Don’t Follow the Leader


I have insomnia. It’s not cool, man. I am wide awake, it’s only 12:14 a.m. so it’s relatively early (for me) and the documentary about Charles Manson and the biatches in his crew isn’t on until 2:00 a.m. I am completely intrigued by true crime stories like the Helter Skelter story of people who fall into traps like those chicks who followed Manson. Since I have 1 hour and 46 minutes to kill, I think I will blog it out.

Have you ever wondered what makes people decide to join a cult? I don’t get it dude. I think back on a time in my life when I used to believe random lies from boys when I was naive and young, but it was silly stuff like, “I’m sorry.” Or “I will only put the tip in. Just the tip, just to see how it feels.” It was never major stuff like, “I am the Messiah. Go stab some famous people.”

I wonder what kinda person falls for a guy like that? Perhaps a member of the bugar-eaters club in High School? You know the type…always smelly, always sitting in the back of the classroom isolated from other people with their head buried in a notebook, drawing their D&D character or whatever fantasy game they play। Not to offend people who played Dungeons & Dragons…I have heard it’s a super game. (C.Y.A. – you never know.)

Anyway, to round up all these followers, you would have to assume the guy is obnoxiously handsome or at the very least RICH। Wrong! I don’t know about you, but all the cult leaders I have ever heard of are total A-holes and not even remotely attractive. Case in point – Jim Jones. This cat fired up his own religion and schmoozed 909 people (not just chicks, mind you) into dying for him. This went down on the coast of Guyana in a kooky little South-American jungle where 1,000-ish people willingly left their lives behind to follow him. He called this quaint little dump “Jonestown”. All of his followers (300 were children) worked 12 hours a day while being brainwashed by listening to his propaganda. I don’t know about you, but I do my best work when I am jamming to some rockin’ tunes, not “You will love me…You are a Communist…You hate freedom…” blaring over a loud speaker all the live-long day in the hot-as-balls jungle. Whilst I am swinging a sickle, this asshole is sipping iced tea and getting blown by like 4 unattractive men. Hey, it could be true. I read about the guy. He was a swinger. Anywho, what I am getting at is this…throw on some Skynard dude. Crap.

As the grand finale of his escapade, good old Jonesy shot a congressman and his camera crew who had traveled to Guyana to check out “Jonestown”, largely at the request of concerned family members of these followers, or as I like to call them…fucktards. The congressman visited these followers in their dilapidated little busted-ass shacks to see WTF and try to convince some of these dickwads to come home. Immediately following the assassination, Jimmy mixed up a ginormous cocktail of strawberry Flavor-Aid mixed with cyanide (bastard was too cheap to bust out with some Kool-Aid) and all the idiots stood in line to chug it. People were practically doing keg-stands to ingest this poison because he told them to do it. How does shit like this happen? I haven’t heard of such behavior in my lifetime, well there was that one dude with the aliens and stuff…but dang man. What baffles me the most is, this Jones dude wasn’t even good-looking! I mean he looked like a combo of Fat-Elvis and Ronny Milsap, plus mix in a little dab of your creepy uncle Fred, and you get Jimbo the Pimp.

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Jim Jones was a complete douche rocket*, yet he somehow managed to smoke all these folks into traipsing down to some random island in the middle of nowhere to live in the jungle with no A/C and bust their asses all the live-long day to pick fruit or whatever then kill themselves. Talk about clout. I can’t even convince my seven and nine-year-old to rake leaves in the back yard for $5 each. Do they teach classes on how to locate gullible morons or how to get people to follow you anywhere and do whatever you say? Shit. I would have much rather signed up for that one instead of learning advanced Microsoft Excel. Jim’s gig sounds way more lucrative.

***Not to change the subject right now, but I really need a wonder hanger. You can hang 5 garments at a time on that bitch. Late night TV rocks!***

What was I talking about? Oh yeah. Cults and whatnot. I simply don’t get it. I see reality shows and documentaries on TV all the time about women who fall in love with criminals on death row and old ladies who get swindled out of their social security checks by televangelists and shit. Not to be a broken record, but this just makes no sense to me. So as a faithful reader who cares about what happens to me, you can do me a solid. If you ever notice that I am starting to eat cat food because I have mailed off my retirement money to some asswipe I saw on a religion show late at night, something has gone awry. For starters, if it’s organized religion, strike one. If I change my name to Sunshine Daisy or Jimmy Jam’s Pookie #12, strike two. If I am sporting a mu-muu and panhandling at the airport…shoot me in the face; I deserve it. As a reward for the generous act of ridding the world of my dumbness, feel free to loot through my shit and keep what you like. I will save you some time right now and tell you I am probably keeping all my valuables in a froot-loops box under the panty-hose filled with used cat litter in my freezer because I have officially lost my fackin’ marbles.

In closing I would like to say that the world don’t move to the beat of just one drum, what might be right for you, may not be right for some.

I should not drink caffeine past 10:00 p.m.

Peace.
Les

*Douche Rocket is a term I learned from my friend Tiffany Wilson. She is hilarious and I always give props to people when I use their material. I personally hate it when people shoplift my personality and don’t give me proper cred.