Sunday, January 28, 2007

The Last Message

Maharishi's Deathbed Confession

I want to set the record straight now that I am about to make the
final journey. I never really intended for things to get quite this
out of whack.

When I started out I just wanted to make a few buck for my family in
Kerala and maybe help some people in the West learn a useful
meditation that could help them relax. That was really it. I knew the
meditation would never "enlighten" anyone. Hell, it didn't enlighten
me, so how could it do that for anyone else? But people seemed so
needy, so anxious and so interested in enlightenment that I couldn't
resist. And the money! God, the money these people would throw at me
for this! And I could buy nice cars and really high-quality silk and
pashmina and fly in chartered jets and all that, it was too much for
this little old Indian boy to pass up. So I got greedy. And eventually
I got more ambitious. And the greedier and more ambitious I became the
more money and power I required. I became like a wild dog eating up
the countryside. At first it was a rush, then I did it just to stay even.

Same thing with the chicks. I was supposed to keep hands off, but they
were throwing themselves at me. I couldn't help it. Well, maybe I
could have. I mean I could have remained steadfast in my vows, but
come on! I mean, have you seen some of these girls in their miniskirts
and all that? Especially back in the 60's and 70's? Anyway, I did
carry on with dozens, maybe hundreds, of my own disciples. At least I
wasn't a fag. And I didn't mess with little kids like some gurus I
know. So give me credit for that.

Now all this flying stuff and these world government things and
titles, all that stuff. I really didn't want to get into that, but the
family was growing and the people wanted more. They had investments in
Europe and India and a lot of real estate and needed more and more
money. So I looked at the world and I decided to go the whole route.
Hell, it worked for Hitler. That Third Reich deal was completely
believable if you were a good Nazi. So I built this grandiose thing up
and told people we absolutely had to do it to save the world (OK, I'm
given to exaggeration, so shoot me) and everyone needed to give me a
million dollars each and all this stuff. And people did it! They went
for it! I shouldn't have been surprised. After forty years of
bullshitting people I knew that no matter how outlandish I became, no
matter how ridiculous a plan I came up with, there would always be
plenty of mindless idiots (sorry Larry and Bevan and the rest of you
panjandrums and phony royalty, but come on, you really don't believe
it, do you? And besides you got a lot of tail and worship and all so
don't be too pissed at me. It's not like you starved, you know? Of
course after I die no one will give two shits about you or your
titles. But you have to admit you had some fun while it lasted, didn't
you?)

So here on my deathbed let me say to those whose lives and marriages I
ruined and whom I bilked out of their entire life savings: you could
have lived and flourished and had truly productive lives instead of
the impoverished, sad-ass, sorry lives you now have. But you would
have had to leave me years ago. You should have gotten wise to this
especially when I started that bogus flying thing. You knew you
weren't flying. You knew you were just bouncing around on mattresses.
So why didn't you leave? A lot of people did leave. They were the
smart ones. Why did you stay? Hello! Earth to Purusha! Are you that
brain-dead? I really can't take the blame for people who are just too
dumb to wash behind their own ears. But I do apologize for what it's
worth. Which ain't much but it certainly makes me feel better. And
that's the whole point, right?

Anyway, I have changed. I have one last message to give to the world.

Inshallah! God is Great! Allah is God and Muhammad is his Prophet!
Kill the Infidels, kill all Americans and Jews and Muslims who do not
follow Sharia! God is Great! God is Great! God is Great!

Surprised? I thought you might be. Not to worry about the conversion:
I already have my 70 virgins all picked out.

Lates,


MMY


(ps thanks to yet another former MMY personal assistant, who wrote this.)

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

This is really sad...and immature: you're still looking for a Father, or an authority figure to rebel against...
Look within yourself, to find the things you hate outside of you; and then you can have a chance to progress;
As long as you blame, the game, in just a circle, of karma...

Anonymous said...

Hi "annonymous",

I do have a father, 80 years old this year. Knock on wood, I hope he's around for many more years of shared laughter, love and golf. Glad my post got you thinking.
Joseppi

Sudarsha said...

To first Anonymous: one of the cardinal traits of TM damage is the lack of a sense of humour. -- From my own experience around Mahesh for a constant (near 24/7) 2 year period, he did not practise anything. -- He got out of bed and got straight to work (prying what he could from whoever was present or started babbling about his wast wedic wisdom and conning us into helping him turn it into a money-making enterprise) and finally collapsed to sleep 18 to 20 hour later on many, many occasions. -- He laughed at everything, especially his own jokes (on us or on whoever's back was turned at the time).

--

The die-hard devotees who rounded all the time and would have committed human sacrifice rather than miss a meditation laughed not at all, could never see the funny side of things, especially themselves and only laughed when the old weasel laughed.

--

Sycophants have no sense of humour. Sad, but indicative.

S

Anonymous said...

Just as a data point, I've had some of the best laughs of my life in the company of TMers. One of the very best occurred at a dinner table of mostly TM "lifers," and they were falling out of their chairs laughing at themselves.

In my experience, TMers tend to have a terrific sense of humor.

I've seen some quite funny anti-TM humor, but the genre overall (including this example) has generally struck me as rather strained, even leaden. I think maybe you have to get some distance before you can be really funny about a bad experience.

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