Chosen
I think that everyone, at one point or another, imagines himself to be of great importance to the world. Clearly we’re all just biding our time until we can make our huge historical contributions. But the sad reality is that the vast majority of us will wind up leading modest, anonymous lives without making any lasting impact.
How sorry I feel for you.
You see, I’m quite certain that I’m destined for greater things. If you recall the day I nearly became the messiah, you’ve already seen a glimpse of the glory I shall one day bring to the people of our present age. This is no typical delusion of grandeur. Oh no. I was granted a sign of my bright future at my birth.
While in the womb, my developing cranium pressed against my mother’s vertebrae, leaving me with a very distinctive birthmark - a red cross in the middle of my forehead.
It’s true.
I’m sure that a chorus of angels sang glorious hymns as I entered this world (unfortunately my memory of these events is poor), announcing the arrival of our next great religious leader.
Which is why I’ve decided that it’s my duty to start my own cult.
This isn’t one of those cults where you send me all your money and earthly possessions (unless you want to, which is perfectly ok). I just ask that you adhere to a few core beliefs:
* Bloggers are to be respected and revered as sage prophets.
* The presence of seagulls indicates proximity to McDonald’s, not the ocean.
* Coffee is the elixir of the devil.
* Mice are not pets; they are an indication of a pest control problem.
* Buying the world a Coke will bring about a Golden Age of peace.
Our worship services will involve the eating of ice cream and cupcakes and reciting favorite movie lines while converts are baptized in Yoo-Hoo. Then we will perform exorcisms on those lost souls who show abnormal affinity for Coldplay, Hillary Clinton, Meg Ryan, the Miami Dolphins, or Elmo.
Sounds pretty good, right?
The only problem I foresee is that the cross-shaped birthmark which proclaimed me the shepherd to lead the flock . . . well, it’s not actually visible anymore. But I’ve got a red Sharpie, so I think it’ll all turn out ok in the end.
Just because it’s the elixir of the devil, does that mean we have to actually swear off coffee? Or is it enough to just acknowledge that fact on a regular basis?
Snigs, who wouldn’t?
MotherMe, premarital sex is supposed to be bad, and look at how many people still enjoy THAT. You can still drink coffee in my cult. Just try to look guilty about it or something.
I will look totally guilty. Shifty eyes and everything.
Oh, I am SO joining your cult. However, I, too, have a true affection for coffee…albeit, it’s the Starbucks kind that has so much sweetened extras that a DNA test would be required to actually confirm that it’s related to coffee. And I’m wondering if we could offer the world a DIET Coke and still create a global love affair?
As far as exorcising fans of Coldplay, Hillary C-U-Next-Tuesday, and Elmo….I’m right on board with that and will bring the holy water and stain remover for the vomiting that will be induced by said exorcism (see The Exorcist for confirmation of this particular side effect).
As long as all I have to do is look guilty about drinking coffee, I’ll be fine. Where do I sign up?
Sign me up. While I love coffee, I’m sure my utter addiction to it is the work of the devil, therefore you are correct. Not to mention, I’ve always wanted to perform an exorcism.