VOICE: I joined a cult, and now I’m helping them persecute unbelievers.
ME: Oprah’s book club?
VOICE: Worse. The Church of Scientology.
ME: Oh, my God. You’re an idiot.
VOICE: WHAT?
ME: You’re an idiot. How could you fall for that crap? A religion created by a science fiction writer? I mean, Philip K. Dick, I could see. I can imagine a thinking person becoming a Disciple of Dick. But L. Ron Hubbard? He BLEW, man.
VOICE: Are you going to help me or make fun of me?
ME: I’m sorry, kid, but you really sandbagged me with that one. How can you be so stupid? The only people who fall for that crap are high school dropouts and egotistical Hollywood pinheads like that sawed-off, Napoleon Complex runt, Tom Cruise.
VOICE: “SAWED-OFF NAPOLEON COMPLEX RUNT”? How DARE you! You…you A-HOLE!
ME: That’s going to cost you some Hail Marys.
VOICE: Tom Cruise is charismatic! He’s a groundbreaking entertainer with talent to burn! He’s a sex symbol! He’s a philanthropist!
ME: He’s a bicurious dwarf with an obvious chin implant.
VOICE: Oh, God.
ME: Did you see him in The Last Samurai? He looked like Cliff Clavin in a silk nightgown.
VOICE: Oh, God.
ME: And for twenty million dollars, he couldn’t drop that gut? All I could think in that last scene was, “that poor horse.”
VOICE: I’M TOM CRUISE, DAMN IT!
ME: You’re shitting ME. My son.
Go thou and read it. Now. And a tip o' the hat to Ken S. the Xenuphile.
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