Being a deity isn’t always all glamorous, all sexy… it’s merely about working hard and taking a nap after the labor.



But... shock! What has happened to my hair during the nap?!



The horror.



Let’s take a closer look. Indeed, all messed up.



That’s not good… that’s not good at all. Must set an appointment with my hairdresser… like IMMEDIATELY!



I’m outta here!

Haha, OK, yeah, sure, the last picture was only for the sake of pleasing the male disciples… but I’ll have to compensate my lax posting in some way.

Mwahaha!!! I'm blogging from my office! I'm deliberatly neglecting my duty! I'm disobeying any authorities whatsoever. And I do so, KNOWING that my boss is only some 10.ooo km away AND the fact that the cleaning lady may arrive every other minute with just a little knocking at the door as an advance warning. Woah, thrilling. I'm such a dare-devil.

And, what shall I say? The Blitzkrieg with Bozley's Angels has somehow screwed up my plans for the further establishment of TBBDC™.
I already bought some new panties for the male disciples... some, that would make 'em feel comfy and free and air-conditioned and all because I CARE FOR MY DISCIPLES.



But nooooo, since they are warriors now, I have to go shopping AGAIN and buy them some jockstraps or something.

But, damn, what am I getting myself into? I wanted to start a cult where everybody could wallow in vices, a little bit of deity-adoring every now and then and all that ritual stuff and what has become of all the great ideas?! I'm hastily blitzkrieging outnumbering squads. That's so... ummm... german! Damn!

Yet I'm sure we'll win. My storm-troops are equipped with huge guns that are loaded with live ammunition. Resistance is futile.

Well, this day turned out to be good in the end. It started all crappy with LOTS of rain and storm. I was soaking wet and I was pissed because I thought it might be the cult leader’s fuckin duty now to build an ark for all the disciples.

Fortunately it stopped raining before the situation got really serious.

Oh, and then I found a 2 Euro coin on the street, I think it was the friggin first time that I found some money in my entire life. Yay! I fell into sudden song and merriment. Then I spent the 2 EUR lavishly on candy. I SO want to find MORE money! I think I deserve it.

But not enough. When I was at work, our chief secretary sent an email to a friend of hers where she bitched about her/ our boss. And well, she was clever enough to send that mail to everybody in her MS Outlook address book. Haha, it gave me a good chuckle though.

And then I got caught in a time warp! I was sitting in the subway station and the screen on which the time till the train arrives is shown said “1 minute” till the train arrives. I waited, looked at the screen again and it said “2 minutes”, then “3 minutes”, then “4 minutes”, then “2 minutes” again. Woah! That felt CRAZY! I caught myself humming that tune from the “Rocky Horror Picture Show”… it’s just a jump to the left… and then a step to the riiigghht.

OK, I’d better shut up now.

My life is a thriller.

Since I got several emails lately asking me stuff about The Black Betty Death Cult™, I had to come to the conclusion that the cult’s “corporate identity” isn’t very well specified. I HAVE to do something about the image because I never want to answer questions like “Will the cult members play table-games in the afternoon?” again. Table games, hello?! This is a friggin’ death cult! We’ll do all this orgy-stuff and howl at the moon or whatever! But table games, bleh!

So I did a little market research about how the cult is perceived by the public. And I came to a shocking result:





This is FAR away from the image I’m aiming at. I’m way too nice to the disciples and the cult is not as omnipresent as I want it to be.

::sigh::

I’ll think about a marketing-campaign, promised.

Or even better: I’ll recruit some new disciples that will do this for me. “Marc the Marketer” or something… .

Ahhh! I wanted to start on the homepage for The Black Bettie Death Cult™ today but I just can’t concentrate. I really need to get this homepage-issue going so that I can tell apart my blogging- and world domination-projects better. But as I said, I can’t concentrate. Your deity had a little booze last night and is now nursing a hangover. And not only some hangover, it’s the Queen Mum of all hangovers… as adequate for a deity.

And to top that off, my favourite dove-couple is back again. Every year, when the weather is getting a little warmer, these two doves that nest in the tree right in front of my window get in the mood for some sweet lovin’. And what do those hormone-crazed birds do? Fly on my windowsill and get it on right there! I have no strange feather-fetish or something, but I just can’t keep my eyes off of them. It’s just too irritating.

Anyways… I had no further fruit-related accidents, but then again how could I? I successfully avoided every kind of fruit ever since… despite a strange craving for fresh lemon-juice.

Geez, I should really go to bed right now, I'm still somewhat dizzy... .

I really wondered if I was going to write this because I didn't want to annihilate your impression of my flawless divinity. But then again, I was like "Hm... showing some human slipups might evoke a feeling for sympathy/ compassion within the people which may be useful for upcoming marketing-/ disciple recruiting-projects.".

So here it is: I hurt myself today... with a strawberry. Not with a knife for cutting the strawberry... naaawww, with the strawberry itself. I wanted to pluck the small leafs and that whitish stuff off the fruit and then, well, I don't know exactly what happened - BECAUSE IT HAPPENED SO FAST!!! - but it resulted in a broken fingermail and a bleeding scratch.

But then again... doesn't the fact that I was able to hurt myself with a common strawberry make me some sort of special, some sort of chosen?

So, now you see what being a deity is really like... dangers everywhere.. of course, you folks only see the sex and the glamour, but it's way more than this.

...and listen, I have some really important announcements to make:

1.
I'm the newest member of The Real World... Blogger Style! YAY! Go check it out, it's fun. Well, sorta... .

2.
The competition is over: my cult-empire shall be henceforth known as:


This name is AWESOME! The winner(s) of the competition is (well, are): Leif the Lucky, who came up with "Black Bettie Death" and Jonnie the Baptist who added the "The" and the "Cult", which was crucial.

Since Leif did the major thinking and signs responsible for 3 out of 5 words, he'll be rewarded with the absolution of 60% of his sins... which means that he is now as much burdened with sins as the average man (according to what HE's saying... ). He may also feel officially important now.

Jonnie is rewarded with the absolution of 40% of his sins. Since I assume that he's practically free of sins, this absolution is somewhat redundant.

3.
There's still a lot of work to do! I need to think about the cult-initializing/ -baptizing rituals. I need a kick-ass logo (and since I'm crap at designing with the computer, I might need someone's help there). I need a catchy slogan. I need something to promise the disciples of what will await them in their afterlife after doomsday (may 29, 2006).

Aaaah, it's so exhausting being the chosen one!

I really need to get this cult-thing going. So here's my to-do list for the next few days:

1. Find a friggin' name for the cult!
Seems like I really suck at this point. I just can't think of an appropriate name. It should sound both profound and sexy and it should look impressive on the cover page of a summons. I need some help! I think I'll start a competition. Post your suggestions on this comment-thingy below, or send me a mail if that's more pleasant for you. The winner will be absolved from all his or her sins AND he or she will be send a little something. I'm not quite sure what this will be... depends on the person who wins and what I think (s)he will enjoy (photo, letter, postcard, worn panty...).

2. Declare commandments
Easy. I aimed to give you 10 commandments at first, but then again I thought this is SO before christ. Today, everything has to be quick and simple, so I summarized all my possible commandments to one:


It's as easy as that.

3. Find a place to gather with all disciples
I think about building another homepage that has to be accessed with a password that only disciples will get. On that page you'll find everything concerning the cult and more private photos and texts (that I won't post here). But this homepage-project will surely take some time.

4. Set up rules for everyday-life
Get carnal in everything you do. Don't use kandoo-toilet paper. Shave.

5. Practice an allusive, blank stare
C'mon, every credible cult-leader needs one.

6. Pick a date for doomsday
Sorry, but people have to be threatened. The heavenly voices in my head tell me that the world will go down on the 29th of may in 2006. (note to self: teach disciples to sing "Am 29. Mai is Weltuntergang, mer lebe nit mehr lang, mer lebe nit mehr lang!" in rhenish dialect)

7. Start guerilla-marketing campaign
Spam guestbooks, mail-groups, chats and the like with my sweet propaganda.

8. Design gowns
I think the disciples' gowns will be made of latex (easy to clean in case it gets wet and dirrrty), preferably see-through latex (for entertaining purposes). I'll wear profound black.

9. Give disciples Bible names
Such as Jonnie the Baptist.


Geez, still a hell lot of work to do... .

I just realized that I suck in establishing a cult.

I produce one miracle after the other and I think I'm close to gaining the control over weather (it stopped snowing today exactly when I wanted it to stop), but I still can't think of a name for the cult. My ten commandments that I initially planned to post yesterday are just three by now (thus not posted yet).

I got a kick-ass guerilla marketing-strategy at hand... but I got nothing to market. Hey, this is 2004, you NEED marketing - you don't become mankind's savior only by producing magic and promoting "brotherly" love (otherwise Siegfried and Roy would be our new gods... ).

Nevertheless, the number of disciples has increased to 5 by now. But if I x out the ones that I lured with false promises and the ones that just agreed to join to make me stop babbling of that cult-crap, the number of disciples will be down to... ummm... let's see... one.

But who cares? I don't!

BTW, did you know that there's no german word for 'blow-job'? I mean, we have the verb 'blasen' ( = to blow), but we don't have a translation for blow-job. A blow-job is a blow-job in Germany too.

Oh, you might laugh about this information now but someday you'll be grateful for it.

Thanks to Jonnie's comment on yesterday's entry, I was reminded of my plan to start a cult with me as the deified leader. I really had this plan since time immemorial, believe me.
See this pic from 2001? Back then, I thought my cult needs a corny icon and so I posed so "religiously". It is intentionally blurred so it'd give me some kind of extra-mysticism.



OK, the plans aren't spiritualistically sound yet, I still need some kind of guidelines, some kind of bible... but I'll work 'em out as soon as I have a little more free time (that'll be wednesday or so).

But the first steps are done, I finally found the attribute that makes me unique and adorable (well, at least for meat-eaters... but I don't want vegetarians and vegans in my cult anyway).

Mwahaha!

BTW, feel free to make any proposals concerning the name of the cult!

Sorry, I'm kinda busy these days so it's very likely that I'll neglect blogging... till tuesday I think. But keep on checking my page for updates... it's also very likely that I might neglect what I'm really supposed to do and blog instead... .

Well, what else to say? I'm developing some kind of persecution mania because some of my friends want the proof that my blood does indeed smell like chicken, roasted chicken. And now I'm in constant fear of being pushed in front of a bus or being stabbed in the back or something.

But don't even think about it.

Better think about cheering me up with a guestbook-entry or a nice comment 'cause I'm currently under really, really much stress. Hm, will ya?

Hear ye, hear ye, I have to make a big announcement: tomorrow, saturday the 6th of april in the year 2004 of our merciful Lord almighty will mark the first day of my huge annual spring diet.
On my way home from work I came across a store where a fabulash black dress was displayed. It looked as if it was tailored for me alone, so I rushed in, grabbed the dress and put it on. And what shall I say? It sucked. Just because I look like a big fat bratwurst.

And this has to stop.

So my diet starts tomorrow. As every diet starts tomorrow.

Feel free to remind me every now and then of my good intentions, I'm not sure yet if I'll have the stamina to lose as many weight as I plan to.

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you what today's title is all about. I just received some (spam-) mail with exact that wording in the subject-line. Masturbate procedural swine Gustavus. So what is this supposed to tell me?
Well, I'm already used to the usual spam that says I should get a large penis (I'm trying! I'm trying! Don't chivvy me!!!) or 10.000 orgasms in a row. But this one here has pushed back the boundaries of oddity, this much is true.
I didn't dare to open the mail because of viruses or whatever... and moreover I'm not sure if I want to read something that says masturbation and swine in one breath. Regardless of the fact that Gustavus would be a cute name for a hog.
But as I see myself as the ethical corrective of our society, I felt it was my duty to call attention to such grievance.
Don't drink and drive was yesterday... today is don't wank and swine.

Whatever.

Oh, boohoohoo! I just cut my hand with a knife, which itself isn't the most remarkable thing. That is merely the fact that my blood smelled like chicken! Roasted chicken. Delicious, for sure, but is this supposed to be so?! I mean, I'm no medic... but... chicken?!

Something different... I saw this ad for a gym on my way to work. It said the usual blah, get great abs and a tight ass... blabla... courses we offer: spinning, aerobics, hot iron, ... . Hot iron?! What the fuck is hot iron?!?!? Are your wrinkles ironed away? Or what? I have no clue. Help me.

Oh, I forgot to tell you that I added some extra-glamour to my life lately. I was on television! Well, I attended this press conference on Monday. It was held in Hamburg's town hall, which is a really impressive, splendid place and it was about the outcome of sunday's elections. The conference was featured in the news, of course.

So, on the news-report: first, they showed the guys that where babbling on the elections, then camera-move on the reporters and press people and quite a close-up on me. And there I was, lounging in a chair and simultaneously yawning and scratching my nose. (that's what I call multi-tasking...)

Ain't that glamour or what?! I'm sure that all the men that watched the news wanted me so badly. Yeaahhh, they wanted me... .

Anyways... my new job is great, really, though I'm not quite sure if I should take my co-workers that serious 'cause I saw a photo of them wearing red "dwarf hats" with little flashing light bulbs on it. Hmmm. I'm always careful with people that have something gnomesque in their outer appeareance.

Oh my god!

It's been only two days that I'm some sort of civil servant and I've already assimilated the officials' way of thinking... you know, the sluggish, ineffective way... .

I'm sitting here for about 10 minutes, thinking about what to write... and nothing enters my mind... I mean NOTHING. My brain is like... off duty.

Geez... *yawn*, I'm too tired... will write tomorrow.