for those of you who haven't read this...
This afternoon as I was walking down Grand River, I was approached by some members of a Scottish-American kilt cult. Under normal circumstances, I would have smiled, and then backed away slowly without making any sudden movements (rapid movements make kilt cults a little jumpy). However, after studying cults in my ISS class, I was curious to see whether my knowledge would help me resist their appealing lifestyle. Since I was the only person to show interest in their little “religious” movement, they decided to skip their usual method of recruitment (telling me that they were a passive group determined to secure world peace, and then weeks later informing me that I had actually joined a kilt cult) and give me the actual philosophy behind their beliefs.
Speaking in demented Scottish accents (they don’t compare to Oliver Wood… yay Harry Potter), they informed me that none of the members were actually Scottish; it was just a cover up. The cult was composed of cross dressing men who, afraid of persecution for their strange dressing habits, decided to wear kilts instead (My boyfriend has a far more interesting theory. He thinks that the kilt cult believes that their kilts are actually aliens, and that by keeping them near their genitalia they guarantee the birth of a super race of alien/human hybrids).
Anyway… the kilt cult had turned kilt designing into an art form, and had even created their own “Book of Kilt” in which they described their beliefs. I was able to read a few passages from the “Book of Kilt,” and found them extremely profound. My favorite passage was “Thou shall be free to wear kilts on any day of the week, especially during days ending in a Y. Thou shall not be free to not wear kilts on any day of the week, especially during days ending in a Y.”
I had to inform them that I was neither a man, nor a cross dresser, and therefore could not join their kilt cult. While some members looked like they were going to cry, a kilt cult member named Balloch (a midget who was ridding around in a shopping cart with a set of bagpipes) became angry that I had refused to join. Demanding a push from a fellow fake Scotsmen, he attempted to run me down in his shopping cart. As I ran down the street, I could hear his cart catching up to me. Thinking quickly, I decided to cross the street. The curb was no match for his shopping cart. It flipped over, and he was left lying in the street. Luckily, his kilt stayed in place so I didn’t have to see what was under it.
I’m sure glad all those hours of studying ISS paid off. I might have been tempted to join otherwise!
Speaking in demented Scottish accents (they don’t compare to Oliver Wood… yay Harry Potter), they informed me that none of the members were actually Scottish; it was just a cover up. The cult was composed of cross dressing men who, afraid of persecution for their strange dressing habits, decided to wear kilts instead (My boyfriend has a far more interesting theory. He thinks that the kilt cult believes that their kilts are actually aliens, and that by keeping them near their genitalia they guarantee the birth of a super race of alien/human hybrids).
Anyway… the kilt cult had turned kilt designing into an art form, and had even created their own “Book of Kilt” in which they described their beliefs. I was able to read a few passages from the “Book of Kilt,” and found them extremely profound. My favorite passage was “Thou shall be free to wear kilts on any day of the week, especially during days ending in a Y. Thou shall not be free to not wear kilts on any day of the week, especially during days ending in a Y.”
I had to inform them that I was neither a man, nor a cross dresser, and therefore could not join their kilt cult. While some members looked like they were going to cry, a kilt cult member named Balloch (a midget who was ridding around in a shopping cart with a set of bagpipes) became angry that I had refused to join. Demanding a push from a fellow fake Scotsmen, he attempted to run me down in his shopping cart. As I ran down the street, I could hear his cart catching up to me. Thinking quickly, I decided to cross the street. The curb was no match for his shopping cart. It flipped over, and he was left lying in the street. Luckily, his kilt stayed in place so I didn’t have to see what was under it.
I’m sure glad all those hours of studying ISS paid off. I might have been tempted to join otherwise!