Day 15 - Jax's Cult

August 23rd, 2009

Culty people LOVE me. On numerous occasions, I have been randomly approached by people who are members of these cohesive social groups of lost souls. It’s as if I’m wearing a “I Heart Cults” t-shirt. I would imagine that this shirt would breathe well. Good for a day on the beach..or a night on the town.

We’re only on day 15 of my 365 day blog entry challenge. Even in this project’s infancy stage, I’m sure it comes to no surprise that there might be an interconnectedness between my posts that could suggest that I’m a bit of a seeker. Fair enough. I probably always have been but this quest heightened in my mid to late twenties. In high school, I certainly was not voted “Most Likely to Dabble in Pagan Ritual.”

I explored Kabbalah before Madonna, took meditation classes, and went through a yogi stage. I’m not struggling with an addiction, but I thought it would be interesting to sit in on some 12-step meetings(pre-Fight Club) because I liked their mission. Plus, there is a consistent perceptible safe energy around just being in space with other people who are hoping to feel peace. I’m very good with the” take what you want and leave the rest” philosophy so I never got obsessively consumed with any of these endeavors. In fact I ended up discovering a common thread among these practices and the rules of comedy improvisation which I have directly applied to my syllabus for my Humor for Health workshops. Solid.

But my intention is not to give you an online comedy improv class.

My conundrum(s) lay with cults. Not really into them. First, they seem to be“clicky”… like Middle School “clicky”..and who wants to go through that again? Also, they appear to prey on the insecure, the type of person who would read a book entitled “I’m Just Not That Into Me.” Unlike the efforts that I tested above, there seems to be an intimidating creepy lifetime commitment to these groups bound together by veneration of the same thing, person or ideal. Do you sign your life over once you decide to join?. From mild observation, it seems that if one decides to exit these sects, seldom does it end pretty. I certainly am no expert in cults but it appears the dropouts end up becoming pariahs, living in fear or dead. Certainly ironic for an organizations that generally preach against aggression, violence and hostility. It’s like terrorizing the scientist who tests mascara on the bunny.

Also, one really shouldn’t dismiss the possibility that culties could spend their entire life “searching for themselves”..only to discover that they’re not that great to begin with. Ask Tom Cruise about that.

Then it occurred to me. Maybe I’m just overly critical and introspective because I’m not interested in being a member of a cult. BUT leading one has a smidge of appeal to me. As a teenager, I was the President(N'sia )of my Jewish Youth group so I clearly have the leadership skills, drive and a strong command for parliamentary procedure.

Done. Pre-production of my cult starts now. I tend to easily convince myself. Of course, I also thought it would be wise to take a spoonful of horseradish at the Passover Seder when I was 7. It was just such a stunning shade of “electric” pink.

OK. Back to work!

I’ll Incorporate tomorrow and form “Jax’s Cult”, the hippest and most exclusive cult of all time. You’re all welcome to join. The only parameter is that my members must be super cool. At our first meeting, I see addressing my followers with the following: “Great to have you all in my super cool exclusive cult. Just to be clear, you must have super cool/exclusive tendencies and have an affinity for Kool–Aid, Nikes, comets, incense and geometric symbols.” In Jax’s Cult, we don’t really have offerings, sacrificing and mass suicides(most of the time)…. we’re more into smoking pot, watching LOST, eating Chunky Monkey out of the carton…napping.”

I even have a coffee mug that says: World’s Greatest Cult Leader. I bought it for myself.

If you’re interested in joining, please contact my assistant Voldar at Voldar@Jax’supercoolexclusivecult.com