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Is there a cult in YOUR future? ■ How to signal cult recruiters that you’re ready for abuse, deprivation and enslavement ■ How to start your own cult ■ Cult management – solo or with partners? ■ Name changes – the dumber the better ■ Wardrobe choices – velour Tuxedos or saffron robes? ■ Cult revenue streams, from tacky branded apparel to really shitty music ■ All this and more in episode 199!
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LEAD, FOLLOW OR GET OUT OF THE WAY. A stupid trope – a meme frequently seen on the desks of hard-charging managers all over corporate America. It should have this expository text: I AM AN EGO-MANIAC AND A COMPLETE ASSHOLE.
In Los Angeles, that meme could be cut to a single word. FOLLOW. This is the land of Follow…The Grifter / Psychotic / Serial-killer / Phony Father-Figure-Holy-Man / Alien from Another Dimension / Reformed Pimp. And after the follow, fuck his brains out. The number of cults in LA is staggering. Why is LA to cults what Milwaukee was to beer? In a word… Hollywood.
Take any given idiot anywhere in the country – even in the world (are you listening, A-h-h-hnold?) who looks at his or her reflection in the morning and sees a decent jawline augmented by zero prospects in life, and that person will find a way to get to Hollywood. 63% of them wind up in insurance or real-estate. The remainder join cults. What kind of cults? Sex cults, drug cults, religious cults, political cults, occult cults, UFO cults, business cults, video-game cults, life-coaching cults, car cults, celebrity-worship cults, dietary cults, comet cults, death cults, Yatzee cults, the Communist Party … there’s a cult for everything. Leaders and followers. Which reminds me of another trope seen at zillions of offices AND at peak performance cult gatherings – Unless you’re the lead dog, the view never changes. The followers are just fine with having their nose pressed to Maximum Leader’s ass because that sphincter gives them something they cannot acquire on their own. Direction. Instead of depicting of the leader of any given cult, there should be a close-up of his or her asshole. That would be truth in propaganda.
“Join us, and follow this asshole. No, literally!”
The first commandment of every cult is obey. Wake up, go to sleep, eat, kneel, stand, sit, work, bend-over. A lot of people really, really crave that level of intense and constant direction. Why is that? Maybe it makes them feel good. They say those Isis fucktards join that shit-show because they’re all directionless mopes and Isis is big, dictatorial Daddy. Did all those goose-stepping idiots enjoy being screamed at by the Little Corporal? Of course they did. Remember those assholes in 3rd grade who would do stupid shit so the teacher would yell at them? Same thing.
“Somebody loves me enough to tell me what to do.”
Tony Alamo was kind of like that. Unlike many cult leaders, Tony didn’t just offer paternal protection; his wife, Susie, would also mother the followers. So they got Mommy and Daddy. It worked great until Susie died. Then Tony went apeshit.
But it was a hell of a ride. For a while there, Tony was minting money. At his Arkansas sweat shop, the Tony Alamo Christian Ministry manufactured incredibly garish custom jean jackets. Some people love them. I think they could make a pig puke, but what do I know? Back in the day, Burt Reynolds and Dolly Parton wore them. Now, Miley Cyrus
and Nikki Minaj rock them.
You can snatch one off Ebay 
for around a grand. That’s a lot of jing for used denim and Rhinestones and airbrush artwork that looks purloined from Lowrider Magazine.
I find cults not only fascinating really, really REALLY funny– no matter how evil. Few things are more ridiculous looking than a Nazi uniform – the jackboots, the belt across the chest, the goofy skulls and monocles. The Scientologist get-ups are funny, too. All that quasi nautical shit – shoulder ropes and crisp little caps and rhodium plated crap that says Sea-org. Watching Tom Cruise salute David Miscavige might be the funniest 7 seconds of video ever recorded. Maybe I’ll do Scientology next, but those guys still worry me.
The late Harlan Ellison – a take-no-shit guy who sued the studios for ripping him off on The Terminator, claims to have been in the room the night L. Ron Hubbard proclaimed he was going to get sick-rich by founding a nutty religion. I believe Harlan.
I’ve done a number of shows on cults – Manson’s cult, some small time religious cults. But Tony was one damn funny guy. When I stumbled on his story, his look reminded me of a character that was part of Andy Kaufman’s act – Tony Clifton.
Tony Clifton was this obnoxious lounge singer locked in the 70’s. He wore velour tuxedos and gold-framed shades and ruffled shirts. And he would often get in fights with hecklers and tell them to fuck off. I LOVED Tony Clifton. Some say Andy was Tony, some say Tony was played by Kaufman’s pal Bob Zmuda. Nobody seems certain. Andy Kaufman was a genius. There are damn few of those.
Another endearing facet about Tony: Once his beloved but awfully plain Susie was dead, Tony upgraded his choices in female companionship. Just compare this mouth watering blonde…
…to the gonorrhea-faced Manson chicks. Of course, Charlie was nearly a midget. Tony was a big, robust dude. And that hair. Sculpted hair beats the follicles off those mangy, greasy hippie styles. And lastly, Tony did have Jesus on his side.
Maybe in his own crazy way, Tony was a prophet. The name he chose for himself turned out to be more prescient than he ever imagined. Maybe right now in Europe, there’s some French kook in a velvet Tux re-branding himself Tony Waterloo. I fucking hope so. I really do.
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Email Larry: thatlarryshow@gmail.com
Call the Take No Shit Dojo: 302-71-Larry