Warlock’s Thump Puppet…yeah, why not) so all mankind might benefit from granting Sif their worldly riches, thus freeing themselves of their burdens so Sif may suffer for them in their place.

Sound like something you need to sign up for, or are you so happy already you don’t need this most gratifying knowledge system to change your pitiful, pathetic, aimless, unsatisfying life forever? Sif, gracious as he is, awaits the flow of cash to begin so he may set you free and Sif in turn can tell the call-centre to do one.

All praise Sif, he’s doing it for you.