Cult of Common Sense The Holy Grail of Happy Hour
Dear Uncle Bobby - Everywhere I look these days, people are following some kind of guru — from juice cleanses to “mindful goat yoga.” It got me wondering: with all your bourbon wisdom and porch philosophy, have you ever thought about starting your own cult? I mean, why shouldn’t you have a flock of loyal followers hanging on your every word?
Follower of None
Oh, Follower, bless your eager little heart. You’ve stumbled on the one idea that makes more sense the longer I sip on it: Uncle Bobby’s Cult of Common Sense™.
Let’s be real — cults aren’t what they used to be. Gone are the days of matching robes and doomsday bunkers. These days, all you need is a catchy slogan, a newsletter, and a half-decent TikTok presence. People will line up to drink the Kool-Aid as long as you hashtag it.
Now, if I were to start my own movement, it wouldn’t be about fasting, crystals, or whispering affirmations into Himalayan salt lamps. No sir. My teachings would be practical:
- Thou shalt not text while merging.
- Thou shalt respect the grill hierarchy (burgers before hot dogs, always).
- And above all else: thou shalt keep thy thermostat above 68 if thou expecteth guests.
Meetings would be simple: a back porch, a folding chair, and a community cooler. Sermons? Delivered in rants about traffic circles and reality TV. Our holy text? That stack of unpaid bills and takeout menus on the kitchen counter — because nothing speaks to the human condition like overdue rent and soggy fries.
Now, sure, other cult leaders promise enlightenment or eternal salvation. Me? I promise you perspective: a reminder that life’s absurd, people are ridiculous, and the best you can do is laugh at it while holding something cold in your hand.
So, should I start my own cult? Probably not — I get winded just standing in line at Walmart. But if you want to join my “circle of awareness,” the membership fee is a six-pack, the dress code is “whatever’s clean,” and the only ritual we practice is side-eyeing anyone who says “let’s unpack that.”
Congratulations, Follower. You’ve just found religion — and it looks suspiciously like happy hour.
— Uncle Bobby