I always kind of wanted, vaguely, to join the Masons, partially for the contacts and partially for the cool veneer of secrecy. This does very little to dissuade my interest. I mean, shit. Five percent off at some pasta bar? Kick ass!
An old guy wearing a belt buckle with the Masonic square/compass on it wanted to haggle with me at a garage sale over a three dollar TV. He didn't buy it.
Just think of all the fruity apron parties you'll get to attend with people just like that.
Safran is always decent for satire, but pointing out that secret societies and mystery schools have, traditionally, almost always had a public arm and harmless introductory levels is kind of rote.
I wrote a story on these guys for the Shitsburg Gazette and all they do is ride around in funny little cars (yes, the Shriners are Masons) and do charity.