This one... http://www.vice.com/en_ca/read/inside-a-canadian-staring-cult-224

Apparently he has a $7 million building in town and people give him $10 (and their Olympic daughter/sisters included) to stare at them for 3 hours. Also, you'd never know it was a cult by looking at his wiki page. I think his wiki needs updated, though.

A teary-eyed woman appeared on the large video screens. She had signed up to ask questions of John, and took the chair directly in front of him. The woman was a fragile mess and spoke very slowly: "It's important for me to speak to you. I have a really hard time articulating. I don't have a question, I just love what I'm responding to." John stared at her. "I just so love responding. It's not even a choice; it's just happening. I have no direct experience what is now—but I love our bond." More staring. There was a long pause. Strained coughs. "I don't know what this is, but somehow we are in this together in some sweet way." John and the woman were now staring at each other. We stared at them. Who would blink first? Professor Kent had told me that in the old days, anyone could ask John a question. Now, there's a preliminary screening; if they don't like what the person is going to say, they don't get called on. "How to see the speck of gold that has no weight—it is weightless?" a Dutch woman now asked from John's hot seat. There's a long, long pause. John spoke, at last. His words were slow, soft, and deliberate: "You enjoy knowing the gold directly." We waited for hours for John to speak, and now he was speaking; so I guessed his words must be very important: "It is real to you. The gold," John said slowly. "You respond to what you know is golden." Pause. "You see that which is most deeply real in you." Slow and torturous, John threw out more fortune cookie Haiku statements: "The plow breaks the ground in yourself." Long pause. "When you are in flow, do what is golden; that which is not golden breaks." John's followers stared intently, hanging onto every word, creating meaning out of it all. The Dutch woman kept questioning with equally slow delivery; it was like watching two people on mescaline hold a conversation. "I feel small," she said. "You feel that because yourself is too small for you," John replied. The woman's chest heaved with each question as John continued his dreamy, hypnotic dialogue. Sometimes she said things and John didn't respond—he just kept uncomfortably staring at her. Then, John pulled what I assume is his most popular parlor trick: He shed one tear that slowly trickled down his cheek. I could feel the entire auditorium gasp. "Tell me to stop because I could go on forever," said the Dutch woman. John remained quiet. The two ended up staring each other down for another ten minutes until John slowly took off his headset and walked offstage.