“Through the Screen Door” Series Announcement – Cult Edition
You may notice that this week, The Cult of Brighter Days is suddenly talking about God, the universe, and everything in-between (yes, including the spaghetti monster). And you’re probably thinking, “Wait… didn’t they say this wasn’t that kind of cult?”
Yes. And also no. Welcome to Abiscoridism.
So before anyone starts lighting their screen doors on fire, here’s a little context. We’re launching a series called “Through the Screen Door” — a collection of personal essays, weird theological ramblings, and video explorations by various members of the Cult (which is a cult and also not a cult — Schrödinger’s organization, if you will).
These pieces are not official doctrine. They are not required reading. They are not all going to agree with each other. Honestly, they might not even agree with themselves.
Here’s the deal:
What Is a Screen Door?
Think of it like this:
We’re all standing in our houses looking out at the same front yard — the Absurd Front Lawn of Life. That lawn is Abiscoridism: a shared space built on chaos, order, and the delightful uncertainty between them.
Somewhere out there, a cat may or may not be alive. (Thanks, Pixel.)
But the way we see the lawn? That’s through our screen door — a personal, subjective lens made of beliefs, biases, traumas, education, expired taco meat, and dreams you can’t talk about in polite company. Your screen door might be:
- Covered in stained glass angels
- Painted with quantum physics equations
- Scribbled over with weird memes and void jokes
- Torn off completely because you’re going full cosmic nihilist
And that’s fine. That’s the point.
Why We’re Letting People Talk About Their Weird Doors
We believe that everyone has a reality tunnel — a model of existence built out of whatever scraps you’ve got lying around in your mind. But here’s the kicker: your tunnel isn’t The Truth. It’s just your best guess at what the hell is going on.
These blog posts and videos? They’re guesses. Thoughtful, vulnerable, sometimes absurd guesses. And just like in Robert Anton Wilson’s work, what the thinker thinks, the prover proves. So, we let people prove things to themselves and share what they’ve learned — even if it involves the divine, the ridiculous, or both.
Rules of the Lawn (Important!)
Please observe the following Screen Door Protocols:
- You have a screen door. Everyone does. Even that guy.
- You may admire someone else’s door. Or not. Totally your call.
- You may not smash, steal, or declare your door the “only real one.” You’ll get lemoned.
- All doors are valid filters, but none are complete.
- If you can’t be funny, shut up. That’s Tenet 4. And yes, it applies here.
What This Isn’t
We’re not pivoting to a theology cult. We’re not creating a pantheon (yet). We’re not endorsing any one version of God, Goddess, Cosmic Salad Bar, or simulation hypothesis.
This is about giving people space to talk about their own metaphysical screen doors — not replacing yours.
What This Is
This is a sandbox. A philosophical playground. A shared lawn where people can build reality tunnels out of whatever metaphysical duct tape they’ve got lying around.
And yeah — some of the essays are gonna make you laugh, others might make you roll your eyes so hard they hit the back of your skull (thank you Bishop Richard). That’s fine. We just ask that you engage with curiosity, not conversion.
Because ultimately, it’s not about the door. It’s about the absurd, chaotic, beautiful lawn we’re all standing on together.
Even if it needs mowing.
Want to file a complaint? Please submit Form 227-R: Administrative Optimism Retraction and wait 6–8 weeks for divine processing. Or better yet: grab your screen door, step onto the lawn, and dance with us in the sprinklers of philosophical nonsense.
We’re glad you’re here. Just remember: your lawn, your door, your mess. Own it with humor.
— The Administrative Headache Division
Looking Glass House, Cult of Brighter Days