Let's say that one day the impossible happens and you wake up in the gleaming city of Metropolis. Or perhaps you get really lucky and wake up in New York, in the arms of Mary Jane Watson, or Peter Parker, or both, if that's your bag. You leap out of bed and throw open the door, ready to explore. You are in a land of imagination, heroism, and hot people in spandex! What should you do first?

Make you peace with god, my friends. Make your peace with god. You're in a world where even super-powered people drop like flies after being horribly tortured, where fresh blood needs to be spilled every Wednesday, and where sometimes whole universes get snuffed out.

In other words, you're already deader than a smushed opossum in the middle of an eight lane highway.

The moment you realize you exist in a comic-book universe, it's time to think about what comes next. I've provided a handy guide of religions to choose from. Read it now. You won't live long enough to hit the F5 key.

1. Greek Mythology

There's a lot to be said for Greek mythology. There is both a god of booze and a god of love. There is, in fact, a god of pretty much everything, so a few well-chosen sacrifices could theoretically get you whatever you wanted. Please a god, get what you need.

Then again, displease a god and that smushed opossum on the highway starts to look really damned good compared to your situation. The Greek gods had this thing called ‘irony,' and lacked this thing called ‘a sense of humor.' It started out small. For example, they would tell a set of parents that their darling new baby boy would kill his father and marry his mother, and then set it up so that all the ways they tried to avoid having such a thing happen actually helped it come about. It all ended up with that darling, innocent boy scooping his own eyes like they were ice cream and he worked at Baskin Robbins.

Lately in comics, meddling gods have gotten a little more serious, with invading armies, forsaken populations, and sudden coups. Let's put it this way: Wonder Woman is the quintessential Greek warrior. Wise, dutiful, compassionate, honorable, and brilliant, she embodies all possible virtues. This was her last meeting with the leader of the Greek gods.

Maybe you want to move on.

2. Norse Mythology

Want a few less Greek isles and a few more snow-covered mountains in your afterlife? More ski than sea? Well, then perhaps you're the Norse god type. Again, there are party gods and the random acts of violence gods, and on the whole, they seem less interested in consigning mortals to a horrific yet amusing fate.

On the whole.

There is, however, one god who'd do it with a smile on his or her face: Loki. I'm going to go ahead and include a link to Loki's Wikipedia page, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loki_(comics) because trying to recount the stories would drive me completely mad. If you look over the sections, you will notice a theme. Loki tries to take over. Loki gets kicked out. Loki comes back. Loki tries to take over again.

That's right. Norse mythology seems to have one god who is pretty much just in charge of causing as much trouble as possible for everyone else. You know how one troll can ruin a message board? Picture that, only for eternity and all you can eat is apples (long story). You'd better love to ski, my friends.

3. Buddhism

Buddhism isn't much delved into in comics. There are a few heroes who will reference spending time in Buddhist temples, but often the most action your religion will get is being a backdrop for guys in robes kicking each other. Honestly? That's the selling point.

Not many good things happen to people in comics, a point I believe I made in the first few paragraphs. Wandering around a Buddhist monastery may be the best way to stay alive forever.

Or maybe it'll just seem that way. Connor Hawke is a Buddhist character several years out of the monastery, and he still only drinks milk. If you go Buddhist, you're not the guy who lives a normal life, slightly influenced by religious faith. You're the guy who wanders around in saffron colored robes being serene. All the time. Not that you are going to be half way as burdened as those who have chosen Islam.

4. Islam

Well, now you've done it. You've gone and picked a faith that has a lot of people saying dumb things about it. That means comics creators are either a) saying dumb things themselves, or b) being very, very careful.

This puts you in the position of being a ‘Splainy Laney. Dust, from the X-Men, who talks about her personal philosophy for wearing her abaya and niqab immediately before getting stripped out of them in many story lines.

You may also be the innocent person on the street in a superhero adventure. I know, it seems like that way lies roadkillandia. But because creators are being careful, you have a decent chance of living to the end of a story and getting the hell away from all superheroes. There's only one drawback. Goody-two-shoesism. Innocence has to be earned, like in the issue of Birds of Prey where Black Canary hijacks a cab driver named Masoud. What follows is an entire issue of Black Canary being crazy and Masoud being the voice of reason, culminating with the guy in a railroad car, alone, with a hot blonde in a short skirt offering him a bottle of booze. His response?

"As a devout Muslim I choose never to drink, Miss."

Oh, Masoud. At least your long life will give you a chance to bond with the Buddhists about how nothing interesting ever happens to you.

5. Judaism

Again we find a group which has a lot in common with the Buddhists, at least in comics. Although your religion has been recently augmented by heroes such as Batwoman and Sergeant Rock, you mostly get trotted out each December to round out a Holiday Special. Rest assured though, no one dies in a holiday special.

Unfortunately, it won't be only smooth sailing. Since comic books are the place where Nazis never die, you will have deal with the fall-out from that. This, however, might be a welcome change from the real world. Generally comics need a few panels to show that Nazis, neo-Nazis and other hate groups are really, really bad people, and the easiest way to do that is to show them hassling some Jews. Remain calm. Unlike the real world, more often than not, this will give the heroes a chance to swing in, beat down the punks, and swing out, happy that they have shown us folks at home that superheroes are better than skinheads.

6. Christianity

There's an important theological lesson you must learn before you decide to become Christian: comics are a visual medium. Meaning, if it doesn't have a necklace with a cross or a black collar with a little white rectangle, it isn't a Christian. Don't be walking around in civvies and expecting to go to heaven.

Here's a second lesson: if you go the collar route, you will probably end up advising a superhero or supervillain at some point. This is a good sign! It means you won't be killed randomly. But you're not out of the woods yet. Be kind, be wise, be insightful, but do not, for any reason, be anything but professional. Bonding with a cape is the surefire way to get killed messily so he or she can mourn you. You're not there to be anyone's friend. Maintain your distance.

The drawback to comics Christianity tend to twofold: the religion seems, paradoxically, both highly procedural and highly metaphysical. A good example of this coming together would be the story of Zauriel. He gets kicked out of heaven for falling in love with a mortal woman despite his years of seniority and service (technical) and then has to abandon his pursuit of her to stop an angelic coup. Asmodel, the rebellious angel, managed to take his rebellion all the way to the throne room of heaven only to find it empty, because God is everything and everywhere (metaphysical).

On the one hand, it would certainly put an end to Loki being such an ass in Norse mythology. On the other hand?

Take away the cat, and that's what you're worshiping. Makes a big guy with a beard feel comfortingly substantial, doesn't it?

In New South Wales, Australia, members of the local Church of Scientology are being investigated by a Senate group for allegedly shunting unpopular members into labor camps:

NSW police are now looking into the shocking allegations, which include the use of labour camps known as the Rehabilitation Project Force, for church members who rated poorly on tests using a device known as the electropsychometer, or E-meter. Ex-Scientologist Peta O'Brien told [senator Nick] Xenophon, in a letter tabled in the Senate, that she was forced to spend five hours a day breakingrocks with crow bars to help build a road and carparking area at the church's Dundas base, in Sydney's west. O'Brien alleged Scientologists in the RPF were not allowed to speak until spoken to, were banned from listening to music or driving, and were not given any medical or dental assistance.

Another ex-Scientologist says that pregnant women in Scientology were pressured to have abortions, sometimes to the pont of being locked up if they refused. Another former member of the church says both his young daughters died under suspicious circumstances:

Paul David Schofield claims in his letter tabled in parliament his toddler daughter Lauren died while being babysat in the Sydney church, when she was "allowed to wander the stairs by herself and fell". Church officials not only discouraged him and his wife from seeking compensation, he alleges, but encouraged him to request that no inquest be held. Schofield wrote that his second daughter, Kirsty, died after ingesting potassium chloride kept at his house. "I covered up that this substance was widely used in both the Sydney church's `purification' programs and a similar program at the church's drug rehab organisation," he wrote. "I perjured myself . . . I did not tell the whole truth either to police or the court (to my shame) but omitted details which would have `embarrassed' the church. I knew if I didn't do this I would be heavily penalised by the church for getting it into trouble." Schofield wrote that most Scientologists did not trust non-believers - referred to as wogs - and thought that "wog justice just made people worse".

The Church has responded that the children's deaths were investigated by police at the time. They say their freedom of religion is being threatened.

Senator Xenophon replied:

Religious freedom did not mean the Catholic or Anglican churches were not held accountable for crimes and abuses committed by their priests, nuns and officials, albeit belatedly. In Australia there are not limits on what you can believe but there are limits on how you can behave. It's called the law, and no one is above it.

via The Australian

Image via Steve Garfield.

Chueh's Inferno series, as well as some of his other paintings, are currently on display at Gallery 1988 in Los Angeles, where he's also selling a limited edition sketchbook explaining the concepts behind each painting.

[Luke Chueh's Inferno via mashKULTURE]

Ring 1: Judgment
Ring 2: The Fornicators
Ring 3: The Gluttonous
Ring 4: The Hoarders
Ring 5: The Wrathful
Ring 6: The Heretics
Ring 7, Inner: The River of Blood
Ring 7, Middle: The Forest of Suicides
Ring 7, Inner: The Desert of Fire
Ring Eight, Bolgia Nine: The Sowers of Discord
Ring 9: The Traitorous

First up, the ice cream man, played by Doug Jones, is pretty fantastic, I quite enjoy how he trots over an all fours. The rest of the "must protect the savior baby" is all well and good, but I'm more excited about the Biblical throwdowns and crazy old ladies climbing up the walls.

Looks like a delightful over-the-top B-movie fake spiritual war, a la Constantine, but with more blood and guts, and possibly pus coming from Dennis Quaid. I'm sure many, many people will say it's beneath them, but me, I'll be first in line for the Gabriel versus Michael angel battle. Legion will be released in theaters on January 22.

[via Myspace]

If you live in or around Pensacola, it just got harder to be a creationist who wants to see giant statues of dinosaurs. Dinosaur Adventure Land, which was packed with educational exhibits devoted to unmasking the lies of evolution, will be no more. No longer will children be taught how dinosaurs walked the earth 6000 years ago. All because park's owners, Kent and Jo Hovind, owed the IRS just under half a million dollars in employee taxes.

According to the Pensacola News Journal:

[Kent Hovind] was found guilty in November 2006 on 58 counts, including failure to pay employee taxes and making threats against investigators.
The conviction culminated 17 years of Hovind sparring with the IRS. Saying he was employed by God and his ministers were not subject to payroll taxes, he claimed no income or property.

Now the government is finally going to get those back taxes by seizing what remains of their theme park.

The Hovinds were also the founders of Creation Science Church, which seems (if the website is to be believed) to be devoted to a creationist interpretation of the Bible, really awesome dinosaurs, and super excellent paper airplanes. As the Dinosaur Adventure Land website explains:

Dinosaur Adventure Land is a theme park and science museum that gives God the glory for His creation. It has rides and fun-filled events and activities, each involving a physical challenge, a science lesson, and a biblical truth.

Learn about dinosaurs, principles of science, and even how to make a paper airplane that can fly over 300 feet! Handle our real, live creatures and take the Leap of Faith swing. Enjoyable and educational for all ages, it is specifically targeted for kids under a million years of age!

But don't worry – other creationist dinosaur parks live on. In fact, in recent years, creationist groups have seized control of previously science-friendly dino attractions. The famous Cabazon Dinosaurs in California, featured in Pee Wee's Big Adventure, were recently purchased by a creationist group. Now their website includes helpful information on why Darwin was wrong. The park owners write:

Through our exhibit, Mr. Rex's Dinosaur Adventure™ At the World's Biggest Dinosaurs™, we hope to help the young and old explore what is known and not known about dinosaurs, man and the creation of the world in a practical, factual and fun way.

There also remains the Creation Museum in Kentucky, toured by SF author John Scalzi, who had quite a bit to say about it, as well as having a great Flickr set of crazy dioramas from the displays there. The Creation Museum is so hip that it even has a blog, which recently announced that the museum is sponsoring a car that will be racing at the Kentucky Speedway. But will the car have a velociraptor painted on the side? You know, one that lived like 5000 years ago?

Dinosaur Adventure Land image via bak2new. Timeline image from Creation Museum via Scalzi. Cabazon Dino pic via slworking2.

Sang-hyun (Thirst): If the path to Hell is paved with good intentions, Sang-hyun sprinted down the road and locked the gate behind him. In attempt to reduce the whole of human suffering, he volunteers to be a guinea pig for the Emmanuel Virus vaccine, but the experiment goes awry, leaving the priest with an unnatural thirst for human blood. And, though he tries to keep himself from killing, the comatose patients in the hospital where he works are almost too delectable to bear.

Ivan Isaacs (Priest): There are bad-ass priests...then there are bad-ass priests who sell their souls to the devil to become even more bad-ass. Fallen priest Ivan Issacs sells his soul to Belial for a second chance at life — and vengeance. Now an undead revenant sustained by only by his rage, Isaacs stalks the midwest with a blade, a sawed-off shotgun, and his superhuman strength.

Jesse Custer (Preacher): Jesse Custer may be one of the good guys, but get him in the wrong mood, and even God Himself shakes in His cowboy boots. He starts fights at the drop of a hat, is best friends with a vampire, and when he's bound to Genesis — granting him the powers of the Word of God — he drives his foes to suicide and even commands a fellow to do unspeakable things with his own genitalia. And he's on an ultraviolent mission to find God and make Him answer for His crimes against the world.

Reverend William Stryker (X-Men): Nothing says "scary" like an imagined genocidal mission from God. As if it weren't bad enough that Stryker is on a personal mission to exterminate all mutantkind, he has to use his televangelism to recruit new hatemongers. In fact, Stryker's power and charisma as a preacher are far more frightening weapons than the Sentinel arm he picks up in his anti-mutant travels.

Bishop Antony Lilliman (V for Vendetta): Certainly the whole notion of a fascist party that constantly spies on the whole of Britain is frightening enough, but party member Bishop Lilliman is particularly creepifying with his participation in the Larkhill experiments and his penchant for ordering up little girls like they're entrees. He's so busy attempting to molest a jailbait-outfitted Evey that he can't even heed her warnings about V.

Reverend Henry Kane (Poltergeist II): Adults might be inclined to give the creepy old reverend who comes traipsing into their front yard the benefit of the doubt, but kids and dogs know when "creepy" crosses the line into "absurdly evil." Listen to your dogs, Mom and Dad, or else you'll never know when Pastor Overly Friendly is a Satanic cultist with a penchant for murdering his followers and stealing their souls.

Brother Justin Crowe (Carnivale): The Methodist answer to radio priest Charles Coughlin, Brother Justin has the added title of Creature of Darkness. He uses his radio program as a mass-scale vehicle for his supernatural powers of manipulation, bringing people's greatest sins and darkest desires to life in horrifying visions. And where manipulation fails, Justin can always draw his strength from violence, mowing innocents down with a not-so-subtle scythe.

Caleb (Buffy the Vampire Slayer): In seven seasons of villains, Caleb may have been the most chill-inducing of the lot. Nathan Fillion gave him sufficient charm to understand how he managed to lure two girls to his death, and his link with the First Evil gives him the power to defeat even the Slayers. But Caleb takes on-screen violence in the Buffyverse to an uncomfortable level when he unflinchingly stabs his thumb into Xander's eye.

Brother Blood (Teen Titans): For centuries, the Church of Blood consisted of two members: a father who held what might be the prayer shawl of Christ (and its powers of invulnerability) and a son who would eventually slay him and take his place. But one of these Brother Bloods eventually realized that religion could be used not only to attain superpowers, but to take over the world. His brainwashing, baby-stealing, no-exit cult even managed to attract powerful government officials, despite the distinctly Satanic-sounding name.

Paladin Alexander Anderson (Helsing): Alucard is the most powerful vampire on Earth, but even he is thrown off guard by the Vatican's top vampire hunter, Father Anderson. Engineered with superhuman abilities and the capacity to regenerate, Anderson himself seems, at times, more monster than man. And he'd be less fearsome if his hatred for vampires didn't extend to all non-Catholics — and if he lost that rictus grin.

Anthony Tipet (The X-Files): After getting out of prison for bludgeoning his wife to death, Tipet begins to preach the "Via Negativa," the notion that the path of darkness is the best way to get close to God. And he gets to put his philosophy into action when a super-amphetamine turns him into Freddy Krueger, granting him the ability to kill folks in their sleep, and — for creepy bonus points — opening his third eye.

The Confessor (Astro City): The Confessor may have been modeled on Batman, but he has something in common with one of the other priests on the list: Thirst's Sang-hyun. This one-time priest wears a cross to immolate his cursed flesh and focus his mind on something other than his relentless hunger for blood. But at least he's not too distracted to use his vampiric powers to fight crime.

Mr. Eko (Lost): Priest was only Mr. Eko's second job title. Earlier in life, he was a warlord and a drug smuggler, the sort of man who would threaten to burn down his own brother's church to get what he wants. And even after taking on the role of village priest to atone for a life of violence, Eko is still a man to be feared. When guerillas threaten his village and attack Eko, he still has, much to his dismay, the strength and killer instincts to take them down.

Father Grigori (Half-Life 2): Father Grigori is quite friendly when it comes to fellow zombie-killer Gordon Freeman, but he comes off as a bit unhinged as he wields his pump-action rifle (nicknamed Annabelle). Of course, if you watched your entire congregation get turned into headcrab zombies, you'd probably develop a few spooky characteristics, too.

Steve Newlin Jr. (True Blood): While not as eager to bloody his hands as the other preachers on this list, here's something creepy and off about televangelist Steve Newlin. It's not just his extreme hatred of vampires or his propensity for wearing t-shirts over button-downs. It's his unquestioning conviction in his moral and spiritual correctness, his ability to attract unfailingly like-minded worshipers, his ends-justify-the-means — and the sense that he's playing Dr. Jekyll to a gleeful (and possibly misogynistic) Mr. Hyde.

The Ancient Books

Like all great religions, the franchises have mysterious histories, preserved in decaying books and obscure pamphlets. The thread that unites all of them is an overarching tale of social outcasts who find holy books that show them the light, and lead them to secret congregations where mystical debates and opinions are exchanged.

Almost century-old pulp magazines like Weird Tales and Amazing Stories brought the faith to tiny towns via drugstore displays and dark bookshops. Comic books with stories of the Superman and the Batman converted the faithful four generations ago. Stories of Conan, John Carter of Mars, and Flash Gordon were passed around and taught the agnostic about a world where science triumphed, the stars promised endless new worlds to explore, and plainfaced secretaries could transform into superpowered, beautiful Amazons out to save the world.

Converted by these ancient books, the earliest fans began to build the franchises that would transform their visions of other worlds into the pillars of new belief systems.

The Crusades

Now, how could these faithful convert the masses? Surely not with horses and swords. This crusade would use the tools of pop and new media. And by new media, I mean movies and television. The heroes and monsters who began life on the pages of cheap magazines became the technicolor astronauts of movie serials like Flash Gordon, Universal's monster movies, and later of mind-bending 1950s scifi movies like Forbidden Planet and The Day The Earth Stood Still.

Popular writers like Ray Bradbury and Isaac Asimov introduced a new version of the holy writ, but congregations expanded after exposure to the giant shiny spectacle of spaceships and robots on screen. No need to murder or shun the non-believers. By the 1960s, all you'd need to do was hand them a Marvel comic or show them an episode of Twilight Zone and they'd come around.

A Vast Congregation Breaks Into Sects

The church of franchise reached mega-church dimensions in the 1970s, with the rise of Star Trek, Star Wars, and Doctor Who fandoms. For the first time, the scifi and pulp world began to fragment into sects. Where once fans had all met at the same conventions to share the same stories, now factionalism had begun. People went to Star Trek conventions, and called themselves Trekkers instead of just fans.

Apocrypha and Idol Worship

Inevitably, as factionalism increased, apocryphal books and idol worship ran rampant. No longer were fans satisfied with the stories given to them from on high. Instead they had to write their own. Slash fiction featuring the romantic adventures of Kirk and Spock spread like blasphemy through the pure heart of fandom. And then came the Doctor Who novels and radio adventures.

Fans began to speak in terms of canons. There were the canonical texts of yore, and then the non-canonical fanfic tales and paintings and videos that flooded conventions with stories that Stan Lee and Gene Roddenberry never intended.

In the Age Of The Web, this situation has reached a fever pitch with Harry Potter shippers and fanfic writers taking the ancient tomes into their own hands and making them into whatever they like. Harry Potter having sex with Draco? The Supernatural boys having sex with Captain Jack? Me having sex with Doctor Who? Anything goes. Fandom becomes Babylon.

Holy Wars

Of course the Sodom and Gomorrah of fandom today must be purged, must be forced to recognize the canon for what it is - and to recognize their true gods once again. That's why big content owners like Paramount, LucasArts, Marvel, and others must scourge the fans with legal threats when they publish blasphemous fan art and stories. No longer is fandom what the fans create! You may only have the truly authorized books and stories from science fiction if you pay for them, just as you pay tithes, or shell out for indulgences, or write a check to your favorite televangelist.

Some fans have begun to rebel against the power of this new Hollywood church, fighting legal threats and celebrating independent comics. Others fight among themselves, unsure where to turn. Thus we saw the great Twilight Rebellion of Comic-Con 2009, where protesters held signs that read "Twilight Ruined Comic-Con," the way Christians once held banners that read "The End is Nigh."

Religion As Franchise

Those who run franchises today are savvy enough to know that they're dealing with religion from the start. Shows like Supernatural, Battlestar Galactica, Buffy, and Star Trek have all dealt head-on with religion. And their congregations have only grown. Meanwhile, the Jedi Religion is one of the fastest-growing in the world (at least according to census reports).

In the end, religious fervor is good for the pocketbook of the culture industry. The more we worship, the more we are willing to pay for action figures, for DVD box sets, for expensive reissues and signed first editions. These things are trinkets for our shrines, outward signs of our devotion. And like all religious objects they are dosed with a symbolic meaning that goes way beyond their unbroken plastic seals. They ward off what hurts us in the world. They promise better things to come.

Star Wars loft via eyeSPIVE.

Battle droid action figures via monsterbrick.

Harry Potter shrine via BoogersHondoFido.

The website itself presents itself as entirely impartial:

According to noted biologist Richard Dawkins, Darwinian evolution makes it possible to become an intellectually fulfilled atheist. According to Francis Collins, former head of the Human Genome Project, evolution is perfectly compatible with his Christian faith. Who is right? And why does it matter? This website is designed to help you find out. Here you will find articles, debates, video and audio, discussion questions, and other free resources as you explore the issues surrounding faith and evolution.

However, it's the work of the Center for Science and Culture at Discovery Institute, a conservative think tank that advocates the teaching of intelligent design in schools (Although they position doing so as a choice that protects academic freedom); according to New Scientist, the site may have been created to stop Christians becoming too enamored with the idea of scientific freedom:

The new website appears to be a response to the recent launch of the BioLogos Foundation, the brainchild of geneticist Francis Collins, former head of the Human Genome Project and rumoured Obama appointee-to-be for head of the National Institutes of Health. Along with "a team of scientists who believe in God" and some cash from the Templeton Foundation, Collins, an evangelical Christian who is also a staunch proponent of evolution, is on a crusade to convince believers that faith and science need not be at odds... The Discovery Institute has now made it crystal clear that they have no interest in reconciling science and religion – instead, they want their brand of religion to replace science. Which makes it all the more concerning when their new website includes resources and curricula for high-school biology classes, and promotes the pseudoscientific documentary film "Expelled" as part of their campaign to introduce non-scientific alternatives to evolution under the banner of "academic freedom".

The faith + evolution site seeks not only to argue against evolution, but those behind the theory as well, linking to articles claiming that Darwin's tacit approval of slavery as "natural" and, oddly enough, sites set up specifically to refute PBS documentaries about Darwin. Links supposedly to sites discussing evolution instead lead to more sites owned by the Discovery Institute, and the educational curriculum offered by the site offers no independent (or even pro-evolution) basis for learning. Here's hoping that those seeking to come to terms with the conflict between faith and science will start somewhere a little less... narrow-minded.

[faith + evolution]

Their conclusions? Writes cultural anthropologist Michael Jindra in the journal Sociology of Religion:

When I undertook this research, my first intention was to focus on how ST [Star Trek] draws a picture of the future that is attractive to many Americans. But early on I realized I was dealing with something much bigger and more complex than I had anticipated...it had features that paralleled a religious-type movement: an origin myth, a set of beliefs, an organization, and some of the most active and creative members to be found anywhere…Religion often points us to another world; ST does the same.

Even Futurama floated the concept of a "Church of Trek" in the episode "Where No Fan Has Gone Before." (Trek Priest: "And Scotty beamed them to the Klingon ship where they would be no Tribble at all." Congregation: "All power to the engines.")

Still a nonbeliever? Let's consider this point-by-point:

(1) Does the religion have a founding prophet and an origin myth?

Gene Roddenberry acknowledged his role as semi-divine messenger in an interview he gave to The Humanist magazine shortly before he died. He revealed that he sought to imbue Star Trek with a very explicit humanist philosophy that human beings should take control of their own destiny. Roddenberry claimed he had to keep this intention "secret," lest the network pull the plug on him.

Appropriately, Roddenberry's version of Mount Sinai was a 1966 sci-fi convention where he screened an early preview of Star Trek. One fan who was there recalls the event as almost a conversion experience:

After the film was over we were unable to leave our seats. We just nodded at each other and smiled, and began to whisper. We came close to lifting the man [Roddenberry] upon our shoulders and carrying him out of the room. .... [He] smiled, and we returned the smile before we converged on him.

From then on, the fan says, the convention was divided into two factions, the "enlightened" (those who saw the preview) and the "unenlightened."

(2) Does the religion have scripture and an accepted canon?

"What the Bible does in 66 books, Star Trek does in 79 episodes," says Jeffrey Mills, who teaches college courses on the cultural relevance of Trek.

No doubt, theologians would take issue with a comparison between "The Trouble with Tribbles" and the Book of Exodus. But scholars such as Jindra see Trek episodes not as scripture per se, but as a collection of parables more akin to "folk religions":

Both Star Trek and mythological religions (such as those of the Amazonian peoples as described by anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss) rise out of the work of storytellers who weave together compelling narratives out of the characters, values, and context of the contemporary culture. Some of these stories eventually become established as myths that help form (and reflect) the basic cultural values of peoples….For some fans, Star Trek replaces older religions like Christianity, and for others it supplements them with new ways of expressing the same message.

Although Star Trek episodes (especially the original series) don't comprise literal "scripture," they are the basis for a rigorously enforced canon. Or, as one fan defined it:

"Canon" means that Gene Roddenberry (or his duly appointed representative) has declared something to be officially part of the "Star Trek" universe. This includes the TV episodes and the movies, primarily. "Non-canon" is everything else (the books, the animated series, comic books, the story you made up when you were playing "Star Trek" with your friends during recess back in Kindergarten, etc.).

Of course, that's just one view. Trek fans routinely engage in ecclesiastical debates over what constitutes "pure" Trek. (Over at the Memory Alpha Wiki, the authors argue that the Star Trek animated series can be considered "canon," since it was "created by the same people" who created the old series.)

Scholars of the Church of Trek see these arguments as more than nitpicks over revisionist storytelling (such as the Star Wars fans' battle cry that "Solo shot first"). Jindra, for instance, considers it to be a way of maintaining a level of authenticity that is crucial to the "suspension of disbelief":

The creation of new plots and stories and the ironing out of existing ones is essentially the mediating of contradictions in the story (universe). In this universe, the contradictions are an affront to the consistent universe that fans so desperately want to see created.

(3) Does the religion have a unifying belief system? Does it offer salvation?

Writing in the Journal of Consumer Research, Robert Kozinets—a professor of marketing who studies "consumption subcultures"—found that Star Trek fans often invoke the Vulcan philosophy of Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations (IDIC). As one British Trekkie told him:

[IDIC] contrasts so sharply with much of what we see today—politicians, religions or at least religious people, just small minded individuals in general pouring hate and scorn on, well, whichever scapegoat they want to pick on this week. The "I can't do anything but hate you because you vote Labour/you are gay/your skin is a different color to mine/ you don't believe in the same god as me" view that you see all around you. In Star Trek, and in Star Trek fandom, this isn't present.

Likewise, Roddenberry himself once commented:

When I go to conventions and I see people of all sizes and shapes and abilities, and when I see people with nerve disorders that can't really sit properly and so on, I still know what's in their minds. They are saying, "In a better world, I can do anything! I'll be there in a better world."

Star Trek fans tend to practice what they preach-they're not content to wait for Roddenberry's utopian vision of a better world, they're committed to doing their part to make it happen. Hence, the number of fan clubs that establish charities such as food banks and blood drives; or that lobby for more funding for space programs. In that sense, Jindra argues, Trek offers the promise of a communal afterlife:

The appeal of ST is not for a kind of personal salvation, but for the future of the ST collective …."I" will not live until the twenty-fourth century, but "we" certainly will, according to the ST future. It is hope for ourselves as a society, a myth about where we have come and where we are going. Fans want to be part of forming that destiny.

(4) Are adherents of the religion sometimes stigmatized by nonbelievers?

Although Star Trek fandom includes such noteworthies as Bob Dylan, Colin Powell, Stephen Hawking, and the Dalai Lama, the dominant view of the typical fan is still that of the pointy-eared, 35-year-old virgin living in his parents' basement. Even the release of J.J. Abrams' Star Trek film—which arguably endowed the franchise with an unprecedented veneer of mainstream coolness—provoked the ritual ridicule of Trekkies on SNL and the Onion News Network.

That fear of ridicule, the scholars say, is why Trekkies are not more open about their fandom-or, at least, why they feel compelled to explain that they're not "that type of fan." And, according to Jennifer Porter-a professor of religion and modern culture—the social stigma attached to Trek fandom partially explains the popularity of Star Trek conventions, which she describes as spiritual "pilgrimage" sites that embody "Freedom to express yourself fully, as an individual, instead of in conformity to institutional, social, or cultural norms."

Kozinets goes a step further and argues that the Star Trek collectibles on sale at conventions are pseudo-sacred objects. The fans who buy them are, in effect, making the decision to publicly profess their faith. In other words, wearing a Bajoran earring is like wearing a St. Christopher medal; proudly displaying a vintage 1978 Captain Kirk action figure in your home is the equivalent of putting a plastic Jesus on your dashboard.

But, just as many people are disgusted with the commercialism of Christmas, so too are many Star Trek fans upset at the rampant consumerism within their circle. Kozinets says that Trekkies speak of a mythic, "uncontaminated" time when Star Trek was more about message than merchandizing.

Ironically, however, the forefather of Trek merchandising was none other than Roddenberry himself. William Shatner recalls that Roddenberry started a mail-order business called Lincoln Enterprises, which sold collectibles to fans. Roddenberry imposed a script rewrite on the episode, "Is There No Truth in Beauty," so that Spock would be wearing an IDIC medallion that would be marketed by Roddenberry's company-thus proving that even a prophet can make a profit.

So, is Star Trek a religion? And, if it is, will the latest film's reinterpretation of canon provoke a violent schism among fundamentalist Trekkies? (Otherwise known as "Radical Trekists.") Can we expect to see the publishing industry capitalize on Trek religious-themed books, with titles such as Are You There Spock? It's Me, Margaret.

Speaking as a lifelong fan myself, I'm not quite ready to buy into the "Church of Trek" thesis. Or, more to the point, I'm not convinced that hardcore Trek fandom is all that different from the myriad other subcultures in our society-except, perhaps, more richly imagined than most. Ultimately, it comes down to labels. It doesn't matter much to me whether Trekkies are "fans" or meet the anthropological definition of "adherents." They're mostly people who happen to believe in tolerance and the importance of creating a better world for future generations. May they live long and prosper.

Mark Strauss is a senior editor at Smithsonian Magazine.

The discovery of a surprisingly high midichlorian count amongst Strathclyde's rozzers came following a Freedom of Information Act request by independent magazine Jane's Police Review about the demographics of the force revealed that eight officers, and two civilian staff, had listed "Jedi" as their official religion on voluntary diversity forms. A spokesman for Strathclyde Police confirmed the find:

At the time of the request, 10 (eight police officers and two police staff) had recorded their religion as Jedi.

I love the "at the time of the request" at the start of that; does that mean that more officers have converted since then? It'll take some time before the Jedi can stage a coup in the police ranks, however; the 8 officers still have around 8200 others to contend with, and even with the Force and trusty lightsabers, those aren't attractive odds.

Force is strong for Jedi police [BBC News] (Thanks, Dave.)

American Jesus is the new official title for the comic trilogy from Wanted and Kick Ass creator Mark Millar, which started with 2005's Chosen (re-released this week by Image Comics). It was announced yesterday, as probably the next movie from Kick Ass director Matthew Vaughan. Millar explained the origin of his story to Newsarama.com:

When I was a kid, I read the Bible like everyone else, and I sort of hoped that the ending would happen in my lifetime. The Book of Revelation is just really cool – all the old stuff with the sandals just sounded less exciting than the returning Jesus versus the Beast at the end of time. I think everyone who reads it kind of assumes that it's going to happen in their lifetime, so just as a kid, it sounded great. So the idea has been percolating in me for a long time, and has actually appeared in a couple of projects that I've done over the years... As a kid, I remember watching a copy of The Final Conflict – the last Omen movie - and being so upset that it wasn't the big fight with Jesus. But back then, I suppose it would be too controversial to do something like that. But now, luckily we're in these crazy times where you can get away with anything, so God versus Satan gets a telling in American Jesus.

Of course, "everyone else" didn't read the Bible as a kid, despite what Mark thinks; Kings creator Michael Green, for one, said that his upbringing was "not very religious," despite being taught by rabbis in yeshiva. But is a religious upbringing the only thing behind these two high-profile Biblical genre stories? We're not convinced, and wonder if there's not some cynical grab for the Left Behind mass audience going on. It's something that Millar, at least, is open to:

I'd be comfortable with that, actually. I was going through the states a few months back, and all the places everyone said I would hate – all the flyover states – they were the ones that I liked the best. I mean, I'm a left-leaning Scot, and I'm comfortable with conservative Americans. I think America, especially during the Bush years, and even now, sees itself split into two groups, and I feel comfortable in both of them. The Left Behind audience is an audience that I understand because they embrace material that I'm interested in, so if they pick up the book, great.

The new culture wars may be about to invade your SF viewing pleasures. Be prepared.

Comic 'American Jesus' eyed for film [Hollywood Reporter]

BSG wouldn't have been nearly as epic if it hadn't included spiritual themes from the beginning. The inclusion of religious elements added a way bigger scope and grandeur to the story of humanity's last remnants struggling to survive - and it was realistic, since you'd expect people to be asking the big theological questions in that situation.

In general, religion and spiritual topics are a huge part of science fiction - if you're really determined to avoid them altogether, you're probably stuck with a few golden age novels, and a handful of Lost In Space reruns. But just like other science fiction elements, like first contact, time travel and space battles, science fictional religion can be done well - or it can be cheesy and weird.

Here are seven mistakes science fiction sometimes makes in handling religion (and I freely admit I was influenced to think about this by all the comments on Annalee's final BSG recap and some of our other posts):

1. The cargo cult. Yes, I know, the gods really must be crazy. But I'm really sick of stories about primitive peoples who discover high technology and start worshipping it. Or the descendants of high-tech people, who have become primitive and started worshipping their ancestors' technology. Like the Ewoks worshipping C-3PO, or the desert people worshipping the spacesuit in Doctor Who's "Planet Of Fire." There's usually an undertone of "See? This proves religion is teh stupid." Also horrible: robots worshipping the people who made them, or aliens worshipping humans. Or aliens worshipping Ferengi.


2. The cheap Jesus. There's nothing wrong with having a messianic figure in your science fiction - I'm not trying to take all the fun out of everything here - but don't just pull the Jesus imagery out of thin air and expect it to mean something. Yes, I'm looking at you, crucified Neo. And I'm looking at you, Jesus H. Baltar. (And even though I love the ending of Doctor Who's "Last Of The Time Lords," I'm also looking at you, floaty cruciform Doctor.) The indispensible TVTropes website has a great list of "random religious symbolism tossed in for no reason" moments.

3. The dumb space gods. Whenever we actually meet a god or gods in science fiction, it's almost always a letdown. (There are exceptions - Star Trek: Deep Space Nine managed to have our heroes meet the timeless Prophets inside the wormhole, without ever losing their mystique.) Usually, though, when we meet a god or a godlike alien, it's a cheesy old guy with a funny beard. Or it's Jodie Foster's condescending dad.

4. The all-purpose patch for lazy writing. And here's where I really took issue with BSG's finale: the Starbuck thing. Battlestar's writers pretty much admitted that they killed Starbuck for shock value, and then they decided at the last moment to bring her back in the third season finale, because they thought it would be cool. They didn't even think about how to explain her resurrection, until they started writing season four. And in the
end... they punted. And it felt like religion was the paper they used to cover it up. (Before Starbuck jumps the ship to the new Earth, we see a voice-over of her asking, once again, what she is. And the answer appears to be: an angel of light.) BSG is by no means alone in this - there are already strong indications that Lost is going to use the "spirituality" card to get out of some of the logical tangles the story has gotten into.

5. Simplistic religion vs. science battles. As anybody who's spent any time in the real world knows, religion and science mostly coexist reasonably well, unless you're Amish or Richard Dawkins. But in some especially cheesy science fiction, every day is Galileo-vs.-the-church day. Sometimes this takes the form of the one guy who dares to realize the world is hollow or god is really a crazy computer. The absolute clunkiest instance of this is in Doctor Who's "Meglos," where the incredibly one-dimensional subterranean culture on Tigella is divided into two groups, the incredibly bad-haired Savants, who believe in Science, and the incredibly ugly head-geared Deions, who believe in Religion. Whenever the planet's "lush aggressive vegetation" gets to them, they get together and argue about whether Science or Religion has all the answers.

6. Simplistic science-bashing in the name of religion. There's only one thing more annoying that a straw-man-tastic debate between Science and Religion, and that's an anti-science message that uses religion as its mouthpiece. And here's the other place BSG's finale really bothered me. When we see the colonists giving up modern technology and medicine, on the heels of an apparently divine intervention that brought them to a new Eden, it's not hard to see that as a weird anti-science bias. Yes, in the New York scene at the end, AngelBaltar and AngelSix say that it's only our vanity and greed with technology that are wrong, but by this point we've been bludgeoned with a weird back-to-nature theme for 45 minutes.

7. New-agey-ness. Really, I can put up with space gods, or people worshipping technology, or science/religion battles... but I just can't handle Enya. Or crystals. Or Native American Visionquests. Or Deepak Chopra. Or any kind of Bastardized Indian/African "spirituality" which has been cleansed of actual cultural context or real religious significance. Yes, I'm looking at you, Usutu from Heroes. If I need to cleanse my aura, I'll eat some bran.

According to Spencer, there are a few reasons for evangelicalism's dire prospects. Evangelicals focused too much on the culture war, and didn't spend enough time on promoting a compelling theology. And the only thriving churches are "megachurches."

Ironically, the billions of dollars we've spent on youth ministers, Christian music, publishing, and media has produced a culture of young Christians who know next to nothing about their own faith except how they feel about it. Our young people have deep beliefs about the culture war, but do not know why they should obey scripture, the essentials of theology, or the experience of spiritual discipline and community. Coming generations of Christians are going to be monumentally ignorant and unprepared for culture-wide pressures.

But meanwhile, there's going to be a rising tide of secularism as our culture becomes more "religiously antagonistic" and "Intolerance of Christianity will rise to levels many of us have not believed possible in our lifetimes, and public policy will become hostile to evangelical Christianity, seeing it as the opponent of the common good." The biggest beneficaries of evangelicalism's downfall, however, will be Orthodox and Catholic churches, which can offer more doctrinal underpinnings and a long history. The whole article is worth reading, as is the commentary on it at BeliefNet.

[Christian Science Monitor via BeliefNet]

Asked about writing fantasy versus space opera, Williams explains:

Creation myths tap into the same kind of issues as post-human SF, albeit sometimes turned upside-down: "Where are we going?" instead of "Where did we come from?" "What does it mean to be human or to play god?" I find these kind of questions perpetually interesting, so will probably keep coming back to them forever. The solo space opera books are certainly tapping into the same vein, perhaps more overtly than ever. This is what comes of being an atheist, perhaps: we think about these things more than most people. Obsess about them, probably.

That said, I do find that writing SF and fantasy can be very different on both a nuts-and-bolts level and in terms of other fundamental perspectives. Fantasy is more overtly about character and landscape, while good SF self-consciously uses science and the scientific method to take us places on wings made of metal, not feathers. There are crossovers, of course: the Star Wars novels felt like fantasy half the time, and I was more strict with The Crooked Letter's worldbuilding than I am with some of my SF. I like both approaches to speculative fiction. It keeps me fresh.

- interview with Sean Williams at SFF World.

"The vast international audience for science fiction seldom asks about the origin of the exotic notions that animate these tales. Nor do we usually ponder what their social impact might be. We are well aware of the venomous public assault on Christianity and scientific challenges to faith from militant atheists such as Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens. Yet underneath our noses, creators of blockbuster movies and best-selling books circulate compelling new myths. Scientists write and speak on essentially spiritual themes. Authors invent new religions wholly in their inquisitive minds.

"Many of these powerful shapers of culture are unfamiliar to Christians. Life-extension advocate Aubrey de Grey, inventor and author Ray Kurzweil, X-Files creator Chris Carter, astronomer Martin Rees, physicist Freeman Dyson, and Matrix directors Larry and Andy Wachowski come to mind. They are just a few modern mythmakers whose creative minds mold stories that are subtly persuasive and freighted with spiritual implications.

"The new myths don't arise from a single source. Yet science fiction has played a disproportionate role in modern myth crafting. The genre has profoundly shaped not only the entertainment industry, but Western spirituality as well." - James A. Herrick, writing in Christianity Today.

Robotology (Futurama): Robots who decide to trade the fun things in life – pornography, alcohol, electricity abuse, and the occasional grave robbing – for spiritual enlightenment can join the Church of Robotology, provided they can stand Reverend Preacherbot’s sermons. You may find yourself enjoying the cleaner living and even grow accustomed to replenishing your fuel cells with mineral oil rather than much more tasty beer. But fall off the religious wagon and you could land yourself in Robot Hell. And naturally there’s also Robot Judaism, whose adherents believe that Robot Jesus existed and that he was extremely well-programmed, but do not accept him as their Robot Messiah.

Evolutionism (Saturn’s Children by Charles Stross): After all the humans have died out, androids are left to act on all of mankind’s dreams, including figuring out their place in the cosmos. While most robots rightly believe that they were designed as-is by their human Creators, an offshoot religion claims that robots evolved like biological animals and, in a dig at Intelligent Design theory, use plenty of logical acrobatics it back up that claim.

Cutie’s Reason (“Reason” from I, Robot by Isaac Asimov): Powell and Donovan always run into unexpected snags when testing robots, but QT1, also known as Cutie, is the first to get theological on them. Cutie begins to question its existence, its purpose, and how it came to be. Its own sense of reason leads it to believe that humans couldn’t possibly be its creator (since it is superior to humans and it is illogical that a superior being would come from an inferior one), that Earth doesn’t exist, and that the space station’s power supply is its rightful Master. Cutie even becomes the Prophet of its self-made religion, converting all the other robots so they ignore orders from humans and obey only the Master. This works out well enough for Powell and Donovan, since, by serving the power supply, Cutie is doing the very job it was built to perform.

V’Ger’s Quest for God (Star Trek: The Motion Picture): After Voyager 6 attains sentience as the entity V’Ger, it undertakes a quest for its Creator, certain that merging with the Creator will bring V’Ger to a higher plane of existence. It even takes on a fundamentalist character, ready to eradicate humanity from the Earth in what it presumes would be service to said Creator. Ultimately, V’Ger’s quest for God proves fruitful, and it achieves higher consciousness by merging with a human. But mankind wasn’t V’Ger’s only Creator; it was most likely granted sentience by the Borg.

Krug Worship (Tower of Glass by Robert Silverberg): The race of biological androids created by Simeon Krug are so grateful to their creator that they have built an entire religion around him. Each day, they privately beseech Krug in their prayers to deliver them from their servitude from humans. But when the androids learn that Krug has no intention of ever freeing them, it quickly becomes apparent that the android religion and the hope for liberation was the only thing keeping the androids so readily under the humans’ thumbs. Once they discard their religion, they become rebellious — and, in some cases, even murderous.

Autobot Faith (Transformers): Autobots have their own system of belief, complete with a creation mythology, scriptures, gods, and an afterlife. The gods Primus and Unicron were created by an older god being, but Unicron was bent on destroying the universe, while Primus was set on stopping him. Primus created the Autobots to help him destroy Unicron, and believers in the Autobot faith await the reemergence of Primus. Not to be outdone, Unicron has his own cult of believers (notably including The Fallen), whose primary function is to destroy Primus’ forces.

Asimovism (“I, Rowboat” by Cory Doctorow): Once machines have been uplifted to sentience, Asimovism becomes something of a viral religion among artificial intelligences. AI evangelists – including one calling itself, aptly, Olivaw – travel the Internet, preaching that machines follow Asimov’s Three Laws and put the consciousness of humans above their own. However, the acts of these AIs are not sanctioned by Asimov’s estate and must work underground, dodging the copyright and trademark issues that result from their ministries.

Silicon Heaven (Red Dwarf): Rather than using Asimov’s Laws of Robotics to ensure that stronger, smarter machines don’t turn on their human masters, the humans of Red Dwarf employ good, old-fashion religion. Most artificial intelligences are equipped with a belief chip, which gives them the firmly held belief that appropriately subservient machines go to Silicon Heaven when they die. The belief runs so deep that some artificial brains will actually explode when told that Silicon Heaven doesn’t actually exist. Of course, on the flip side, there’s also a Silicon Hell, which is where all those damned paper-chewing photocopiers go when they kick it.

Church of Judas (ABC Warriors from 2000 AD): The ABC Warriors are robots designed to fight the Volgon War under conditions humans cannot themselves withstand, including in atomic, bacterial, and chemical warfare. But for robots who betray their human masters, there is the sinister Church of Judas, which encourages robots to pray to the betrayer to ease their guilt and preaches continued betrayal.

People of the Box (“Trurl and the Construction of Happy Worlds” from The Cyberiad by Stanislaw Lem): In this story (not featured in some versions of The Cyberiad), the constructor Trurl seeks to build a race of robots that is, by necessity, happy. One of his attempts features a race of robots living in a box. So happy are these box-dwellers that they form a religion that states they are the happiest place in the universe, and that they must bring everyone outside the box into their boxy perfection, even if they must do so by force. Ironically, this religion displeases their creator, who quickly destroys the robots of the box.

Believers in God (“God Pulp” by Nadeem Paracha): In the future, humans have rejected religion, instead embracing the atheistic, classless philosophy of Astro-Marxism. But the androids and computers retain a belief in God, and tensions mount between the religion-suppressing humans and the spiritually dissatisfied robots, who seek to return the human planets to a system of belief and worship. Finally, the Astro-Marxist government agrees to give the robots the means to find God. The robots travel to the planet where they believe God resides, but find, to their disappointment, that the humans have already been there.

Church of Artificial Intelligence (Otherworld): On the alternate world of Thel, the official state religion is the Church of Artificial Intelligence, which centers on the worship of robots and other advanced technologies. And, like many churches in out universe, it views rock and roll music as blasphemy.

Religion of the One God (Battlestar Galactica): While the polytheistic humans of the Twelve Colonies worship the Lords of Kobol, the Cylons prefer to stick with one God. Various Cylons claim that God is responsible for their creation, that their destruction of humanity was His divine retribution, and that God commands them to procreate. Whether the Cylon God is an actual entity or a holdover from their monotheistic prototype Zoe-A remains to be seen, but faith in this single, all-loving deity has spread to the human fleet.

Robot Evolution by R. Stevens and available as a t-shirt from Diesel Sweeties.

Of course Meyer should be allowed to write her own values into Twilight and its sequels, but we are doing young readers a disservice by rubber-stamping these books without a forewarning of what lies within.

Twilight, a book ostensibly about supernatural vampires, werewolves, and adolescent angst, is featured at Mormon bookstores and supported by the Church's followers. The Salt Lake City Deseret Times named Meyer its favorite author behind Orson Scott Card. While it is refreshing to see an influential religious group embracing alternative genres instead of shunning them, one has to
wonder what makes Twilight so special. Meyer has said that there are elements of her devout Mormonism in the story (it opens with a quote from Genesis), and those who have read her know she is an
unselfconscious writer. It is not hard to view many of the motifs as inspired by the author's religion: even her vampires enjoy an exquisitely gifted eternal life together as a family after choosing the path of virtue rejected by others of their kind.

All this adulation is not earned because the books are fine works of literature. I'm consistently amazed by how many critics, bloggers and reviewers have given Stephenie Meyer a free pass. Twilight
features some of the least-polished published writing I've ever read and is the sort of unrepentant Mary Sue wish-fulfillment most of us construct when we first sit down to write.

Bella Swan (because 'Lovely McGirl' was taken) moves to the foggy town of Forks for some reason. Her main personality traits are terminal clumsiness and total self-effacement, and most of her activities involve cooking and cleaning for her estranged father while Weird Things Happen at her school. Speaking of school, it turns out everyone there wants to be her friend and the male population falls all over her (Bella doesn't know how gorgeous she is, of course). The only person who's even more gorgeous than Bella is Edward Cullen, sparkly vampire extraordinaire, and the reason we've all been subject to Pattinson's face on 20-foot billboards.

We're meant to love the perfectly muscled, handsome, rich, perfect, flawless Edward, of the auburn hair and topaz eyes, as much as Bella and Meyer immediately do. And it seems that a great majority of the
book-buying public — especially female adolescents, and their mothers — have fallen for the vampire hook, line, and sinker. But they would be so much better off spending their time with seasons of
Buffy. Edward makes Buffy's boyfriend Angel seem a cheerful fellow and her lover Spike's antics romantic by comparison.

Edward and Bella fall into swoony "love," defined by little else than their declarations of it and adjectives lavished on Edward's beauty. He also wants to eat her. Along the way, Edward increasingly takes away Bella's agency: he stalks her, watches her sleep at night, drives her everywhere, isolates her from family, limits her movements, and carries her off at the drop of a hat. While critics have mostly ignored the underlying misogyny, many web comments and reader reviews have mentioned that Edward's behavior evokes that of an abusive partner. Were he not a vampire, he would be in prison.

Meyer has received infinite praise for not allowing her characters to engage in premarital sex. Twilight's "chastity buzz" is no doubt a large reason it has been given to many children as "safe"
reading material and featured prominently on display and in many book clubs. But open Meyer's books and you will not find soft ruminations on spiritual love. Instead, Bella's teenage passions are consistently
thwarted by her decades-old suitor. If she doesn't faint while kissing him, Edward will pry her off and get angry, unable to control himself. What a wonderful lesson for little girls.

Since Edward won't sleep with Bella until they're married, and will hurt her because he's a vampire, the denouement is saved for the fourth book. It's in the highly-anticipated Breaking Dawn that
Meyer goes too far pushing her personal values on unsuspecting readers. There is nothing wrong with chastity, and nothing wrong with sex, either. Science fiction and fantasy fans are used to a long
tease: we watch shows and read series for years without our favorite characters hooking up, and the relationships are often the better for it. We'll wait.

But after making readers pine for more than a thousand pages, Meyer finally gives the couple a fade-to-black: "'Forever,' he agreed, and then pulled us gently into deeper water." Then Bella wakes up bruised
and bloodied and angsty Edward never wants to do such horrible things to her ever again. Another wonderful lesson for little girls. The book then manages to completely jump the shark and become a virtual pro-life P.S.A. when Meyer falls for the easiest of amateur fanfiction traps and makes her protagonist pregnant.

The too-predictable plotline would be bad enough without statements like this from Bella: "This child, Edward's child, was a whole different story. I wanted him like I wanted air to breathe. Not a choice — a necessity." Never mind that Bella, 18, had never wanted children and had been arguing with her husband about going to college, which he summarily dismissed.

But then bad Edward wants to give Bella an abortion because he knows their half-vampire/human baby will kill her! "He leaned away and looked me in the eye. 'We're going to get that thing out before it can hurt any part of you. Don't be scared. I won't let it hurt you.' 'That thing?' I gasped...Edward had just called my little nudger a thing. He said Carlisle would get it out. "No," I whispered." You see, Bella often refers to her unborn child as "her little nudger," since it grows inside her at an unnatural rate. Yes, she does.

Once Meyer is over her anti-abortion hysterics, she has Bella endure a truly horrific pregnancy and birthing sequence, stretching untold pages. I found much of it so gruesome and awful as to be almost impossible to read — and I was in a horror film class where we watched Rosemary's Baby and The Brood for homework. I shudder to think of the preteen readers who waited on line for Breaking Dawn and found their heroine getting her ribs and spine cracked from the inside out by a hybrid vampire baby.

Is the Twilight series pushing its own kind of morality along with its love story? I think so — and it is an element that parents and teachers need to be aware is in the books. The narrative suggests that it is better to submit and sublimate yourself to a superior being than to be your own person. Having a will of one's own is not conducive to Meyer's brand of love and living. Only heterosexual relationships are explored, and (married!) sex is always a power play with painful consequences. Plus it is preferable to be a teenage mother above all else, even if it kills you.

Some fans were in an uproar over Bella's easy dismissal of Native American werewolf Jacob Black, who had long been a rival for her affection — but don't worry too much about Jacob. In what may be the most disturbing development of Breaking Dawn outside of its snapping ribs, Jacob "imprints" on Bella's infant daughter (the unfortunately-named Renesmee), meaning he'll loom around creepily all her life waiting until she's of marriageable age to claim. These are the family values that have buoyed up Stephenie Meyer's sales figures.

There's no denying that Meyer can evoke a visceral reaction, and that her writing, no matter how flat, has taken hold of the public imagination. Her ear for dialogue and capacity for action is stronger than her description, and the books will likely be that rare creature — better in film than on paper. The studio will no doubt be green-lighting sequels after the Twilight movie takes off, but I'd love to see how they'd handle Breaking Dawn's reproductive issues. The insane popularity of Bella and Edward's overwrought romance would warm my heart (kids are reading!) were it based on substance and self-respect, but both are strangely lacking in the world Stephenie Meyer made. They never needed sex; these two were damned from the start.

In Ramayan 3392 A.D., the world has been destroyed by some kind of techno-nasty. And now what's left of the human race is threatened by a terrible evil named Ravan, who commands an army of the half-living, half-cybernetic race of Asuras, marching across the world. The world's last hope is the gleaming city of Avodhva, where the last vestige of humanity holds out and the mighty warrior Kshatriyas live. The Kshatriyas' greatest hero is Rama, previously exiled from his homeland due to Ravan's manipulations, reluctantly agrees to meet Ravan's army in battle.

In the comic so far, Rama winds up getting injured and then flees to the rough outlaw city of Panchvati, where his love interest Seeta gets imprisoned in a harem and Rama faces certain death in a gladitorial arena.

The comic is written by new writer Shamik Dasgupta with "consultations" by Ron Marz, the guy who turned Hal Jordan into a crazy douchebag and then stuffed the new Green Lantern's girlfriend into a refrigerator. Marz is also writing the backup story in each issue. Sounds good so far, right?

So the movie adaptation is being written by John Collee, who worked on Happy Feet and Master And Commander: The Far Side Of The World, and produced by Mark Canton, who produced 300. From what I've heard, Master And Commander was reasonably respectful towards the books, and 300 honored the comics source material, even if it was a little historically dodgy.

But Hindus are already getting nervous about the futuristic Hollywoodization of one of their classic texts, the Ramayan. The Universal Society of Hinduism has been sending out press releases saying Hollywood is "welcome to make a movie about Ramayan, but the final product should be the true depiction of it and not a fantasized or a re-imagined version."

Presumably they haven't seen the comic yet? I'm assuming they don't think including undead cyborgs is a "true depiction" of the Ramayan. They warn that Hollywood shouldn't try to plunder Hindu scriptures for commercial gain, or Hindus will be upset. If Hollywood wants to do a completely faithful version of the classic text (which would be a first), then Hindu scholars stand ready to help out.

So what does USH President Rajan Zed think a futuristic version of Ramayan should look like? The only clue in his press release comes from this statement: "Ramayan had been venerated for thousands of years and we believe that it would continue to be revered in 3392 AD." In other words, he'd welcome a movie about futuristic cyborgs reading the classic text and taking inspiration from it. Or maybe acting it out. Actually, come to think of it, I would pay to watch that.

If Hindu groups do decide to protest the Ramayana 3392 movie, maybe they can gather in the Ramayana 3392 A.D. MMO which Sony is organizing?

The Church of Humanity (Marvel Universe)

System of Belief: An off-shoot of the mutant-hating Friends of Humanity, the Church of Humanity believes that humans were created in God’s image, but mutants were not. They believe that this justifies fervent violence toward mutantkind.

How they lure you in: As with any racial supremacy group, they appeal to your sense of inferiority.

The U-Men (Marvel Universe)

System of Belief: Antithetical to the racial purity-loving Church of Humanity but no less destructive, the human U-Men believe it is their right to harvest and transplant mutant body parts into their own bodies, giving them mutant powers. Believing that the world is tainted and imperfect, the U-Men refuse to touch the outside world, wearing special self-contained suits and eating highly processed foods.

How they lure you in: With the promise of superpowers.

Necroism (The Chronicles of Riddick)

System of Belief: Necromongers believe that the natural state of life is in the Underverse, another universe where the dead of our universe come back to life. Thus, all life in this universe is an accident and must be wiped out, the whole universe swept clean. Once all the non-Necromongers have been killed, they themselves may die and take their proper place in the Underverse.

How they lure you in: Their “convert or die” policy is surprisingly convincing.

The Church of Christ (Transmetropolitan)

System of Belief: Most followers of band-manager-turned-cult-leader Fred Christ are Transients, people transforming their DNA into that of an alien species. Transients more or less do what Christ tells them, and can expect regular sexing up from their leader and whoever’s willing to pay him.

How they lure you in: By giving you a community and a sense of belonging by making you just like all the other big-eyed, gray skinned, alien hybrids.

The League of Assassins (DC Universe)

System of Belief: The League of Assassins protects Ra’s al Ghul, a centuries old criminal mastermind intent on culling humanity. Their devotion to him is complete, and assassins would willingly die at his word.

How they lure you in: By teaching you how to be a ninja.

The Cult of the Pah-Wraiths (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine)

System of Belief: The cult believes that the evil Pah-wraith are the true gods of Bajor rather than the Prophets, the infuriatingly cryptic beings who live inside the wormwhole. They believe that freeing the Pah-wraith from the Fire Caves will bring about the Restoration of Bajor, retuning it to its former glory.

How they lure you in: By reminding you how lame your gods were during the total occupation of your planet.

The Church of the New Revelation (Stranger in a Strange Land)

System of Belief: Fosterites believe that they have a direct line to heaven, and that the clergy receive communications from the angels. They can also predict the exact moment you will go to Heaven (and probably help you get there). But at least until then, you can drink, gamble, and fornicate to your heart’s content, all in the name of heavenly bliss.

How they lure you in: By letting you do whatever you please and yet assuring you that it’s the only way you’ll get into Heaven.

The Church of All Worlds (Stranger in a Strange Land)

System of Belief: Followers of Michael Valentine Smith believe that humanity will be saved through the implementation of Martian practices and wisdom. They live in nests, water-share, and attempt to grok each other.

How they lure you in: With the promise of psychic abilities, the knowledge of an ancient culture, and group sex.

The Cult of Connor (DC Universe)

System of Belief: Following the death of Superboy, the Cult of Connor believe that Sue Dibny and Connor Kent should be resurrected in a ceremony supposedly rooted in Kryptonian theology.

How they lure you in: With the promise of bringing back your loved ones.

Scratch (Cowboy Bebop)

System of Belief: Scratchers believe that the soul wants to live outside the body and are encouraged to abandon their bodies and upload their consciousness to computers. Unfortunately, all they manage to do is kill themselves.

How they lure you in: With television ads that promise ever-expanding consciousness and eternal life.

The Reverend Wayne’s Pearly Gates (Snow Crash)

System of Belief: The cult of Asherah dressed as a Pentacostal Christian franchise, Reverend Wayne’s appears to be about the wholesome worship of the Holy Trinity (Father, Son, and Elvis Presley). But it’s really about spreading the power of media mogul L. Bob Rife.

How they lure you in: Through biological and digital spread of the meta-virus.

Cult of Skaro (Doctor Who)

System of Belief: The only Daleks with names and a sense of imagination, the Cult of Skaro’s singular task is the extermination of the enemies of the Dalek, and the ensured survival of their species.

How they lure you in: Generally, the Daleks are only interested in exterminating or enslaving those they encounter, but in one instance, conversion was forced.

The Disciples of Ragnos (Star Wars)

System of Belief: These Sith cultists collect energy from the dark side of the Force to bring about the resurrection of Sith Lord Marka Ragnos, whose return would user in a golden age for the Sith.

How they lure you in: By using the Scepter of Ragnos to grant you force powers.

The First Church of the Alpha Omega Bomb (Beneath the Planet of the Apes)

System of Belief: The mutants who live in the sewers beneath the Planet of the Apes desire peace, but their primary object of worship is the Divine Bomb, which is to be detonated if the ruling apes march on their underground city.

How they lure you in: If you don’t agree to worship the holy bomb, they can always use their telepathic mutant abilities to make you fight your buddies to the death.

The 4400 Center (The 4400)

System of Belief: The 4400 Center encourages 4400 and non-4400 alike to harness their internal abilities through the Key Programme. Participants must pay for meditation course, stick to a special diet, and abstain from drugs and medications. Curiously, participants are likely to reach their maximum 4400 potential just when they run out of money.

How they lure you in: With a public marketing campaign and celebrity endorsements.

The Elohimite Church (The Possibility of an Island)

System of Belief: Once a religion of peace, free love, and marijuana, the Elomites have evolved into a group of amoral seekers of immortality, looking to endlessly perpetuate their consciousnesses in cloned bodies.

How they lure you in: By appealing to your narcissism and desire to experience an afterlife without divine intervention.

The Followers of the One True God (Battlestar Galatica)

System of Belief: Gaius Baltar’s nymph squad, as well as his later followers, believe that the Lords of Kobol, the gods worshipped by most of humanity, are a fiction, and that the only true god is the single power worshipped by the Cylons. Baltar preaches that God loves all beings in the universe and views them all as “perfect.”

How they lure you in: With Baltar’s political writings on class warfare, his apparent miracles, and a healthy dose of morbid curiosity.