Please, Join my CULT

by Dubbed Emotions

While yes, I did begin writing a Halloween special, I need to take a small detour. As YouTube carried us through our morning news, it played an older Jimmy Kimmel with a televangelist clip. As I reflect on the scene, I find myself questioning reality. Seriously, I need you to get on my level for a second. Step into my shoes, let me guide you through this properly.

You’re coming out of a deep sleep, but you aren’t ready to look at the clock, fearing what you’ll see. Your back hurts, you’ve been pinned in place by three cats all night. You have to pee, but doing so would disturb Hubby and you’ve both slept terribly this week. Finally, back screaming, you slowly unfold your legs, delicately rolling to the nightstand. As cats leap from bed, you freeze, hoping the Hubby Huff doesn’t come. When your heart resumes beating, you finally see it’s 4:38AM.

The alarm will sound at 5:00. You knowusing the bathroom will wake him. You know you’ll hear the Huff while you pee. Yet you really have to pee. 22 minutes. You try to close your eyes, try to drift off, but your bladder is infuriated. It calls for reinforcements. You feel a hot bubble of sludge slide down your intestines, coming to rest in your bottom. You clinch against the flames, but your asshole is essentially the only barrier between the bed and molten lava. You ever so gently crawl to the toilet. The moment you release your bowls, you see the light of Hubby’s phone, simultaneous with the Huff.

Huff protocol dictates a reset alarm for 5:30. Always erring to the side of caution, you begin your morning. You let the first round of cats out, take Bandit’s (raccoon) food to the edge of the woods because his presence bothers them, feed cats, release second round, grab a water and sit. Sounds of Hubby’s dresser emanate from the bedroom, telling you to prepare the tv. After a short, irrelevant monologue from Seth Meyers, YouTube selects Jimmy Kimmel.

Great choice, he’s second only to John Oliver, but you’re not sure why it felt the need to show one from election time. It’s called Trump Melts Down Over “Stolen” Election, and still worth watching so you don’t complain. Then they showed this guy:🤢🤮

This man stands in front of you, and says “they’re trying to say Joe Biden is president,” and fake laughs horribly. Then he continues, and here’s what really gets you. After a few fake laughs, well past when he should have stopped, he does it again. But this time, he walks around while he laughs. The crowd eats it up! They stand, cheering louder than ever! How does a man like that have a cult? How do people follow and give him money? How are there enough people to support all the ones like him? They have some cush-ass lifestyles! How do they even start? How do you brainwash enough people to confidently stand before the masses to convince them they benefit by giving youmoney?

As you sit on your cat-hair covered couch, still naked beneath a raggedy bathrobe in desperate need of washing, you realize that disgusting old man has fans. Lots of them. Sure, for every fan there’s 100 enemies wishing him dead. Sure, he spouts nonsensical hate rhetoric for a living. Sure, you’d think he could afford a dentist, but apparently teeth aren’t everything in the cult game. But you know what? He probably never had to choose between food or a rent payment. Never had to live 8 weeks in the country with no water or transportation. (Oh! Note to self, write about that 2 months without indoor plumbing.) Hell, I bet that crazy old fart has more than 2 Twitter followers too!

So, after reading all these well thought out points, do you see how it might be worth imitating his behavior? Damn, me either. I really wanted to, but frankly I’d rather puncture my own ear drums than listen to him speak again. I figure there has to be a middle ground. I’ve decided to start my own cult. I’m not married to the name yet, but I was toying with LGFNW, Losers, Geeks, Freaks, Nerds, and Weirdos, all welcome and equal. Violence and bullying strictly prohibited.

I may not have much to offer, but I can make you a few promises that clearly put me ahead of the packs.

  • I will never lie to you
  • I will never hold you hostage
  • I will never forbid you from contact with family
  • I will never enforce Droit du seigneur (right of first night, fancy word for rape)
  • I will never drug you (against your will)
  • Most importantly, I will alwayssupport your right to believe whatever the hell you want. 

There’s something deeply wrong in a world where my cult fails while those others flourish. Anyway, thank you for your indulgence in this matter. If you would like to join LGFNW, there are no fees or deadlines. Currently all positions are open. No background or credit checks necessary. We have no swag, or any material possessions whatsoever, but we do have, ladies and gentlemen, is a lot of gusto.


Sitting on the cushy-warm leather sofa just outside of Dr. S’s office, concentrating intently on bending and moving the wire-core rubbery figure’s arms and legs, a thin anemic looking three-year-old body aches with the arthritis-like symptoms her grandparents reported experiencing. The three shared evenings in front of the soothing heat radiating from the antique round oak wood stove in the living room of a creaky old house built over 60 years previous.

Unsuccessful in her focused attempt, she takes a deep breath, the first of her petite aching body since the doctor’s thorough examination earlier in the day. Becoming aware of the doctor speaking in a solemn, monotonous but deep voice, she noticed the big heavy wooden door to his office was slightly ajar as she sat in the doctors waiting room.

At first, not really hearing distinct words, only that flattened, low voice, and with the simplistic mind of a child, she began to feel impatient to leave. Day dreaming, trying to imagine what was the special treat she had been promised, believing she was the good girl everyone had asked of her to have endured the extensive and painful diagnostic testing the doctor had done earlier in the day. Would it be her favorite ice cream? Perhaps the plastic handgun and holster she had wanted to be like Annie Oakley? Would it be a new toy, maybe a shiny-faced dolly smiling from the crinkly cellophane of a colorful cardboard box?

Slowly she realized she was hearing words, distinct words, words no one wants to hear, whatever their age! Even though not exactly comprehending some of the doctor’s words, she pieced together the sad picture the doctor was trying to convey to the young, unsophisticated parents. The Orthopaedic specialist was attempting to educate them about the RARE and terminal bone disease the morning tests had revealed. She knew what RARE meant. She heard the Dr. trying to explain to parents that his expectations for her recovery were worse than grim.

Many years later, she remembered thinking to herself, nooo! I will not let that happen! I have to be very convincing when I announce to them ALL that I am stronger than anyone realizes, can win over this pain, will be a normal girl! They will all see, I will show them!

The crying face of her frightened young mother first emerges from the partially open dark wooden door, followed by her white-faced father with his head hung, following stiffly behind the mother. Dr. S slowly followed her father until they surround her tiny body settled into the mammoth-sized leather sofa.

Out of the child’s mouth before anyone could speak as simply and as convincingly as she could muster, from her rosy lips came the words, “I am NOT going to die!!!” She remembers feeling the entire universe go into slow motion and then stood completely still. Holding her breath, she waited for someone’s confident reassurance that never came.

Mother walked away into the dark hallway, followed by father. Dr. S handed the uncomfortable, lost girl the “Mr. Bendy” toy, promising that she could take it home and keep it for being such a good girl for his exams. She promised him she would practice exercises until returning to show how painless were her movements, equally as freely as Mr. Bendy. The Dr. was speechless and hugged the girl tightly to his chest, glancing helplessly toward the outer door of the waiting room where her parents stood. It was a very long and quiet ride home that day.

Dr. S recommended visits to Dr. George, a chiropractor in Gardiner. Weekly uncomfortable, sweaty Ultra-Violet Ray treatments and manipulation were the best he could offer. Aside from the not-so-positive prediction, doctors were convinced she would be unlikely to survive beyond the age of ten, having no further information on the rare disease.

Accompanied with medical records, Dr. S did attend a worldwide medical conference in Japan where he learned only two other known instances of Calcinosis Universalis did not survive beyond their teens. There seemed to be no documented cause or follow-up for the odd condition which developed seemingly overnight, accompanied by a high fevered outbreak of this disease. All the girl knew was that it was excruciating to move, and that she wanted to cry, sleep and vomit most of the time, making both parents angry. The Dr. ordered a few series of X-rays to document the overabundance of calcium in the girl’s body for his records.

Daily olive oil massages on grossly swollen and knobby knuckled hands, trying to sit on the floor with painfully stiff skinny legs crossed. Exercises consisted of balling newspaper pages into as tight & small a ball as possible or bending her index finger toward the base of her palms. Impossible mission! Painful memories over squeezing the newspaper with tears spilling from her eyes, trying to be silent so she wouldn’t upset anyone or be yelled at continue to permeate her adult dreams.

Western medicine has not provided anything for relief, but diagnostic tests have depleted the health account she shares with her husband, leaving them with only questions and bottles of ineffective Rx medications. Today, at age 70, she manages the excruciating pain of her recurring “terminal” disease by dry-vaping medical marijuana flower. She enjoys gardening, riding her Kubota tractor, kayaking and hiking the Perkins Highway on sunny days.

National health care consultants and Osteopaths agree that the medicinal qualities of THC are most likely helping her body push back the debilitating effects of the painful childhood disease, Calcinosis Universalis. For as long as she is again able to enjoy the outdoor activities she loves and can perform yard maintenance or drive to fill her pickup truck with compost, she is satisfied that her self-care allows her to find peaceful moments.