Beatings, beagle-sniffings, institutional-under-the-bus-throwings, karma-blowings, biblical possessions, bad right-wing metal, and last, but not least, snail mucus. For true believers, think of them as 5 more tests-of-faith . . . and for the rest of us, 5 more reasons to not totally dismiss nihilism.

1. “Yes, we have an utter monopoly on workable solutions, but we share those solutions with anyone who reaches for them,”said David Miscavige, Scientology leader, in 2004, now accused of beating up fellow Scientologists and using his beagle as an “ethics detector.” His persuasive mission message on the value-added schema of Scientology reminds me of what Jesus said to Peter, you know, the thing about Peter being the rock “on which I will build my utter monopoly of paradigm synergy.” Anyway, we’re pretty sure that’s what he meant. (Special thanks to the Corporate Bullshit Generator.) 
2. “At Kfar Shaul Mental Health Center in Jerusalem, doctors have long studied patients with a psychiatric disorder they call Jerusalem syndrome, a very rare condition in which tourists — on average one or two a month — become so overwhelmed with the power of the place that they dissociate from reality and believe themselves to be biblical figures.” First of all, one or two a month? Not rare. Secondly, this leads directly to those poor people in Southern California suffering today from L.A. syndrome (in which they believe themselves to be attractive and/or newsworthy). For the love of God, will no one help Mischa Barton?
3. Yes, the Hutarees (not to be confused with the Na’vi) do have a cultural attaché and it is Pokerface, the Christian militia’s favorite band, as linked on their homepage. Apparently, Pokerface is “dubbed the leading truth/freedom band in the Union.” Okay, not the leading truth band (maybe that’s The Truth Band? ) or the leading freedom band (I’m guessing they are probably referring to the churchy Freedom Band and not the San Francisco Lesbian/Gay Freedom Band), but totally and definitely the leading truth-slash-freedom band. Dennis, Rich, Paul, and Brett do a “version” of Pokerface, which means they recorded the actual Lady Gaga song over a photo slideshow of the four 40ish rockers on what looks like a road trip through South Dakota. They are dressed exactly the way you would expect, but their album covers may be uglier than you would have ever thought possible. Officially, they have no comment on the Hutaree arrests, but they are willing to drop this teaser about Rich, the skinny one, who “plays like a fully blown karma with the power of a freight train and just as solid.” Intriguing! How does one go about blowing a karma? Anybody?
4. “Employers from every walk of life, in both the U.S. and Europe, have long handled cases of alleged sex abuse by employees as an internal matter. Rarely have employers called the cops, and none was required to do so,” says William Donohue, president of the Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights, defending the Catholic Church in a 653-word essay titled “Criticism of Catholic Church is Unfair,” about the Church’s child sexual abuse scandals in which he never uses the words “child” or “children.” So . . . a boss hitting on his secretary and a priest molesting a 6th grader in the confessional booth? Same diff. Oh, and why else was the cover up justified? “Had the Catholic Church simply tossed the offenders out, it would have been branded as heartless.” Uh, Bill, still not helping.
5. “Devotees of a Miami man who claims to practice a traditional African religion say they were sickened when they drank the mucus of a giant African snail.” Times are hard when you don’t even have a packet of Kool-Aid® TO MIX WITH YOUR CRAZY ASS POISON. 

The question is what can we learn from all this? What can we take away from the giant African snail suckers, the Sea Org Beaglers, or from Bill Donohue, the Devil’s own H.R. Director? 

Isn’t it obvious? God wants us to believe harder. March yourself right back into that church, that dorm, that compound, that locked orphanage janitor’s closet, that desert pilgrimage, that swamp shed, or that sad, sad Allentown music studio, and don’t you come out until you have acute stigmata of the brain or have seen something good and Revelations-y like a seven-headed dragon ridden by seven angels blowing seven karmas.

Then, and only then, you will be ready rejoin the world, catch up on those Dancing with the Stars episodes you Tivo’ed, and prepare for the end-times. I’ll be in Canada. Far, far, far in.

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