The new The Black Bettie Death Cult™ mascot:

the evil rubber duck!





The poultry straight outta hell. PRAISE, PRAISE!!!

So, this is a short THANK YOU from me to all those people who thought of me on my birthday, I really really appreciated all the good wishes and (of course) the gifts. Unfortunately I didn't find the time to say thank you to each person.

Which doesn't mean that SO MANY people send me good wishes and gifts, it's just that my physical stamina is already going downhill. No more big parties and whooping it up like I did when I was 25. I need to nap in the daytime and I need to get up twice at night. I never thought getting old can be that exhausting.

And well, that's why I didn't say thank you to everybody... I was busy napping and recovering from work and the like.

Well, something different:
Anybody got cuter toilet paper than me? Huh, huh?! Nobody? That's what I thought.







This will be the official TBBDC™ toilet paper (until we get some with our own logo).

So, tomorrow's my birthday. I'll turn 26 a.k.a. old.
It's a lovely day today, it's warm, the birds are singing and all... but instead of enjoying the last cheerful hours of my youth frolicking outside in the sun, I'm sitting here on my couch and prepare the festivities. Which means making confetti using a puncher and my telephone bill. And making party hats from old loveletters.

Oh, and I just wanted to let you know that I already got the ticket to L.A., so my birthday wishlist is down to gold, incense and myrrh.
Speaking of the ticket, I'll fly to L.A. on july 19 and I'm SO EXCITED!!! I've never been to the States before and I have no idea of what will await me... and I'm so afraid of flying! I went to a bookstore on Friday and picked up a book about the fear of flying. It said that when I panic in the plane I should breath in a certain rhythm and cross my arms in front of my chest and stuff like that. But damn, breathing hard won't fuckin' prevent my plane from crashing into the ocean! I put that book back into the shelf and left the store.

So, back to the party preparations.

Oh wait, there is no birthday party for me this year. Boohoohoo! Now this is sad. And totally inadequate for a cult leader. People should dance around bonfires and sacrifice virgins or something... . And wear my party hats while doing so.

Well, here’s another view behind the scenes of cult-leading. This time, you’ll get to know how a decent deity predicts the future (an essential skill because you have to have a strategy for gaining world domination, surviving doomsday and so on and so on). So, and how is fortune-telling handled in The Black Bettie Death Cult™?

Well, 3 words for you: chinese fortune cookies.

Many other problems are solved using cookies here in the BBDC™, btw.

So I went to the local chinese grocery store today and bought a dozen fortune cookies. And here’s what they said: (to my joy and surprise the little papers inside the cookies came in german and english… usually they come in german and dutch, for whatever reason)

1. Your intuition is thrilling.
Sure, that’s why I bought these cookies.

2. Soon you will be luckier.
YAY! Since I AM already a very very lucky deity, this can only mean that a) the death cult empire will grow even more because hostile groups will surrender and the members will defect to the mighty death cult and that b) I will find money on the street again as I did some weeks ago.

3. Don’t worry, you cannot be attacked!
Oh yes, indeed! But I knew that already, that cookie wasn’t worth the money. Yet I wonder if that invulnerability covers strawberry-attacks?! That would be awesome!

4. Congratulations. An oponent is going to be on your side.
I have oponents?! But well, never mind, they’re going to be on my side anyway.

5. You are on top. You can move mountains.
I like to be on top. I honestly do.

6. A genius does what he must, a talented what he can.
So? A deity does what she pleases.

7. Soon you will be happier.
Even happier? Woah. But OK, I would indeed be happier if I was finally baptized by the BBDC’s very own Jonnie the Baptist. Hell, I’m a heathen in my own religion, changing that would indeed make me happier.

8. Don’t worry, you cannot be attacked!
Again?! OH, I think the double mention of this only ensures that I REALLY cannot be attacked. Even by strawberries.

9. Great, you enjoy yourself and stimulating conversations.
Yeah, haha, great! And indeed I can think of one or the other stimulating conversation that made me… ummm… enjoy myself.

10. You enjoy stimulating conversations with yours friends.
So much stimulation, so little time… .

11. Changes are going to be positive.
I know. Thank you cookie for reassuring me.

12. ummmmm… 12. ….. heck, where is paper number 12?! Oh my god, I hope I didn’t accidentally eat it! And if so, I hope predictions numbers 3 and 8 will take effect.


So, all in all this leads me to the conclusion that The Black Bettie Death Cult™ is going to be unstoppable and I will finally get baptized. Hooray.

The cookies were definately worth the money.

Is a deity supposed to work? I DON’T THINK SO!

But I do work.

Because taking care of a bunch of disciples is SO friggin expensive… they stain their gowns with questionable liquids all the time so that I have to take the gowns to the laundry. I have to buy hundreds of bottles of expensive wine for all the rituals and dinner (note to self: must practise that “turn water into wine” trick). And so on and so on.

Well, that’s why I still go to work.

And I work at an adorable place.

There’s a guy in the office right next to mine who’s groaning all the time. Often. And loud. It sounds like he’s jacking off, I swear. He’s like “uhhh.. ohhhh… mhhhh… uh-uh-uh…mhhhh” ALL THE TIME. I never dared to go over to his office because I’m not sure if I want to see what’s going on in there. Whatever this may be.

Then there is the canteen. And the toilet. And the wind. The wind that blows the smells from the canteen to the toilet room. So that my toilet smells like goulash. Or chicken. Or 4 cheese pizza. And that is just wrong.

Then there is this co-worker that always hangs up stuff in or in front of my office. When I moved into the new office room, it was all empty and boring. She thought she’d do me a favor and surprise me with decorating my room a little. So she hung up posters of baby animals on the walls. One with baby seals right in front of my eyes. And as some of you can imagine, I have somewhat ambiguous feelings towards seals and that poster did a great job in distracting me from work. So I took the posters from off the wall. Then that co-worker hung up an information pamphlet of the Alcoholics Anonymous right in front of my office. Dunno what she was trying to say with that.

And just yesterday they brought new furniture into my office. I never asked for that. Now I have a huge wardrobe and 2 mirrors in my office. Do they want me to move in or what?! But then again, they hung the mirrors THAT high on the wall that I can’t even look in them! D’Oh!

I should start a The Black Bettie Death Cult™ foundation soon and raise some money so that I won’t have to go to work any more and can concentrate on my world domination plans.

My faithful disciples, since we'll have to spend eternity together (after doomsday on may 29, 2006), I thought you might want to know a little more about the person you'll share your afterlife with.

So, let's start with the living conditions. (click to enlarge pics)


The chicken blood was what brought me fame and fortune, so OF COURSE there's a picture of a chicken on my wall.


As is a photo of a naked woman suffocating a man with a pillow.


Or a man groping a woman.


Mom's easter decoration. (I celebrate easter 365 days a year)


OK, I admit... worse than mom's easter decoration MIGHT be the deer I once decorated for christmas... instead of a tree.


Being the leader of the one and only salvation-giving religion, it's part of my job to ridicule other cult-leaders.


My pets: 2 poodles that squeak when you squeeze them.


And of course some fishes that share a tank with a skeleton.


Those are also like pets to me... or more like children. My pillows Bimmel and Bommel.


And of course, the pink panther.


And my "Kiss me" frog.


When I'm bored, I like to paint stuff on other stuff. In this case, a skull on a cupboard.


And I keep LOTS of things. Here, 2 empty packages of american Froot Loops the dear Victor F. once send me.

OK. I think you've seen enough. Anybody seriously wonders why no guy ever wanted to live with me (so far)?