The man who wanted to be an idolater

There was a man. And he was very common and aware of being so. Being aware is usually a bad thing, for it bitters one’s inner monologues; a person who’s aware ends up in front of the TV set, desperately trying to chase away his/her thoughts. And so did the man whom this story is about. He quit his job, began running away from people and watching Oprah and other popular
TV shows. And his life was still and quiet, and his mind was thoughtless.

But one saturday night, just after recovering from the regular saturday night depression we all experience from time to time, he had a revelation: he had to be an idolater.

The idea originated in the show he was watching (namely American Idol), but he found the strength and ingenuity to move foreward and give it its own genuine form: he wasn’t to be an iconolator, worshipping some Hollywood star, but a proper idolater, a real pagan or totemist; or maybe even a demonist.

I need a religion of my own, he said, that is the only way I was to be special.

And he started worshipping his black cat.