On Cults and Fast Food

When people join cults, it’s just a crying shame. I mean, yeah, they sometimes lose a whole bunch of money, become estranged or isolated from their families, renounce their names and heritages, thereby insulting the memory of all of their ancestors, and even get unflattering and really short haircuts. But the real tragedy is the loss of some potentially kickass manpower. I mean, think about the kind of person who joins a cult: hardworking, dedicated, unselfish. Imagine if all those people worked for, like, the post office or something. Mail would be really freakin fast. Like email. Or what about if they worked in fast food? If I was the manager of like a Big Boy or something, and I had a staff of cult-followers, I’d be rolling in it. The food would be served hot and fresh with minimal waiting time. I would “give” them raises, and then ask them to “donate” the money to some kind of “cause.” And I’d save a fortune on hairnets. So, if you ever go through the drive-through and hear “Thank you, drive through and keep your sacred shade safe from the evil pussywillows of Ampharos,” you’ll know I’m living the dream.