Should a Christian have friendships with Unilever?

Man, that takes me back. It must have been the 1980s, you know, the olden days before computers were widespread and conspiracy theories had to go the slow road—word of mouth in small enclaves of church-goers who had been primed by fear of the Antichrist. This was the age of the "Satanic Panic," where half of everyone claimed to be a victim of demonic ritual abuse, Jack Chick turned up his printing press to 11, and Mike Warnke sold out auditoriums telling frightened but titillated church mice how Jesus saved him from his past as a satanic high priest.

Too bad Warnke made it all up.

In March of 1980, The Minneapolis Tribune ran a story saying Procter & Gamble's logo, a man on a crescent moon and thirteen stars, was satanic. The stylized moon edges were "horns" and the curls of the man's beard spelled out "666"—upside-down and backward, but still. Plus, Phil Donahue supposedly interviewed the P&G owner who claimed his family worshiped Satan. Despite the company's assertions to the contrary, good women across the nation started not buying Procter & Gamble in droves.

Unilever provided suitable substitutions. I remember that seemed to be the time their ads ramped up. They branched out into more cosmetics, including that 1980s staple, Aqua-Net. Indeed, it seemed Unilever was a great friend to Christians.

It couldn't last, however. There is no replacement for P&G's Crisco, Clorox bleach, or Crest toothpaste. I mean, no God-fearing man back then would go without Old Spice aftershave and no Bible-thumping church could exist without Folgers!

The conspiracy theorists had good intentions. Scared off by a picture of a man on the moon with stars that, in a very specific pattern, counted out "666," they tried to sanctify the world by looking to Unilever for replacements for their Bounce dryer sheets and Charmin toilet paper. In the end, they proved weak. P&G executives rolled their eyes and counted their cash as the meek, dandruff-covered apostates returned to their beloved Head & Shoulders and swaddled their leaky ankle-biters in Pampers.

In 1995, P&G finally changed their logo, removing the moon and stars that had graced their products since 1859. Conspirators saw this as a win—they could finally brush their teeth without filling Satan's coffers. Unilever was relegated to emergencies.

As far as the conspiraciationists saw things, they had won. P&G had abandoned their satanism, and hyper-sensitive conspirateurs around the world could pretend they were not friends with unbelievers. Never mind that the thirteen stars represented the original thirteen states and in no way spelled out "666." And that Phil Donahue interview? Total Mandela effect.

I remember my mom talking about it, but the whole thing didn't really hit our house. No way was she going to give up her butter-flavored Crisco. Wasn't going to happen.

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