I Smell A Rat

Anyone familiar with the online postings of Marty Rathbun knows that they follow a predictable pattern.

When not venting about the “injustices” done to him (those of his own making), he sometimes features a mind-numbing post from some so-called adherent of his self-styled “indie” group. They are long and tedious diatribes written by nobodies, often chock full of basic spelling and grammar mistakes.

In a word, they are dreadful.

That these people gave up on the Church years, if not decades ago, doesn’t matter to Rathbun. It gives him fodder for his blog and, presumably, a new “counseling” client to pay him a few bucks.

But recently Rathbun’s clientele has significantly declined. There could be multiple reasons for such a decline.

First, Rathbun just might be lazy – something that his best good buddy Mike Rinder perfected into an art form. Plus, Rathbun’s personal history since being removed from the Church in 2004 exhibits an idle if not slothful streak.

Living off an inheritance, Rathbun became a drifter, burning through his funds on junk food and motels before taking up residence in the Texas Gulf area. When the money ran dry, the former external affairs staffer worked a series of odd jobs – as a newspaper cub reporter and a beer hawker in a ballpark, among others.

These jobs didn’t require any real effort but they were perfect for a middle-aged guy with no resume. In fact, they were the only jobs available to someone like Marty Rathbun.

Even acquiring a girlfriend didn’t take much work – just a registration on match.com, a couple of dates, a fake wedding, a drunken and disorderly honeymoon in New Orleans and the rest is history. Along the way “wife” Monique got a new name, “Mosey.” The derivation of that name could even have something to do with Rathbun’s laziness in “Could you mosey over to the fridge and grab me a beer, honey?” Anything’s possible.

Another reason might be his horrific “counseling abilities” and his clients have began to experience bad “counseling” and are indeed smelling a rat.  As a self-proclaimed guru, Rathbun is little more than a legend in his own mind with no bona fides to establish him as a counselor of anything.

Ironically, Rathbun’s “father-in-law” James Banks is in the counseling business in New York, but at least he has an education which gives him state licensing to run his enterprise. It would be curious to learn what Banks thinks of his “son-in-law” being in the business, so to speak, given that Rathbun is just a non-certified freelancer with an Internet hook-up.

Yet another reason for Rathbun’s lack of clientele might be his “warrior” personality. Rathbun has admitted that he sees himself as a warrior who is at his best when there are wars to be waged and battles to be fought. Others might differ with that observation, pointing out that Rathbun is at his worst as a warrior because that’s when he does the most damage to innocent parties.

Whatever the case, the wars are over and the world has moved on. As for the few so-called “indies” out there, they are quickly learning that Marty Rathbun, far from being a “counselor,” is just your run-of-the-mill scam.