Bowling for Cult Status.
London had hosted its first “Dude” convention, so named in honour of the central character in the cult movie The Big Lebowski.
Maybe I’m just getting old and grumpy but it seems to me the world if full to overflowing with cults (I said CULTS, OK?) Each cult spawns its crop of conventions of course, so why not The Big Lebowski, at least “Dude” clones do not dress as aliens and go around talking in funny voices and making hand gestures that would have christian fundamentalists diving for cover.
Cult followers, or in the case of cult gay movie Priscilla, Queen of the Desert camp followers perhaps, find an escape from the mind rotting tedium of modern life by dressing up as characters in films or TV shows, debating the philosophical significance of the fact that the Xnrg from Yarble galaxy are giant, talking turds or re-enacting famous scenes and trying to cop off with somebody dressed as a giant, talking turd. By comparison imitating The Dude who spends most of his life hanging around a bowling alley drinking White Russians and the remainder accidentally stealing money from the mob and trying not to get killed by the mob begins to look like the behaviour we associate with sane, rational people.
Doyens of cult follows are the Trekkies. Trekkies have been with us for years. Most are content to put on spandex suits and a pair of pointy ears or a cod Scottish accent but some extremists insist on putting half eaten Cornish Pasties on their heads and saying they are Klingons. So well entrenched in society are the Trekkies that many Universities now offer degree courses in Klingon studies. Oh well, I suppose it is as good a choice career wise as a degree in creative writing or sports centre management. The best thing about Trekkie conventions is that the good looking females simply put on spandex jump suits and draw a few lines on their noses or have henna tattoos on their necks. Why would a good looking female want to cover herself in strips of green plastic or be wrapped in aluminium foil.
Trekkies were followed by Whoies, fans of Doctor Who. (not to be confused with WHOIS, a way of finding out what subterranean stinkpit the bastard that hacked your computer might be hiding.) After that come Star Wars cult fanatics. Anyone know a collective noun for these? Starries sounds like a convention for celebrity stalkers while Waries are surely members of the Bush Administration.
I have nothing against cult members but I do wonder at their motivation. Surely a couple of hours in the pub on a Friday night will provide ample opportunity to meet people who dress outlandishly and talk absolute bollocks. Surely to acknowledge being a cult member is an admission of chronic sadness almost equal to being seen entering a line dancing club.
For asctors and writers /producers / directors being part of a cult show or movie is different of course. It means they will never have to work again. Which is nice as many never do work again.
Back to The Big Lebowski:
To make a White Russian
(click here for more cocktails)
Fill a tumbler with crushed ice and add
1 shot of Vodka
1 shot of Kahula (coffee liqueur)
float 1 shot of whipping cream on top of this.