(apologies to Jim Jones)
When I was five my mother asked me,
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
It would have been easy to respond with the usual,
fireman, farmer, policeman, but not me I said,
“I want to be…the leader of a cult. I will call
it the Cult of Steve and I will have people
who will obey my every word.”
I was a strange child, who grew up…to be the leader of
a cult, The Cult of Steve. The Cult began with one
member, me, and I have since built up my membership
to over two hundred female souls. There are no other male
members in The Cult of Steve other than me, Steve. Did you
catch the double entendre I just tossed into the breeze between us?
Other male members would make our communal nude bathing hours,
how shall I say…uncomfortable.
As I said, The Cult of Steve started with one member, me, Steve,
but grew rather quickly. There are many wayward young women
in America looking for…something. I am The Messiah to
those I met in Utah in the shadow of Moroni. I am The Director to the ones
from Hollywood, pssst…they’ll follow anyone if they think there’s a movie part
down the road somewhere. I am The Big Daddy for those from broken homes
who are seeking a father figure.
You know…I didn’t have much luck recruiting disciples in New York City.
I tasted a lot of pepper spray there, I guess the women of the Five Boroughs
don’t think they need saving. Perhaps not, but now they’re
eternally damned anyway, by me, Steve.
The Cult of Steve was built one member at a time,
by providing each member with the truth they were seeking.
But…it has been difficult, finding a permanent home for The Cult of Steve. We
tried to settle in the rural Midwest, but left for Texas…for ummmmmm…tax
reasons and the lenient gun laws. The are several members of The Cult of Steve
who feel better when they pack heat, including me, Steve. Happiness is a warm rocket launcher.
We left Texas in the middle of the night. I heard the dieselly rumble of tank engines in
the distance. That’s never a good sound for a cult leader to hear.
I think we finally found our home though in this dense jungle in an unnamed South American
country. We call it…SteveTown. It’s named after me, Steve. Life in SteveTown is rather
enjoyable. Here’s what an average day looks like:
10AM…We don’t rise early in SteveTown. It’s exhausting to do so. We have a leisurely
breakfast of oatmeal and bananas and everyone thanks me, Steve, for providing the bounty.
11AM-2PM…Communal nude bathing and Baptismal “hour.” As the cliche say, cleanliness is
next to Godliness and I like to be Godly, very very Godly.
2PM-3PM…We have lunch of bologna sandwiches with ketchup on white bread and everyone
thanks me, Steve, for providing the bounty. I like to provide bounty and I like to be thanked for
3PM-6PM…Communal nude bathing and Baptismal “hour.” One can never be…too clean.
6PM-7PM…Study of The Wisdom of Steve. Soon to be a new book in the Bible or a movie
starring a young, beautiful, but eccentric Hollywood cast. We also use this time for gun cleaning
and target practice. An unarmed, unprepared cult, is no cult at all really.
7PM-8PM…We have dinner. Instant macaroni and cheese…with…hot dogs. Again, everyone
thanks me, Steve, for providing the bounty. I’m nice like that.
8PM-11PM…Communal nude bathing and Baptismal “hour.” We must be cleansed before bed,
one never knows whether or not one will wake up the next morning.
11PM-12AM…Before I read bedtime stories, everyone has a large tumbler of Kool-Aid, grape
flavored Kool-Aid and everyone thanks me, Steve, for providing another beautiful day of Life…I
like monkeys and elephants so, I usually read Curious George or Babar as my disciples begin to
nod off from all of the bathing, the studying, the thanking and the Kool-Aid.
Want to join my cult? I can always make room for one more…