Well, since we started all this, I can't tell you how many times I've been asked, "Hey, Lintking...how can *I* become a follower of Mortijingle?" (Okay, I CAN tell you, but I won't. Not because it's an embarrassingly low number, but because...of...some..other, more impressive, reason.)
Heh. I'm sure we've all seen the button/bumper sticker, "Lead, follow, or get out of the way." Mortijingle believes the implied fourth option - getting IN the way - is just as viable as the first two and far moreso than the third. I just thought I'd throw that in, since following had come up and that gave me an excuse. It's my altar, I can ramble if I want to. (ramble if I want to, ramble if I want to...you would ramble too if it...argle. I'm okay now. Sorry about that.)
To address the actual question at hand...it's embarrassingly simple, actually. I'd say you just do it, but I think that's a trademark infringement at this point, so.."you simply accomplish it." That's how you can tell we're not some wacko cult. We don't require gobs of cash or insist you sell all your belongings to finance my Rolls Royce collection. We don't whisk you off to some remote colony, cut you off from your family, and talk you into swallowing poison. (Though I have to say, Jonestown WAS pretty funny, when you think about it. Flavor-Aid, anyone?) Heck, you don't even have to shave your head or approach strangers in the airport. Frankly, if you DO approach strangers in the airport, you're on your own. That can get dangerous...after all, especially in an airport, you don't know where that stranger's BEEN.
Erm. Anyway, to continue. Unlike many Aztec gods, Mortijingle doesn't ask that you open your or anyone else's heart to him. Unlike some religions on a certain sub-continent I won't name, you can still eat beef (Mad cow disease? We laugh at mad cow disease. Ha ha ha. See?) Et cetera. Mortijingle is a very accepting Lord. All you really ought to do is be able to laugh at things like mad cow disease, which, let's face it, can be pretty rough on the poor cows. Learning to juggle wouldn't hurt. (And best of all, learning to juggle WELL is superfluous.)
WHY become a Mortijinglist? Well...let's face it; irony isn't always bad. Take an experience out of my own life (please!); a few weeks ago, my car broke down. Blew a fuse. It turned out to be something simple (the fuse in the slot was half the amperage it should have been...for the last three years), but for the time being, of course, the car wasn't going anywhere. And during the only two hours in eleven years of owning this car that it just wasn't going anywhere...someone tries to steal it. Also for the first time in eleven years. We like to think they were cruising by later when we drove off, having gotten the right kind of fuse. Things like this happen to me a LOT.
Anyway, if you DO, let me know. I'll put you on a list, and maybe we'll send you an announcement when we have things to announce. (Maybe we'll send you an announcement when we DON'T, for that matter, just to keep in touch...) If you want spiritual advice, ask and maybe I'll have some. (By Colorado Law, I believe I only need three people looking to me for such advice before I can become official. Then we can do weddings. Heh heh heh.)
Oh, incidentally...not that He wants me to gossip, but I've gotta tease. Our Most Pantagruelistic One has apparently picked up a girlfriend...we're dubbing her Mortijiggle, the Lady of Death and Breasts, at least for the time being.
(Um, no, I'm not sure what Pantagruelistic means either, but it's in our thesaurus under "humor", so...I imagine it has something to do with having your pants eaten by a Grue. (tm?))
j n m ( m n j
"Thinking of my greasespot after Michael kicks my butt --
Most Sincerely Yours, Nybbas."