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True story, man
I was an honest to goodness member of a religious cult in my mid- to late-teens. They were like an ultra-extreme happy-clappy geetar'n'Jebus type fundamentalist group who discouraged association with undesirable non-believers (such as my parents, good Anglicans the pair of them) and demanded (through social Pavlovian manipulation and alienation) near fanatical loyalty and obedience to their ranks.

They focussed their "evangelism" on the emotionally and circumstantially vulnerable (to my shame - during "streetwork", they made me harrass some poor bugger whose wife had just died), they had me burn a load of rare vinyl (no Deicide or Satan-lovin', just US punk) and had a party to celebrate it. They convinced me to live in a "youth house" (run by the church) where even Dr Who repeats were considered inappropriate, and we weren't permitted phone calls without permission and payment, and I was encouraged to work for free for the church, rather than go get a degree and decent job like the "unchurched" and their earthly values. They also drove out demons in modern-day exorcisms, and had those services where people go all spazzy.

I made my escape in my early twenties, got a degree and - y'know - real jobs, and I've still got one of their Takamine guitars! Hah!
(Tue 31st Jan 2006, 22:24, More)