Why Should I Join a Cannibalistic Death Cult?

So you’re thinking of joining a cannibalistic death cult or maybe your mom or friend is forcing you, either way you’ve come to Cannibalistic Death Cult Ever After, so joining a cannibalistic death cult is on your mind!

Why should you join a cannibalistic death cult?

Going back a few years to the moment we decided to join, we asked ourselves a million questions:

Do I really need to “pay” to hang out with people who believe in eating the flesh of other humans? Will I even like the taste of human flesh, the thrill of participating ritual murders and my fellow cannibalistic death cult members? What’s in it for me other than a steady supply of high-grade, lean protein? Will it get in the way of school and work?

But going through cannibalistic death cult recruitment, becoming a collegiate member and finally moving into alumna status; it is easy for us to reflect on the importance of our decision to murder innocents in a ritualistic fashion and consume their flesh.

Of course you are going to college to create a great life for yourself and your future – good for you! It is a fantastic decision, but it’s not only your major or GPA that gets you that interview or job, it is all the extra things you do – from scouting out abandoned churches to sharing a new recipe for flavorful human flesh jerky.

A cannibalistic death cult gives you the assertiveness, the “anything’s possible” attitude, and the total lack of respect for the value of human life you need to be successful in the “real world.”

A cannibalistic death cult is a great place to network with alumnae that work in a field that may be your interest area and allows you that extra step/ push that others might not have – and if they do, you can simply consume them. Cannibalistic death cult alumnae can open doors for you with internship opportunities, job interviews, or even just the often overlooked advice to guide you in the right direction for a steady supply of victims to ritually kill and feast upon.

Cannibalistic death cults give you opportunities to be very active in the community and have a higher meaning in this life by dispatching others into the next life. From raising money to giving your time, you’ll see how much of an impact you, your cannibalistic death cult chapter, and cannibalistic death cults as a whole have on the world around us.

Leadership is hands down the most vital reason to join. Many people can get straight A’s but can you lead a group of 60+ cannibalistic death cult members, all the while balancing school, family, friends, etc? Cannibalistic death cults give you the opportunity to exhibit and grow your skill set. Even if you don’t see yourself becoming the president of a cannibalistic death cult chapter one day, you’ll still have opportunities to take part in numerous committees or hold officer positions. Most presidents and officers never pictured themselves as holding that position when they joined their cannibalistic death cult chapter. Imagine this; YOU could be the next social or recruitment chair!

And of course, cannibalistic death cults are FUN! Why do anything if you’re not going to have fun – right? There are dances, sleepovers, events, parties, mixers and a million other fun things to do aside from ritual slaughter and consumption. You’re bound to meet – and eat – tons of new people. Whether it’s elderly nuns, pizza boys, or members from another cannibalistic death cult, you’ll make new friends almost every time you whip out your ritual kill knife.

We could go on and on about why you should take the leap to find your cannibalistic death cult ever after, but you have to make the final decision. At least try out recruitment and go from there.

Happy killing and bon appetit!

Kali, Nephthys and Hectate

For this piece, I appropriated the base text from http://sororityeverafter.com/reasons-to-join-a-sorority/ , changed every instance of “sorority” to “cannibalistic death cult” and tweaked the resulting text.

If You Asked Me (an as yet unrecorded song by “The Nonsensicals”)

(chorus 1)
If the very last thing
I had on earth
was a box of plague
I’d give it to you
if you asked me to (oooh, oooh)
if you asked me

(verse 1)
If I was a leper
and I had leprosy
I’d try to stay away
but if you asked me
I would hold you
night and day (aaah)

(chorus 2)
If the very last thing
I had on earth
was a box of pus
I’d give it to you
if you asked me to (oooh, oooh)
if you asked me

(verse 2)
If I was on fire
a blazing ball of flames
I’d try to stay away
but if you asked me
I would hold you
night and day (aaah)

(guitar solo)

If I was covered in acid
covered in leeches
I’d try to stay far from
your loving reaches
but my heart don’t care
what reason teaches
and I can’t deny
your loving beseeches (wooooh)

(chorus 3)
If the very last thing
I had on earth
was a box of plague
I’d give it to you
if you asked me to (oooh, oooh)
if you asked me
if you asked me to (oooh, oooh)
if you asked me
if you asked me to (oooh, oooh)
but you won’t ask me

I actually have the melody for this and was thinking of recording it…the overall sound is The Beatles cicra “Please, Please Me.”

The Miracle of the Tractor

1And it came that The Master and his followers were walking through farm country.

2They came upon a cornfield and saw a farmer attempting to repair a tractor.

3“Farmer, what is wrong with your tractor?” asked The Master.

4“It just conked out all of a sudden,” said the farmer. “I’ve been running it pretty hard all morning.”

5The Master touched the engine of the tractor.

6He turned to the farmer and said, “Farmer, get up in your seat and start your tractor.”

7The farmer did as the Master had said and the tractor immediately started.

8Then The Master said to his Followers, “I have come to help to bring the harvest home, for the corn must not lie fallow in fields when my children are starving.”

9“Actually, this is all going to ethanol production,” said the farmer.

10The Master turned and stared at the tractor until it started billowing thick black smoke and came to stop with a thunderous groan, never to be driven again.

11“But Master, will not the corn now lie fallow?” asked Pieter.

12“The corn has already gone to those who need it,” said the Master.

13And his Followers looked at the cornstalks and saw that miraculously all of the ears of corn had been picked bare.

14“What the fuck?” said the farmer. “Who the hell are you? What did you do to my Deere?”

15But the Master and his followers had already moved on.

Tell Us About Your RightLite AutoGlass Experience

My windshield had been hit by a random rock on the commute, and after driving around for 2 days watching the crack widen, I finally reconciled myself with the fact that I needed to get it replaced. I mentioned my dilemma to a work associate and she said, “You should call RightLite. They’ll come out and replace your windshield right here at work.” That sounded great to me!

After checking with my insurance company, I made the appointment online and waited for the ladies at the front desk to call and tell me your service guy arrived.

I got the call in about a half-hour – amazingly fast.

Walking out to our front parking lot, I guess I expected to be faced with middle-aged guy with some middle-aged paunch named Bart, or Guy – maybe even Gus – but boy was I surprised to see who was there waiting for me.

I did not expect baby pandas!

Those four little fellas were so friggin’ awesome! Now, I don’t consider myself the type to go ga-ga over “cutesiness.” Photos of kittens and puppies doing their amusing little kitten and puppies things – they generally have me going “OK, it’s a kitten.” But these little guys were SO cute and SO cuddly I just couldn’t help myself! The largest one, who seemed to be the foreman, knew just the right amount of time to let me with cuddle them before giving me the hint that it was time to let them get to work.

And work they did! They worked those little panda asses off – or whatever they have back there.

They told me it would be about an hour and a half, but at the 45-minute mark – yes, I was timing it – the front desk called and said “The baby pandas say your windshield’s done.”

Wow! Cute, cuddly and they finish their work early?

I knew some kind of tip was order, but I never have cash on me anymore, so I looked around and I just happened to have 4 cans of tuna on a shelf in my cube. I figured that would do just fine. Only thing is, I didn’t know whether I should open the cans prior to handing them over or let them open them themselves. I decided on the latter.

The baby panda foreman was polite when I offered him the tuna, striking just the right tone between “No, really, that’s not necessary” and “Fuck yeah! We love tuna!”

(And it turns out my instinct was correct – baby pandas prefer opening the cans on their own.)

Needless to say, I hope I don’t need to replace my windshield any time soon, but if I do, no doubt I will be calling you guys again and I will be definitely recommending your service to anyone in need of windshield replacement.

The Look You’re Giving Me (from the “Bizarro Ted Kooser” series)

The look you’re giving me right now,
I’ve seen that look many times before.
It’s the look Doc Jenkins has when
he holds up a new baby girl and hands her
to her mother, and the look she has
staring into the eyes of her first child.
It’s the look Mrs. Benson down at
Benson’s Bakery gets when she takes
a perfect tray of freshly-baked muffins
out of the oven. Or down at the hardware
store, it’s the look Ned Seagrove gets
when he’s looking for that obscure part
and keeps telling you "I know it’s here.
I know it’s here…" and manages to
blindly pull it out that elbow joint from
a pile of bric-a-brac at the end of the aisle.

That’s the look you’re giving me as I slowly
walk down the stairs and into our kitchen
zombie-like, my face drenched in streaks
of blood oozing out from center of my forehead
where a nail protrudes out like a third eye
on a stalk. But instead of rushing to my aid,
you give me that look, THAT look as I fall
to my knees, pointing at the 4-inch spike
of heavy iron protruding from my forehead,
and, due to proximity, the unseen two inches
buried in my frontal cortex. You pour a glass
of wine, pull out a chair from the kitchen table
and sit there, calmly giving me that look, the way
the father of that mysterious clan of backwoods
people who just moved in over on Elm St.
looks at his son after his young one’s first successful
gutting and disembowelment of a squirrel
or maybe the way the quiet, gentle, good-natured,
white supremacist seamstress Greta Gauss,
looks holding up a custom-tailored uniform,
complete with a special new White Power insignia
she herself designed and sewed on the sleeve.

This look tells me all I need to know.
You see, I’ve played a little trick on you.
Oh, wife of mine, oh, love of my life.
I did not actually accidentally shoot
myself in the forehead with a nail gun.
I merely pulled one of the oldest tricks
in the book, a trick Nebraska husbands
have been playing on their wives for
decades, whether it’s the "honey
the axe just seemed to slip and now
it has become embedded in my forehead"
trick of the early pioneers or the "Honey,
wouldn’t you know it, I was paring an
apple and the knife slipped and, heck,
well, clumsy me, the knife somehow got
embedded in my stomach, producing this
fatal abdominal wound still gushing
quite unbelievable amounts of blood"
variation popular in the Eisenhower era.

Yes, we’ve been pulling this for years
in order to see what the look will be.
And your look has betrayed you. It’s told me
everything I need to know, confirmed what
I suspected – you’re fucking the hardware man,
Ned Seagrove. Yeah, I’ve know it for a while now.
I’ve known it long before the other night, when
we were getting ready for bed and that 6”x9”
sheet of 60-grit coarse sandpaper fell out of
your bra or that other night when you reached
into the dresser drawer for some lubricant
and instead pulled out a bottle of wood glue.

What I don’t understand is why the look
you gave me was the look it was. The look
you should have given me was the look that
Margie Demspster gets once every two years
when that $2 lottery card she buys once a week
turns up a winner or the look Fred Franzen gets
when he thinks he’s gone through his last bottle
and is rummaging around in the cupboards
and finds a brand new pint bottle of Old Grand Dad
or the look that Gene Price gets when he wakes up
thinking he’s still Nick "Steamboat" Guardano about to
start his day in a six-by-eight-foot prison cell
in upstate New York, serving consecutive life sentences
for armed robbery, racketeering, murder, and using
a slice of spumoni as an deadly weapon, but realizes
that he’s now waking up in Nebraska as Gene Price,
assistant produce manager at Fresh Fields.

But the look you’re giving me, it’s one of
satisfaction, a basking in accomplishment,
a self-congratulatory silent sigh of pride over
a job well-done – not the look of sudden
good fortune.

And as I come to this realization, I see
the look you’re giving me change, flickering
momentarily from confusion to panic then
back to confusion then calm understanding,
all as your eyes track the person who I would
know is now standing behind me even had I
not heard the creaks of the stairs or caught
the faint odor of fresh wood mixed with hints of
brand new rubber. I stand there and as the
nail from the nail gun that Ned Seagrove
is holding penetrates the back of my skull, the look
I’m giving you is the look that Doc Jenkins
gets after he’s crossed state lines to perform
an illegal abortion and has made it safely
back home or Mrs. Benson the bakery gets
when she’s signed a plea agreement on over
2,000 counts of failure to collect sales tax, or the look
Fred Franzen gets when Doc Jenkins tells him
it’s not gall bladder cancer after all, but merely
that he will merely need a liver transplant –

[My meat turns into dust as I recline] (from “The Surreal Sonnets” series)

My meat turns into dust as I recline,
The ham, the steak, the pork, the chicken too,
Not dry as dust, but dust – so white and fine;
When I awake, there is a residue.
My meat is now a powder on the floor,
And empty are the hooks that held it fast.
I bang my fists into the freezer door.
My days as bloody butcher – are they passed?
My son he finds me there, and he asks me,
“Why is our inventory now all snow?”
“Because it’s wintertime,” I say with glee,
Pretending to be happy. “Now let’s go!”
      If your meat turns into dust, do what you can –
      Take your son’s hand and make a meat snowman!

The other day my workmate Joan was talking to another workmate who sits across from my cube. I was engrossed in my work so I really wasn’t following the conversation, but I thought I heard Joan say “My meat turns into dust,” and immediately whirled around and said, “Did you just say, ‘My meat turns into dust?’ I need to write that down.” Most people – most sensible people – would have just written it down and ignored it. But not me. I just had to use it somehow.

A Soft Spot of His Family (from the “Bizarro Ted Kooser” series)

His hands are rough from
working the farm, scraping
what he can out of the un-
forgiving soil. His face –
tanned dark from working
in the fields every day from
sunup to sunset, wrinkles
spreading across it like all
so many rivers of worn leather
leading up to the deep
crows feet around his eyes.
He has callouses on his feet,
his corns are terrible and he’s
due for bunion surgery at the
country hospital. With his
gruff countenance, which some
would even call “abrasive”, he’s
not the warm and fuzzy type, he
wouldn’t win any Miss Congeniality
contests. But he has a soft spot
for his wife and children. Every night,
after the table’s been cleared, the
dishes washed, dried and put away,
he shows it to them, sitting in the
old recliner of their modest living room,
once the children 2 daughters and
a son, along with his wife, have lined up
in order of height. He lifts up his shirt
to reveal a 3″x4″ region of hairless and
incredibly smooth skin just below the
end of the rib cage on his right side.
And one by one, they rub his soft spot
with a special handmade lotion they’ve
carefully made according to the recipe
on the sacred scrolls and apply it
according to the instructions given to them
by the aliens shortly before they left
in their spacecraft. They don’t talk
about this to others. This is Nebraska,
and, here in Nebraska, some things are
just family matters you don’t blab about.

Husband and Wife Over a Kitchen Table in Nebraska (from the “Bizarro Ted Kooser” Series)

Choosing the bills
to pay this month,
seated side-by-side
at their small, wooden
kitchen table, covered
with a thin blue tablecloth
that barely hides the grooves
from years of use,
the two of them,
Mother and Father,
alone, after the children have
been rented out
for the evening.

“We’re poor, Mother,” he says.
“We’re poor.”

She puts both her hands
on the cheeks of his whiskered face
and turns him to face her.
She looks lovingly into his one good eye,
momentarily, then gets that familiar look,
that cold, steely glint in her eyes
when a hard truth needs to be told.
“We need more inventory, Father.”

And somewhere in the next county
there is the thunderous backfire of a car
or an old dog being shot, so thankful,
that he doesn’t even whimper.

Your Momma’s Red Lipstick (a Leonard Cohen song not written by Leonard Cohen and unlikely to ever be recorded by Leonard Cohen)

(Verse 1)

I chose hope.
I chose love.
I never tried to be Peruvian.
I’m not trying to be a dove.

I drank milk.
I ate through tweed.
I was so insatiable for want
I had forgotten ‘bout the need.

I trashed the garbage.
I cleaned the sink.
I apprenticed as a furrier,
but I let loose all the mink.

I ironed my hair.
I burned my sleeve.
I stood four years in a doorway
I couldn’t bring myself to leave.


Now I come knocking at your door
in a suit that’s double-breasted
I was forwarded a message
that my services are requested
Don’t be a prickly little snot,
Don’t be a snotty little prick.
Don’t make me put you in a headlock
and smear your mouth (your mouth)* *sung by Gospel choir
sloppily (sloppily)
with your momma’s (with your momma’s, ooohh, ooohhh)
red lipstick.

(Verse 2)

I feared the light.
I liked a brand.
I sewed glove from a sow’s ear
that could fit on either hand.

I painted your toes.
I rode a bull.
So I wouldn’t have to speak
I made sure my mouth was always full.

I fed the cat.
I rubbed my tummy.
I bludgeoned a ventriloquist
then was beat up by his dummy.

I lobbed grenades.
I rang a bell.
I took a stray back to the pound
because I didn’t like his smell.


Now I come knocking at your door
in a suit that’s double-breasted
I was forwarded a message
that my services are requested
Don’t be a prickly little snot,
Don’t be a snotty little prick.
Don’t make me put you in a headlock
and smear your mouth (your mouth)
sloppily (sloppily)
with your momma’s (with your momma’s, ooohh, ooohhh)
red lipstick.


When I thought I was reaching heaven
it was the worst of all I’ve sinned.
When I thought I was breakin’ hearts
I was only breaking wind.

Now I’m opening my eyes
over fifty times an hour

I’m done with chasing happy endings
underneath a golden shower

(Fiddle Solo)

(Verse 3)

I crashed a boat.
I cast a hex.
I isolated chromosomes.
I paid a clown for sex.

I listened loosely.
I stared away.
I offered you my belly lint
when there was nothing to say.

I joined a cult.
I pet a cloud.
I got tossed out of the ballet
because my cheering was too loud.

I courted death.
I courted ruin.
I learned to sign my name
in a Middle Earth dwarf rune.


Now I come knocking at your door
in a suit that’s double-breasted
I was forwarded a message
that my services are requested
Don’t be a prickly little snot,
Don’t be a snotty little prick.
Don’t make me put you in a headlock
and smear your mouth (your mouth)
sloppily (sloppily)
with your momma’s (with your momma’s, ooohh, ooohhh)
red lipstick.
Don’t be a prickly little snot,
Don’t be a snotty little prick.
Don’t make me put you in a headlock
and smear your mouth (your mouth)
sloppily (sloppily)
with your momma’s (with your momma’s, ooohh, ooohhh)
red lipstick.

100 Affirmations for Positive, Powerful, Proven Self-Improvement (That in Some Cases Will Also Help You Shred Fat, Become Absolutely Ripped, And Attract Wealth As If You Were a Wealth Magnet)

  1. I am an elite British Commando.
  2. I don’t use the special powder, but if I wanted to use the special powder I could.
  3. There is nothing missing from me – I am complete.
  4. Nothing bad has ever happened to me that would cause ongoing thought disturbances. 
  5. If there were a point system for being a normal person, I would set the record.
  6. My greetings are friendly and charming.
  7. I give gifts appropriate for the occasion and the recipient’s place in my life.
  8. I can disappear and reappear at will.
  9. I control my own atmosphere.
  10. If I touch a home, it is protected from future storms.
  11. My breath is clear and free from flying insects.
  12. I can use a farm tractor appropriately and for the right reasons.
  13. My body is my spaceship and my spaceship cannot be defeated in a fight.
  14. There’s nothing incongruous about me.
  15. There are not a host of strangers living inside of me – there is only me.
  16. There are no unnecessary wires or chemicals in my body.
  17. All of my body’s chemicals are secreted in the appropriate amounts.
  18. All of my wires are free from rust and securely connected.
  19. I can immediately determine the difference between an actual person and a replica.
  20. I am one of those amazing people who can do anything.
  21. No one forces me to move my limbs in an awkward manner.
  22. When my limbs move, it is because I have chosen to move them.
  23. I can affect the outcome of a roulette wheel through imperceptible vibrations in my sinus cavities.
  24. I could find my real parents if I wanted to.
  25. The perfection I have achieved in my physical form is not temporary – it is eternal.
  26. I do not need a second chance to make a first impression.
  27. If I wanted to I could win every lottery.
  28. I am an elite skater.
  29. I am an expert marksman.
  30. I can lift heavy bags of groceries and walk up stairs without difficulty.
  31. I have no difficulty lifting objects over 20 lbs.
  32. I have no difficulty breathing.
  33. My bicycle is well-oiled and the gears shift smoothly.
  34. No one will ever find my secret place.
  35. Many famous people are eager to play cameos in my life.
  36. Wherever I sit, there is ample legroom.
  37. There is no phallic significance to me eating a banana as if it were an ice cream cone.
  38. I have achieved a significant place in history of my time and all historical epochs.
  39. I can enter a room and tell if the wrong people are in it.
  40. I am not wracked by guilt.
  41. I am not paralyzed in any way.
  42. I am not an unnecessary byproduct of misspent passion.
  43. I decide what will be redacted from the contemporary narrative.
  44. I decide what will be inserted into my mouth and when.
  45. I am the final element, without overtones.
  46. My eyes reflect the true depictions of the surrounding world.
  47. I am both part of the story and the writer of the story.
  48. I can appraise horses from all periods of the Americas.
  49. There is no reason to keep me behind bars.
  50. I know every moment is a chance to do the right thing or change what the right thing is.
  51. I am the driver and the car and the passenger and the road, the red light and the green light; there is no yellow light.
  52. When I want to fly, I fly; when I want to sit, a chair appears.
  53. My attention to personal affairs can never be described as “grossly inadequate”.
  54. My perspiration functions as a pleasantly scented, deep-pore cleanser.
  55. I can improve my blood flow without swallowing a capsule.
  56. My body maximizes the use of all nutrients and effortlessly flushes itself of toxins.
  57. I achieve optimum brain and body health without reliance on the whims of corrupt natural food elites.
  58. I am immune to the effects of electricity, no matter how high the voltage. 
  59. I am able to draw the borders of all regions accurately and with precision.
  60. I am never at the mercy of unseen forces.
  61. There are no mice in my car’s heating system.
  62. I am a master of exotic martial arts.
  63. I can read the psychic aura of dangerous criminals and swiftly serve them justice.
  64. I do not need to see someone’s face to know who is talking.
  65. I never get the feeling I have fallen into a black hole and cannot get out.
  66. All four of my eyes are always open.
  67. My palette of readily available emotions is rich and deep.
  68. I am not made of plastic.
  69. I do not require road flares to become aware of roadside breakdowns. 
  70. There is no flaking off of masonry inside of me.
  71. I am immune from the consequences of water absorption and freezing.
  72. I am not afraid of being trapped inside a confined space with a dwindling amount of oxygen – this is the type of situation in which I thrive.
  73. I can climb inside the rain and become its essence or allow it to simply bead off my skin.
  74. I have no valley; I have no plateaus; I only have peaks.
  75. I am capable of crafting untanned, irregular pieces of bloody cowhide into pleasing shapes.
  76. If a food item contains peanuts or was manufactured on equipment also used to process peanuts, I will know it.
  77. I am not allergic to peanuts.
  78. I give no useful answers under interrogation.
  79. I am not duped by camouflage.
  80. I have created a second brain, a duplicate brain within my real brain, and it is this second brain  that the thought invaders enter.
  81. When I choose to walk through life as if through a one-way observation window, I cannot be seen. 
  82. I do not need to strike while the iron is hot – I control metal in all its states.
  83. I am not susceptible to disempowering messages from a broken toaster.
  84. I have silenced all negative internal dialogues.
  85. I transform disempowering feelings or behaviors into winter jackets that can be given to those in need of winter jackets.
  86. I can operate in subliminal, semi-subliminal and overt mode.
  87. I am what all is about.
  88. There is no “good way” or “bad way” – there is only my way.
  89. I can sleep away from home comfortably on my right side, on my left side, on my back, or on my stomach – however it needs to be.
  90. My body’s internal thermostat regulates temperature and, therefore, I do not overheat.
  91. I excel at carnival games involving feats of strength or ionizing water.
  92. I will not die sitting down or laying on my back; like King Richard III, I will die standing on my own two feet, cut down by various medieval weapons.
  93. If I were a deep ocean trench, I would be the deepest ocean trench there ever was.
  94. Foreign daredevils repeat routine aspects of my daily life and call them “stunts.”
  95. I have the ability to gather and mobilize yaks in an emergency situation.
  96. The constant sensation I am riding upwards on a slow-moving elevator is merely me getting smarter.
  97. My lactose intolerance is not a weakness; it is an asset that allows me insight into the suffering of lesser mortals.
  98. The people who are always looking at me and thinking, “He must have a direct path to God” are 100% correct.
  99. If God has chosen to make our clandestine means of communication known to others as Revealed Truth, then I must accept it as His Will.
  100. When they think they have found me, I will already be gone.