I Believe in the Church of Iggy Pop

The state of religion nowadays is a frothing, disgusting monster: hypocritical, self-imposing, and full of dreadfully outdated fairy-tale fantasies. Who can say that spiritual belief is on an upscale, when people willingly strap explosive devices to their chests for the betterment of their own invisible man in the sky? What about those Bible-beating fanatics who trump all the fun out of life, in favor of a more coerced and single-minded existence? Or hell, even the "religion" of atheism is bent on assimilating you into their teeth-gnashing ranks of faux-intellectual zealots who have nothing better to do than spout some condescending dribble. Get thee behind me, Satan!

Spare me your tales of the intangible pink cloud sanctuary in the sky; for I have found a new, fresh realm of beliefs! Do away with your archaic utopia, for I have discovered the Promised Land with a promised lord born from the greatest of artistic merits: the power of rock and roll.

That's right: As of right now, I am a card-carrying member of the Church of Iggy Pop. I have basked in the knowledge of the Holy Stooge, and from what I have seen, this faith is a bit more inviting to me than those other prickly temples of heresy. Come hither, and prepare to bathe in the radiance of the one, true path to enlightenment!

The Church of Iggy Pop does not seek to tell you that you've been a bad person. It will neither shirk you due to financial class, nor will it snub you for your upbringing. All are welcome to pay respects to the Grand Iguana himself, as well as donate tithing to the Foundation Of Musical Fusion. This charity is dedicated to Search and Destroy the lesser infidels of our order, including-but not limited to-such atrocious factions known as Green Day, No Doubt, and Gnarls Barkley. But make no mistake, we are a pacifist organization; we only ever make war through the wail of the guitar in the safety of these halls, and tis through this harmony that we can truly claim victory over the lesser-talented individuals who dare call themselves "punk."

The Church of Iggy Pop does not judge you for anything save your ability to rock. Moments of head-banging contemplation, knowledge of musical history, and weekly participation in our aural fusions are suggested, but are not mandatory for one to fully appreciate the Church's mission. All that is asked of you is to listen and to appreciate the last remaining Lizard King, the Grand Iguana Iggy Pop himself. (Sadly, the previous Lizard King died in the summer of 1971.)

Iggy Pop welcomes all into his sanctuary for a rock-fest of awesomeness all day, every day. Issues dealing with life and death are discarded upon entrance; in the Church of Iggy Pop, the meaning of life is rock, and in death you only rock harder. I do believe that Saint Jerry Garcia would be inclined to agree with this statement. In this denomination, Iggy Pop commands you to take it slow and go with the flow, dude. There is no rat race-only a few stage dives now and again. And in the afterlife of our lord Iggy Pop, all rockers will rise unharmed from their botched leaps and triumphantly raise a well-meaning thumbs up to His Highness.

In our church, there are many who have followed the life of the Grand Iguana to a fine point, and we call these people our saints. Some of the more notable saints in the sect include Saint John Lydon, Saint Joey Ramone, and Saint Glenn Danzig. And from these saints stems the many parables associated with their divinity. Remember the tale of the Prodigal Sex Pistol, involving Saint Vicious and Blessed Sister Spungen? Or the rise and fall of Saint Jerry's rejuvenated ministry so lovingly called The Misfits? And who could forget the trials and tribulations of the lovable Saint Dee Dee, aka Brother Dougie Fresh? All these tales contribute to the hallowed bible of Iggy Pop's glorious institution.

There are many ways you can spread the Good News of Iggy Pop and his mohawked disciples of dudetacular discipline. For example, denouncing the wicked and sinful ways of My Chemical Romance would be an acceptable task to undertake in the service of Lord Iggy. Or you could sponsor a festival of gnarly hymns and power chords in tribute to His Excellence of Ecstatic Expletives. Even better still would be a large sum of money donated to the Search and Destroy foundation dedicated to weeding out those who so wrap themselves in sheep's clothing, calling themselves the "true heirs" to a throne which will never be vacated.

These pretenders must be stopped, my brothers-but only through the mystical music that our godfather Iggy Pop produces shall we become whole. Only through his most loved apostles and ministries will the world finally achieve peace and unity. Fight! Iggy! For everlasting peace!

We do not seek to change your views through hate-unless you purposely mispronounce our leader's name as Piggy-and we only wish to serve the world through the lens of one so bold and so spectacularly transcendent. Hey, lemme ask you this: what did Albert Einstein ever do that was so important? Or for that matter, who cares about so-called geniuses like Virginia Woolf, Theodore Roosevelt, and John Rocker? Iggy Pop invented the stage dive, damnit!

As the night draws to a close and this mortal earth rotates on its axis one last time, remember that Iggy Pop will always be there for you. He'll be there for all of us!

And all it takes is three easy payments of $39.95!

Payments may be received via the Paypal of Saint Chuck Block of the Church of Iggy Pop.

Thanks, and Iggy bless you!