On Groupthink.

I'm a sucker for cults.

Not for joining them of course, but for studying them and trying to get in the heads of people who succumb to this nonsense. It explains my fascination with Leah Remini and her expose of Scientology. It explains my obsession with the Illuminati and my fruitless efforts to gain online admission into their esteemed organization. It even sheds light on yesterday's post about the cult of Z, the democratic dark shadow counterpart to Q and Qanon.

Lately, I've been hooked on HBO's The Vow, a deep dive look at the sex slave/human trafficking/MLM Ponzi scheme headed up by Keith Raniere. I have a special interest in this latest cult for a number of reasons. One, being the outsized population of Tribe who count themselves as members of the cult -- and yes I'm aware of the irony of that statement.

And yes, I often question why I claim membership in a tribe that subscribes to many foolish, irrational thoughts and 3000 year old sheepherder stories, but that's a post for another day.

The other reason for my edge-of-the-seat viewing is that I have come to discover that the cult leader Keith Raniere was born in Brooklyn but moved to and grew up in my hometown, Suffern, NY when he was a small child.

Apart from Joe Lockheart, who served as communications director for President Obama, and Walt Weiss, who played shortstop/2nd base for the Oakland Athletics, there just aren't that many noteworthy people coming out of Suffern.

Certainly not many frumpy blowhard cult leaders who wormed his way into attractive women's hearts and pants. Suffice to say, this story has some local spice to it.

I'll admit I did not get on The Vow watching train from the beginning. It debuted right in the middle of the President's monumental unraveling -- between the soaring number of Covid cases, the release of his niece's scathing book, the Suckers and Losers scandal and now the playing possum bullshit during a fatal worldwide pandemic.

But I did catch an episode where a clearly embarrassed woman was giving tearful testimony about how she had been "branded" with a scorching cattle iron, signifying her membership in the organization. Turn the branded logo, etched near the women's private parts by the way, on its side and you'll see the cult leaders initials.

Maybe she can buff that out with some Bondo.

That's when I knew NXIVM (the cult's cockamamie name) merited my undivided attention.

In any case, The Vow is my new obsession. And so I'd like to answer the many people who have inquired, "what are you going to do with yourself if Trump loses the election and is out of office come January?"

For one thing, I'm not convinced he's losing. Over and above that, I'm not convinced that if he does lose, he will leave office. I'm amused by the number of naive people who still put trust in a system of government that has been rapidly decaying since the day that cockwomble rode down an escalator.

But should all that come to pass, I will gladly close the file on Grandpa Ramblemouth and resume my unsatiated desire to gain entry into the Illuminati.

I gotta have that Illuminati hat.