I always think it's funny when my parents read my blog. They get the sense of humor, but I can never tell if they really appreciate it. Hell, I'm not even sure if I appreciate it most of the time. I often think the point I'm trying to make gets lost in its scope, and winds up being mistaken for glib reactionary nonsense.
I find that a little disappointing. I try to craft the things I say in a very deliberate fashion. I don't pull punches, and I try very hard to make it an imperative to mean the things I write. Make no mistake; these words are the creed I believe, and the gospel that I preach. (But in much less grandiose terms… Think a whole lot less than messianic in nature, but a whole lot more than the credentials that penned "Friends.")
However, I do see the folly in it. To some, this blog is just another in a string of pseudo political psychobabble op Eds. (Say that 10 times fast… I double dog dare you…) to most who read my stuff, I'm just some schmo with an opinion. Still even there are some who read this would even go as far to accuse me of being the village idiot, and I'm okay with that. Disagreement I never take issue with. I like the challenge that can arise from it. To be clear though, I mostly am the village idiot, but I have the balls to say what I think. I am a simpleton of conviction. That's got to be good for something right? (That and 35 cents will get you a phone call… if you can actually find a pay phone.)
As with most writers and even more so with comedians, I have a nearly overbearing need to be understood. It's a little self-serving, but then again, if there were no reader or audience, I would be out of a job. That would suck. (To put it mildly.) The only real trap I set for myself, is that I expect my reader to be as curious, or angry, or confused as I am. When that's not the case, I find myself let down. It deflates me, and makes me wonder if I am alone. I feel alone a lot.
Today though, when I talked to the folks, it all got a little clearer for me. Dad said my posts usually make him laugh, (no small feat to be sure… He's a tough nut to crack.) even though he finds it a bit strange sometimes. My Mom on the other hand, thought it was funny that I started my own cult, and that really the only criteria for joining is to pony up some dough. (And well to drink the Kool Aid…) Happily their opinions mean more to me than just about anyone else's. To say I found it inspiring would be an understatement of galactic proportions.
Curiously though, they both noticed that I have a tendency to use subtext sparingly, which is true for the most part. I have always figured that beating around the bush never gets you anywhere.
Generally sarcasm and allegory have been the tools of my trade, (Not forgetting that sweet mistress irony, which to me is like sweet creamy chocolate, or the scent of Jasmine in the air on a warm summer night.) because they drive the point home. I'm a fan of using railway spikes, when a simple nail would do. (The true irony being that we live in times where railway spikes seem to be the only effective way after all, no matter how hard nail salesmen would tell you otherwise.)
Monday, January 29, 2007
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
The Kool Aid chronicles…
The weekend was pretty slack around the old ranchero. I played some hockey, and watched a couple of flicks, and generally shirked off doing anything serious. I really might as well have had an anchor tied to my ass.
I’ve started looking into the logistics of starting my own church. (All the legal stuff…) The more I think about it, the more I wanna do it... I think (not with absolute certainty mind you…) that if I really go ahead with this, I will be the first ever stand up comic to start his own legally recognized church. That will add a twist to the resume for sure.
Now I just have to start constructing the articles of faith, and the constitution of the church. And build a small army of priests and priestesses to help re-educate the masses. Holy shit this is gonna be hard work! (Which reminds me, these positions are currently for sale. Patronage, if used correctly really can work out nicely for everyone. Send me an email for the details…)
I really like the idea of using this cult idea as a platform to promote the idea of me as a dictator for life. I’ve had just about enough of this whole democracy thing; it just gets in the way of getting shit done. I’ve decided to take a couple of pages out of President Bush’s playbook. It has become all to clear to me, that too many of you morons are allowed to vote. This must stop. In order to get us back on an enlightened path, we need to break a few eggs (and perhaps crack a few skulls… I’m looking your way again Mormon David…)
I think this country needs a shake up, and I think I just might be the man for the job. If Iran can do it, then why can’t I? Hell I would be happy with just being the new “spiritual leader” because that job’s got some serious perks, not the least of which would be “sexy parties.” (Who doesn’t like a good sexy party?)
Let’s face some facts Canada. You hapless rubes don’t have a clue what you’re doing. You have become nothing more than cogs in the machine. Long gone is the hope of working towards something better. (It’s blown away like a sand castle in the wind…)
Sure calling you names isn’t winning any support, but you deserve it. You have become complacent. Happily though, I have the answer. I am Deus ex machina sprung to life from the ashes of your troubles. From Zygote to Zeitgeist, I am the answer. (Just drink the Kool Aid…) You’ll feel better one you become a member of the First Church of Marcus, Miscreant. All you have to do is surrender. I’ll do the rest. (Please note, a *minimum donation to the church is required to guarantee your place at my side.)
* 25 percent of total household income.
More dispatches from the faith soon…
I’ve started looking into the logistics of starting my own church. (All the legal stuff…) The more I think about it, the more I wanna do it... I think (not with absolute certainty mind you…) that if I really go ahead with this, I will be the first ever stand up comic to start his own legally recognized church. That will add a twist to the resume for sure.
Now I just have to start constructing the articles of faith, and the constitution of the church. And build a small army of priests and priestesses to help re-educate the masses. Holy shit this is gonna be hard work! (Which reminds me, these positions are currently for sale. Patronage, if used correctly really can work out nicely for everyone. Send me an email for the details…)
I really like the idea of using this cult idea as a platform to promote the idea of me as a dictator for life. I’ve had just about enough of this whole democracy thing; it just gets in the way of getting shit done. I’ve decided to take a couple of pages out of President Bush’s playbook. It has become all to clear to me, that too many of you morons are allowed to vote. This must stop. In order to get us back on an enlightened path, we need to break a few eggs (and perhaps crack a few skulls… I’m looking your way again Mormon David…)
I think this country needs a shake up, and I think I just might be the man for the job. If Iran can do it, then why can’t I? Hell I would be happy with just being the new “spiritual leader” because that job’s got some serious perks, not the least of which would be “sexy parties.” (Who doesn’t like a good sexy party?)
Let’s face some facts Canada. You hapless rubes don’t have a clue what you’re doing. You have become nothing more than cogs in the machine. Long gone is the hope of working towards something better. (It’s blown away like a sand castle in the wind…)
Sure calling you names isn’t winning any support, but you deserve it. You have become complacent. Happily though, I have the answer. I am Deus ex machina sprung to life from the ashes of your troubles. From Zygote to Zeitgeist, I am the answer. (Just drink the Kool Aid…) You’ll feel better one you become a member of the First Church of Marcus, Miscreant. All you have to do is surrender. I’ll do the rest. (Please note, a *minimum donation to the church is required to guarantee your place at my side.)
* 25 percent of total household income.
More dispatches from the faith soon…
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
The Cult...
I’ve decided to start my own cult. Initially the idea came to me as a tax dodge. I figure the less of my money “The New Canadian Government” gets the better. Since religious organizations (i.e. Churches…) get enormous tax breaks, I thought perhaps it might be time to investigate the concept further.
I first thought about a more legitimate sounding churchy type thing. But the more I labored over the idea, the clearer it became that it must be a cult. After taking a gander at the success the Mormons’ have had with theirs, it occurred to me that I could really have some fun with it.
As with any good cult, you need a killer name. A bad name can be a real deal breaker. Given the failure of some really cool cults with crappy names (Moonies, Raliens… etc…) it’s fairly obvious to me that it’s got to be a real zinger. Those crazy like a muthafucka Scientologists picked a real gooder, and look at the mileage they’ve managed to squeeze out of it. (Tom Cruise has kinda become their pope, and I have got to say, that is totally fuckin’ awesome. That poor bastard blurts out the most amazing rubbish with the conviction and sobriety of a judge. I admire that.)
So I bashed it around for a while, I kept coming back to one called “The Church Of Jesus Christ, Scientist.” It’s brilliant. To me I imagine Jesus peering through a microscope, perhaps adjusting the lens a little, then looking up and saying something like “Egads… I’ve discovered sin…” or some other such nonsense. I decided to spoof it a little. So without further ado, here it is. “The First Church or Marcus, Miscreant” I think it has a ring to it.
Now some cults have some really neat practices. The Raliens for instance believe in-group sex (with or without clones…), and wear really funny clothes. The Moonies got down and got into mass weddings. My favorite though is the Mormons. Just cause they’re a little nutty. They really think they’re normal. It’s kinda sweet, in a “There’s a sucker born every minute” way.
For some reason I picture Mormons praying to a giant robot. (Oddly enough named “Mormon.”) In my head it eats puppies and shits out dogma. (Punny I realize…) I’m almost certain this doesn’t actually happen, but hey… It’s my imagination!!!
If you are a Mormon, and I have offended you with this, you need better hobbies than reading my drivel.
Getting back to my cult for a moment…
I think the functionaries of my new “spiritual organization” should wear tweed jackets and Chuck Taylor’s in place of any more formalized vestments. Instead of using liturgical silver of any sort, I figure slurpee cups should do nicely. The cheaper and less formal this whole thing is, the better. To my way of thinking, comfort brings us that much closer to enlightenment anyway.
Instead of passing around a sacrament of bread or wine, I think huffing gas fits better. Again, it’s cheap, and it gets you fucked up. How can that be bad? (High and frugal, it’s hard to believe it’s legal. And tax breaks, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me…)
More important to fathom is the language used to entice what will be the rank and file members of the cult. Gone are the Amen’s, and the Testifies… In my organization, a simple “Giver” is all that is required. It’s nothing that isn’t already in the common lexicon of your average Canadian. Sure it’s a little low brow, but I’m not looking for Oxford scholars here. Without the schmos (see “The Faithful” in the dictionary…) this whole thing will head straight for the shitter.
I think it might be mighty amusing to serve Kool Aid to my committed flock. (Someone’s gotta drink it.) This cult is going to be awesome, and will likely taste great too. “OH YEAH!
As the spiritual leader of this newfound faith, my entourage must be heavily laden with preening Thai Lady boys. Nothing lends credibility like a collection of “rent a hermaphrodites.” Screw you Gwen Stephanie, I got me an Asian posse too.
Anyhoo, more to come as I think of it.
I first thought about a more legitimate sounding churchy type thing. But the more I labored over the idea, the clearer it became that it must be a cult. After taking a gander at the success the Mormons’ have had with theirs, it occurred to me that I could really have some fun with it.
As with any good cult, you need a killer name. A bad name can be a real deal breaker. Given the failure of some really cool cults with crappy names (Moonies, Raliens… etc…) it’s fairly obvious to me that it’s got to be a real zinger. Those crazy like a muthafucka Scientologists picked a real gooder, and look at the mileage they’ve managed to squeeze out of it. (Tom Cruise has kinda become their pope, and I have got to say, that is totally fuckin’ awesome. That poor bastard blurts out the most amazing rubbish with the conviction and sobriety of a judge. I admire that.)
So I bashed it around for a while, I kept coming back to one called “The Church Of Jesus Christ, Scientist.” It’s brilliant. To me I imagine Jesus peering through a microscope, perhaps adjusting the lens a little, then looking up and saying something like “Egads… I’ve discovered sin…” or some other such nonsense. I decided to spoof it a little. So without further ado, here it is. “The First Church or Marcus, Miscreant” I think it has a ring to it.
Now some cults have some really neat practices. The Raliens for instance believe in-group sex (with or without clones…), and wear really funny clothes. The Moonies got down and got into mass weddings. My favorite though is the Mormons. Just cause they’re a little nutty. They really think they’re normal. It’s kinda sweet, in a “There’s a sucker born every minute” way.
For some reason I picture Mormons praying to a giant robot. (Oddly enough named “Mormon.”) In my head it eats puppies and shits out dogma. (Punny I realize…) I’m almost certain this doesn’t actually happen, but hey… It’s my imagination!!!
If you are a Mormon, and I have offended you with this, you need better hobbies than reading my drivel.
Getting back to my cult for a moment…
I think the functionaries of my new “spiritual organization” should wear tweed jackets and Chuck Taylor’s in place of any more formalized vestments. Instead of using liturgical silver of any sort, I figure slurpee cups should do nicely. The cheaper and less formal this whole thing is, the better. To my way of thinking, comfort brings us that much closer to enlightenment anyway.
Instead of passing around a sacrament of bread or wine, I think huffing gas fits better. Again, it’s cheap, and it gets you fucked up. How can that be bad? (High and frugal, it’s hard to believe it’s legal. And tax breaks, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me…)
More important to fathom is the language used to entice what will be the rank and file members of the cult. Gone are the Amen’s, and the Testifies… In my organization, a simple “Giver” is all that is required. It’s nothing that isn’t already in the common lexicon of your average Canadian. Sure it’s a little low brow, but I’m not looking for Oxford scholars here. Without the schmos (see “The Faithful” in the dictionary…) this whole thing will head straight for the shitter.
I think it might be mighty amusing to serve Kool Aid to my committed flock. (Someone’s gotta drink it.) This cult is going to be awesome, and will likely taste great too. “OH YEAH!
As the spiritual leader of this newfound faith, my entourage must be heavily laden with preening Thai Lady boys. Nothing lends credibility like a collection of “rent a hermaphrodites.” Screw you Gwen Stephanie, I got me an Asian posse too.
Anyhoo, more to come as I think of it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)