How to Turn Your Social Media Followers into Cult Members

Last Updated on July 5, 2024 by Michael

Ever looked at your social media followers and thought, “I bet I could get these people to worship me”? You’re in luck! Cults aren’t just for creepy dudes with long beards and questionable hygiene. With a sprinkle of charisma, a dash of manipulation, and a whole lot of nonsense, you too can turn your followers into devoted cult members. Let’s dive into the absurd and the profane.

Step 1: The Birth of a New God (That’s You)

It’s time to elevate yourself from mere mortal to deity. Start by creating a backstory so wild, it makes Greek mythology look like a boring biography. You weren’t just born; you were summoned by the cosmic fart of the universe, destined to bring enlightenment and free Wi-Fi to the masses.

Share this divine origin story through an Instagram live session. Remember to sprinkle in some fake tears and spontaneous jazz hands. Nothing says “worship me” like a dramatic flair and a jazz solo.

Once you’ve established your godhood, make sure your followers start addressing you with appropriately reverent titles. “Your Divine Cheesiness” has a nice ring to it. Don’t settle for “influencer” when you can be “Supreme Overlord of the Interwebs.”

Step 2: Daily Rituals and Sacrifices

Every cult needs daily rituals, and yours should be as nonsensical as possible. Morning rituals could involve chanting your Instagram handle while balancing a banana on their heads. Afternoons might be dedicated to offering sacrifices in the form of Venmo donations or, if they’re short on cash, interpretive dance videos dedicated to you.

Create a sense of urgency by warning that failing to perform these rituals could result in catastrophic events, like their favorite Netflix show getting canceled or their Wi-Fi slowing to dial-up speed. Fear is a great motivator, especially when it’s utterly ridiculous.

Set up a dedicated time for communal tweeting, where all followers must tweet random, incoherent praises to you. The more confusing and grammatically incorrect, the better. Bonus points if they include bizarre hashtags like #PineappleGodSaves or #WorshipTheNacho.

Step 3: The Holy Texts of Hashtags

Craft your own set of sacred texts, but instead of ancient scrolls, use hashtags. #BlessedByBacon could become a daily affirmation, while #AllHailTheMightyMeme should be chanted at noon. These hashtags should be cryptic enough to baffle outsiders but simple enough for your followers to understand after their fifth mimosa.

Encourage your followers to spread these hashtags far and wide, turning every social media platform into a virtual temple of your nonsense. The key is to make the hashtags sound profound but ultimately meaningless. If anyone questions their significance, just respond with, “You wouldn’t understand, it’s an ancient secret.”

Develop a digital bible made up of screenshots of your tweets, Instagram posts, and the occasional Snapchat filter selfie. Ensure it’s filled with pseudo-philosophical nonsense that sounds deep but is ultimately just word salad.

Step 4: Recruitment Tactics That Would Make a Pyramid Scheme Jealous

Cults aren’t any fun without new blood, so make sure your followers are constantly recruiting. Promise them imaginary rewards like “exclusive access to your thoughts” or a “front-row seat in the afterlife.” Pyramid schemes have nothing on the allure of eternal friendship with a social media deity.

Create a referral program where followers can earn “spiritual points” for every new member they bring into the fold. These points can be redeemed for useless trinkets like “blessed paper clips” or “sanctified rubber bands.” The more pointless the reward, the more fervent the recruitment.

Host weekly Zoom meetings where you give vague, rambling speeches about enlightenment, interspersed with random dance breaks. These sessions should feel like a fever dream, leaving participants confused but oddly satisfied. Make sure to always end with a group chant of your choice of nonsensical slogan.

Step 5: Merchandising the Madness

No cult is complete without merchandise. Design T-shirts with slogans like “I Follow the Banana Prophet” or “Praise Be to the Almighty Avocado.” Sell these items at ridiculously high prices to create a sense of exclusivity. The more overpriced, the more your followers will clamor to buy them.

Create a line of absurd “holy relics” like used napkins you’ve “blessed” or empty soda cans you’ve “imbued with divine energy.” Sell these relics on Etsy with detailed backstories about how they came into your possession through mystical means.

Develop an official cult uniform that combines elements of clown costumes, disco attire, and medieval armor. Host virtual fashion shows where followers showcase their unique interpretations of the uniform, complete with interpretive dances and spontaneous poetry readings.

Step 6: The Grand Conspiracy

Every cult needs an enemy to rally against. Invent a shadowy conspiracy out to get you and your followers. Maybe it’s the Illuminati, the lizard people, or an army of sentient garden gnomes. The more absurd, the better.

Encourage your followers to be on constant alert for signs of this enemy. If they see a garden gnome, they must take a selfie with it and tag you. If their milk expires before the date on the carton, it’s a sign the Illuminati are messing with their dairy. Paranoia is key.

Host “emergency” livestreams where you frantically warn your followers of the latest threat, complete with dramatic music and over-the-top graphics. Ensure these threats are as bizarre as possible, like the moon being replaced with a giant disco ball by the Illuminati to distract the masses.

Step 7: The Ultimate Revelation

Every cult needs a grand revelation or prophecy. Announce that you have foreseen the coming of the Great Spaghetti Monster, who will bless your followers with unlimited pasta and garlic bread.

Encourage them to prepare for this event by stockpiling noodles and learning the sacred art of sauce making. Host cooking classes where you wear a chef’s hat and speak in an exaggerated Italian accent.

As the “prophesied” date approaches, ramp up the absurdity with countdowns, themed parties, and nonsensical rituals. On the day itself, reveal that the Great Spaghetti Monster was a metaphor for the connection between carbs and enlightenment, and then host a massive pasta feast via Zoom.

Step 8: The Escape Plan

In case things get too weird or the authorities start asking questions, have a pre-planned escape route. Announce to your followers that you must go on a spiritual journey to the Himalayas, or maybe just to your nearest Taco Bell.

Encourage them to continue the cult in your absence, ensuring that they stay devoted by promising to return one day with even more bizarre prophecies. Leave them with enough random hashtags and vague threats of doom to keep them busy and paranoid.

Disappearing acts are essential. Vanish for a week or two, only to return with tales of your spiritual adventures, complete with outlandish photoshopped images of you meditating on top of a Taco Bell sign. This will solidify your status as an untouchable, mystical figure.

Step 9: Handling the Non-Believers

Not everyone will buy into your cult, and that’s okay. Handle non-believers with grace, by which I mean, complete and utter nonsense. Respond to their skepticism with cryptic messages like, “The pigeon flies at midnight” or “Only those who have danced with a ferret under the full moon will understand.”

Encourage your followers to do the same. Soon, the non-believers will be so confused, they’ll either join the cult out of curiosity or leave you alone out of sheer bewilderment.

For those who persist in their doubt, create a series of elaborate “curses” involving common household items. Announce that anyone who disrespects the cult will have their TV remote batteries die at the most inconvenient times, or their toast will always land butter-side down.

Step 10: The Grand Finale

End your cult journey with a grand, absurd gesture. Maybe you declare that you’ve discovered the secret to eternal life involves eating nothing but marshmallows and beef jerky. Host a week-long feast where your followers gorge on these foods while wearing tin foil hats.

Or, you could announce that you’ve been contacted by aliens who have invited you and your most devoted followers to a cosmic party. Hold a raffle to determine who gets to go with you, complete with fake boarding passes and a CGI spaceship.

Whatever you choose, make sure it’s as over-the-top and nonsensical as possible. The goal is to leave your followers with a story so bizarre, they’ll be talking about it for years, keeping the legend of your cult alive long after you’ve moved on to the next weird adventure.

In the end, the success of your social media cult will depend on your ability to be consistently ridiculous, unpredictable, and utterly unapologetic. Embrace the chaos, and who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll be remembered as the greatest social media cult leader of all time. Or at least, the weirdest.