The Armpit Of Nevada

If it weren't for the effort, I'd have joined a cult long ago. I long for the sense of community, the built-in belief system, the catchy nicknames. On TV they make cult joining look easy: show up and chant a little, and some guy gives you a uniform and feeds you porridge. But my experiences have proved otherwise. After wading through three-quarters of the multiple-choice admission test for one cult in L.A., a monitor caught me copying off the guy sitting next to me and threw me out. I was the only person rejected from a cult on the ground of...

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