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« Reply #60 on: October 06, 2010, 11:31:39 AM »

                                       Sense of Doubt

                                              Part 53

                                        The other side.

One evening as I tried to be a normal human the lady from across the road came
to our door in a panic. Her husband, Allan who was an alcoholic, had apparently
drunken himself into a stupor and his poor wife was frightened for his safety.

I went with her and found Allan lying on his bed, and despite acting coherent
and assuring me he was just fine, the space around him was so heavy it felt
like an evil presence.

He just wanted to sleep it off. I was powerless to do anything except leave
this 60ish guy to himself. I told his wife I`d sleep on the sofa near the front door of our house and she could come and get me any time through the night
if anything happened.

So I returned home and covered myself with a blanket ready for a night on the sofa.  Some hours later I was awoken by Allan.
He was standing beside me in the darkness  except he was glowing.
It was as if he had some wonderful news to tell me. That`s the feeling he was
exuding. I drifted back to sleep knowing all was fine.

The next morning there was a bit of a commotion going on across the street.
I was told Allan had passed away sometime during the night.

Soon after that Paul the rapist, phoned me and invited me to come and live with him and his wife Tracey. They had managed to get a flat on Queen Street
above "Geddess Dental Renovations". This dental company was owned by
Vicky Dickey`s father and had the longest running advert ever in New Zealand.
It was a jingle sung to the tune of "Oh my Darling Clementine."
Apparently Vicky had come up with it as a youngster.
"Broke my dentures,
Broke my dentures,
Woe is me what shall I do ?
Take it into Mr Denture and he`ll fix it just like new,
What`s the address ? What`s the address?,
Hurry please and tell me do,
Top of Queen Street on the corner,
And the number`s 492."

I moved there with my girlfriend.

Shortly after that I was approached by Rob and Eva Tweddell to come
and work for them at an old Restaurant/takeaway bar they had taken over
in Karangahape road.

I had been working the graveyard shift as the sole charge of New Zealand`s only
24 hour dairy situated in Jervois Rd, Herne Bay. But the owners had recently changed and the wife of one of the new owners was a bitch.
So I was glad to get out of there and do a day shift for a change.

Working for Rob was good. Working for Eva was good.
Working while both Rob and Eva were there together was hell.

Eva would sometimes bring in their two sons. Arron and Nick.
These guys were balls of energy and mischief.
It was only recently that I ran across Aaron again.
By then he had changed his surname to Saxton.
You can see him on youtube by googling his name.

Because the flat we lived in only had one bedroom,
my girlfriend who was also an ex staff member at Auckland org,
had do make do with half the living room.
A large curtain of horizontal thin cane strips gave us our privacy.
Except that it had a two inch wide hole about three feet off the ground.
It was very comforting to see Paul`s wife peering through it at me every morning when I woke up.

This could have been where the "Glory hole" was invented, but I didn`t
want my wedding tackle getting anywhere near that brain.

Out of the blue, Paul`s mother who had been living in Australia arrived back
in New Zealand. Paul`s brother had won some lottery and had shouted his mum
a flight here and a stay in The White Heron Lodge, overlooking Auckland`s famous
Parnell Baths. Just by coincidence, David Bowie was here making a Japanese
P.O.W. movie called "Merry Christmas...Mr Lawrence" and he was staying in the room directly above hers.

After she did a bit of spying for me and Paul, we had his schedule mapped out.
The following morning Paul and I drove to the White Heron and awaited his
pick up car. Yep there it was right on schedule. We knew which one to look for.

We tailed it to the Auckland Domain (Where the museum is) and it pulled up
beside the Botanical Gardens.

Bowie popped out and disappeared into the costume truck to get ready for the days shoot. While he was in there Paul and I made our way onto the set.
I noticed a lonely looking guy unwrapping all these old World War 2 rifles
and so I got friendly with him.
The crew assumed I was with him and so I was able to make my way around the set unmolested.

Shortly after that Bowie appeared in military uniform ready for the shoot.
Trouble is he`d lost his bag.
So there was a plea from the assistant director for everyone to join the search.

I tried so hard to be the savior of the moment but alas someone else
found it back in the costume truck.
One of the scenes they did involved Bowie being thrown to the ground and
kicked by all the Japanese soldiers. If you ever see the film. I`m standing right beside the action just out of camera.

There was a call for lunch and every one formed into a queue at the caterers tables. Can you imagine...Here I am standing in line directly behind David Bowie
on a film set.
What was I thinking ???

Anyway I got a plate of food and cuppa. And then sat next to him on the steps
beside one of the many statues around the large goldfish pond.

We made small talk and then he wandered off to check out the inside of the large glasshouses there.
I was aware that celebs in general were being a bit standoffish at the time.
What with John Lennon having been shot to death by a crazed fan only a year and a half earlier. But possibly none more so than Bowie.
Lennon`s assassin had a list of targets. If Lennon hadn`t so conveniently
arrived home on that fateful night, Bowie was next on that list, followed by Johnny Carson.

When the shoot was over for the day Bowie returned to the costume truck
and I waited around while he got out of character.
He took ages. By the time he emerged everyone else was gone.

He leaned up against the front of the truck accompanied by some punk rock looking chick and awaited his driver.

So I made my move. I walked up to the single biggest influence and source of joy in my life and simply said. " Hi. Do you think it would be okay if I took a photo of you. ? " " He gave me the warmest smile, slipped his cigarette between his lips and posed for me as he said "Sure."

I pressed my luck.  "Can I shake your hand?" Once again there was that smile.
He offered me his hand and I clasped it.
Oh FUCK !!! There it is again ... That feeling that someone has great news to tell me. This is the feeling I got from Allan.  This is the feeling I got years later when I shook hands with the world famous medium, Colin Fry. And then again when for a full minute my hand was held,  mid song, by the late, great, Godfather of soul,
James Brown.

What the fuck was this great news ?

Why hadn`t Hubbard spoken about it ?


 
 



                               
« Last Edit: October 08, 2010, 05:57:01 PM by Ididntcomeback » Logged
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« Reply #61 on: October 07, 2010, 07:21:17 PM »

                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                          Part 54

                                   Potential trouble

It was so frustrating to feel as though I was on the cusp of entering the domain of the select few who had scrambled out of this mess and reached enlightenment.

I knew that  "thanks to Scientology" I was beginning to see through the physical universe illusion. Yet I still found myself waking up back in the hum  drum of
daily life being on an emotional roller coaster.

A newish guy named Brian had taken over as the HGC in charge.
His job was to get people seated in front of auditors.
He pestered me over the phone for a few weeks and ultimately I gave
him permission to have my folders FES`d. That`s another way of saying the
case supervisor would review all my folders and a program would be put together to fix all the errors that had been made during my auditing. That`s a sure fire sales gimmick. 

Brian then asked me if I could help him with a problem he had.
He needed to relocate and had no car.
"Sure I can sacrifice a Monday morning for you."

Brian organized the trailer and before you knew it we had it loaded and
ready to make the move.

Oops. Brian remembered he hadn`t put his double mattress on the trailer.
So I gave him a hand to hoist it over our heads onto the dangerously overloaded jigsaw of his personal belongings.

I was reorganizing all the ropes to make sure the load was secure.
I must have been too thorough because Brian ordered me to stop
and "Let`s get going. I have to be back on post by 1:00 PM."
"But Brian we are going to be driving on the motorway. This needs to be really secure."  Brian took charge and lashed the mattress down with all the competence of a one armed girl guide.

Brian just shrugged off my advice and as he had ethics superiority, I foolishly
conceded.

A few minutes later we were blissfully cruising along the motorway towards the city when a gust of wind ripped the mattress gracefully off the trailer and
I watched in my rear view mirror as flew through the air and skidded to a stop
directly behind us.

I pulled onto the verge and stopped the car.
I looked at Brian and he looked at me... mystified.

 "Brian... your mattress is lying on the motorway behind us.

In a very incriminating tone Brian screamed at me..."Well don`t just sit there !!!"
He leaped out the door and sprinted back to retrieve it.

The rest of the load was fully secure. I know because I tied it.
There was no reason for me to be there. I could tell I was just
getting in the way. I sat there calmly and put the car in first gear.
Ahead of me was the open road... It beckoned......
Oh fuck it. I Put it in reverse and threw my arm over the back of the empty passenger seat and reversed back to help.

Shorty after that my girlfriend, who had started working in a restaurant,
fell in love with the chef.  I was devastated. I hadn`t realized how
much I`d fallen for her till she was gone.

I decided to go and visit Wally , my old auditor.
Wally had invited me to his home a few times already when he`d held
FSM  (Field staff member) meetings there. And we`d become quite friendly.
See Leisa... I was right.

After listening politely to my heartache Wally came back with a reference that
Hubbard had only just released recently. It was titled "Pain and sex."

In it Ron explained how psychiatrists had invented sex !!!
And how they had used it to corrupt the whole universe.
He also referred to priests and Psychiatrists as being the same thing.

Suddenly my problems seemed insignificant compared to Ron`s.

The org contacted me a few days later. It had been determined that I was
PTS. Someone in my enviRONment was suppressing me !!!

Of course. !!! 

It all made sense.  I`d nearly achieved enlightenment and lost it.
I`d found love and lost it. I was having ups and downs in life.
I was a human being !!!
Despite being a staff status 2 graduate I couldn`t even organize a house
move without placing Auckland commuters in danger.

Ron had released a new Rundown called the Suppressed persons Rundown aka
"The miracle rundown." So titled, because it was only completed when the source
of your suppression originated a theta communication to you...no matter
who or where they are. Without you ever needing to contact them !!!

I explained that despite the fact that it`s something I`d love to experience
I simply did not have the funds to afford such a thing.

"Not a problem. Because this is an emergency, you can get the auditing through Qual. "
What does that mean I get audited in Qual ?"
No... It means you get charged Qual rates and get debited for it. Simple.
Once you are no longer PTS the money will flow in and you can pay it off.

A few days later I was sitting in an auditing room across from no less than
the Flag trained, Senior Case Supervisor.. Nick.

I have no idea why... But to do this auditing action I decided to go to a Salvation army shop and buy the worst, green, throw away over sized suit you could ever see.
I looked like a bum.

I`m sure Nick thought I had become Tom Waits.

What the fuck did I care .. I was PTS. A potential trouble source.
What a perfect excuse to cause some trouble.


 





« Last Edit: October 08, 2010, 05:55:56 PM by Ididntcomeback » Logged
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« Reply #62 on: October 08, 2010, 07:43:26 PM »

                            SENSE OF DOUBT

                               Part 55.

                          Nick of time.

The first order of business was to list off names of people who I thought were suppressing me.

Father was easy. Then I named the girl who had just dumped me.
A Charlie Manson type guy named Brett who used to pop into the org and
waste people`s time. And without thinking I said the name Genghis Khan.

Nick set to work having me do mental gymnastics on the subject of Father.

I caught on pretty quick as to how this was going to run.

There are, according to Hubbard, four possible flows that comprise all human interaction.  They are:
1) What others have done to you.
2) What you have done to others
3) What others have done to others
4) What you have done to yourself.

So if you run overts, witholds, ARC breaks, and problems that read
on the subject focused on...and then run them to an F/N on all flows.

"On the subject of father... what was done to you ?
"On the subject of father ...what have you done to others ?
 "     "       "      "   "       ..... What have others done ?
   "    "       "      "     "    ..... what have you done to yourself?

Viewing instances of disharmony from these four different viewpoints was, like
I say, mental gymnastics. Sometimes the questions would make you go cross eyed.

"On the subject of father... concerning the karate chop to the temple, and the knee to the groin ...was anything witheld by others ?"

"On the subject of father... concerning the karate chop to the temple, and the knee to the groin ...for others was it a break in affinity...?  Reality...?
Communication...? or Understanding ....?

"I`d like to indicate that "On the subject of father... concerning the karate chop to the temple, and the knee to the groin ... for others, it was a break in affinity !!"

Then the ARC break was further assessed... To see if it was an enforced affinity...?
A denied affinity ? 
A curious about affinity ?
A desired affinity ...?  or a NO affinity etc. etc.

It was mentally tiring. One was so introverted into the questions that the
most important flow is never thought off.  Yet without it none of the other flows could be audited....

It was the flow of money to Hubbard.

And I was behind in the payments.

Every day I`d arrive for, have a break from, or end auditing for the day, I`d be bailed up by Dave Sampson, the current Day registrar.  He was tactless and ruthless.

" You are out exchange with the org.!
You need to keep up with the debt you are costing the org."

I explained to Dave that I was PTS. I was suppressed. How could I possibly
get money while I was in that condition ? This is why I was getting the auditing.
I couldn`t get a job as I was in session all day..every day. No excuse was good enough. But he was like a pit bull.

Inevitably when my sessions started I had my ruds flown.
"Do you have a present time problem ?"

"Well yes...Dave Sampson is caving me in because I aren`t paying for this auditing." 
Dave had a way of pushing all my buttons. He was what is technically known as a "complete cunt."  He was really making my life hell.

So my auditing had to be re CS`ed and now the subject I was being audited on was Dave Sampson. So there I was running up an horrendous dept chasing an ARC break professional around  the universe trying to un suppress myself  from the guy who was causing my debt to go higher, because my debt was going higher.

I realized I was sitting on the wrong side of the branch I was sawing.

This actually could drive someone insane.

As I was in a "no win" situation, I decided to be more causative over my auditing.
It brought the devil out in me.

I wondered if I could get Nick to get the giggles. Could I shatter those FLAG TR`s ?
The answers I would give him would be like no answers he`d ever had to note down in any auditing he`d ever done.

For a while I started bringing the KKK into as many answers as I could.

Then I changed to mountaineers.

One line I gave him was so fucking bizarre that I could see Nick losing it.
Seeing him so tortured set me off. The moment I lost it, he followed.
Nick and I laughed till we were exhausted.

Okay ..I got another idea....
Next we`ll go for the boring PC. I cut the funny stuff out and started having underwhelming answers.
Before long, Nicks eyes glazed over.
He was losing consciousness. Oh fuck... How hysterical.

His head started to dip.
It crossed my mind that if I waited a few more seconds I could silently
put the cans down and slip out of the auditing room.

I can just see him regaining consciousness and looking perplexed by the silent,
cold, empty chair across from him.

" Nick . Nick !   .... Your eyes are going red.!"

With that Nick shook himself awake and played along with the excuse I had given him and acted surprised about his bloodshot eyes .

I was now about five grand in the hole. Dave gave me regular updates.
Then I remembered that if the source of your suppression makes a theta comm
then you have reached the end of the "miracle rundown."

My older brother was about to go to England and had managed to put in a good word for me to the boss he was leaving short.

So one evening he was going down to see my father to sort something out.
I jumped at the opportunity. "Can I come to ?"

Moments later we were standing in the house of horrors I`d escaped from ten
years earlier. My brother told my Dad that he`d gotten me his old job he was
vacating. I could see Dad was "happy to hear that I was going to be working."

That`s all I needed.
I raced into the org the next day and attested to the completion of the Miracle rundown.   Whew !!

The only small consolation I got was that I had originated during auditing that
my father should be fucking well paying for my recovery from knowing him.

Soon after that, in a round about way,...he did.

















« Last Edit: October 09, 2010, 10:12:04 PM by Ididntcomeback » Logged
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« Reply #63 on: October 09, 2010, 07:36:39 PM »

                                     SENSE OF DOUBT

                                          Part 56

                                          Security

Before long, I was a security guard for Coca Cola.  I have to admit it`s a vocation I wasn`t really suited to. For example there were some bored kids hanging around outside the fence, one sunny Sunday afternoon, looking for mischief.
What a normal security guard would be inclined to do, would be to stake them out till they made their mischievous move and then terrorize them into becoming model citizens.
 
Instead I went over and offered to give them a tour of the plant.

It wasn`t like going to Disneyland or anything, but these four young boys really
had a blast walking through the factory. And a free coke each.

Shortly after I left there the first actual break in occurred.
It was on the radio news as I was driving somewhere. However the burglar hadn`t broken in to steal a bottle of coke. He broke in specifically to beat up the security guard on duty who he had a personal vendetta against. How ironic is that ?

I received a legal letter saying that the farm I had a share in was going to be sold.
So my father had actually put us kids names down as shareholders when he took all of our savings for the project just before mum divorced him.

The only other time my Dad had put my name down on anything it resulted in my and my elder brothers names being published as bad debtors in the Mercantile Gazette." I would have been 10 at the time and my brother 12.

I found out roughly how much I had coming to me.
Steve Stevens junior was over from The Sydney Advanced org  regging Auckland Scios, and as a matter of course he contacted me. In my excitement at possibly being able to get some OT levels I asked him how much it would cost to get to OT 3.  It didn`t take him long to extract the details about the farm sale from me.

I told him the amount. He told me that he could get me to OT3 for that.

Soon after that my phone wouldn`t stop ringing. Seemed every scio staff member had me on their list of prospects.

But hey... Scientology had miraculously made this money materialize for me anyhow.

My father would be paying for the "Miracle rundown", just like I postulated, after all........ but with my share of the money.

And despite the fact that none of my siblings had done the miracle rundown,
they were all going to get the same amount as me. Which actually, for them, was more of a miracle than the Miracle Rundown win I had.

Actually.... when I think about it, I would have gotten this money no matter whether I`d done the "Miracle Rundown" or not..

But there was another miracle about to happen. Tired of feeling miserable
without my girlfriend, I drove to the restaurant where she worked and waited till she came out well after midnight.

I just walked up to her and said "Do you want to get married ?"
She said "yes."

Now is that a miracle ? Or was she just plain nuts ?

Two Scientologists getting married and being able to have any private intimacy from Scientology ?  Now that would have been a real fucking Miracle.

If you are ever tempted to have a root with a Scientologist you can save them a fortune by videoing the whole thing.
Then when they are getting sec checked back in the org they can just hand over the tape.
The org is going to have every juicy detail on file anyway. Guaranteed !!!

As the wedding day loomed I realized I had made a terrible mistake.

I decided to listen to the 2D tapes, (second dynamic.) for some guidance.

Ron explained that by getting your overts and witholds off to your partner
that a successful, happy, and enduring marriage was assured.

Ron spoke of doing such a thing with his third wife, Mary Sue.

However Ron didn`t go into specifics about his overts on her.
I guess he didn`t want them being bandied around by people,
who had no business knowing them anyway, using these secrets against him.

Obviously Mary Sue didn`t have the same luck. Her overts were in the public domain and she was doing time in Jail for what was disclosed.

Wally Collis phoned me up. He wanted to talk to me about something...











                                   
« Last Edit: October 09, 2010, 10:19:47 PM by Ididntcomeback » Logged
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« Reply #64 on: October 10, 2010, 09:35:49 AM »

                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                     Part 57

                               Barriers to study.

  Before long I was sitting in Wally`s auditing room. It felt kind of nostalgic.
Every intimate detail of my existence had been extracted from me in this very room.

The same old framed, black and white photo of Ron hung on the wall over
Wally`s shoulder. I wondered how many female Scientologists had developed a sexual thing for Hubbard. Actually the thought caused me to shudder. He was no Elvis. Though soon he`d even give that a go.

Wally explained that his contract was running out and he was looking for a replacement. He was getting on a bit now. Mid to late 70`s I guess.
Wally explained that auditing had become almost impossible for him these days
as his hearing was getting really bad.  I already knew how bad it was from
the time he audited me.  You`d finally confess to the most humiliating withold
only to to have to get it off all over again because Wally hadn`t heard it.

So not only did you get it off more than once you also had to get it off in a loud clear voice like an announcement at the school assembly.

To replace Wally meant becoming a Class four auditor and signing a five year contract. But the reality was, I had a heavy debt that could pull me out of the org, which made me unqualified for staff, per policy.

That debt was to Scientology itself.

I had no control over how long it would take for the farm money to come in
so I could pay off the debt I had. 
Various staff members worked on me over the next few months, and although the money still hadn`t materialized I signed the contract with the Day org and
became a member of the TTC. (Technical training corp.)

I was put full time into the academy and began the student hat.
The bones of the Student hat were the eight, hour long, audio lectures presented
by Hubbard.

Hubbard was quite the raconteur. He had many jokes and stories that were vaguely relevant to the subject matter.  His stories always revolved around how
smart and insightful he was and how stupid others were.

But when receiving star rate checkouts, I realized it took about a minute to
summarize the actual data on a lecture that Hubbard had talked for an hour on.

So the bulk of the tape was just fluff. And as interesting as Ron`s exploits were,
he couldn`t hold a candle to David Niven as far as telling a good story was concerned. Ron`s incessant use of the phrase "and so on, and so forth.."
really started to bug me. Yet it is a powerful way to get someone to get the idea
that they are filling in the gaps and thus becoming co authors.

And despite the fact that Ron gave the impression that he was an expert
photographer, the steps he teaches about developing a photo are just plain wrong, and so on and so forth.

Come on you Scios.... Take the photo developing part of the transcript to
any professional photographer and get him/her to read it. You don`t have to
let them know the source of the data, and so on and so forth.
Let them give you an unbiased, professional opinion. Take it to several.
 
Here are the points Hubbard makes about the barriers to study and so on and so forth.

The main offender is the misunderstood word.
Second is a skipped gradient.
Third is, a lack of mass and so on and so forth.

I have no argument with these. But to give Hubbard credit for discovering them
can only hold out by not researching the facts and so on, and so forth. 

What however, Ron should be given credit for, is his greatest gift to the field of education.  But what could that be you ask ?

Well Hubbard successfully was able to invent a way to get people to totally believe in the truth of an entire subject without suspecting it is pure BULLSHIT !
and so on......

Want proof ?  Ask any recovering Scientologist how they came to learn
that Scientology as a technology was complete horseshit.
Not one of them will say..."By using the study tech ."

What Hubbard`s study tech actually produces is people WITH "barriers to study."
And so on and so fucking forth !!
« Last Edit: October 10, 2010, 06:23:46 PM by Ididntcomeback » Logged
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« Reply #65 on: October 11, 2010, 11:32:00 AM »

                             SENSE OF DOUBT

                                        Part 58

                                 Making movies.

Despite the fact that I was a clear,  a  "Suppressed persons rundown" graduate, a purif completion,and an "in ethics, contributing staff member" and married to
a Scientologist... I was confused, heavily in debt and depressed.

Bizarre occurrences were a daily thing on staff.
One really had to be tough to stay on. It was like clinging to sharp rocks
while being pounded by a raging sea.

One time the Flag Rep. came through and got us to produce our copies of Green volume six.  Hubbard had all the administrative technology policies,which were printed in green ink, in green volumes. Meanwhile the Red on white technology
bulletins were in twelve red volumes. Every Scientologist is expected to own both sets.  They weren`t cheap. If you ever visit a Scientologist at home you will see this as the central part of their Scientology library. On closer inspection you will see they have never been opened. Just like the encyclopedias.

Well we had to open our vol. six`s that day and place "Cancelled" stickers on
every single issue in there that was not authored by Hubbard. And it was most of them.
Because most of the stickers were placed at the bottom of pages, the book
would no longer close. It bulged. You couldn`t just rip out the canceled pages because often there was an LRH authored policy on the other side.

What was disturbing to me was that now information was not being judged
on whether or not it made sense, but on authorship.

And as some of the canceled policies clearly stated "as authorized by L Ron Hubbard", it seemed that he was even willing to sacrifice good ideas, if "he" hadn`t had them.

Then it dawned on me...  Hubbard was trying to erase any evidence of David Mayo from all Scientology publications. "But while you`re at it, throw out every one else" who might one day try to take his throne.

The movie "The secret of Flag results", starring Mayo, also disappeared from every Public division film room on the planet. Soon a new Hubbard written and directed film replaced it.
"The case he couldn`t crack."

It was about an auditor who blows staff...
I took my cue and never showed up for roll call again.

In Hubbard`s new film it all has a happy ending. It was a work of pure fiction after all.
I actually bumped into the guy who played the lead role a few years
later in L.A. Quite an honor really. To meet the only person ever to have a happy ending in Scientology...Even if it was only pretend.


Speaking of movies.  As a teen, a gang of us used to go to the local theater in Mangere and watch, what became known as grind house movies, on a Sunday evening.
The thing that used to crack me up was that a guy named Vinnie used to, without provocation, unexpectedly "Moo" like a cow. He was so unbelievably good at it that it sounded as if a stray cow had snuck in in the darkness and was baffled by the plot.

Unfailingly, the theater manager would enter the theater with his torch and start wandering through the aisles trying to solve the mystery. Oh my God. I`d have tears streaming down my face.
Went on for months this did.

Imagine my surprise when, all these years later my wife's mother showed up with her new boyfriend ,,, and it was him ! The Theater owner. Peter.

He joined staff, but you could tell his heart wasn`t really in it.
Eventually he must have realized that as much as he loved Carol,
she came as a package, with Hubbard taking first place. He quit Scientology, and Carol by default.

As I lay sleeping with my wife one night. I became aware that a presence had joined us and was hovering around her.
The next day I was told through the grape vine that this guy Peter had drowned.

I was saddened by the news, but relieved to know that at least he hadn`t been trampled by a cow.

A few days later my wife informed me that she was pregnant.
Then a few weeks after that I was awakened again. The presence was there again, except rather than arriving it was leaving.

Halfway through that day my wife phoned me in a very distressed state to
tell me she was having a miscarriage.

I`m not going to make any conclusions about all this.
I`m just reporting my experiences.

The movies had always been a great source of enjoyment for me.
Some had even effected me so deeply that I was forever changed by them.

A friend of mine named Greg who could best be described as Kramer, from Seinfeld had sent my picture into a casting agency along with those of two other close friends.

We all got a call, were dressed in 19th century clothing and then bused to
the Ferry Building downtown at about midnight. We were only extras but
it was great to be on a movie set again.

I was milling around near the old photo booth there when a pretty young girl
saw the booth , rushed off and grabbed who I later discovered was the director and then realized they didn`t have the two 20c coins that would be needed to use the photo booth. She turned and asked me if ..."Oh my God !!! It `s Jodie Foster."

The world famous actress who was also the obsession of the deranged gunman, John Hinkley who shot and wounded U.S. President, Ronald Regan. Jodie had played a child prostitute saved by a demented Robert De Niro in one of the greatest movies ever made, "Taxi Driver."
Obviously tired of American politics, Jodie had shot down here to New Zealand to make a quiet, small movie.

I searched through my wallet and found the coins. "Here you go."
She commented approvingly on the photo ID "Club Member" card I had.
I guess in her world a photo ID "club Member" card meant something different
than having the right to rent video movies from "South Auckland video rentals."
An hour or so later Jodie came looking for me.
She smiled warmly as she placed a 50c coin in my hand.
I wondered if she`d  consider starring in one of Ron`s films.
I knew she was trying to keep a low profile.

So there you have it. The only thing I can put on my CV.
I once loaned Jodie Foster money.

I was in a backstreet video rental shop in Manurewa one time and saw the movie for rent there.
I held it up to the lady at the counter and said. "I`m in this movie."
So she put it on and we both watched it as she served other customers.

The movie starred Jodie as well as John Lithgow , of "Third rock from the sun" fame. Not of "Mesmerized" fame.

I didn`t see me particularly, but there was Greg getting his one line of fame.
Trouble is they had over dubbed his voice with someone else`s.

"It`s over there mate." Two words less than the "These Pretzels are making me thirsty" line that the real Kramer had in the fictitious Woody Allen movie, featured in an episode of Seinfeld.

Despite Hubbard`s assurances about his knowledge of film, he never did make
his "Citizen Kane."

He moved instead over to the field of music where his "Sgt. Pepper`s"
was about to dominate the charts.



« Last Edit: October 25, 2010, 09:08:56 PM by Ididntcomeback » Logged
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« Reply #66 on: October 13, 2010, 08:21:12 AM »

                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                      Part 59

                                 Fa fa fa fa Fashion.
                                    Turn to the left.

Love it, hate it, follow it,.... or ignore it,.... at your own peril. As Hubbard did.
Of course fashion appears to be of vital importance in our teens, when being
rejected is something we don`t want to get familiar with.

For those who left fashion behind when they found a sense of security in a marriage or parenthood, you haven`t escaped it. You may have been trapped in one of its many manifestations.

Have a look in the mirror. Everything other than your nakedness, and bald head
is a product of fashion. What about the way you walk ? Is there a bit of your favorite movie actor in there ? The way you speak ? It`s a composite of
everyone you ever saw who was actually listened to.

I`m sure now that I`ve pointed it out, and if you spend a little time observing
people you`ll see just how crucial fashion is to who you have become.

The way to really drive it home...the time you really grasp it is when your marriage falls apart and you are out there again.
That feeling causes people to drink heavily before they go out onto the dance floor. Or just drink heavily period !!

One always has a strong loyalty to anything that they perceive saved their life.
Some of you have deliberately pushed the anguish of being a teen out
of your mind. You can see that in common practice by the unsympathetic way parents treat their own teenage children. By not keeping up with what was is cool, teens risk public ridicule and rejection from their peers. And that could ruin someone`s chances of ever finding their soul mate.

Back then, as a teen, being cool and fashionable, in more ways than you can imagine, saved your life.
So you tend to hold on to that hair style, stay loyal to the music of the time,
and dress like Gary Cooper or Twiggy,  Marylin Manson, or even LL Cool J.
Whoever appeared to be getting the respect that was so desirable to you.

What I`m telling you is so known and understood that no one even bothers to mention it.
It`s taken for granted.

And just like when anything you took for granted is no longer there your world collapses to the degree you were blind to its value to you.

More on all this later. 

I want to try and illustrate how fashion is a physical plain manifestation of evolution. If you can`t see it... I suggest that your understanding of Fashion is not broad enough.

Let`s have a look at a few 1940`s westerns. These were made a century after
the cowboy ruled the wild west. Incidentally we`ll be the only ones watching.
The sport of massacring "Injuns" is no longer fashionable. Hardly anyone else bothers with them these days. They just seem irrelevant.
Then we see the cowboys of the 50`s movies. Where the biggest insult one could receive was to be called "Yella" . That`s American cowboy for a coward.
Then in the 60`s we started to see caring, sensitive, Cowboys riding the prairie`s.
Quirky, humorous cowboys, and blood coming out of bullet wounds emerged in the 70`s.. Up till then most movie and TV deaths involved a long drawn out, bloodless, speech by the nearly departed, that milked every drop of sympathy and martyrdom available from the scene.

 
So do you see ? Despite the fact that all Westerns are made about the exact same period in history, they all portray the era with the unspoken, everyone knows, moral code and fashion that permeated society at the time the movie was made.
In fact that unconscious slave to fashion, loyalty became what the movie was all about.   Now do you see why I`m raving about how important fashion is ?

Hubbard never did !!!

He defined himself in his own technical dictionary with the phrase "Stuck in a win."

Sorry I can`t quote exactly. I posted the dictionary off as a gift years ago to someone I didn`t like.

"Someone who was always just part of the field , who suddenly, unexpectedly  wins the race, is so surprised and overwhelmed that he/she  forever holds on to that moment.
He is "stuck in a win."..."

It would be like some pulp fiction writer , writing for a penny a word, suddenly and unexpectedly, having a best seller on his hands.
Which is exactly what happened to Hubbard in the early 50`s with the unexpected best seller status bestowed on him from the book "Dianetics".

And that is why you`ll see, now that I`ve pointed it out, that Hubbard`s writing is saturated with a 1950`s undetected by him, mentality and moral code. It`s full of 1950`s mentality that made sense in the 50`s.
But has long since lost its relevance.

His sexist and racial slurs published as they were, showed a complete naivety
to all I have described above. "Battlefield earth" would have been a great book and movie...back in the 50`s. But in the 80`s it was simply out of step.

Things had changed.

Back then having a "gay affair" would have been something you would
have proudly told your friends about.

These days.... maybe not so much.

His book "Battlefield Earth" was made into a movie which was voted the worst movie of the decade and the soundtrack music to the book was reviewed thus..

1983 review of the work for Stereo Review commented that the wording used in the jacket copy of the album was "hyperbolic".[12] In a 2003 review for Locus Online, Jeff Berkwits noted: "The eclectic 1982 album is reportedly the first soundtrack ever written for a book, and highlights performances from jazz greats Chick Corea and Stanley Clarke".[5] A copy of Space Jazz was given out to the first prize recipient in the 2006 Worst Record competition by the New Jersey newspaper the Hunterdon Democrat.[2]

The fifties had shifted out of gear.
Despite being "a jolly good fellow..." 
Hubbard was a victim of fashion. An embarrassing one at that.
The changes in fashion since the 50`s seemed insane to him. Moral decline was rampant.
Cats sleeping with dogs. If only everyone would go back to
the "Golden age "  Some have. We call them Scientologists.

    Telly ho !

 
« Last Edit: October 25, 2010, 09:14:57 PM by Ididntcomeback » Logged
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« Reply #67 on: October 16, 2010, 03:36:40 PM »

Don`t turn off !

My computer has had an engram attack.
Should be back with more tomorrow.

Normal transmission will resume shortly...

Meanwhile how about a small musical interlude...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGNHa8IH91k
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« Reply #68 on: October 17, 2010, 07:40:49 AM »

                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                     Part 60

                Nothing`s gonna touch us in these Golden Years 


How many times have you felt compelled to write a set of rules and regulations for the whole of mankind to adhere to ?

Probably not too often.

You see it takes a rather rare set of factors that would inspire such a desire.  If we are to look for other examples from history we inevitably come to the ten commandments.  I bet you can even recite the few of them that you know you`ll never break. Maybe the other nine are a bit vague.

Well Hubbard felt compelled to re write the ten commandments. And naturally being Hubbard, he improved on them and added a couple more.

He called his commandments "The way to happiness." 

By reading either of these two commandment lists, one tends to introvert and find a sense of relief that they are obeying at least a few of them.
And find a sense of security knowing that they have at least a chance of finding happiness or getting a gate pass into Heaven, depending on the rule book you have innocently browsed through.

However if you just leave that aside for a moment, and inspect the actual conduct of the authors, it becomes apparent that in these cases, neither God nor Hubbard adhered to their own commandments.
Just read the old testament. The God of the old testament, apart from being insane, was responsible for more deaths than Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot, and Mao Zedong,
who incidentally also wrote their own rule books.

 If you do some unbiased research into Hubbard`s life, it becomes clear that
the precepts in his "Way to Happiness" were a case of "do as I say. Not as I do."   And don`t forget in Hubbard`s follow up to Dianetics , he recommends
mass genocide for those who won`t follow his rules.  "Quietly and without sorrow."

Is it possible that Moral rule writers were actually compiling these rules in an effort to curtail their own atrocious and erratic conduct ?

See I don`t know for sure because I`ve never ever been in a position where
I`ve assumed that it was my right or duty to tell the world what to do, or not do.

But isn`t it obvious that if one wanted to rule the world, then and only then would the conduct of others, on a global scale,  be a problem that required
a solution. Many a great thinker has graced this Earth without ever feeling the need to invent a code of conduct for the masses.

So what I`m saying is... surely it would be a good idea to inspect the actual
conduct of those who have "plans for everyone."

Sorry to go on about this ... But I just want you to see how shortsighted these "rule makers" are.  They are trying to artificially amend the conduct of a species who have a long history of doing exactly what they were going to do regardless.

How many murders never happened because the murderee told the murderer that "it is against the law."?

Why haven`t people pasted "the crimes act" on their front doors to deter burglars?

If people gave a shit about the LAW surely that would be the obvious thing to do.

Look it isn`t even taught in schools, for Ron`s sake.

The only people who study "the crimes act" are new Police recruits.
They are seeing it for the first time and yet... to qualify as cops they have to have never been caught violating it.  Is that ironic ????

No.  The real reason laws exist is an excuse to punish.

Psycho God will punish you if you break his Laws.
And Hubbard realized there was punishment and money to be made if people broke his laws.

"The Happinesss rundown" audited action followed soon after the book.

If you did the "Happiness rundown" as a preclear, you would be searching your
mind and whole track for every past  infraction and violation of Hubbard`s recently invented laws.

To my knowledge no one ever asked... "how could I break a law, ten million years ago, when it hadn`t been written then ?"

The answer of course would be, that deep within yourself you would know that you were doing wrong."

SO WHY THE FUCKEN RULE BOOKS ????

Come on psycho God ...

Come on Psycho Hubbard ?

I need answers. I am but a sinner trying to not be like you.

Wally was soon to phone me. The people in the Friendly Fiji Islands where going to need to be  enlightened about Ron`s discoveries on how come they weren`t happy.


 
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« Reply #69 on: October 18, 2010, 10:59:01 AM »

                                     SENSE OF DOUBT

                                           Part 61

                                           Empire


According to Hubbard, when applied correctly, his technology would restore
the native abilities of a thetan. OT`s feared nothing. They had super powers. They could read minds and control their environments with postulates.

Becoming an OT was the same as becoming Superman, but without the tights.

Wally was OT Seven.
One time in session Wally had confided in me that he could go out and become a millionaire. But he`d still be here auditing. Inferring that becoming a millionaire would just be a pointless, though effortless, distraction from the important job of freeing beings with LRH tech.

It`s like being a scientologist was a higher calling. It was a different league than normal humans.    I understood.
After all haven`t we to a greater or lesser degree followed the exploits of Superman our whole lives without finding it odd that Superman`s net worth is never brought up.
Superman had more important things to do than play the stock market or manage rental properties or go to auctions. Same with OT`s.

Now that Wally was, after twenty odd years, free of his staff contract, he decided to cash in on his super powers.
Local Scientologist and businessman, John Rich, who never missed an opportunity, pounced.... and before long Wally had his own office on the seventh floor of Quay Towers in downtown Auckland.
John was running a commercial property real estate business. However due to John`s lack of people skills. and the fact he was a crook, he needed someone by his side who had the look of credibility.

I realized that when Wally brought me in to meet with him in his new swanky office. His desk was clear of any projects. The memo pad was blank. I don`t even think the phone was connected.

John was frantically running around doing important stuff like a Wall Street broker while Wally and I just gazed out his tranquil office window, admired the view, and soaked in the Donald Trump world that we were going to conquer.  I was going to be "The Apprentice."

Our first project was abandoned when we realized there was no milk in the fridge.
But Wally assured me I`d get to see some real money being thrown around in the commercial property auction John had organized for the following week.

I arrived back at Quay Towers in plenty of time. The room began to fill up with
all these poker faced market players who were being offered glasses of champagne.
I made a MENTAL note. "Get potential investors pissed before selling them something."

Trouble is no one was drinking. I saw my chance to help raise the tone of the function.  One of these pretty serving girls approached in her low cut dress and serving tray. I accepted her offer of a drink not even noticing the auctioneer setting up at the front of the room.
My mind was preoccupied, violating all of Hubbard`s "way to happiness" precepts on this unsuspecting serving girls naked body.

A taste of the putrid champagne brought me back to my senses as I digested lesson two....."Have plenty of babes around to divert blood from the brains of potential investors."
Meanwhile I placed my glass of what tasted like warm vinegar, discretely under Wally`s chair.

The Auctioneer delicately unwrapped his sacred hammer or "gavel" as we insiders call them,and began his chanting. I looked around to see if I was supposed to have my eyes closed and be bowing my head.
As we were all there to worship the almighty dollar, I guess it made complete sense to everyone present that the minister would speak in tongues.

A few of the congregation raised their hands in turn as the minister waved his sacred hammer and pointed at them, releasing them of their financial inhibitions.

 A short time later I knew as a congregation we had failed. Not once was he able to smack that hammer down and shout the ultimate accolade  to the God of money..."Sold."

Not one single reserve was met. Not even close.
The money Gods were not happy that day. Dark clouds descended on John Rich.
His face developed a gray pallor. The only way to appease the Gods now would be a human sacrifice.

I realized who it was when Wally phoned me and asked me to accompany him to Fiji to start a mission there.

You are right I`m working up to this slowly.
After all it`s quite a touchy thing when you go to a foreign country to rescue
"billions" of thetans from bondage with Ron`s amazing tech... but instead be ordered to leave the country and inadvertently trigger a military coup.
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« Reply #70 on: October 19, 2010, 08:30:51 AM »

                                     SENSE OF DOUBT

                                            Part 62

                                      Morally Bankrupt .

  It was now January 1986. There was yet another "all Scientologists must attend"  briefing to be held at the org. But this one was different. It was to be held in the middle of the day, a mere hour or so after I got the phone call.

The academy was full of people. (A very rare sight.) There was a buzz in the air. Something big was going on.
Moments later, a Sea org member who I`d never seen before, Rose Dinness, came in with her entourage.  She waited till the chatter died down. Took a deep breath and then read out a carefully worded press release.

"yada yada yada."

Hubbard was dead.

Well not really. He`d discarded the encumbrance of a body to forward his research.  Ron had done what he`d come here to do and was now working on OT levels where his body would be slowing him down.

A woman beside me named Bridget started to weep.
But the message continued. There was to be no grief. No mourning. Hubbard had insisted.  Bridget got it together as Rose explained that Ron had announced to his staff that he was going to discard his body, Went and lay on his bed and at complete cause shuffled off his mortal coil.

He had conquered death.... by dying. 

Rose explained that we all needed to hear what really happened because this would soon hit the press and naturally wog reporters would get it wrong and
say he died of a stroke.

Believe it or not I was one of the few people in this country that was able to watch satellite TV back then. I was the night manager for a big Motel close to the airport. During the wee small hours when things had settled down I`d recline on a sofa in the conference room and watch American satellite TV.

I never knew what time it was in America as Bryant Gumble had this nutty way of ending his sentences with "And it`s 14 minutes after the hour."

Bryant and Jane Pauley had their usual witty banter going on
and then they went to the news."At the hour. (???)"  First up was Hubbard`s death.
There was some archival footage of Hubbard and plenty of smatterings of the word "controversial".  But almost immediately a news flash interrupted the story.
The Space shuttle, Challenger, had exploded into pieces on take off. It happened about three minutes after the hour.
While the whole world was shocked and horrified by what had happened in the skies above Cape Canaveral, Scientology`s International management were ecstatic.

The media organizations that would otherwise have descended on them never arrived. Hubbard`s death certificate and coroners report would never be scrutinized.

If they had been, the world would have known at least some of the truth about the "Mysterious death of L Ron Hubbard."

Here it is now.
I`ll wait while you have a look.

http://www.xenu.net/archive/hubbardcoroner/

The internet didn`t exist back then, so all we got was the Cult`s version of which
a snippet can be viewed here. A young version of the present leader of Scientology can be seen making the announcement.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkIrwdpAW7s

I now had Wally on my back pleading with me to come to Fiji with him.
So I explained that although I was expecting some money, it hadn`t arrived yet
and I had a huge debt to the org to pay off first. Plus I wanted t to be able to get some OT levels with the rest.

A short time later a Sea org member named Julie Stevens called me up and said
she had made an appointment for me to meet with John Rich at the org.
Sure... Why not.

It seemed that John wasn`t making a go of it in the WOG business world and
had decided to make some FSM commissions regging Auckland Scientologists.
You see despite all the local guys all being broke after years of relentless regging.
John thought big. He realized that a lot of these guys had equity in their homes
and it was money just sitting there. If he could arrange finance on these properties many a bridge could be purchased.

John started the conversation with me by asking how much money I was expecting.  He`d obviously been briefed.  I told him.
In a very casual manner John muttered that he could double it for me if I wanted.

I didn`t take the bait. Instead I, for no reason I can think of, told John my
ambition was to go skiing in the Bahamas.
Actually it wasn`t true at all. It was just a background poster I`d seen on the cover of Jethro Tull`s album, "Aqualung". For some reason it had stuck in my mind. But I started something I wasn`t expecting.
John happily told me the location that he`d escape to, if he was ever to make a "killing."

If anyone out there is wondering where John is living it up on their money I`d
definitely make inquiries around "The Greek Islands."  I don`t need to make any such inquiries. John hit a brick wall with me.


John became the darling of Scientology Auckland. It seems many others had
fallen for his charms. John was in his element. He`d made it clear that being the only ethical businessman, in a sea of out ethics, had been too much of a struggle.
Now he was helping other in ethics Scientologists become in debt Scientologists.

John had even taken to dressing like a Sea Org member. You kind of wondered if maybe he had joined and was just awaiting the arrival of his official uniform.

Julie started to put pressure on me to come up with the money I was expecting.
She called John in to help.  I told John the name of the lawyer who was representing my siblings and I.  John did his homework and came back to me excitedly. It seems that another Scientologist had a  trust fund managed by the same lawyer. Mr Kingston. 

So late one afternoon Julie and John grabbed me and this other Scientologist, Del Morris, and we all marched over to this lawyer`s office.

John approached his receptionist who took his name and buzzed through to Kingston.
She mentioned that a Mr John Rich and three other people wanted to see him.
There was a bit of dialogue in hushed tones and then the receptionist reported to John that " Mr Kingston was in a meeting."

John said "that`s fine. How long will he be ?"
" I don`t know." was the reply.

John turned to us , pulled an "I`m stupid face" and joined us on the sofa.

Hours went by.

Finally the office door opened and a group of three men walked briskly past us
without saying a word and made a break for the exit.

John looked at me perplexed. Was that him ?
Me "Yeah."

John "Why the fuck didn`t you stop him ?"

Me.. " Why would I ? I haven`t got a clue what we`re doing here."

John and my relationship deteriorated after that.
The next afternoon I was approached by John who said in a really pissed off tone.
" You owe me Eight hundred dollars !! When are you going to pay it back ???!!!"

Now I was most perplexed. " What eight hundred dollars ?"

John : "I put eight hundred dollars in your account."
Me: Well you should take it back out then. I never told you to do that."

John:  " I can`t !!! No one is allowed to take money out of any Scientologists account...and anyway the cheques bounced !  I wrote two checks for
$400 each and the banks have declined both of them. MY CHEQUES NEVER BOUNCE  !!!"

I felt sorry for John. Why did it have to be me that inadvertently exposed the sad truth behind the happy lie.....? John was actually UnRich.

I told John I had nothing to do with this and that he should put the whole cycle
in writing.
Well that`s when he really lost it. Luckily John had read the precepts in "The way to happiness." Particularly the one that said. "Be nice till you`ve got all their money."

Other wise I`m sure I would have been the victim of my fifth assault at the hands of Scientologists. That`s right Gary Judge had roughed me up for a second time getting my ethics in. I shouldn`t complain though. I know
of at least two people that were married to him.


John let me know in no uncertain terms that no write up of what had transpired would be forthcoming. I started to understand how hard it was
being an ethical businessman. John was more "Wired" than John Belushi`s
final drugged fueled day.

In April of the following year my money came through.

After months of careful planning by Scientology Missions international, the Fiji
project was given the Green light. Wally, his non Scientologists wife and daughter
got on the next plane to Fiji and I went in to settle my massive debt to Scientology.


                               
« Last Edit: August 13, 2011, 10:02:58 AM by Ididntcomeback » Logged
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« Reply #71 on: October 20, 2010, 10:21:32 AM »

                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                       Part 63

                                I feel like a group of one.

Before the ink was dry in my bank book, the amount had already been cut in half.
But I was no longer in debt to Scientology. By now my wife had left me, and taken our 11 month old son back to her home town and was living with her father.

We stayed in touch over the phone. Naturally I told her I was off to Fiji and had applied for a passport on a "priority" basis.
Apparently she was quite taken with the idea and decided to join me.
So I told her to get a passport pronto, while I set about getting the plane tickets etc.

Unfortunately she didn`t think to pay the extra fee to get her passport processed promptly.  This turned out to be quite stressful when the flight date drew near and one of our passports still hadn`t shown up.

Do I need to tell you whose ? Well actually I do.  It was mine.
Despite the fact I`d payed extra and sent in the paperwork a week before her.

I`m quite a fan of the barrister and author Vincent Bugliosi (The "G" is soft)
He`s probably best known as the District Attorney who put one time scientologist, Charlie Manson away for conspiracy to commit murder back in the early 70`s after the L.A.P.D. totally botched the investigation.
Bugliosi, brilliantly used Beatles song lyrics to convict Manson of a charge he otherwise would have walked from. How fucken cool is that ?

Just so you know who I`m talking about...Here is six minutes of Vincent requesting of congress that murderer, George W. Bush be charged with murder.

I strongly recommend you watch it.  Restores your faith in humanity.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7abu9a0xtNI

In his 1991 true crime  book "And the Sea Will Tell"  Vincent recounts defending  Stephanie Stearns, who along with her boyfriend, were being separately charged with the murder of the only other two people present with them on a desert island in the pacific, one thousand miles south of Hawaii .  Why read crime fiction, when you have a true life "who dunnit?" that if not for Vincent`s devastating brilliance would still remain unsolved to this day.


In that book he has a chapter about the biggest undetected influence on mankind
since the universe was created.  It`s impact on every single person who has ever lived is so overwhelmingly evident and yet as a species we never take it into account.

See.... You have no idea what I am talking about....



Well here it is ..........


                                             "Incompetence."


Every single bit of suffering that you or your loved ones have endured since the dawn of time has been caused directly by someone`s Incompetence.
It has infected society at every echelon from the highest levels of Government
right down to the terrorist who with his home made bomb blows himself to pieces on the way to an unsuspecting disco club to promote his "God of love."

Let me put it this way. If everybody actually did what they were charged with doing, School children would leave school empowered. Presently graduates, rather than setting a course that will resolve the serious issues that face us as a species,  more often than not, just add to those problems.

Religious leaders would have connected you to a loving God... Not a spoiled, psychotic brat, who throws those who he created in his own image, but disappointed him, into an eternal fire in the ultimate act of "tough love."
 

Medical professionals, and researchers, would find
actual cures for disease instead of only looking for "drug" cures.

The truth of the matter is that oftentimes when using the phone to get advice or assistance from some company...the person you are dealing with, if they bother to answer at all, has one of two things uppermost in their minds. It`s either...
When`s lunch  ?? Or
When`s home time ?

Thankfully neither of these two preoccupations were distracting influences on Scientologists. As by nature of the system things like lunch and going home
were the distractions.

I was getting hatted in Qual on the Missions starter pack.

Lots to read about registered trademarks, copyrights, and company Law.
Blah, blah, blah.... surely that was up to the experts at SMI to guide us through ?
Ah here`s something interesting....

Hubbard states that at no time should one violate any of the local laws.
He`s quite emphatic about it.  We needed to be told that ???

It was now three weeks since Wally got to Fiji. He phoned me regularly pleading
with me to get over there to help him.  At one point he even said that his wife and daughter were flying back to New Zealand in a week and if I hadn`t shown up by then he was coming home.

I also wrote to Wally almost daily to let him know the progress I was making.
I know that for a fact... How ?
Because two days before I was due to fly out, I received them all back.
Wally had bundled up all my letters and mailed them to me.

That only happened one other time in my life ,  when one of my ex girlfriends sent
me back all my love letters.
Was Wally breaking up with me ?


I was contacted almost daily by the SMI guys at Flag, or sometimes the DSA
here in Auckland.  One of my concerns was that this project was going to heavily impact on my rapidly dwindling funds.  In every case my worries were dismissed with the assurance that all of my expenses would be reimbursed once
we were up and running as a mission. Plus Wally and I were going to be making
a killing off the books , tapes, courses, meters, and auditing that the mission sold each week.

Over the years many a Fijian tourist had brought a Scientology book or done a
service somewhere in the world before returning to Fiji and we`d have all their names addresses and phone numbers.

One last thing needed to be done before I could go.
Julie Stevens wanted the rest of my money to put towards my OT levels.

She was quite adamant about it.

When I refused she accused me of wasting her fucken time.

"Do you realize how much time and effort I`ve put into you.?
Can you even begin to imagine the strings I`ve had to pull
to get you right up to the precipice of becoming an actual OT and
you fuck me over like this !!!???"

"Don`t you ever fucken decide to go OT anytime soon."

I cut a cheque .....which was never going to be enough.
Julie despite being beyond appeasement  took the cheque,
put it in her draw and motioned me to fuck off.

I grabbed the few hundred dollars I had left, got a friend to pick
up my wife and child and boarded a plane at Auckland Airport.

For the next hour my son screamed in agony as cabin pressure
played havoc with his ears.


Finally we were on our way...... !!!!

All the planning and (deceased) LRH intention had come together.
With all these highly trained and competent Clears and OTS
pulling together.....

..............what could possibly go wrong ??



« Last Edit: October 24, 2010, 01:06:08 PM by Ididntcomeback » Logged
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« Reply #72 on: October 23, 2010, 08:57:02 PM »

                             SENSE OF DOUBT

                                     Part 64

                               Hurry up and wait.

The first thing you notice about Fiji upon arrival is that it is claustrophobicly hot.
I had taken a large suitcase filled with clothing. The most urgent thing for me was to go down to Suva and buy a pair of shorts. And that`s pretty much all I wore the whole time I was there. I think the only T shirt I had was a Battlefield Earth promotional T Shirt I`d ended up with somehow.

But that was okay. It would give the locals a chance to see that I wasn`t a nut.

Wally had rented a house on Knollys  Street. Number 56, if I recall correctly.
It was on a steep hill, about fifteen minutes walk to downtown Suva. Or thirty minutes walk back from downtown Suva.

Due to the heat the windows were left open permanently. So all windows were burglar proofed with wire mesh.

Wally put me in the picture with what had been happening so far at the mission.
Absolutely nothing.

As soon as he had arrived, Wally had filled in what he could of the necessary forms required by the Fijian Ministry of Home Affairs and had posted them off to SMI in Florida. A two week period between sending and receiving mail between Florida and Fiji was considered fast.
There had been some sort of confusion due to Richard Alacarta , our man at SMI,
not signing the line verifying that we were in deed here on mission for SMI.

Wally was just eagerly awaiting the signed paperwork to arrive back from Flag.
Part of the paperwork was an attestation and warning that no work was to commence until our application had been approved.

So we really had nothing to do till all the legal groundwork was in order.

I`d never been to a foreign country before, so there was definitely a big culture shock awaiting me. Wally drove us down to a bank so we could change our NZ dollars into Fijian. As we approached the entrance to the bank an Indian guy approached us. One of is eyes was all munted. He started telling us about his starving children.... It was a heart rending story. Wally cut him short by saying... "We don`t have any cash." Undeterred this beggar insisted that he accepted credit cards.

Any time I went into a shop I would be surrounded by a throng of Indians , who would follow me everywhere I went. Inside a store for example, if I looked in a drinks fridge, they would fight to be the one to open it for me.

But the one that pissed me off the most was the Fijian native guy who came up to me enthusiastically in Suva, wanting to know where I was from. When I told him he was able to tell me he knew of "David Lange" and the "All Blacks."

He said he had something for me and with that he pulled out a carved wooden  boat and asked me my name. He was curious about the spelling.
Then as I spelled it, he carved my name into the side of the boat and proudly presented it to me. I thanked him profusely and began to walk away. I must
have missed something because now he demanded I give him $25 for it.
He scanned the street and reassured himself that no cops were present.

I realized I had been taken and was now in a tight situation where my future health was at stake. So I reached into my pocket and grabbed a note. I held it
out and told the guy "This is all I have." He dismantled the trimaran in question
and just left me with a hollowed out stick with my mis spelt name on it.
 It`s sitting in some bushes in Knollys Street if anyone wants it. Send me $5 and I`ll tell you which bush.

When I got back to our rented house, I told Wally about what had happened.
It wasn`t news to him.
He`d had variations of the scam tried on him almost
daily since he`d been there. It`s the sort of thing you`d expect a team mate to give you a heads up on. But Wally had already moved on. He told us how one guy had entered negotiations with him about buying his daughter. He`d gone as high as $40,000, but was still unable to talk Wally into it.

I guess that, as Wally was going to be staying in Fiji indefinitely, it may have been a problem further down the track when the guy came back for a refund.
Which I assure you..he would have.

Finally, after feeling like a prisoner for a week our mail pack arrived from Flag.
Wally tore it open... Read one of the pages.... read it again and then threw it
on the table in disgust.  Richard Alacarta, rather than signing it, had penciled in comments... "Tell them this..." Tell them that..."
It was a friggin form for Ron`s sake.!!! There`s no "Staple relevant audio cassettes here..." line.

Wally grabbed the phone and called Richard.
I stayed clear. But I distinctly recall Wally repeating over and over again...
"If we get `into production`, we face being arrested and put in jail !!!"

Why Richard Alacarta was so shy about putting his signature on a legal document is still a mystery to me.  That`s all he had to do.
The next morning Wally rubbed out all of Richard`s helpful suggestions, put
the application form in an envelope and drove down to Suva to mail it back
to Flag.  Incidentally Flag has a banner... "The friendliest place in the world."
It`s on all their promotional literature.

But when you think about it... It says absolutely nothing. And that`s what we were getting from there.

Now another two week wait. A chance to get to know Wally.
What`s that old saying..."You never really know someone till you live with them."

Never a truer word spoken. 



« Last Edit: October 31, 2010, 10:55:28 AM by Ididntcomeback » Logged
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« Reply #73 on: October 24, 2010, 12:06:11 PM »

                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                     Part 65

                                  Hell in the Pacific.             

Well yesterday as I was typing this here in suburban Auckland, I noticed an Indian guy wandering around on my back yard. I poked my head out the window and asked if I could help.

He wanted to know if I was selling my house.
I assured him I wasn`t. So he then wanted to know if he could buy my car.
I assured him it was not for sale. Then he went back to trying to buy my house.

I tired of the conversation and politely suggested he leave.

And just now, on this sleepy, tranquil Sunday morning as I put finger to key, a car horn beeped in my driveway.  This enthusiastic voice was booming "Hello."
I opened the front door and yet another Indian guy is standing in my driveway
wanting to buy my car. I once again said "It`s not for sale."
He told me he was from Fiji and has only been here two weeks.

He then set about scanning the property for any other potential bargains.

Of course it`s all just a coincidence that the two times I write about Fiji, I have
Fijians arrive at my house ready to do business.
But just in case I have developed a weird variation of the Midas touch...

 Today I`m going to be writing about "HOT, KINKY, SEX."

One night as my wife and I tried to sleep in the Fijian tropical heat, we were awakened by a dog fight right outside our window.
It was long and vicious. When it was over, one of the dogs remained there whimpering for ages.  I`ve always had a love affair with animals. I love to stay well away from them.

The next morning there was a knock at the door. Apparently the house directly
behind ours, but with a driveway in common, was occupied by air hostesses.
I know there are those words that describes groups of a common species...
Like a "pack" of fish. A  " gaggle" of foxes. A "pride" of bears... Those types of words. Sometimes I get them mixed up.  But the flying ones I definitely know.

We were living next door to a "flock" of air hostesses.
One of the flock had come over to apologize for the fight outside our bedroom window. It seems there was no "school" of dogs involved at all.
It was two male representatives of the species,  homo erectus.  Both had arrived at the house at the same time, as if by scent, and like those mountain goats David Attenborrough films, they instinctively  indulged in the art of skull bashing, till the dominant male was left standing. This ensured that the least mushed up genes would be passed on for the benefit of subsequent generations.

We had kind of became prisoners in our own home. Being foreigners, for some reason, gave the locals the idea that we were there to hand out money. Having a baby in a pushchair was ample excuse for people to approach us, pretend they had never seen such a beautiful baby and then discuss ways that they could deprive his parents of all their money.
 
We tried to listen to the local radio station. It used to have power surges.
No Indian song to date has ever topped the charts in the west. Years ago a Japanese pop song did. It was called "Sukiyaki." Though I can`t speak Japanese I could tune into the vib and had no doubt it was a love song.

Now I don`t speak Indian either, but I could read between the lines in the different versions of the same song they kept playing on Radio Fiji. They were like mini operas.

Shrill female voice. " You are cruel and beat me and my ancestors and your
spices are sub par."
 Followed by a deep male voice. "No they aren`t. A woman must be subservient to a man with wonderful spices, not rancid at all."

Tortured shrill Woman: " Great shame and lack of salutations will infest your scrotum."
Deep Stoic Male:  " Accept your roll you stupid woman. Love is all about suffering and relatives."

Tortured shrill woman:  "How could I have not seen this.? Thank you for educating me. Shall we sing it all again ?"

    Musical interlude.

For the first week, to pass the time, Wally had told us amusing anecdotes from his life. He ran out of material pretty quickly. Now he was repeating them.
It`s as if he`d totally forgotten that he`d already told this story four times before.
He was going through all kinds of mental anguish and was often brooding and sulking. As he perked up with each retelling of his rabbit shooting story, I just
listened politely. One day he was soaking in the abundance of life that surrounded us. The air was buzzing with insect and bird life.

He was sharing a deep intimate moment with me.
"You know if we don`t make this work, billions and billions of thetans will remain trapped here."

I did a quick head count.

"What are you inferring ? Are all these insects and animals all separate thetans?"

And with that Wally lost it !
"You`re trying to trick me into giving out confidential OT data !!!"

I was shocked by the sudden change of tone Wally had adopted.
After all the millions of ARC breaks he`d freed people of. Now here he was creating one.

"You are just like Pat Spencer Smith. He comes around to my home and tries to trick me into telling him OT secrets."

"Honestly that`s not the case." I insisted.
"Yes it is !!!"  Wally said accusingly.

I walked away knowing that continuing the conversation was pointless.

The next day Wally started accusing my wife and I of trying to trick him into giving us auditing.

I can`t even begin to explain how far off the mark he was on that one.

Now Wally was on the phone to Flag crying openly. Everyone was against him.
But he seemed to be getting no sympathy from them either.
Wally had started to develop psychiatric conditions. Maybe that`s what was addressed on OT8, Wally`s next step on the bridge.
I`d really had enough.

The days dragged on and on. I decided to get a taxi to drive  my wife and son
out to a proper Fijian beach, like the ones you see in the "Come to friendly Fiji" "posters.  No actually..... we took a bus there and a cab back. That`s right.

Every time the windowless bus stopped we were surrounded by kids with, already opened, bottles of coke that they were bullying us into buying.
Before long we were driving through the Fiji that never shows up in the posters.
Houses consisted a few rusty sheets of corrugated iron.
Carcasses of dead animals were decomposing where they fell.

People carried machetes.

The beach was okay. But being with a wife and baby I didn`t feel safe.
After a short spell to recover from the bus ride,we hailed down a cab. Which was pretty much anyone who owned a car.
 I had driven many a car into the ground over the years.
Some of them I recognized now, here in Fiji. Except someone had put a taxi sign on them.

The guy who drove us home was a native. Hell of a friendly guy, named Joe.
He invited us, or any of our friends, to come to his home anytime we wanted to for a stay.
He even wrote down his address. As you have stayed with me this far... I consider you a friend. Here is the address if you want somewhere to stay in Fiji.

Jot Joeyd
4 5 pchld rab
sYtravee bpop
VEESgu

Say "hi" to him for me. His name is Joe. Spelt J O T.

When we got back to Knollys Street Wally was as white as a sheet.

"I`ve just had a team of very serious uniformed men here."
« Last Edit: October 26, 2010, 08:01:23 AM by Ididntcomeback » Logged
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« Reply #74 on: October 25, 2010, 08:17:37 AM »

                                      SENSE OF DOUBT

                                              Part 66

                                         The Enforcers

Bunches of uniformed people converging on one can be very intimidating.
Here on earth we have had a long history of different governments and ideologies having to get compliance from the those within their domain with the use of enforcers.

Could I suggest to you that to the extent that they have to use enforcers
is a pretty good gauge of how well they actually represent the will of the people.

Surely if the will of the people was actually being represented  there would be no need to enforce it.

So when you witness groups like the Stasi, the gestapo, Military Police, or the Sea Org, realize that someone has taken a stand against the will of the people.

Later on when I was to join the Sea org, who`s mandate is "To get ethics in on the planet." I was fascinated how by donning the uniform, seemingly ordinary people would suddenly  go all Nazi.

And in common with other enforcers throughout history, it then became a race to try to enforce the other enforcers. This is apparently achieved by decorating ones uniform with medals and stars, lanyards, and little coloured squares.

This gets so bad that if you happen to have a General or Admiral in your family,
you could get away with using them as a Christmas tree during the jolly season.
They are trained to stand pretty still.

The late, great, Peter Sellers was in the "gang shows" at the Air force bases
he was posted at during the war. At risk of being Court Martialed , he would often put on Senior Officers uniforms and storm around these bases issuing orders and doing surprise inspections. He wasn`t qualified to do squat. It was all for a lark.
But people blindly followed his commands, simply because of a uniform and an attitude.

So do you see ? It`s a pretense. The day people follow others based on good ideas instead of fancy clothes will be a great day for planet earth.

Wally, an OT, had been intimidated by a bunch of uniforms. It destroyed the
last bit of confidence he had. Seems a crisp looking uniform, even if worn by a likely grade school dropout, out ranked even an OT seven.

Our house had been thoroughly searched.  We had been violated.
Why Wally didn`t use his OT mind control powers, like Obi-Wan Kenobi did to the storm troopers in "Starwars", I`ll never know.

Wally just kept repeating..."Thank God we haven`t been doing anything here."
" If we had, I`m sure they would have thrown us in jail."

A young native Fijian arrived to mow our lawn. An hour or so later the mower stopped so I wandered out and saw how hot and sweaty this guy was. I called
out to him and asked if he`d like a drink of orange juice. He smiled broadly, nodded his head and then sprinted off down the road ...!!!???.

Back inside Wally was pacing and muttering. I couldn`t console him.
Two hours later there was a knock at the door. I felt Wally tense up. He really didn`t want to open it. So I marched over and did the deed.
Standing there was this teenage guy who`d disappeared two hours ago, holding two oranges and smiling like someone about to leave Fiji.

I`ve seen so many people who proudly announce their traditions and conduct
are deeply rooted in their ancestry, as if it gives them some sort of unquestionable right to impose `long past their time` ideas on others.

For sure my forefathers would have beaten this boy. Maybe even given him a flogging or sold him into slavery. But I decided to break with tradition and give him a big hug.  I plied him with drink and food and we laughed and laughed.

It was my little way of making up for the way the uniformed British Empire had totally fucked over his island paradise for centuries, and then quietly snuck away, after getting their sugar fix, leaving a right royal mess.

The next morning Wally was obviously in need of a really good blow job.
He kept on and on at me about getting down to the medical center to pass
the required medical exam for my personal work permit.

The fact that I couldn`t work for an organization that didn`t exist yet wasn`t
of interest to Wally. Against my better judgment I presented myself down
at the medical center on Suva`s main street.

There was always a bit of a language barrier, but I understood when the doctor
presented me with a little plastic cup and motioned me to go into the small room
and pointed at my dick.

I`ve never been a sports fan. Just the fact that my urine sample would be
a source of news to the world put me off ever going for Gold.
However if modern international sports were to start giving prizes for the best urine samples, I could be lured into taking up some form of water sports.

I knew my urine sample was a winner.

That was my medical check. Even the medical staff there knew that any
other health shortcomings I had, would be more than compensated for my award winning urine specimen.  It turned out to be the most expensive piss I ever took.
The receptionist took fifty Fijian dollars off me. Which in New Zealand dollars, was a hundred bucks.

Behind the scenes there must have been some quick work going on
Because despite the fact I was sure my specimen would have won Gold,
even at the Olympics..... Wally had had another visit from uniformed Immigration Officers.  They hand delivered an official letter to him proclaiming that if we were still here in three days time we would all be placed under arrest and thrown in Jail !!!

Was my sample the catalyst for this abrupt ending to our stay ? It boggles the mind.

A few evenings before there had been an item on the news that three native Fijians had all escaped from said jail, but in their haste to avoid their prison warden pursuers, they had all run off a cliff and died. "And now here`s Tom with the weather."

The mail pack arrived from Flag..... unsigned.

I pictured making my one phone call from the "Fiji Hilton" as my one year old son
was being put in a regulation striped nappy...

"Hi Richard.... How are things at Flag ?.......... Booming huh ?.......Great.
"By the way,.... we are down here in a Fijian jail with no bribe money."

Richard : "Sorry... Nothing to do with me. Who is this.... ? Do I know you?"

               Not a good option.  Instead, I called Pacific Airways and said.

                           "Get us the fuck out of here.!!"


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