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Ontopic Discussion => Ex-scientologists and Freezoners => Topic started by: Ididntcomeback on February 08, 2009, 12:10:17 PM

Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 08, 2009, 12:10:17 PM
                             Sense of Doubt .

This is a cold blooded factual account of my involvement in Scientology .
The factors that led up to it, what happened during my 20 year involvement
and my escape from the most dangerous cult the world has ever seen.
I will omit names only to save embarrassment of innocent parties in this saga.
However I will delete any names or identifying information upon request.

I am also open to any corrections or challenges to what I have to say.
Any legal threats or fairgaming I receive will become part of the story.
I will not be intimidated or blackmailed.

My purpose in writing this is threefold plus one.
1.) It will be therapeutic for me.
2.) It may help current scientologists to awaken from Hubbard`s fantasy.
3.) It will provide an insight to anons as to what being a scientologist is all about.
Plus one. It may inspire you to write your story.

I welcome any comments or feedback whether positive or negative.

                                    Part One.

                           From the frying pan....

   I was four years old when I realized I had no identity.
One sunny day I`d wandered, unsupervised, down the gravel road outside our home in Mangere. The road soon descended into a dirt track and there were large oak trees to the right surrounding a home owned by a reclusive German immigrant gentleman. This was 1962, and one can only wonder what stories he kept to himself. But back then I had no such curiosity.

What had taken my interest was the market garden opposite that was being worked by a Chinese couple.
They lived in a yellow one room hut. As I looked at the rows of lettuces I saw a pond nearby with a few ducks paddling in it.

Then it struck me. I was suddenly aware I existed. How can this be ? At that moment a dark void surrounded me.
I felt fear. I was nothing. I had no identity. I ran home convincing myself that I`d find a sense of security being surrounded by familiar faces and activities.

My favourite activity was putting records on our old valve gramophone and listening to stories like "Peter and the wolf." I`d snuggle up with my ear against the speaker and get completely lost in these stories.
These moments would inevitably be interrupted by my father, who would enter the house, and berate my mother for letting me sit in a cold room when I should be out in the sun. So I`d be chased outside. After a few times of this happening my father decided to put me to work in his glasshouses which covered our property.

I tried hard to keep up as Dad was leading me through the rows of tomato plants that towered above me. We got to the far end and went to the corner of the glasshouse. Then he proceeded to point out the little stems that were sprouting out where the leaves were. These are called laterals he told me.
You need to pull all these out and just remove any of the large leaves that are in the way. I got it. So for the next couple of hours I was essentially pruning tomato plants.

Then my older brother, who was six at the time, arrived home from school and had been sent down to help me with the work. I had to show him what to do.
I carried on in the row I was in and my brother set off to do a new row.
Shortly after my father arrived and started screaming at my brother.
I came out to see what was happening. I only had a chance to glance at the row of plants that my brother had virtually stripped clean when Dad picked him up in a ball, threw him to the ground and kicked him like a football. He sailed past me and landed in a heap crying in utter humiliation.
Then I watched in slow motion as Dad came to get me. He grabbed me spun me around and picked me up by the hips then threw me forcfully to the ground causing me to bounce and then I felt his foot impact the small of my back as I was drop kicked a few meters through the air.

I did not cry !!!!!

It wasn`t till 16 years later when I sat in an auditing chair that I bawled like a baby when I recounted that day.

But that`s still a long way off...

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 08, 2009, 07:20:25 PM
                                    Sense of Doubt

                                             Part 2.

                     Second turn on the right and straight on till morning.

For now I was at the mercy of a violent, conceited, slave master. I saw no way out. My prospects were bleak. My siblings and I were a source of free labour for him.
After school, weekends and holidays we "earned our keep."
When my older sister back chatted him once on this point with the comment
"Well that would be fine if we had a keep worth earning" he beat her to a bloody pulp.
Dad had been an  athlete in the 1952 Olympic Games in Helsinki, Finland.
He was also a big wrestling fan and used to bring wrestlers to New Zealand for
Exhibition bouts.

Dad used any excuse to try out his new wrestling moves on any women or children that he perceived had an attitude. By the time this was put to an end by the justice system Dad had assaulted 16 kids from the neighborhood not counting his own.

Occasionally some luckless kid would get work during the holidays with us kids.
They did get paid. (We didn`t) But frequently they`d do something to piss him off
and they`d get a beating and kicked off the property.

When occasionally  a friend would accompany me home from school, my father
would put them to work as well. As a result I didn`t have many friends come round more than once.

Then something strange started to happen to me.
When I slept at night I used to go flying around the neighborhood.
I`d only get glimpses of it but I knew it was real as I would come crashing back into  my body like being hit by a freight train. So it was really just the falling that stayed in my conscious memory. Further confirmation came  when my mother
told me one morning when I got up, that she`d heard a terrible crash in the night and had come and found me laying on the wooden floor completely the wrong way around. Mum had been amazed that I had fallen from the top bunk, done a somersault and was still sleeping soundly.

When I was seven my teacher read us "The nursery Peter Pan."
I was gob smacked. I`m not the only one. There is another boy who can fly.
I got the book out of the school library and copied the whole story word for word in an old exercise book.

I was obsessed with Peter Pan. And then I discovered Disney had made a cartoon of it. I was in heaven. I loved the fight scenes where Captain Hook tried all he could to hurt Peter, but Peter out maneuvered him and flew away.
I found this very empowering.

After each tomato crop was done for the season, we had the job of uprooting all the old plants and piling them on a trailer for removal. But there were all these over ripe baby tomatoes that were not fit for market laying everywhere. At some point in the proceedings the inevitable tomato fight would begin. We partied hard. We were kids doing mens work and this was our release. I was a crack shot. My throwing arm was lethal.

The battle would get quite out of hand and sure enough Dad would come marching down to re-establish order. But it looked like such fun that even he couldn`t resist  grabbing a couple of tomatoes and hurling them lovingly at his children. The stupid fuck. My siblings would fire a barrage of fresh ripe fruit at him like machine guns. That was my signal. I drew my arm back like a sniper and sent my special juicy tomato straight at his balls with such ferocity he bent over to catch his breath. I reloaded and planted a real squisher right on his forehead. I`m seeing this as a slow motion action replay and smiling broadly as I write this.
He shuffled away looking like a war casualty.

"Okay. That`s enough. !!!   Back to work.!!!" he commanded

"See you next season you retarded gorilla." I muttered.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: AnonKiwi on February 08, 2009, 11:07:31 PM
Look forward to more

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Anonalan on February 09, 2009, 12:14:39 AM
You've got an amazing memory from 4 years old, and so much detail. Looks like that Dianetics might have worked after all!!!!  More please.....

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 09, 2009, 08:19:13 AM
                                    SENSE OF DOUBT.


Thanks for the comments.  Yes I do have a very good memory. I figured it out
one day. The whole mega memory thing that that Canadian guy Trudeau made
a fortune with and then blew it, when he started recommending people read Dianetics, was stolen from a guy called Harry Lorraine. I was reading Harry`s book
and realized that I wasn`t going to remember all his systems for positioning information in the minds filing cabinets. I just wasn`t that interested.

Then it struck remember what you are INTERESTED in.
My childhood best friend Jimmy Chung could tell you the players on every sports team , when they played, and what the score was. He was interested in sports.

My interests were many and varied. However if I was to show up on a quiz show
and be asked a barrage of sports question my pat answer would be "pass"

The other trick I learned is when you can`t recall something , like an actors name, never let it go. Stay on the case till it arrives. As soon as you allow your memory to disappoint you. The rot sets in.

Some of the above may seem off topic. My life pre scientology surely is not of
any relevance....  Well... I`m afraid that`s one of the things I want to tie up
nicely further down the track. Your life experiences are what makes you susceptible to Hubbard`s trap. I was being groomed to become the ideal Scientology victim.

                                          part 3

                                       Nature studies.

We had a large packing shed and occasionally we would spend our evenings
packing tomatoes into boxes ready for pick up in the morning.
One night a cat had made its way into the packhouse and was hiding behind some piles of paint tins and tools.

My father took exception to this and grabbed one of the tools. I don`t know what you`d call it. Kind of a machete with a long handle. Us kids couldn`t help but be distracted from our work as Dad poked and prodded at this cat.
It was hissing and snarling and trying to get deeper behind all the items piled up there. Dad was meanwhile dragging out everything in his way.

Eventually the cat had no choice but to make a break for it. But Dad was ready for it. He swung the machete repeatedly at the cat. Blood, guts and fur flew all
around. We just stood there stunned as our father hacked this cat to bits.

I don`t believe it. I`m actually crying as I write this.

There are certain things that happen in your life that just don`t leave you.
You can get any therapy you like. But these things have modified who you are.

I`ve never had a pet. Never will.

Because my father owned a few large properties he used to have sheep
on them to keep the grass down.
But when the grass was getting too long at one, he`d have to move the four sheep to it. My father realized with a bit of push and shove he could get them into his car. I`m just writing what happened okay.

The sheep really did not like being put in a car. They`d put up a hell of a fight.
But Dad was up to the challenge. He would wrestle them to exhaustion and then throw them in shutting the door promptly. He wasn`t getting enough satisfaction
with wrestling sometimes so he`d use boxing.

I`m one of the few people in the world who have seen a sheep get a knock out punch. If you ever saw a car drive by that had sheep in it with bloody noses,
that was my Dad. 

I`m not even going to get into the time he towed a horse behind his truck down the motorway. Picture truck, rope, horse.  You got it.

Because I wasn`t getting any love at home. I started looking for love in the arms of other children. Just typical innocent curious kids stuff. "You show me yours.
And I`ll show you mine.
However soon after these episodes my father would motion to me with his finger to follow him. He`d take me to his bedroom and say. "I hear you have been playing rudies." (????)

I of course realized what he was talking about and just baffled how he could know so I asked him.  His reply every time was..."A little dickey bird told me."

Then I had to remove my trousers and underwear and he`d pull a belt out
of a drawer and whip my arse with it. It`s when I learned that the hitting would
stop soon after you audibly made it sound like you were tormented to the brink of extinction.  So my "no crying" policy was the last bit of dignity to be destroyed.
I was without an identity again.

I started to wet the bed.

My mother was totally overwhelmed . She had seven kids and appearances to
keep up. Back then it mattered what the neighbors thought.
She did see a break for us on Sunday mornings by enrolling us at the local Sunday school.

I was intrigued. There is the guy called God who made me and loves me
and he had a son named Jesus who came here to save me.

Tell me more.....


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 09, 2009, 04:04:34 PM
                            Sense of Doubt.

                          The day the sun went out.

                                    Part 4.

Religion is a very emotive subject.
Some of you believe there is a God and some of you think it`s a load of baloney.

I`ll show you why it`s such a tricky subject to cover.
I write something that indicates which side of the line I`m on and
immediately lose rapport with those on the other.

I don`t want to lose any of you so I`m going to sit on the fence right now.

Anything you think I`m saying as a definitive statement is in actuality
me just dangling my feet. Anyhow I`m talking about the early 60`s here.
A lot has changed since then.

We went along to the local Anglican church in Mangere East.
Years later I was to perform in their hall, as part of a band called "Watties baked beans"
The band leader was a guy called Wattie. No shit !!!

Anyhow the first half of the Sunday service was in the main church
where hymns were sung and a sermon was delivered by Reverend Vercoe.
I have to`d be hard pressed to meet a more decent human being.
He just exuded love and had a smile that melted your heart.
For the second half the kids were tended to by parents who read us stories about Jesus.

They seemed to make him out to be some sort of a super hero.
You know.... man can`t see...In flies Jesus . Problem solved.
"Who was that masked man ? "
I don`t know but he left a silver cross.

It seemed to me like all Jesus was doing was going around fixing all his Dad`s fuck ups. I could relate to that.

And as for God. He was watching everything we do. Making sure we didn`t misbehave.
So he was the arsehole who`d been telling my father about my extra curricular activities.

I was asked to take God into my heart and accept Jesus as my savior.
I renounced them both. "Fuck you !!!"

I had started going to the local movie theater and had seen a number of
Elvis Presley movies.  Now here was a guy I could take into my heart
and accept as my savior. How ironic that when you go into those
pokey $2.00 shops these days, they have wall rugs for sale of Jesus and of Elvis.
I rest my case.

But God had the last laugh.

I`d gotten friendly with this lonely man who hung out at Mangere Railway station.
I`d told him of my fascination for astronomy and he used to cut items out
of magazines and newspapers for me.
One day out of the blue he told me that "some scientist had predicted that the sun would go out tomorrow.  " Yeah right. !!!

I rode my bike home pondering it for a moment but ultimately rejected it as ridiculous.
The next morning I was awoken early by my mother telling me to come out and look at the sun. I scrambled out of bed and looked towards the heavens. There on the horizon was the sickest looking sun I`d ever seen. It was a dull red and the thing is you could look right at it.

I remembered what the guy at the railway station had told me as my mother said
the lady from across the road, who was highly religious, had been over earlier
telling all that this was Armageddon. The world was ending. Pray for your sins
before it is too late.

This was all too big for my tiny little mind.
I was terrorized beyond belief.
I ran to my room and remembering what I`d seen in church I got on my knees
and prayed to God.

"Dear God please don`t make the world end. I`ll do anything. I`ll be good.
I`ll change. I`ll really make an effort. Just please, please please, don`t
let the world end. "


I`d completely overlooked Jesus, But I figured if he couldn`t climb down off a cross, he really wasn`t going to save the day. He was no fucking super hero.
At least I got that sorted.

Later that day....

Oh...... you want to know what happened to the world.
Sorry I got off on something else. 
There had been a big burn off of timber
down country somewhere and the smoke got pushed up into the atmosphere,
although invisible from where we were, was making the sun appear dull red.
Apparently there had been an item in the paper the previous day alerting
people to the possibility.

Later that day I saw the lonely guy at the railway station.
He was highly amused by his practical joke.
I looked into his smiley face and saw a complete idiot.

In fact there should be an entry in every dictionary for the word idiot.
It would say..."A practical joker."

"Oh the world didn`t end. For a moment I was almost psychotic with fear
thinking it would. You are a very witty guy. Here peep into the barrel of this shotgun for a moment."

I met up with my good friend Jim. He reminded me that he became my friend
after I went to his home one day singing "Strawberry fields forever" by The Beatles.
I`d forgotten all about it. Somehow he dropped the word Scientology into the conversation.
"What`s that I asked?" We were only ten or so. He said "I don`t know. But
my father gets letters from them.
" Scientology mmmm ?????
Okay lets go have a smoke."

Jim`s dad had a cigarette machine, from a failed business venture, in his shed
so we`d go and help ourselves to them and eat grapes off the neighbors vine.

Grape , puff, grape, puff.  Ah heaven and hell . I realized I was unhappy to be alive.
Dad hated smokers. He could beat a smoker till they quit.
Let me just light up another one in his memory.  Ahhh !

I look back now and wonder if it was my prayer that saved the world the day
the sun went out.  I was thoroughly humiliated by the experience.
It wouldn`t be the last time I would be humiliated for "saving the world."

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 10, 2009, 12:05:14 AM
                            SENSE OF DOUBT          

                                     Part five

                      My UFO encounter of the worst kind.

My home life was like living on a knife edge. When would the next outburst
of violence occur ? What further humiliation would I have to endure?

I`m not going to burden you with every incident that occurred.  I`m sure you`ve got the idea by now that my life sucked.  However there are just a few more things needed before I can be picked up by Hubbard`s minions.

My father owned and ran a glasshouse building company. He was away more and more as that grew. He built glasshouses all over the north island and had a staff of about 10-15 men working for him. Sometimes he`d go out of town for a few days.
When he left the house would be full of music and laughter. When he returned
everything was quiet and tense.

We`d also learned that by joining clubs and groups we could be away from the
house and out of harms way. So I joined  Scouts, Judo, Gymnastics, piano lessons, hockey, cricket, the Astronomical society.... Shit I would have joined the KKK if they held meetings in our town.
( You get that one down Mike ?)

My sister who was 4 years older than me started to become a woman.
One evening my father had been driving past the Metro theatre in Mangere,
where a lot of groups held their meetings. Unfortunately he saw my sister
then sixteen, out the front...."talking to ...BOYS."
Dad pulled the car up, marched over ,grabbed her , threw her in the car
and started hitting her all the way home. Once home he dragged her inside
and continued to beat her for maybe 15 minutes. All the while warning her
of the horrors of "sexual intercourse."

After these assaults he`d always unwind by clearing his throat and spitting
out phlegm. It was a ritual I grew all too familiar with.

The sixties had spawned a whole new cultural phenomenon in the west.
The Teenager. Dad was on a one man crusade to put an end to it.
Us boys started to let our hair grow long and our sister got a few short dresses.
Once Dad saw what was going on he went ballistic. My sisters
short dresses were thrown out and "respectable" clothing was forced on her.
Meanwhile dad discovered that one of his acquaintances had been a barber
in the army. So we were marched over there regularly to get the sort of hair cuts you
need to travel the world , meet interesting people, and kill them.

I started star gazing ...dreaming that a starman would come and take me away.

One night I watched a light moving in the sky. We lived near the airport so there was nothing strange about that. Till it stopped and went back the other way, stopped again and went back again.
I could hear no sound. This was no plane. I went inside and grabbed a pair
of binoculars and peered at this light excitedly. For half an hour it just went to and fro across the sky. It`s hard to get a reference point in explaining the size of something in the sky.
This thing was as bright as Venus , and it was moving eight moon widths across the sky at about 45 degrees from the horizon.

I could make out no shape. It did seem to be getting brighter and dimmer but it was so hard to tell.
Suddenly without warning I was hit from behind. It was like someone had clouted me with a cricket bat.
I lost my breath and stumbled to the ground. I turned around and there was no one there.

I couldn`t move for a few seconds, I was terrified. 

Eventually I made it inside and told my mother that something bad had happened to me.
She couldn`t make any sense of what I was saying but she was spooked by
my demeanor.

The next day she made an appointment for me to see the doctor.
I told him what had happened ...minus the UFO.

He wrote out a prescription and informed me I`d had a nervous breakdown.

I walked home straight past the chemist tossing the prescription in the bin.

Please save me from this .  Please help me. I asked the universe to bring
me someone to help me.   I ................................had no identity.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: OnceBitten on February 10, 2009, 01:08:23 PM
Keep going, idcb - If there was a popcorn smilie I'd put it on ....

Great read, sad, but great.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 10, 2009, 04:51:06 PM
                               SENSE OF DOUBT.

                                     Part six.

                                A Brilliant mind.

My older brother arrived home from school one day. He could smell something was up. Dad had had the glasshouses fumigated with tear gas. You could smell it all the way home from school, despite the glasshouses being sealed off tightly.
Unfortunately, my brother had come up through the back of the section and stumbled on our father laying unconscious on the otherwise bare earth inside
one of the glasshouses.

The hose was running beside Dad and further off in the other glasshouse a sprinkler was spraying water all around it.

Had it not been for my brother, my father would have perished that day.
I don`t know how we would have all coped ................with the party.

Never one to let a good deed go unrewarded dad sent my brother back into
the glasshouse to continue hosing the gas ( ???? ) while he recovered up at the house.

According to dad, if you sprayed the ground with water it would keep the
tear gas in the ground longer to kill the bugs.  My brother was to use his
finger to make the hose spray a wide area, as he walked to and fro.
Dad gave another suggestion, that my brother lean forwards and breath the
air just above the water spray. That was safest. This was very reassuring.
It had passed the strictest safety tests just minutes before.

Pretty soon it was my turn.
Once a year we would spend hours hosing tear gas in the glasshouses.
We`d be sick for days afterwards. Still had to go to school though.
Otherwise you`d spend your sick day hosing gas.

I`ve got one more for ya`ll.

There were some pretty rough kids at the nearby Intermediate school and Dad
overheard my brothers complaining about the beatings they were getting at school.

Being knowledgeable in  hand to child combat Dad proceeded to instruct my brothers in self defense.
His instructions were to stand rigidly ,place your left hand on your right shoulder,
then keeping your right arm straight, proceed to elevate it directly in front of
you till it was level with your shoulder and then bring it back down to your side.
Do this repeatedly till the assailant gives up.

Oh and to try to engage the assailant in conversation about wrestling.

All the beatings we could have avoided flashed through my mind.
Why had we not been told of this before ??

I should point out that if I hear of Miscavige using this technique
when he`s sent to the big house... I will sue his sorry arse.
As the descendant of this specimen I have first dibs on the copyright.

I should end off here. This chapter could fill a book. And I`m getting off topic.

Something amazing was about to happen and I want to get started on that.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 12, 2009, 12:37:35 AM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT.

                                    Part seven.

                                 incomparable magnitude.

Well this is fascinating. I`ve had a few feeble efforts to shut me down today.
Someone doesn`t want what I have to say to get out. I did say in Part one that
I will not be intimidated or blackmailed. But for those trying to...I just want to do you a favour and explain something your mother Hubbard never taught you.

Firstly ... Everything is vibrationally based. It has a frequency. All of our senses are interpreters of vibration. The flows we emanate have a frequency.  What we perceive is based on our flexibility and willingness to tune in.

But when something comes in and sets our stuff off, it is because it has set in motion two already incompatible beliefs within ourselves that we are unwilling to inspect, yet have been aware of, on some level.

We try to remedy this discomfort by attacking the perceived exterior source.
And thus deny ourselves the opportunity to look within for the true source.
No one can do this for us. It takes guts.
I consider these attacks on myself as gifts beyond value. Your messages to me are my intentions made manifest.

Continuing my story is my gift to you. There is no other way I know of.

   " If you remember the sixties, you weren`t there."

When Neil Armstrong set foot upon the moon his first words were;
"That`s one small step for (a) man. One giant leap for mankind."

I prefer that to the a fore mentioned quote when thinking of the 60`s.

They were so pivotal in altering the course of history and indeed evolution.
The kids saw the stuffyness they were being groomed for, and thanks
to inspiration from a few great thinkers of the time, the collective consciousness of youth decided to "turn on, tune in, and drop out."

Nothing reflects this better than the music. Try listening to anything pre Elvis,
and you expect someone to come on over a loud speaker and say "medication time."

The sixties were vibrant times and gave birth to "the activist."
The young were taking to the streets and challenging the authority
figures who were telling them how to dress, what to think, who not to sit next to on a bus,  how to dis empower the fairer sex, and who to kill.

The freedoms people take for granted today were won for them in the 60`s.
Sure..... not all those freedoms came to maturity in the 60`s. But that`s
where they were born.

We`d have to wait till into the 2000`s before anything like the 60`s would happen again.
And this time without the drugs. This time for greater stakes.

Because there were non slave labour workers on our property there would
always be a radio playing. This is back in the days when listening to the radio
was something to be enjoyed rather than endured.

So I got to hear the sixties rather than experience them personally.

Elvis had kicked the door down. The Beatles came through it, and Bob Dylan
started knocking on other doors.

My dad tolerated the radio, but he really had no interest in anything that didn`t
induce sweat. He`d a really good thing going. A thriving glasshouse building company
and a team of free labourers making him a fortune from home.

But what do they say... "A fool and his money are soon parted."

As we entered the 70`s Dad announced that he was broke !!!
He didn`t say it in as many words...  What he actually did was
cry endlessly and mumble to us kids, as we kept him afloat financially,
"Your daddy`s been a fool darlings ."

When he didn`t get any sympathy from us he changed that to

"All the things I`d planned for you are now gone."

What things ? I wondered.

I heard back from one of my siblings that the plans were for us
to each go for an overseas trip.

Within a month someone who could think, looked through Dad`s psychotic
book keeping and realized he wasn`t broke at all.

Dad became his old self again. My older sister had had enough. She slipped
away one night and never slept in the family home again.

Dad set off on an overseas trip with a buddy of his.
I thought something amazing was supposed to happen !!!!

Maybe it did.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 12, 2009, 08:52:32 AM
                            SENSE OF DOUBT.

                                         Part eight

                               There`s a starman waiting in the sky.

While Dad was away we partied hard. We watched the Television past 9 o`clock, and ate cornflakes instead of lumpy porridge.

Apparently my sister had partied hard as well by having "sexual intercourse".
She was now a mother. While dad was away she was a frequent visitor to the

We probably would have toned things down a bit had we known that one of the other frequent visitors to the house was a spy.
Over the years many women had worked for my father. Every one of them had quit suddenly and unexpectedly..... Except for Alison. She stayed.
She befriended the whole family and used to love hearing what we were thinking about.
I should have known something was up when she didn`t find my "Mission Impossible " package amusing. In fact I could tell she found it quite offensive.

I`d recorded a cassette " Hello Mr. Phelps. .......  Your mission , should you decide to accept it......  . "  It was accompanied by a large envelope containing photos of my father.  I don`t remember what her mission was. But she definitely wanted no part of it. So the whole gag self destructed in five seconds.

When Dad did get back from "our" overseas trip he knew everything that had happened in his absence, right down to the cornflakes.

What annoyed him most was that my older sister had become what he`d
fought so hard to prevent. (A person) And my mother still loved her.
And welcomed her into the family home.                                                                                           

She paid dearly for that. This beating was more severe than previous ones.
When it was over mum reached for the phone and minutes later the police arrived
and took Dad to Jail.  Mum had been told to rest up and not to worry herself,
Dad would be kept incarcerated till she had time enough to get her senses back.

I felt so bad for mum. She went to bed early that evening. I took her in a cup of tea and tried to soothe her. "Everything will be alright now. It`s over."
Just then the door burst open and my father stood there glaring at us like Robert De Niro in "Cape Fear."

Nothing was said. Much was understood.
Then he was gone. A stench from the depths of hell permeated the room.

I moved in with a neighbor. I feared for my life.

It`s difficult to concentrate on algebra when you know you are going to die.
I had to keep going to school. By now I was a third former at Auckland Boys
Grammar. Dad had enrolled me there as he`d gone there as a cub.
Of course he`d done the school proud with his athletic achievements,
poor old Henry Cooper assumed I  would shine more glory on the school.

I`ll never forget the day I was just walking the  streets of New Market,
on my way to the train,
when I walked past a record shop. Like a bolt from the blue my eyes were
drawn to a massive window display with a giant sized poster of...
PETER PAN.   What the fuck ????
There he was with his red hair and green jumpsuit.

I pressed my face against the display window.

"The rise and fall of Ziggy Stardust and the spiders from Mars."

I needed a seat. What was happening ??
di di  di di di di di di .....There`s a staaaaaaaaaar mAn waiting in the sky.
He`d like to come and meet us,
But he thinks he`d blow our minds.....

There`s a  staaaaaaar......

I`m gonna stop here.
I can`t get the song out of my head.
And I can`t get the feeling out of my soul.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 12, 2009, 11:23:11 PM
                           SENSE OF DOUBT     

                                      Part nine.

                           Clowns to the left of me,
                            Jokers to the right,
                             Here I am.... Stuck in the middle with you.

Thanks for sticking it out with me this far. The next two chapters are not for the squeamish.
I won`t think less of you if you skip over them.
The fact that there are further chapters should reassure you that we will survive this.

You ready...?
Here goes then....

For a week I lived next door to my family home . A dispute dad had created
with these neighbors meant there was no interaction and the high bamboo
hedge acted like the Berlin wall.

Each day I`d set off to school on my bike and race past our driveway with my eyes straight ahead.
Till one morning, early, I was called to the phone. It was my mother.
"Your father is here and he says you are to come home right now."
I could feel the psychological gun being held to her head, in her voice.

You know that feeling you get when the dentist tells you what he`s
going to do to you, but won`t make eye contact? That`s how I was feeling.
I looked at this shitty old world for the last time as I rode up the long driveway, turned left and then freewheeled into and down the driveway towards our house.

Incidentally I`ll be posting photos of all that I`m describing here soon.
Just have to borrow them off someone in the family. I don`t have them in the house.

As I parked my bike there was a strange silence, and an icy chill engulfed me
as I ascended the back stairs. There he was. And he looked pissed. Out on bail obviously.
He was never one for pleasantries. Just came straight up and clenched the back of my neck with his fist. "Come with me." he demanded as I felt myself being lead back down the stairs I`d just ascended moments before.

As we made the short trip across the back yard towards the packing shed I weighed my options.
Now we were at the door which was always wide open. Directly ahead of me, inside the pack house was the place
I`d seen my father butcher a cat. To the right was the long driveway that ran to the back of the property. I chose that.
Breaking away with a Tai chi move I was to learn about 35 years later, I ran as fast as I could across the long driveway and into a neighbors property. I had to run to the right of a large bush. As I did, I could see dad had taken the left and was gaining on me..
He`d been an Olympic athlete and held many New Zealand records for running.
In the open I didn`t stand a chance. I stopped on a dime. Spun around and tore back towards our house. My mother and siblings were near the back steps motionless in shock.
"Call the police" I yelled as I flew past them and up the back steps and into the house.

Through the kitchen , down the hall way , round the corner and out through the, thankfully open, front door. Hard left, and down the driveway at the side of the house.
If I could keep these sharp corners going, I`d stay alive. As I rushed up the back steps for the second lap my mother yelled at me .. Go to the Rothery`s. They were a family that lived diagonally across the road.

As I raced through the kitchen I was relieved to see someone had picked up the phone and was ..
Fuck I don`t know. ... It was all a blur. But Dad screamed at whoever it was to put down the phone.
I heard the click as I ran down the hallway towards the front exit again.
This time however I sprinted up the driveway and out onto the road. Don`t know if any traffic was coming. No time to check.
Next thing I `m seeing a front door getting closer. Please don`t be locked.

It wasn`t. The door opened as I crashed my body into it.
In one seamless move I was inside and slamming the door shut behind me.
Safe at last...

I started calling out " Help me. Help me."
The front door flew open and dad came charging into the house. Un fucking believable.
Years later I had enormous sympathy for Sarah Conner while watching "The terminator" movies.
I ran through the house and saw a door in the hallway.
I pushed it open and ran straight into a bedroom where our neighbor was in bed with his wife.
He was in the process of coming to his senses and climbing out of bed in nothing but his underwear.
His wife, held the bedclothes up over her chest  in a state of disbelief.

Dad just came straight on in behind me, Grabbed me and put me in one of his wrestling holds and frog marched me  through their house and back across the street.
He dragged me through the front door and made his way to the kitchen where
he picked up a set of car keys. Then into a drawer where he gathered up a large pair of scissors.

Back outside now, he`s throwing me into the car.
I seem to be the only one concerned about those scissors as he pushes me across the front seat and climbs into the car and turns the ignition key with his other hand.
Mum is crying and all I can hear her saying is "The police are coming."
Fat lot of good that`s going to do me as the car surges forward, up and out the drive way.

Nothing is said. Just a father taking his son for a drive. I looked at other motorists
going about their business. They all seemed strangely normal.

Where was I going to die ? I wondered.
Hey my trousers still have a nice crease.
Strange ..the things you occupy your mind with while your life is about to be
snuffed out. 

Oh no.  He`s pulling up outside his mother`s house.
What sort of a Norman Bates, psycho sick fuck is this.???

He`s dragging me round the back of the house as his mother
comes out puzzled by the surprise visit.
" Hi Nana. I drew a picture for you at school.  " I didn`t say.

Dad assured her everything was okay and suggested she go back
inside. Which she did as she started to have a conversation with herself.

Now I was taken into the shed. And the door was closed.

This is all about to get a bit Quentin Tarantino.
We need a breather. 

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Roberto on February 13, 2009, 10:05:42 PM
You can't stop's like one of those ghastly serials..."be listening next week when you will hear...."!

By the way...what years at AGS....I was 68 - 72!

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 16, 2009, 12:37:28 AM
                                     SENSE OF DOUBT

                                            Part 10.

                                    Everything you wanted to
                                     know about Hell. But were
                                     afraid to ask.

I was pushed forcefully onto a seat. Maybe it was a crate of some kind. I wasn`t
paying attention. My father went around behind me, holding a tuft of my hair in his fist. He pulled on it, forcing my head back. I was silent.
Then I heard a gut wrenching Skrrrrrr sound as he cut through my hair with the scissors. Then another fistful of hair was yanked and the scissors tore through that as well. On and on it went.

I want to ask you something...
If one day you received an envelope in the mail and upon opening it discovered
another envelope with the words, "This envelope contains a map showing the exact location where you will die." written on it, would you open it ?

Think about it. You could just discard it as a cruel hoax. But if you did. you`d always be left wondering where the arrow was. If you did open it you could just
avoid that location. 

The fact is that there is an exact physical location where you will die.
So ???? What`s your decision ?

I was forced to open my envelope that day.
But just as I was unfolding the map I was interrupted by a knocking at the door.
"This is the police."
Dad`s psychotic rage melted away as he discarded the scissors and opened the door. I could hear my mother outside crying and asking Dad "what have you done to him ?"

Pretty soon We were all back out in the sunlight and Dad was explaining that I
was in need of a hair cut.
Then he strode off got in his car and drove away.

The cop tried to console me about my savage looking haircut.
And on the drive home he even went so far as to confess that his hair needed
cutting. I assured him I couldn`t give a flying fuck about a haircut.
I didn`t bother burdening him with the fact that my father wanted me dead.

I took the train into Grammar, but walked straight past the assembly hall,
across the playing field and behind the concrete terraces.

This area had been quarried sometime ago and now there were just sheer rock walls that would bring about instant death should one slip and fall from the top.
I sat there all day. Watching over Mt Eden prison. I eliminated that as a
possible new residence. I was too young.

I pictured my body laying in a bloody heap at the bottom of the sheer rock face.
That was quite weird because it didn`t ease my pain. So I discounted it as an option.
Early in the afternoon three grammar boys who were playing hooky joined me.
We chatted for a while and they went back when that period was over.

The police or my father`s lawyer must have talked some sense into my dad
because when I got home again it was is if nothing had happened.
These days he would have been sent to "anger management." But what he needed was "anger root canal."  We kept our distances.

A few days later I awoke to find some bank withdrawal slips on the living
room table along with all of our bank books.
Apparently Dad had discovered that mum had been putting all of our "child benefit" payments directly into our bank accounts.

Dad decided that we needed to all sign withdrawal slips before we went to school
so he could clean out our bank accounts and put a deposit down on a small farm.
All did except me. I snuck out and took off for school.

Mid morning a kid entered the classroom and passed a note to our teacher.
I was told to go to reception immediately as "my aunt was there to see me urgently." 

When I got there , there was my fathers secretary Allison.
She handed me the withdrawal slip and told me to sign it or I was in big trouble.
So I signed it. And was instantly broke.

I don`t know what ever happened to the charges filed against my father for
assaulting my mother. I suspect he was given a warning and told to behave himself.

I assume that he must have been notified that the charges had been dropped
because things changed for the worse.  I turned fifteen in May of 1973.
Soon after that was Queens Birthday weekend. Us kids celebrated by working
in the glasshouses. Since he was trying to impress Allison and she was the pay lady, we were now being paid. There were other school age kids working as well
and I know they got more than we did. But they didn`t have to pay room and porridge money. I was never a genius at maths. However I didn`t need to be to
work out that I was getting 17 cents an hour.  

On Monday evening just as the sun set Dad told me he needed me to follow him.
I`d done this a million times in the past. Looking at his arse was part of my daily routine.

When we got down to the end of the first glasshouse he said. "What were you doing all day?"  I thought it was obvious. I said nothing. He wasn`t actually asking anyhow.
He muttered something and then walked up to me and hit me so hard in the face my feet left the ground and I sailed back several meters before hitting the dust.  I had no idea it was coming so never had a chance to use the self defense trick he`d shown us.

I could taste blood in my mouth and the spooky thing was I was blind.
He was on me in seconds. I rolled onto my stomach instinctively to protect myself
and he started reining blows on my back.

My mouth was now full of blood and dirt as I felt my head being pummeled.
To this day, I have no idea if he was kicking my forehead or punching it.
But I was losing consciousness.

I`ve never understood corporal punishment.
Hang on a second he`s working on my limbs now.  Just twisting them enough to
cause severe bruising but not enough to break bone.

Where was I ?  Oh yeah. It seems to me that the person doing the chastising is
doing it to satisfy their own frustrations.
Sorry.... being dragged to my feet. Oh... couple of punches in the stomach.
Okay. I`m back on the deck.

While your parent or guardian is punishing you physically they are without a
doubt positioning themselves as an enemy. Not a friend.

"This could be over..."  No. He`s picking me up . What the fuck?
I`m being lifted over his head. I`ve got a bit of vision back. I see the ground
approaching. I`ve seen this one in wrestling. The full body slam.
As long as he doesn`t knee me in the back as I`m coming down.
No... He remembered.

Fuck this.  Not again.
Yes again. No knee this time. Must have hurt himself last time.

I lost count of how many body slams I got.

Its over. He`s walking away. Clearing his throat and spitting.
A ritual that symbolized his place on the evolutionary chain. 

I lay motionless for a second. Climbing to my feet.
Oh no ... the front of my trousers are soaked.
Is that blood ?
No it`s piss.

It was now dark.
I limped and staggered down to the rear exit of the property
I placed my hand to my blind eye. There was no eye there.
Not even a recess for my eye socket.
But I was getting vision back in the other one.

I set off into the night with nothing.
What was that commandment ?
Honor thy mother and they father.
Yeah ???   Go fuck yourself !!
I had no father.

As I staggered off the back of the property
I passed through the gates of Hell.
But who was I ?
I had no identity.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 16, 2009, 12:57:07 AM
Roberto.  Sorry for the delay in responding.
Busy weekend.  I started at Grammar the last year
of Henry Cooper`s term as Headmaster 1972.
I think the centennial was in 1970.

Do you remember the 7th formers presenting
Henry with a framed poster of an ostrich ?

I was there 72 73 74. 74 is when John Graham
(the new headmaster) asked me
never to return.

Per Angusta ad Augusta.  School motto.

From silly to sillier.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 17, 2009, 10:50:51 PM
                            SENSE OF DOUBT

                                 Part 11

                         "Excuse me .  I`m doing a survey."

The only place I could think to go was to an old school teacher I`d
had as a 12 year old. We`d stayed friends and sometimes I used
to take the bus from Grammar, in New Market, to Onehunga and this
guy would show me how to do algebra, in his home.
I figured anyone willing to show me how to do algebra in his own time
must be a true friend.

So I walked all the way from Mangere to his home in Onehunga.
When I got there the place was in darkness. No one was home.

I saw that the bathroom window was open so I climbed onto the rubbish tin
and got inside the house.  I was safe. Dad would have no idea where I was.

When my ex teacher got home he took me to the hospital.
The police were called and six months later I was in the
Otahuhu district courthouse standing in the witness box describing
the father and son evening I`d had on Queens birthday weekend.
I`d made a full recovery by now, with the exception of a clicking
sound that occurred when I turned my head.

My father`s lawyer cross examined me as if I was Arthur Allan Thomas.
When it was all over I had lost all respect for the criminal justice system.
However dad was found guilty of assault. Quite an achievement for back then.

He was fined $80. 
Probably threw his lose change at the cashier on the way out and said "Keep the change."

But the assault was the catalyst for mum finally requesting a divorce.
.......Despite what people might say !!!
And she and my siblings moved out of hell about the time of the trial.

I was living with them soon after.
But now I had time to think. Freedom to pursue my own interests.
I purchased David Bowie`s Ziggy Stardust album and spent two weeks
playing it over and over. I was just blown away by this guys energy,
daring and creativity.

I laugh about it now but, I had an amazing revelation one day when
I was about to re set the needle back to track one.....
Oh my God !!! There is a side two.!!!!

I was honestly so blown away by side one I always just wanted to hear it again.
So there I now was listening constantly to side two over and over.
I bought the back catalog as well. "Space Oddity", "The man who sold the world,"
and "Hunky Dory."  What also amazed me about Bowie was that each album was by a different character he was playing.

What ? You can change identities ???
This idea was very liberating for me.
Then there was Bowie`s sexuality.  He experimented with that as well.

Here`s the bottom line. I learned more from David Bowie in a month than I`d
learned in all the years I`d been educated.

I was hooked.  When "Aladdin Sane" came out I couldn`t believe what Bowie`s
pianist was doing with that piano. I`d taken music lessons and had kind of kept
my hand in, but every rule I was ever taught about music theory was being
violated by Mike Garson... And it sounded amazing.
Listen to the song "Aladdin Sane" if you need to get the point.

I had an interest, no a passion. I was on the piano daily. 

If the school I was still attending had just harnessed this passion I had,
who knows what might have been achieved. I could have shone the light
for Grammar as had been expected when I was accepted, despite being out of zone.  Let me explain the way it could have worked.....

Do you realize that musical notes have a frequency? Middle A vibrates at 440
cycles per second. The A an octave higher vibrates at 880.
Notes compatible with that sound consonant (pleasing to the ear). Those
out of harmony with that vibration sound dissonant (unpleasing to the ear).

Suddenly mathematics is something I want to understand. It spills
over into physics and geometry when you want to understand acoustics.

And song lyrics. You need to be familiar with grammar, spelling and elocution.
To write lyrics they must communicate to society ... Social studies.

You must be getting the point by now. If a student could be pulled along by their own desire to learn, instead of having irrelevant blocks of information thrust
down their throats for regurgitation in an exam... maybe we wouldn`t have
the criminally insane  kids coming out of the education system that we have now. 

When I finally rolled up back at school, rather than celebrating the fact I had discovered a passion in life that I was keen to learn about, and assisting me in the pursuit of my dream...
I was expelled.

I ended up working in a freight yard. This was the 70`s and the trade unions
were calling the shots. We would down tools and be on strike if petrol went
up in price. We honestly did one time.

On one otherwise uneventful day we all had to make our way into Auckland
city to attend a trade union meeting. We were even paid to attend that.
As I walked up Queen street on the way to the town hall I joked and chatted
with an Indian guy I was working with.
We were momentarily distracted.
"Excuse me. I`m doing a survey. Could I ask you guys a couple of questions...."  I was really struck by the way this guy
was looking at me. Like he was really there. We walked over.
He asked our names and ages, jotted down our answers, then looked at
me with those penetrating eyes and said "If there was anything you could be...
What would you most like to be ?"

I had the answer before he finished the question..." A piano player."
"Very good. If there was anything you could change or improve about yourself,
what would you most like to change?"
"Give up smoking" was my answer.
"Excellent.  If there was anything you could have, what would you most like to have ?"
"  Mmmm ... I guess knowledge.  I`d like to understand life."
"Okay... Out of these three which is the most important to you ?"
" I`d say , right now.... number one."
"Fine. Could I show you something on that ?"
"Sure ???"
I haven`t written my friends answers here as he was stumped by every single question.

Next thing this guy, who was wearing a nice suit, was leading us up Imperial Arcade. "What are you guys doing in town today" he asked ?
"Oh we`re just here to attend a union meeting." I responded.

By now we were in this tiny little book store that had a big chart on the
wall showing "The emotional tone scale" There were little cartoon
characters displaying anger,fear, grief, enthusiasm etc.

There was already someone talking to the guy behind the counter so the
surveyor guy pulled a copy of "Problems of Work" off a stand and told me I needed to read this book.
 I see.... we are going to a union meeting and therefore
a book like this would be of interest to me. ???!!!

Well it wasn`t . "No thanks. Goodbye."
We left.

Some time later I was to get to know this surveyor well.
His name was Paul Godfrey and he was apparently the best "body router"
in the world. He even had been given a commendation from the founder
of this mysterious organization called Scientology, L. Ron Hubbard, for just that.

If Hubbard had seen Paul`s efforts that day, I`m sure he would have canceled
the commendation and  sent Paul back to retrain. It`s true Paul was good at
getting people physically off the street and into the organization, but he was an air head from there on. My years of knowing him never changed that opinion.

I was the perfect Scientology prospect. I`d even given him that on the survey.
But he blew it.
Soon I was to master the dissemination technology and there was no way to
escape me, once I had you in my sites.

I`ll teach you how it`s done soon.

But for now I have a union meeting to attend and it`s in the very building where "The Beatles" had once played.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 20, 2009, 11:07:15 AM
                                   SENSE OF DOUBT

                                           Part 12

                                       The Prophecy.       

As we waited for the union meeting to begin, I tried to
imagine what it must have been like for the person who`d had
my seat all those years ago seeing "The Beatles" live on stage.

I had to laugh one time when some DJ was saying that
the band Oasis were as big as The Beatles."
Not to take anything away from Oasis, who are are great band.
But for someone to say that,.... they just weren`t around when the Beatles were.

Cities would grind to a halt when The Beatles came to town.
People from all walks of life would line the streets anywhere there was
 a chance of even getting a glimpse of them in a motorcade.

But that was in the 60`s. Here we were in the 70`s and there
was a whole new form of British invasion.
Every single speaker at the union meeting had a British accent.
They were using words like "Comrade" and "brother."

I watched these speakers manipulate the crowd from being mild,
excited about a paid day off work, happy go lucky workers, into an angry mob.
These union guys were on a mission.
Me and my "brothers" had been shafted for too long by these
big rich fat cat bosses.

I was fascinated at how a few guys on stage could manipulate a mass
of people by playing directly to their emotions. Logic, reason, education,
personal experience and common sense were all thrown out the window.
This fascinated me.

I was witnessing how a band of like minded fanatical people could end up ultimately holding a whole country to ransom. This was the first time I became
aware that a war was being waged for the human mind.
Where would it end.???

Meanwhile a few of us guys at the freight yard decided that rather than
destroy those who had money, we`d use our heads and make some ourselves.
We started a fund which we contributed to weekly.
This money was then taken to a lawyer who loaned
it out on second mortgages.
In no time at all I had a nice nest egg sitting there.

I started to experience, first hand, the society the education
system had protected me from.

Right on cue, David Bowie released the album "Diamond dogs."
It opens with;

"And in the death,
as the last few corpses lay rotting in the slimy thoroughfare,
shutters lifted in inches, in Temperance building, high on Poachers Hill,
And red mutant eyes gazed down on Hunger City,
No more big wheels,
Fleas the size of rats sucked on rats the size of cats,
and ten thousand  peopleoids split into small tribes,
coveting the highest of the sterile skyscrapers.
Like packs of dogs assaulting the glass fronts of Love Me avenue,
ripping and re wrapping mink and shiny silver fox,
now leg warmers,
family badge of sapphire and cracked emeralds
Any day now.....
The year of the "Diamond dogs"
This ain`t rock`n`roll,
This is genocide."

Bowie` 74.

Just typed that whole monologue from memory. Missed the family badge line.
Other than that..... word perfect.

This album was a tribute to George Orwell`s book, "1984."

Naturally I grabbed the book and devoured it.

This is a fictionalized account of planet earth, set in the not too distant future.
It`s a world where there is a totalitarian government that is not accountable
to anyone. Many phrases coined in the book, are
now in common usage. Things like, big brother, thought police, new speak,
thought crime, and Ministry of ....., are all references to this "Orwellian" fictitious future world
where you are just a number. Totally dis empowered and at the mercy of
an unsympathetic political machine.

In the novel, Orwell tells of the public meetings where group chanting is
mandatory. "Bro, bro, bro, bro..." the masses chant in support of the
party . These were like religious rallies. People would be in tears.
So overwhelmed were they to be  blessed by big brother`s bare faced
image starring out at them from the large video screens.

The final two songs on "Diamond dogs" captures the fervor of these rallies.
First "Big brother" with it`s anthem like deifying of their beloved leader, then
the song disintegrates into the "Chant of the ever circling skeletal family.
It is written in three different time signatures, giving the listener a feeling
of being on the brink of toppling, when without warning the hypnotic chanting
begins, but in a stroke of genius Bowie discards the word "bro" and there
is a spontaneous eruption of "riot, riot, riot......."

It is a pure mind orgasm to have felt the claustrophobic tension through
the book and the album and then see the light of freedom born
in a leaderless, spontaneous public uprising.

I was mentally stimulated. I started to read books from the local library.
Psychology and biographies mainly.
It`s clear to me now I was trying to find out what created the bizarre  individuals I was constantly running into.

What I found in the biographies I was reading  was that
before these people had become famous, one for one, they`d all had a near death experience.

Where as the psychology books were all missing the chapter..."What to do about it." By that I mean, they talked endlessly about symptoms and syndromes, yet no cure in sight.
Even the theories espoused would be contradicted by another theory, often in the same book.

Something else of significance occurred around this time. A woman who`d been a friend of my mothers was visiting. People were sitting around the table chatting as I entered the room. This woman looks at me..."Oh my God. Doesn`t he look exactly like his father. It`s spooky. Almost identical."
My world fell out from underneath me.  Can you imagine the inner conflict
that innocent statement set off within me. Through no fault of my own
I was identical to the image I had of all I hated.
This woman went on to win a fortune on a Local TV quiz show.
She wasn`t asked..."How do you totally destroy a young persons sense of self  worth with a casual remark.?"  She definitely had the answer.

Whenever I see people socializing around a table making small talk.
I leave immediately. I have no interest whatsoever in this popular past time.
And I`ve always been careful about what I say to people.
I have personal experience of how an unthoughtful comment can send someone
into a deep depression.

I was taken to a party one night by a friend and Marijuana was being passed around.
I had a few puffs and thought nothing more of it.
A little later I was hit in the back of the head with an axe.
That`s what it felt like.
I was Freaked out."
I asked my friend to get me out of there.
He had no idea what to do with me.
So he drove me to a guys home who was a catholic
priest and ran a local youth group.

My friend just waited around long enough for the priest
to ask me what had happened when my friend bid his farewells
and bolted for his car.
I was just stuck in total fear. It was draining.
How do I get this to stop ?

The priest phoned a local kid, who took drugs, and asked
him to come over.
When this drug guy got there the priest asked this drug user to
walk me home and then  took off for a game of squash.

It was two days before I felt comfortable being me again.

Early in 1977 the friend who`d taken me to the squash playing
priest dropped over .
He handed me a book he`d been sold on Queen Street.
He said "I can`t make any sense of this book.
Can you read it and explain it to me."

I looked at the cover. "Dianetics. The modern science of mental health."

This should be interesting....

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 21, 2009, 09:36:47 AM
                                    SENSE OF DOUBT.

                                           Part 13.

                            Terra incognita...The human mind.

In the book Hubbard describes what a science of mind should be able to produce.
That would be a person who had no psycho somatic illnesses. No psychosis
or neurosis of any kind, a 100% accurate memory, a intellect equivalent to a genius.
Total rationality with no phobias, compulsions or repressions whatsoever.
And a permanent sense of high self worth and well being.
He named such a person a "Clear."

He likened the human mind to a calculator. He explained that for eons man had been baffled by this perfect calculator and powerless to  fix it when it gave wrong answers.

And how were we aware it was giving wrong answers ? Well that is because this calculator was prone to directing the organism it controlled, into actions and attitudes that did not perpetuate the thrust of all life which was to "Survive."

Made perfect sense to me.

Hubbard went on to explain that if you had a key stuck down on a calculator, it
would appear insane. A little like the mankind was behaving.
But what was holding down this key ?
According to Hubbard this human mind (calculator) was a very delicate implement
that could not absorb pain in any form.
If pain was detected by the conscious mind it would shut down and the unconscious mind, a much more earthy and primitive mechanism, would patch itself in and record the painful incident. Once the pain was over the conscious mind would re awaken and be ignorant of what had happened.

The conscious mind was never able to see what was in the unconscious mind.
However when the organism came into close proximity to anything resembling
something previously recorded in the sub conscious, it would be at the mercy
of the unconscious. The unconscious was there as a part of an evolutionary process to push man away from danger and in modern man it had now become a liability rather than an asset.

The key reason for this was language.
You see if an animal is attacked by a predator, but survives, the unconscious mind
will have a full record of all the perceptics associated with the incident. When later on, the animal detects similar stimuli in the environment , the unconscious
mind will kick in and take over , re enacting the previous recording. This is based on the premise that it worked last time. The animal did survive after all.

But within the human conscious mind there is an understanding of language.
And during a moment of unconsciousness, what is said is recorded directly in
the unconscious minds memory bank. Now when the human approaches stimuli that triggers off the unconscious minds mandate to get the organism away from
danger, the phrases in that warning message have to be followed.

These phrases are like hypnotic suggestions. And we`ve all seen what an hypnotic
suggestion can do on TV watching a hypnotists stage show.
But this moronic mind that records these commands can`t even distinguish between things said to the person it was in charge of protecting, and other persons in the immediate vicinity.
Here are some examples of phrases that  could create some real problems for
the organism when activated.
" I think he`s dead."
"This isn`t my fault."
" Okay everyone. Get back. There`s nothing to see here ."
" You fucking whore."
"Take that."
" I need a drink."
" This is all so sad."
" I`m afraid there is no hope for her."
" Don`t move him."

You get the idea.
If you`ve ever been unconscious you have hypnotic suggestions implanted
in your mind , with force, that are behind all your fears, psycho somatic illnesses, mood swings, and irrational behavior.

Never been unconscious ?
Well you were born weren`t you. Birth is, according to Hubbard, the number one cause of asthma. From warm, dark and wet to dry, light  and cold. All the while having
your head pushed through a garden hose. Hubbard even discovered during the 200
test cases he`d researched on, that moments of pain and unconsciousness were
even commonplace in the womb going all the way back to conception.

Hubbard had single handedly discovered  the cause of all mans problems.
He called it "The reactive mind."
But what to do ???
Well Hubbard reasoned that it was the unknown factor that gave this reactive mind its power. If the conscious mind could be coaxed into inspecting the contents of this unconscious mind it would move over to a `conscious` memory.
In short...... It would have no power over you.

The process of discharging the reactive mind became known as auditing.
An auditor (One who listens) is an essential part of the therapy.
Hubbard deduced that one cannot inspect their reactive mind on their own
because it will just activate it and command the person to obey it.
Whereas the auditor will not be compelled to dramatize what is in his patients reactive mind and thus act as the patients analytical mind.

As I read all this it felt like a solution to all mans problems lay in view.
I could see examples of what Hubbard was saying all around me, present
and past. Now I concluded there was hope for man.
All would be well. There was a bright future ahead.

Inevitably as one reads, one can`t help but wonder what hypnotic suggestions
might lay within their own mind.
One evening as I pondered this I was overcome by a sense of fear and claustrophobia.
This was the exact same feeling that had zapped me several times over my life.
Maybe I`d just had another nervous breakdown.
I was having an internal panic attack.
I am embarrassed to mention it now, but I actually walked to
the accident and emergency dept. at Middlemore hospital and waited to see a doctor.

I was in luck. The doctor assigned to me was a young woman who was drop dead gorgeous. I tried to collect my thoughts as I explained what was happening.
She asked if I was taking any drugs. I assured her I wasn`t. She ran some tests which I don`t recall because without warning she slid her hand up inside my trouser leg and held it against my inner thigh.

She was checking my pulse as she looked into my eyes.
I thought to myself. How naive women can be.
I knew  she was getting a completely false reading.

But my panic attack was gone miraculously !!!
 Now I had another medical problem, common only to males, that I didn`t feel comfortable discussing. The lighting wasn`t right.

A day or two later the friend who`d given me the book to read told me he was getting letters from Scientology. He showed me one. "How are you getting on with the book ?" it asked.  I decided to answer it.

So I put pen to paper and told Jo Neil that I was finding the book fascinating
and would love to learn more about it.
Not long after that I got a letter back inviting me to come in and talk.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 23, 2009, 08:50:39 AM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                          Part 13

                            ...into the frying pan.

One evening after work I made my way into town, caught the elevator to
the second floor of the Imperial Arcade, and took the few steps from there
to the reception desk.
I didn`t have time to notice there was no one at reception because a guy a few years older than me walked up to me and introduced himself as Terry Nicholson.

He shook my hand and invited me to follow him to a small windowless room that
contained two chairs, a desk and a framed black and white photo of a man.

"Who`s that ?" I asked.
"Oh that is L Ron  Hubbard" Terry replied.
I studied the photo trying to reconcile the image I`d mocked up of the author who's words I`d been reading for weeks with the photo on the wall.

"So you have some questions... " Terry offered.
" Yeah sure. Why do I see "Church" of Scientology written everywhere ?"
" Well a lot has happened since Ron wrote Dianetics in 1950. What he discovered
was that man was a spirit, and so he did research into the capabilities of the spirit.
Dianetics was about the mind. His writings on the subject of the spirit had to come under a different heading. And he called it Scientology. But because we are
dealing with man as a spirit we became "The CHURCH of Scientology."

"And what about God and Jesus and all that ?"
"Well scientology allows you to make up your own mind about that.
The eighth dynamic is...."
"Hang on a minute...Hubbard only mentions 4 dynamics in Dianetics !"
" Well that`s true. There is the urge to survive as oneself. Then through the sex act and the family unit. Third is the urge to survive as a group. And those
groups collectively become the 4 th dynamic...mankind.
However as Ron continued his research he discovered at least 4 more. The 5 th dynamic is plants and animals, the sixth is the physical universe....matter energy, space and time.  Then the 7 th is the urge to survive as a spirit. Outside of all that is the 8th dynamic which would be God. The supreme being... The creator.
But we don`t have any teaching on that. It`s a personal experience that you have."

I lit up a cigarette. Terry passed me an old tin can to use as an ash tray.
"What`s this ?" I asked.
It`s a can that we connect up to a meter, that the person being audited holds, one in each hand, as he`s being audited."
"What does that do ?"

"Well negative thoughts or thoughts with charge on them register on this e meter
and the auditor uses the readings to guide him as he tries to clear the pre clear."

" Do you have any clears here ?"
"Yes there are a few."
"Are you a clear ?"

"No. ...Not yet." Terry responded wistfully.

I felt comfortable with Terry.
He was giving me all the right answers.

I told him how I`d like to be an auditor. I`d like to help people to
clear their minds of all their unconscious pains and upsets.

Terry was happy to hear this and suggested I do a course there that
would put me in a position where I could have the presence of an auditor.
It was called the Communication Course and it was $18.00.

I said ..."I`ll bring my best friend along to do it with me."
Terry thought that was a great idea.

We chatted about the state of the world and then
Terry took me to reception and signed me up to start
the very next evening.

As I rode home on my motorbike I had a very good feeling about the place
I`d just been to. How come everybody else wasn`t queuing up for this stuff?

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 24, 2009, 11:10:43 AM
                               SENSE OF DOUBT

                                      Part 14.

                             Be there comfortably, and confront.

The next evening I showed up on time and true to my word I had dragged my good buddy Jim along.  Soon we were escorted down to the introductory course room, where we were introduced to Bob Howie.

Bob placed two seats in front of a black board and started to draw a stick man
version of the two other students there who were seated facing each other
with their eyes closed.

Apparently this is not an easy thing to do. It is even harder to do with eyes open.
However we were still beginners and Bob was pointing out that just being there,
not somewhere else, was all we would be required to do.

So Jim and I moved our chairs to face each other, sat down, closed our eyes
and did nothing for maybe 15 minutes.
Bob gave as a "That`s it !" and then explained that we would now be required to do the same drill but with our eyes focused on each other, NOT starring. Just confronting. He said "Start !"

However the other guys in the room were already onto the next drill which required one person to  do what we were doing, but the other person was
audibly trying to put him off.

Well... I just started to giggle. Bob came over and pointed out that if I was laughing at what the other student was doing I wasn`t being there confronting
my twin.

Man this was hard. Every so often the whole course room would erupt into laughter. However once I held it together for a few minutes Bob came back
over and gave us the instructions for the next drill TR (Training routine) zero,
Bullbait.  Bob explained that if we introverted on communication directed at us
we would actually lose our confront and react involuntarily to what was said.
This could cause shyness, anger, embarrassment etc.
And as an auditor one was going to hear some pretty wild stuff.
It would be inappropriate to lose ones composure while auditing.

Made sense to me.

So Jim and I took turns hurling vast amounts of abuse at each other.
If the recipient reacted in any way we gave them a "Flunk !" and when they`d settled down we`d say "start" and reenact the thing that broke their confront.
These topics that caused an involuntary reaction were called "Buttons."
As the coach during the drill, one had the job of finding these buttons
and pushing them repeatedly till the student showed no sign of being effected by that button any more. Then on to new material.

 Over the next few nights we were gradually introduced to further steps
on the communication course. TR1 was all to do with saying something with intention. We`d, as a student, read a line from the book "Alice in wonderland"
You know a quote. Then look up at the coach and say the line to them as if we`d just thought of it, omitting the he said`s and she said`s.
This was to be critiqued by the coach. If he detected any use of body movement to deliver the message , or if he felt it was being said roboticly, and repeated till
the coach approved.

TR2 was all about acknowledgment.  Here the coach would read the line and the student had to give a "Fine, okay, alright, good, thank you.... whatever
let the coach know he`d been duplicated and understood.

TR3 was getting your question answered.
There were only two questions. "Do birds fly?" and "Do fish swim?"
So the student would be required to grill the coach with either of these questions.
However he was to persist till he was satisfied the question had been answered.
Off topic responses were to be handled by repeating the question..."I repeat the
question...Do birds fly ?" Once the answer was given a full acknowledgment was given. The coach would flunk the student for any failures on the earlier TR`s.

TR4 was about handling origination's ...
Here the coach has to not answer the question, but instead to bring up, not
a comment, but a concern. Here it was taught that to ignore a legitimate origination would be improper and rather one should practice skillfully handling the origination and then return to getting the question answered.
For example... The coach would respond to the question by saying... " my shoes
are too tight."
Here the student would perhaps suggest that the coach loosen his shoes, inquire if his feet felt comfortable after that, and then "I`ll repeat the question...Do fish swim ?"

Jim and I practiced these drills every night in the course room for over a week.
I laughed more in that week than I had in the whole of my life time.
These drills were to train an auditor, however as with all of scientology training,
it had direct application in the real world.

I began to notice how screwed up people`s communication was.
After this course I was transformed into a person who could "be there and comfortably confront anyone." I could get my message through to people , get my
questions answered and handle any problems arising from violations of the  communication formula.

I was on top of the world.

Then one day it felt like my mind broke.
I had no control over all the automaticities that one takes for granted.
I`d be standing there and feel all dizzy and suffocating.
My body had forgotten how to breath.
So I was now left having to consciously breath.
While I`m trying to function normally I`d get this depleted feeling
and realize I`d not even experienced hunger.
So I`d find some food and deliberately have to chew and swallow it.

You think well this would surely be a nightmare.
Waking from sleep to have to breath, nodding off again , only to
awaken suffocating. 
But worse than that ...where did one go for help ?

"Hi doctor. I`m here because I have to consciously breath."

For over two weeks this went on.
You want to know how bad it was.
I couldn`t smoke.

I felt like I was lost at sea, treading water. I was so exhausted I`d slip
beneath the waves and be jolted  back to consciousness gasping for
air and struggling to break the surface.

I told Bob Howie about it. He was concerned and suggested that I had
something in re stimulation. Auditing was my only way out.

I had to pull all of my money out of that investment fund.
A  quote was given to me by the technical team at scientology.
I needed four 12 and a half hour intensives of auditing.... at least.

So here I was trapped in a nightmare. I couldn`t tell anyone about it.
I appeared completely normal. I showed no outward signs of
being in the midst of a psychotic break.
I knew there was no help available except for Scientology.

I had no identity.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 25, 2009, 09:14:53 AM
                                    SENSE OF DOUBT

                                             Part 15

                                     "Rocky road."

I really can`t remember exactly how much money I forked over.
But I had a lot. (In the thousands)
And then I had none.

I was also signed up for another course called the HQS Course (The Hubbard
Qualified Scientologist course.) Jim bought that one as well.
Before we were taken to the main course room, called The academy, Jim and
I had to get our materials. This included many hard back copies of Hubbard`s books.
Despite the fact that many tatty old copies of these books lay abandoned in the academy. It was Hubbard policy that each student buy his own copies of the books required for the course.

Then there was the check sheet and the course pack. It appears there were a few problems with this. We were given our packs by a woman who`d been pointed out to me as a clear. In fact she was way up beyond clear . She was an actual OT. I`d been getting lots of mail from Scientology since I signed up for a course and was a bit familiar with some of the super human powers an OT possessed through their magazines and advertising. Her name was Vicky Dickey. I know what I`d have done with a name like that if I had super powers.

Vicky handed over the course packs with a small slip of paper.
She explained that the items listed on the note were the references they had been unable to locate.  I was genuinely disappointed and apparently must have pulled a bit of a sour face.  It`s lucky we weren`t doing the TR`s at that moment
because I would have been forced to give Vicky a "Flunk". Her face reddened and she gave me an OT message, "You are an arsehole" without moving her lips.

So Jim and I were started on the HQS while preparations were being made for my auditing. There was no talking in the academy. All learning was done from Hubbard`s books and course packs. If there were any noisy practical drills on your course, they would be done in a smaller room off from, but adjacent to the main academy.

There were rows of reel to reel tape players along one wall and students wearing headphones would periodically burst into laughter as they listened to one of Hubbard`s lectures. I could see he`d had a lot to say by the wall of tape reels
behind the course supervisors desk.

I hoped I would get to hear what these students were laughing at somewhere on my course.

About the third night on course the supervisor, Graeme Keon, called a "That`s it."
and we started to pack up.
I had moved outside the academy entrance and was putting my books into my bag when Graeme started to make some announcements. I slipped a piece of gum into my mouth (I was off cigarettes) as I listened to what Graeme had to say.
Where I was standing was a bit of a thoroughfare and I noted that Paul Godfrey, the best body router in the world, was coming through.
As he approached, he lunged at me, grabbed me by the shoulders and began to shake me forcefully and vigorously. Then he was pushing me into the wall and
saying "Get your ethics in mate." 

I was speechless. Other people had stopped to watch what was happening.
Paul was now mimicking me as I tried to gather my senses.
Then like the lone ranger he shot off, minus a horse and a faithful Indian companion.

When I returned to course the next night Graeme could tell something was up.
I wasn`t clapping at all the "wins" being told to us.
He took me to his desk, once he got all the other students started, and just stared at me.  He was playing a game with me and was waiting for me to make eye contact. When I finally did we both broke into a smile.

"What`s happening?" he asked.
"Didn`t you see Paul Godfrey assault me yesterday night ?"
"Oh ...I thought this might be about that.  Come with me."

I was taken to another part of the org called Qual.
This is short for "The Qualifications division."
I was aware that this was were any misapplication of Hubbard`s tech was detected and corrected.
I sat at the Qual Secs desk. (Qualifications Secretary)
A guy with a Canadian accent named Dave Theobold got me
to tell my version of the previous evening. He listened patiently, but
when I started to get a bit emotional about it, took me to an auditing room where
we had a bit of privacy.

And yes I was emotional about it. I`d just forked over every cent I owned
was going through an internal psychotic break and now one of your staff
assaults me. Dave gave me a sympathetic look and assured me that Paul Godfrey`s actions would not be condoned by Hubbard , and a handling would be
done on Paul immediately.

I went back to course.

The next evening Paul Godfrey approached me and apologized profusely for his
behavior the previous night. He explained that he detected I had an attitude and
was chewing gum in the course room.
I`m glad he got that off his chest. He seemed to feel much better.
"What the fuck am I doing in this asylum ?" I thought.

Almost the next evening I was taken off course and was to start my auditing.
I thought...!
No.... I was actually getting word clearing.
The guy (Claude Moffat) doing it, explained that there will be all sorts of new words used in the course of auditing and it would be inappropriate to interrupt auditing to explain them to me.  I also found out that the hours of auditing I had paid for were dwindling away as we cleared words like "at", "a" and "the".

Now there was only one more action to go before I could finally get rid of this
thing I had in restimulation. It was a Security check.

A pleasant old man named Alan Flaxman was assigned the task of seeing if I qualified for the auditing I had already paid for.

He had me on a meter and wanted to know things like...
"Are you working for the FBI ?" I wasn`t.
"Are you here to get news stories to sell to the press?" I wasn`t.
" Had I ever seen a psychiatrist professionally?"  I hadn`t.
"Was I a blown staff member?" I wasn`t.
and then " Do you have an "open mind" about scientology ? Of course I did. That`s why I was there.

Wrong answer !!!
Things came to a halt. Alan patiently explained that having an open mind meant I would be continually questioning what I was being exposed to. I would be wasting precious auditing time wondering if I was making the right decisions. What was required for everyone`s benefit was that I make up my mind before the auditing
and then I could focus on getting the gains Hubbard assured us were there.

We had a bit of a discussion. And I had to admit that I had certainty that Hubbard was "on the money" with what I`d read in Dianetics.
That was good enough...
"Do you have an open mind about scientology ?"
"No" I replied.
Alan checked the meter and seemed satisfied by its reaction.

I`d passed. I was soon going to explore my reactive mind.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 01, 2009, 11:23:44 AM
                                SENSE OF DOUBT

                                          Part 16

                                   "Use the force Luke."

I`d become aware of the fact that there was a lot of whispering going on in my
vicinity whenever I was left in a waiting area. It seems the subject of me was causing a few problems at the church of Scientology Auckland.
Eventually someone would approach me after one of these heated confabs and give me a reassuring smile. "Everything is okay. We are just organizing an auditor for you."
What am I ... Some sort of an idiot?
 I was at least heartened when they didn`t end their sentences with "Have a nice day."

It was finally decided. Despite the fact that I had been dealing with the evening staff, I was to have my auditing  delivered by the Day staff team.

Then it dawned on me that these two different orgs were in competition with each other. I`d been poached by the day org.


I was informed to be at the HGC (Hubbard guidance centre) ready for auditing
at 9:00 am the next Monday.
I was to be well fed and rested and not to have drunken any alcohol in the last 24 hours or had any drugs in the last six weeks.
I was sweet.

Meanwhile there was a buzz around the org. There was going to be an event on Saturday evening. Some guy from "The Sea Org" was giving a briefing.
What`s the Sea org ? I wondered.
I was told that these are the guys who have dedicated their lives to Scientology.
They lived at bases and wore naval uniforms. They oversee what happens in all the scientology orgs and missions. They are ruthless about seeing that Hubbard`s
plans to salvage this sector of the galaxy would be achieved.

Come Saturday evening I found myself sitting amidst a group of about eighty people. Some I recognized. Some I`d never seen before.
A local staffer welcomed us and then encouraged us to clap as she introduced
Albert Mc Graw.
He definitely had a charisma. There was a no nonsense aura about him.
He wanted a show of hands... Who here is new to scientology ?
My hand shot up along with about another ten members of the audience.
He looked at us all with a knowing smile and said. " Well this is going to be quite an experience for you. There are people here you can talk to later if you find what I`m about to share with you a bit unsettling."

"Who here has seen "Star wars ? "
Most hands went up, including mine. It had been on in theaters for a month or two by then.
"It`s great isn`t it ?"
There was an excited rumble of agreement in the room.
"Well tonight I`m going to let you all in on the real "Star Wars."

He nodded to someone at the back of the room and a tape began to play.
It was Hubbard....... He sounded exhausted.

"And this is a tape of 20 September 1967, made on an island in the sea, and it is
addressed to all staff and students of Scientology organizations. The background noise that you hear is not in actual fact tape noise; it is the wind howling up a cliff and hitting over the area where I am sitting.
Out before me here is the wide blue sea with ships passing by, a few fleecy clouds overhead, and the bright sun shining down. I am giving you this short talk because you might have wondered what I was doing. Rumor lines are not very reliable, to say the least, and in a world which is as wogged as this one are not likely to even approach truth. I do not like to create a mystery with
regard to our activities.
You have heard mention of the Sea Org - the Sea Organization - and you are likely to hear other mentions of it as time goes on. This is in reality just another Scientology organization with the different step; it handles extremely advanced work and materials, and its personnel are OTs. Its
mission is to bring Clears through the upper levels safely and certainly and with speed, and it also has the mission of getting in Ethics. On Earth, it would be quite impossible to bring in a totality of Scientology technology without first bringing in Ethics. We have learned that technology does not thrive in an area which is enturbulated and which has many suppressives and factors which are hostile to the better side of life.

We are, in organizations, making progress to the degree that they bring in good order inside the organization and in their immediate areas. Only then do we have technology effective and functioning. The only time that Scientology technology is ineffective is when it is not used or when it is altered considerably.
To give you a little background history, a sort of Ron's Journal, I have to tell you some of the things which have been going on in the last few years, of which you were not particularly well informed, I'm sure, but of which you have heard some vague rumor. On January the 22nd of 1963, the Food and Drug Administration made a raid with drawn guns on our organization in Washington, D.C., immediately after we had offered to then-president Kennedy assistance in his
national programs with the use of Scientology. His reply to this, apparently, was to order a raid on our organization.
I determined at that time that organizations must carry on a line of defense and that I must accelerate the technology, advance and wrap up the entire subject in a very short time........"

Albert signaled that the tape be stopped.

Another player began...

"The material involved in this sector is so vicious that it is carefully arranged to kill anyone if he discovers the exact truth of it.
So in January and February of this year, I became very ill, almost lost this body, and somehow or another brought it off and obtained the material, and was able to live through it. I am very sure that I was the first one that ever did live through any attempt to attain that material. This material
I'm talking about, of course, is very upper level material and you will forgive me if I don't describe it to you in very broad detail because it's very likely to make you sick, too.
Now my task for the remainder of the year, up until now - which is to say the ensuing six months - was to find some way to safely bring through individuals. It was not enough for I myself to have lived through it. Other people would have to do so as well when they reached Clear and tried to move up from that point above.

And about five or six weeks ago, I finally was able to make a breakthrough which brought people through the zone safely. It is relatively easy to do now, provided one is an extremely well-trained auditor, and the band of fire can be walked through, bringing one out the other side unscathed, providing he applies the exact technology. No one is in danger of colliding with this at lower levels, since it concerns the formation of the society itself in which we live. A person is
Clear on the first dynamic. It is necessary, to become OT, to became cleared on all dynamics, including that of society and that of the physical universe. So I have also made this breakthrough, and I don't mind telling you, it took some doing. In all the eighteen years, this has been the toughest one that I have faced. And I faced it so that it would not be tough for you to face when
you came to it. ..."

The tape stopped.   You could have heard a pin drop.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 01, 2009, 09:46:09 PM
                                        SENSE OF DOUBT

                                                      Part 17

                                        Many are called. Few are chosen.

Albert gave everyone a knowing smile.
Not since Moses returned from his encounter with the burning bush
had anyone held such a captive audience.

He proceeded to explain that there was in deed a war raging of galactic
proportions. Just like in Star wars. It was the age old war of good against evil.
We Scientologists were the good ..but who were the villains ?

Well Albert started to chose his words carefully, not wanting to risk killing
everyone there.  He told us about the ancient extra terrestrial civilization called
"The Marcabians,", who resided in the constellation Ursa Major.(It`s a northern hemisphere constellation which includes "the big dipper).
The residents of this vast empire looked humanoid and had subliminally influenced
our society to a point that 1950`s America looked almost identical to life for the Marcabians.
They had fire engines, ocean liners ,wore business suits with fedora hats, and horn rimmed glasses.

According to Albert we all once resided there. However we were the misfits that they wanted to deport. So just like Great Britian had sent all it`s misfits to  Australia, the  Marcabians had sent all their trouble makers to planet earth.
Not just criminals. But artists, agitators, sexual deviants, the insane, intellectuals.
All the square pegs.
I was so taken by what Albert was saying I didn`t even think to raise my hand
and ask what the Japanese are doing here.

Albert announced that planet earth is a prison planet.

This was blowing my mind.
No wonder planet earth was such a cess pool of war and crime and disharmony, and fraudsters.

But it didn`t end there.....
This dumping of souls on planet earth was still happening now.
That`s why the population is growing.
When an earthling drops his body he enters the between lives area.
He is floating around until he goes into the light.
But it`s a trap. This is not the face of god or the gateway to heaven.
It`s an implant station. It`s like a big amusement park in the sky.
But to take up a ride one has to enter a doll body and the ride
was really a brainwashing assembly line.
Here one was rendered unconscious and fed imagery and verbal commands
straight into the reactive mind.

Yes. I`d seen this done to Malcolm Mc Dowell in Stanley Kubrick`s "A Clockwork Orange."

The soul would be given a fake identity, false goals, told to report back
here and then given a severe case of amnesia for good measure.
Then shot back to earth to locate a pregnant female and fend off all
comers till it secured the fresh new body at birth.

So here we all were, doomed to walk the earth like a George Romero, zombie movie, for all eternity.  Yes.  I could see this was true by walking through any
shopping mall, or observing people in beer commercials..

No wonder I got that spooky feeling when I was four and wondered how I
got here.  It was all making sense now.

Oh wow !!!  That`s why we have no recall of what happened before we were born.
We all have amnesia.  And those few, brave enough to ponder
the meaning of life, would only see an implant and assume it was real.
We were all inside "the Matrix."

So don`t you see ?.... We could be implanted with the creation story that God created the heavens and the earth in seven days, 6,000 years ago. That the first man was named Adam and from his rib was made Eve.  People would be content to believe that crap and never have
the guts to risk going to hell by, denying God and looking beyond the trauma
of the implant. The Marcabians had the whole thing booby trapped.

I could feel my hand reaching for the "on" button of my light saber.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 03, 2009, 10:44:31 AM
                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                          Part 18


Walking the streets after that evening became a whole new experience.
It was as if all the busyness I observed around me was pointless.
The whole of human history had been a big diversion.
I was no longer a part of it.
I was now a part of the game outside of the game.
The new overview I had of life was something that was two steps ahead
of where humanity was at. One couldn`t debate it with others because
how could they reach a rational decision about a concept that they couldn`t
even hold in their minds.

I was having a psychotic break and yet I could see it as clearly as I could see Hubbard was a genius.
That`s how special I was.

Before the Beatles, song lyrics had been linear concepts.
"My sweet darlin`, that I met in Nashville, has run
off with a trucker from Amarillo,
I`m feeling bad.
I want my baby back."

Now maybe you can blame the drugs, but the Beatles were
the first to start playing with the imagery that words evoked.

" Picture yourself on a boat on a river,
with tangerine trees and marmalade skies,
Somebody calls you,
you answer quite slowly,
the girl with kaleidoscope eyes,......"

Up till this moment there had never been any debate over what a song
lyric was about. But now song lyrics became interactive.
The non specific nature of the lyrics made them more accessible to people.
The lyrics opened doors, but you explored the rooms revealed.

In fact I saw Bowie commenting one time on peoples renditions of what his
songs were about and he said " Wow. That`s far more exciting than what I started with."

Bowie, sometime back, had taken the evolution of song writing even further
out on a limb than the Beatles had. He had borrowed a concept from the author
William Burroughs. Burroughs had realized that human thought processing had
changed drastically in the last few decades.
A typical linear thought pattern had been. "Here I am walking to the barn to
milk the cow. I`m milking the cow. I`m carrying the bucket of milk back to the house."

However if you followed the thought patterns of Joe citizen now it was more like;
" Is that my bus ? What`s the number? Man she`s hot. What`s that song coming
from the record store? I like it. I want to buy it. Where`s my bus pass?.
That`s a new building. Wasn`t here last time I came to town. Big Mac."

You get the difference ? From linear thought to fragmented imagery.
So to capture that Bowie started to cut random lines from newspapers and
magazines. then with scissors he`d cut each line midway through the phrase.
Then when he had a bunch of them, he`d throw them in the air and randomly
reassemble them.

Now you had seemingly disparate concepts brought together.
The lyrical equivalent of fragmented imagery.
It gave forth an urgency and challenged the mind to hold two seemingly
disassociated concepts in the same thought like the "serious moonlight."
Try it...
Hold those two thoughts for a moment.  Serious....  moonlight.
Try to bring those two concepts together.

I`ll wait......

No you aren`t doing it.  Close your eyes for a moment and try to bring them
together till you feel dizzy.

Excellent !

It`s Monday morning and an elderly gentleman approaches.
He offers me his hand and says. "Hello. I`m Wally Collis
and I`m going to be your auditor."

He leads me to the end auditing room. It had a window that overlooked
Queen Street. Wally asked me "How did you end up here ?"
"I read Dianetics" I responded.
"What inspired you to read that ?" he questioned.
"I`ve just always had a fascination with the human mind."
"Okay..... Any idea why ?"

Without even inspecting what I was saying the words spilled
from my mouth..   "Because I used to be Sigmund Freud."

We took our seats either side of the small table . Wally reached over and
shut the door as he said
"Well this should be interesting."

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 04, 2009, 07:12:41 AM
                               SENSE OF DOUBT

                                    Part 19

                                 "This is the session !"

Wally had a presence about him. I was curious to find out more about him.
But as it turned out he wanted to find out more about me as well. And as
I was paying, I had no option but to go first.
Wally passed two, wired up, tin cans to me and I relaxed back into the chair.
"Squeeze the cans."
I did.
Wally made a few adjustments to his meter behind the little wooden
shield that prevented me from seeing his meter or the notes he was going to
be taking.

He looked at me with an "I`m in charge" stare, and said "This is the session !"
I felt my reactive mind trembling.

Wally started by doing an assessment. He was reading out questions directly to
my reactive mind one after the other and noting down the needle movements.
I wasn`t even required to answer. It felt like I was possessed and he was talking
to the being that resided within me.

When he reached the end of the two or three pages of questions, he made
a judgment about which item to take up first.

It seems that what my reactive mind was willing to give up first was the subject
of being hit with force accompanied by a spooky feeling. Wally encouraged my
reactive mind to look at an incident where this had occurred.
I told Wally about the dope I smoked once and how I felt like an axe had hit me
in the back of the head and then I`d been looking at the night sky but was
outside of time.

"Is there an earlier similar incident ?"

I felt weird and kind of courageous as I allowed the concept to sink in.
I was getting all these feelings of motion like I was being tossed about.
Something was developing but I was having difficulty focusing on it.
"Is it okay if I close my eyes ?"
It was.   Okay.  Bumpy feeling. Heavy. What`s that tucked under my arm ?
It`s a lance. I`m wearing a full suit of armor and riding a horse.
Bang. Just as I begin to understand that I`m in a jousting match a knight on
horseback comes charging at me and the end of his lance goes straight into
the peep hole of my helmet.

"Okay. Return to the beginning of the incident."

I`m back on the horse barreling down the left side of a long hip high fence.
A knight on horseback is coming towards me on the other side of the fence.
As we intersect his lance touches mine and is deflected straight at my face.
It penetrates my skull and I`m lifted from my horse.
Now I`m hovering above a medieval carnival.  It`s a sunny day. I am dead.
"What a stupid way to spend the weekend" I thought.

I opened my eyes and looked at Wally`s reassuring countenance.
" But how do I know I`m not just imagining that ? I mean did that actually
happen...?  All it was was pictures ."

Wally smiled and asked, "What did you expect ?"

I got it.

" But after that death I must have gone to an implant station ..."
Wally skillfully redirected my attention from that in a manner that told
me I wasn`t up to that just yet. Wally also made kind of a "for the record"
statement that Albert McGraw was fully responsible for me even knowing
about such things. I got the distinct feeling that Wally was building a case against Albert for Scientology leaders to investigate.

It turns out Wally was an OT 7. He was also someone who had been trained
at St Hill Manor by Hubbard himself. I was in good hands.

Later on I was to learn that Albert had also trained under Hubbard.
However Albert had fallen asleep during one of Hubbard`s lectures
on board his ship the Apollo and had been tossed overboard into the
ocean to wake him up.
While he was getting dry Hubbard must have been telling the other students
never to mention the Marcabians.

We broke for lunch.
I was escorted to Qual and sat at a table under a sign which said "Examiner."
The cans sitting on the desk were placed in my hands and a woman
climbed into the chair across the table from me.
She looked at the meter before her then looked at me , smiled and
said "Your needle IS floating."

This, I knew, meant I had nothing in restimulation.
I took the elevator down to Queen street and felt
like I`d been let in on a secret that nobody else knew.
I felt like an alien on my own planet.
The feeling appealed to me. I was finding out who I really was.
Is it possible?......  Was I finally going to have an identity ?

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 05, 2009, 09:00:59 AM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                          Part 20

                                  We have no secrets here.

One thing I found frustrating was that before I could get onto the interesting
stuff every time an auditing session began Wally had to "fly my ruds."
Ruds was short for rudiments.
How it worked was that I was checked on the meter to see if anything
was preventing me from being there 100 % for the auditing.
You can see how for example if I had left the iron on at home, it would distract
me from being able to focus on what we were doing.
So the question "Do you have a present time problem ?" would be asked.

Assuming that didn`t read on the meter, one would be asked "Do you have an overt ?"  Now an overt was a new way of saying sin.
This subject was put under two different spotlights.
Hubbard had discovered that after one had committed an overt he or she would
withhold the details from others. The action of not telling anyone about your sins
would be known as a withhold. A withhold always follows an overt.

"Do you have a withhold.?"

At one point this one gave me a real red face.
I`d been having conversations with a girl about my age who had been in Scientology a bit longer than me. Her name was Leisa Collins. She`s now
like the second in command of Scientology public relations international.
She`d be the one who`d have to step in if Tommy Davis ever burst a blood vessel dealing with a reporter.

Anyway Leisa had asked me about who I was being audited by. So I told her.
"Wow. Wally. He`s amazing. You really got lucky there. How are you getting on with him ?"
I said "Great. I really think we could become good friends."

When Wally checked my reactive bank with "Do you have a withhold ?"
He said "That reads. "

Hmmm ?  I introverted to see what I was withholding.
Oh my god. How presumptuous of me...... I`d assumed that Wally liked me and said as much.   I tried to look for something else to tell Wally that I didn`t want to tell him. But they were all eliminated by the fact that they ceased to be withholds the moment I wanted to tell about them.

Wally looked at the meter dial. "That.  ..............That ................That !

Oh shit.......     " Wally.....  I told Liesa Collins that I thought you and I could become friends." 

I was so embarrassed. I felt humiliated.

But it opened the flood gates. After Wally gave me a reassuring smile all my
withholds started to pour out.

I went through every issue of Penthouse magazine month by month telling
Wally all the bizarre things I`d imagined doing to these fine upstanding women,
and their friends.

By the time I was done Wally knew most of the Penthouse pets by name. And I could be wrong but I suspect his wife got a good rogering when he got home
that evening.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 07, 2009, 01:06:30 AM
                                      SENSE OF DOUBT

                                            Part 21

                                      Should I stay or should I go ?

The next topic Wally got me to address followed on from the first subject.
Wally had me read a reference by Hubbard that explained what happened
when someone exteriorized. Or in English...when the soul left the body.
How it works is like this. A guy either through a nasty shock or drug use
could exit his body under duress. The spirit or thetan, as Hubbard called it,
would become aware of being exterior and rush back to the body at full speed.
This would cause the body to jolt and make it feel as though it had been hit with a cricket bat.

This is exactly what I`d been experiencing since I was a child.
Hubbard went on to explain that this phenomena known as "out Int" would
restimulate death.  Ahh...  That spooky feeling !!!
This all rang true.

So now began the Int Rundown. A series of commands that Wally read out
getting me to restore balance on the subject of being interior and exterior.

It`s like if someone had been going West their whole life the balance could be restored by getting them to go East for a bit.
So this inside versus outside was run on me in every possible combination of
circumstances until I  hit a wall.
There was no avoiding it. I had something reading on the meter and when Wally
questioned me what it was I replied, "I don`t know. But I feel sure that I
face certain death if I bring it in."  Wally said. "We have processes that will bring you back." 
So with that assurance I took a leap of faith and welcomed death to give me its best shot.

What was fascinating about this encounter was that there was no imagery of
any kind whatsoever. In fact there was no sound or physical sensation of any kind. Even now I am at a loss to put into words what I encountered.

The best way I can describe it is the loss of your child.
You stand there looking at the empty crib. The "Winnie the pooh" cuddly toys
all quiet and still. There is no escape from the agony. Time has stopped.
I was enveloped by this pit of despair without beginning or end.
But I`d had worse. My upbringing had prepared me for this moment.

When I resurfaced the lights were on and it was dark outside. Hours of my
life had disappeared.
Wally ended the session and we called it a day.

When I awoke the next morning I was there completely.
I was in total joy. Every detail of my surroundings was crisp and clean.
There was a stillness and a sense of peace that embraced me.
The breaths that I`d been struggling to take for weeks all flowed
effortlessly. The air was sweet. All fear was gone.

As I made my way into the org I couldn`t understand why all the people
I encountered were so serious. Couldn`t they see the beauty everywhere.

Finally I had an identity.
I was a scientologist.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 08, 2009, 10:22:32 AM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                        Part 22

                                Don`t lose your head. 

When I told Wally about how good I was feeling he brought forward a few definitions for me to read. The word "clear" was on the list, but Wally was steering me towards the word "release". What that word meant was that a person  had temporarily dis empowered their reactive mind, or they`d keyed it out.

Wally told me that this state of release is what the Buddha had achieved and
it was no small feat.  I had something on my mind that I felt compelled to
mention. "I feel a bit of professional competitiveness with Ron. I`d been searching
for the way out for ages and I wanted to be the one who could lead humanity
out of darkness."  Wally looked at me like an old pro looks at a rookie and
discarded my comment with a throw away line... " There was no way you could."

"But I came close as Freud..."
Wally looked at his meter like he was talking to it.

"Were you Sigmund Freud ?"
"Were you Sigmund Freud ?
........  "Doesn`t look like it."

Despite that. no matter what chain of incidents I addressed in auditing I
inevitably would wind up back in that life time.
I specifically recall the vulnerability I felt by releasing cutting edge concepts on
the world. To have your ideas held up to scorn. To incite such anger.

One guy I remember really pissing off was Adolf Hitler.
To hear that your books were specifically listed for the infamous book burning
parties being held in Germany was very intimidating. Being Jewish didn`t help much either. As Hitler started to bully his way through Europe I had to call in a favor from a friend in England and I relocated there.

However the suppression I felt went deep. I developed cancer and despite
over twenty surgical procedures I eventually succumbed in 1938.
What people never got about my work was that the key to unlocking a persons
spirituality was to go via their sexuality.

They are so closely tied in with each other that one could be excused for
thinking they were the same thing. Yes it`s a controversial theory.
Much more so back in the 30`s.

After testing my theories in the laboratory of life for the next 70 years I
am ready for a comeback. I wonder if my old publisher is still in business?

Yes . I agree this is weird. Let`s get back to normal real life.

My relationship to my father had been a hot item and was central to
my case resolution.
Wally had been digging at it for some time with the tools Hubbard had
invented to make auditing engrams possible... These were later sold as
the Grades. These were things like problems, overts and withholds,
and ARC breaks. Now before one can have an ARC break one must have ARC.
So what is it ? 

A= Affinity. Hubbard used this as a substitute word for love.
R = Reality. This is essentially agreement. If everyone agrees then it becomes reality.
C= Communication.  The exchange of ideas between two terminals.

Put them all together and it equals "understanding."

All three elements must be in harmony for understanding to take place.
If I communicated a reality to you but with no affinity present, understanding would suffer.
There would be an ARC break.

By indicating, via the meter,  in each instance of an upset which part of the ARC triangle was
out of whack, one could recover from past upsets.
Hubbard then goes on to say that all ARC breaks are caused by an overt.

I did have multiple ARC breaks with my father.
But what was the overt ?


My eyes were shut and I could see my fathers eyes. He used to squint like
Clint Eastwood.
A picture was developing in my mind.  I could see those eyes staring at me
from ancient history. It was the 13th century. I was at an execution.
Not only was I at it, I was presiding over it.
Some poor wretch had his hands bound behind his back and was kneeling over
a chopping block. Crowds of people were there just like the final scene
from the movie "Cromwell" with Richard Harris in the starring role.

But what did any of this have to do with me ?
What overt could I possibly have that would have caused me to experience
such an ARC broken childhood?

Wally guided me whenever the needle jumped. I didn`t want to see this scene.
My confront was out.  I would have ended it there. But Wally was duty bound
to stay on the case till my needle floated.

The executioner  was a big hulking brute with sweaty muscles. He had a hood
over his head with two peep holes... Oh no.  The squinty eyes.

They looked straight at me as if seeking guidance.
Why me ?
Oh my God. I`m in charge.
I was the King of England.
I held my fist out in front of me just like I`d seen in those
films about Gladiator battles in the coliseums of ancient Rome.
Then with total disregard ....I paused.
Wally was insistant..."Go on...."

I turned my thumb  down and the axeman did a large ARC with his
axe stopping abruptly as it sliced through neck and embedded itself in
the bloody chopping block.

My needle was floating.

I was reeling. How could I have been so cruel. I never knew I was
capable of doing such a despicable thing to another human being.
But I guess what they say is true "Power corrupts."
Even then.... I still couldn`t believe I  had it in me to do such a thing.

If it hadn`t been for Ron, maybe I never would have even dreamed of it.

I was baffled. How could human beings act so viciously towards one another ?
I was told all my questions would be answered. I was taken off
auditing and signed up for the PTS course.

But before I started I was asked by Jo Neil to sign a release.
She explained I had sunken quite a bit of money into Scientology
now and it would be a bit of a problem for them if I demanded it back.
Surely I could see their point of view.
All the time they had invested in me would be wasted.
There was no choice... If I wanted to go on I had to sign a
legal agreement that I would never ask for a refund.

I signed it. But it doesn`t end there.  Not by a vast amount.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 09, 2009, 04:56:20 PM
                                SENSE OF DOUBT

                                          Part 23

                          The cause of all mans problems . Take 2.

I was back in the academy with a one page checklist and a small pile of
references in a manila folder.  I kind of understood what was going on. Hubbard
had discovered that there were certain personality types that were running rampant in the world causing misery in their wake. Hubbard called these guys
"Suppressive persons" and their victims "potential trouble sources" .
But, as with everything in Scientology, it was abbreviated down to PTS and SP.

The whole PTS/SP technology revolved around one reference in particular.
"The anti social personality. The anti scientologist"

According to Hubbard around 20% of the population would violently oppose any
betterment activity or group.
Hubbard listed some names of examples of such personalities from history.
Napoleon, Hitler, Dillinger, Pretty Boy Floyd, and Christie.

Hubbard pointed out that only 2 1/2 % of suppressive people are truly dangerous.
The other 17 1/2 percent were just under the influence of the 2 1/2 %.

If one knew how to recognize these 2 1/2 % then it would be to our advantage.

He listed 12 attributes that the anti social personalty has.

1. He or she speaks only in very broad generalities.
That would be like saying an entire profession was evil. An example would be
saying something like "all psychologists and psychiatrists are evil." It would also
bring about the mindset that all forms of help, other than your own, were bullshit.

2. Such a person deals mainly in bad news.
An example of that would be telling the world that we only had five years to live.
Or continually pointing out how bad the world was after those five years expired.

 3. The anti social alters to worsen communication. Such a person passes on bad news which is in fact invented.
That would be like saying that the greatest humanitarian of all time had allowed
all of his work to be available to the public for years without knowing a hatchet
job had been done on it by editors, transcribers and publishers.

 4.A characteristic and one of the sad things about an anti social personality is that it does not respond to treatment or reform or psychotherapy.
An example of this would be a group that had been caught out doing anti social things, promised to behave itself and then getting caught out again. Time after time.

 5. Surrounding such a personality we would find cowed or ill associates or friends
who , when not driven actually insane, are yet behaving in a crippled manner in life. Failing not succeeding.

Hard to think of examples of that in this modern age where people are far freer to come and go as they please. Unless they are under contract or some form of mind control to perform slave labor. While constantly being hit up for the meager
funds they are paid. This would be most evident if someone had dedicated their lives to this group and in their twilight years had absolutely nothing to show for it.

 6.The anti social personality habitually selects the wrong target.
In this instance, say every time you had a major flap you blamed it on hidden enemies or covert conspirators, and vested interests when it was quite
clear that your own incompetence was really to blame.

 7. The anti social cannot finish a cycle of action. Such become surrounded by incomplete projects.
Such an organization would naturally always bite off more than it could chew.
It would have large building projects littered across the globe that were all behind schedule, incomplete.

 8. Many anti socials will freely confess to the most alarming crimes when forced to do so but will have no faintest sense of responsibility for them.

This would be the type of organization that would sweep its victims under the carpet. There would be no apologies. No compensation. No public confessions.
No reassurance to the victims that there was any sense of remorse.

 9.The antisocial personality supports only destructive groups and rages against and attacks any constructive or betterment group.
A destructive group of course would be one that made people worse off than they were before they encountered the group.
It would be a group that deceived it`s members into believing they were in for something special that never arrives.
It would be a group that in its whole history had never produced one lasting product. And any individual or group who pointed
this out would be subject to overwhelming intimidation and dirty tricks. Yes such people would be raged against and attacked.

10. This type of personality approves only of destructive actions and fights against constructive or helpful actions or activities.
The artist in particular is often found as a magnet for persons with antisocial personalities who see in his art something that
must be destroyed and covertly `as a friend,`  proceed to try.

Well that would be like getting a big movie star to fire the manager who had made him the biggest star in the world and then
getting him to publicly make a fool of himself over and over again till he was a laughing stock.

11. Helping others is an activity which drives the anti social personality nearly beserk. Activities which however destroy
in the name of help are closely supported.

If a popular upraising arose to help the victims of this group it would drive the group beserk.
Meanwhile it would keep promoting its own methods whilst not allowing independent testing of their results.

12. The antisocial personality has a bad sense of property and conceives the idea that anyone owns anything is a pretense made up to
fool people. Nothing is ever really owned.

That one is easy. Such a group would tell its members that there is nothing more important they could
do than to hand everything, they mistakingly believe, they own over to them. Such a group would have a policy
that said "Make money. Make more money. Make others make more money for us." It would have a policy stating that it was "quite okay to take a persons last cent."

Whew!!!  That`s a lot to absorb. But I did it. With this knowledge to stand on, I had a 360 degree panoramic view of everything around me. I could see to the left. I could see to the right. Front and back as well.

Immediately I realized my father was a suppressive person.
He was anti social (to me) and that meant he was anti scientology as well.
So my enemies were scientology`s enemies .
And all of scientology`s enemies became mine by default.
I used to have one enemy. Now I had hundreds. But I had Rons PTS/SP tech to
help me eradicate the cause of all mans problems. The suppressive person(s).

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 10, 2009, 09:11:46 AM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                    PART 24

                                Just hanging out.

Despite my search through the PTS/CS1 there was no magic bullet there.
If you spotted one of these 20%ers, you could either handle them or disconnect.

But a few pages later there was a single page reference by Hubbard which was
very interesting to me. In it Ron states that Scientologists disconnecting from
suppressive friends and family members had created some problems with the church`s image and had created so much ill will that Ron himself had promised the New Zealand government that the policy on disconnection was cancelled.

So now only "handle" existed. There was a policy on avoiding having to "handle"
by not creating antagonism in the first place. Apparantly some scientologists must have been acting a bit like the master race around their loved ones. They`d been using their communication skills to shut people up by over acknowledging. Also telling people things they`d found out in scientology that their friends and family just weren`t ready to hear.
They`d also been evaluating for people as well. Telling them why they were so
stupid. And generally invalidating the people they associated with.

So it seemed the best idea was to just not talk about scientology. That way you wouldn`t create antagonism and get yourself all PTS.

Hang on a minute....  Where did he say you became PTS because
of anything other than association with a suppressive ??

I was a bit confused. However it was interesting reading. And gave a broad
overview of the problem. This course was just to familiarize one with the
whole PTS/SP phenomenon and there was an assurance that vast amounts of information on this subject was available if required.

See the point of the PTS/CS1 was to let you know that if you weren`t getting
gains or you were losing them shortly afterwards, it was because you were
connected to a Suppressive. That association would cause you to "roller coaster".  Feel great then feel terrible ...up and down... Happy then sad.
You would become a potential trouble source for the org. You`d get sick.
You`d commit overts, You`d wonder if you were being fleeced.

So instead of wondering if the technology you had a "closed mind" to, was
actually rubbish, you`d look outside for some other reason it wasn`t working.
And you could avoid so many problems by just keeping your big mouth shut.

I was back on auditing lines.
Much to my surprise Wally didn`t come to collect me. A woman did.
She was assigned to be my auditor from now on.
I didn`t like this one bit. But I didn`t want to create any antagonism.
So I followed her reluctantly to an auditing room directly opposite Wally`s.
His door was shut and there was an "In Session" sign hanging on the door.

We sat down and what struck me immediately about this woman was that she had the saddest looking pair of tits I`d ever seen in my life.
She`d obviously never worn a bra. I`d become a real fan of women`s breasts
and thought very highly of them. What I was seeing here was sacrilegious.
The only place I`d seen tits like these were in copies of National Geographic,
which I`d tossed back on the doctors waiting room table in horror.

She asked me to tell her in detail what I`d had for breakfast ???
It was all I could do to keep it down.
"Squeeze the cans."
"Very good.  Do you have a WITHHOLD ?

Yikes.  ........

Oh shit.......

Oh my God.......

I wanted to crawl under the table.
But that`s where they were.
I had no escape.



Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 12, 2009, 04:42:52 AM
                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                     Part 25
                                   Cold case.

The minutes ticked by.
I knew what I had to say.
It was like the first time I jumped off the high diving board as a kid.
You go..."Okay I`m going to jump in 3, 2, 1 Now. "
But my body wasn`t even slightly interested. It just froze.

I was using up valuable auditing time.
I felt like I was stuck in gridlock in a taxi watching the meter turning over.

"I`ll repeat the auditing question. Do you have a withhold ?"

I reached down again. ....  "I ....   I...... I...."

"Yes. Go on..." she encouraged sympathetically.

Unfortunately all that did was turn up the pressure.
She is putting herself into an emotionally vulnerable place where
what I`m going to say is only going to hurt worse.
This was a fucken nightmare.

Oh my God... Oh my God....

More time elapsed.
An hour passed.
Now a casual thought had developed into a full blown hostage stand off.
All the emergency service vehicles surrounded me. Negotiators were trying to
talk me into coming down and surrendering, through bull horns. The news helicopters were hovering overhead.

This was all too much.

I drew a deep breath, loaded my guns and went nuts.

" I`m a cave man. I stumble upon a cave woman wandering alone in the jungle.
I approach her from behind. She looks like Raquel Welsh in the movie "One million years BC." Well she does up till I get up close and she turns to look at me.
Her face is all melted. She must have fallen into a fire or a pool of lava.

I`m infuriated. I club her on the head and drag her back to my cave.
My wife is out rummaging for berries or being chased by a dinosaur.
Maybe I didn`t even have a wife. I don`t know.
I started to rape this semi conscious cave woman that I`d caught.
But her face is just so repulsive.
I decide to murder her. I cut her head off with some sharp stones
and throw it on the fire.

Then I stick my dick in the hole in her neck and fuck her like a cooked
chicken. Then I smash her to bits like Jack the ripper would have.
Blood, guts  and snot are flying everywhere.

I decide to move to a new cave.

"Your needle is floating."

I almost broke into a run as we went to the examiner.
If your needle doesn`t float at the examiners you have to go back
into session.
I tried to think of something pleasant. Come on... come on.
Freedom. Yes . Think of leaving the building.

I arrived at the examiners. My auditor, who had helped me so much already,
went looking for someone to check my meter.
Think of leaving the building...

Okay. Here is the examiner...
Looking at the meter now.
Looks at me......
"Your needle is floating."
YES !!!

I threw the cans down and "Elvis has left the building."

When I got home I phoned the org and told them I
wouldn`t be back.
An hour or so later the phone went.
Be here at 9:00 am tomorrow morning .
Wally will be auditing you.

"Okay. Bye."

In all the auditing I was to have over the next two decades that
gruesome  murder I committed was never to come up again.
Maybe someday archaeologists will unearth the crime scene and
the whole case will be reopened. But for now I feel pretty sure
I got away with it.

I don`t know what tipped me over the edge all those millenniums ago.
They say Helen of Troy had a face that launched a thousand ships.
I felt I`d seen something that would have sent them back again.
And I`m darn sure Helen of Troy never had saggy tits.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 15, 2009, 10:53:50 AM
                           SENSE OF DOUBT

                                           Part 26

                                The cause of all man`s problems . Take 3.

   I was back in Wally`s auditing room the next morning. We continued with my program as if the previous day had never happened.
The general title of what my auditing was all about was "Life Repair."
More and more ARC break auditing. I was finding it all a bit mechanical.   But another hot item was always sex. Intimate moments I shared with others seemed  to have a habit of reading on the meter and Wally was duty bound to free my needle up on those encounters.
This was very personal stuff that I`d never have spoken of otherwise.
It was about then my attention was drawn to an intercom mounted high on the wall. I asked Wally what it was. He told me it was there so that the Case Supervisor could listen in and make sure standard tech was being applied in the auditing rooms. Then Wally whispered to me that he`d disconnected the wires
and he gave me a wink.

It struck me as being a bit weird... Wally was writing down every word I was saying. I became aware that for some people , people with reputations to maintain, or people in positions of power, this part of auditing would really be
risky. What if this stuff was used for blackmail... If it fell into the wrong hands.

Then there would be those who`d committed criminal offenses. Every detail
of the crimes would be recorded either in writing or possibly on tape.

I was in neither position, so these problems didn`t exist for me.
I was an open book.

But I was aware of the powerful emotions wrapped up in this subject.
It`s hard to think of a more vulnerable place for an individual to be than the confession box. It was generally understood that confession was good for the soul. But Hubbard went further. His angle was that some of a person`s attention
units would be trapped in the moments they had wandered from the straight and narrow. These attention units would then modify a persons behavior in the present. The force of these attention units would act like an engram moving the organism away from danger.

So say one had harmed members of the opposite sex. By the time they`d gotten away with it a few times, this trapped theta would repel a person from members of the opposite sex. Spread this phenomenon across the dynamics and
you have a being struggling through life trying to avoid all the hot spots.

So the being would be subconsciously minimizing himself in an  effort to prevent
himself from causing further harm.  Diagnostically one could then see that any subject that a person was withdrawing from in life would be a subject where he or she had accumulated many overts or harmful acts, apparantly over many lifetimes.

Without Scientology and the e meter, to find these otherwise hidden incidents,
there would be no recovery. The disintegration of the being was a certainty.
Getting off overts and withholds was how one saved their soul.
As added incentive Hubbard, had released a "Ron`s Journal" which stated
that some religions talk about hell. He claimed hell was nothing compared to
what really happened to a being who fell out the bottom of life.

That`s why it was important that I tell my auditor all the intimate details
of the times I had lured women, attractive and otherwise, back to my caves.
And it was interesting that these all read on the meter.
As a preclear I was betraying confidences with wild abandon.
It became clear to me that my future sexual identity was being modified.
I`m just dropping this in here as part of what I was subjected to.
However as you can probably guess I`ll be bringing this topic up again as
I dig myself back out of the cave Hubbard was luring me into.

But there is something else going on that is so obvious no one notices it.

By telling someone about these private moments you are inviting them in
as you would a true friend or a lover.

I have seen many a time where a preclear has fallen in love with their auditor.
Years later at Flag I was working with male auditors who would gloat over the fact that their female PC`s had masturbated whilst thinking about them.
Obviously this had been divulged in session as part of withhold pulling.

Now what happens when you share intimate moments with someone is you
place them on the opposite end of the scale to being an enemy.
You begin to feel that your auditor is the only person in the world
who understands you and cares about you.

Two things started to happen. Firstly I started to bond with my auditor.
I was falling in love with him.
Secondly I was feeling physical movement in my brain.
This was not like feeling heavy or any generalized sensation.
I was actually feeling creaking and resettling.
Like an old house as winters cold penetrates it after a hot summer.

I told Wally about it.
He said "It`s just some mental mass moving off.
I was feeling lighter . Maybe he was on to something.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 18, 2009, 07:52:41 AM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                        Part 27

                                Getting better all the time.

At one point I originated to Wally that I was still to run an engram.
According to what Hubbard had said in Dianetics any moments
of unconsciousness would have been recorded by the reactive mind.
Auditing out these engrams would bring those moments into my conscious mind
for the very first time.

During engram running I was supposed to be able to retrieve everything that happened around me while I`d been unconscious.
I`d had a hernia operation when I was eight years old.
So I went back to that moment, desperately wanting to find out what
had happened while I was under anesthetic. Try as I might I got nothing.
After a while I remembered being driven home from the hospital by
my father. As we passed an intersection I had a deja vu feeling.
Then I realized I`d been hovering above the intersection watching the
traffic whilst I was being operated on.

No engram there apparently.
What about that last assault before I left home at 15 ?
No. Apparently I experienced the whole thing in my conscious mind.

All I had left was birth and pre natals.
I squirmed and wriggled, as you do trying to escape this confined space.
But after a while I was putting more into it than I was getting out of it.

It seemed I was engram free. So I set off down the whole track looking
for moments of unconsciousness.
I spent a bit of time looking at my life as a Roman soldier.
Wasn`t it validating when I stood in a line as our paymaster dropped a small bag of salt in each soldiers hand. I opened it up and realized
my school teacher had been right. Roman soldiers were often paid with salt.

I also spent time back in the days of the pyramids with the Egyptians.
I saw images of myself in a long line of naked male slaves all taking turns
at giving Cleopatra a good rogering. Man she made Marilyn Chambers look frigid.

I even saw some life times millions of years ago where I was involved
in Space opera... just like scenes from Star Wars.

But none of these were engrams.
I quizzed Wally about it.
His response "You only accrue an engram when you don`t take responsibility for the incident."

This was new.

Here is what was happening. I would run out of material when answering questions about a certain subject.
Let me give an example.
I was relating specific moments where I felt like an unwanted child.
So I went back in time and came to the incident when I was kicked like
a football at age four.
But Wally then asks... "Is there an earlier similar incident ?"
I say "Not that I`m aware of."
He then acknowledges that and says "Let me just check that again.
Is there an earlier similar incident?....He checks the meter and says  "Looks like there is something there..."

So now I have to find something to answer the question.
I start to get imagery of brown colored brick buildings.
I have never seen these style of buildings.
Hang on a minute... Yes I have... on Coronation Street.
I`m in England and it is 1958. The year I was born.
I am a 20 year old male and my mother is kicking me out of home.
I was a drug user. Plus I owned an electric guitar.
Just like the one David Bowie is holding on the cover of "Ziggy Stardust."

I walk past a large hedge , just like the one at Mangere lawn cemetery.
I am so sad because I am an unwanted child that I take more drugs
and have a heart attack and drop dead at age 20.

My needle is floating.

You are not allowed out of an auditing session until you have a floating needle.
Kind of makes you wonder what could happen to your mind under these circumstances.
Would it provoke someone into inventing scenarios that would explain the
mysteries in their life?  Would these scenarios seem relevant to ones
present life ? Would those images seem as real as say hazy images of early childhood ?
It didn`t really matter. All I cared about was, the more I did it , the better I felt.
And after so many years of misery, I did so much want to feel better.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 22, 2009, 07:46:46 AM
                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                           Part 28.

                                  "Feel my anger. Thank you." 

While making my way to the Examiner after each auditing session I`d feel
as if I was floating. It felt as if I`d just  just gotten back from an adventure.
Kind of reminded me of the times I`d been up to the local cinema as a kid
for a Saturday matinee.
After the movie,you`d step out of the dark cinema into the bright sun and take a few moments to re adjust to the real world.

I`ve never tried it, but it would be interesting to see what holding the electrodes
(cans) of an e meter for several hours would do without any auditing.
After all, the meter is passing a half volt of electricity through your body
while you are hooked up.

I wonder if that would account for the feelings of euphoria??

My auditing was grinding to a halt.
I was asked by the examiner if I`d like to write a success story,
 as she thrust a clip board at me.

I wrote; "I have definitely changed. I feel different. And as I know I`m not worse, I can only conclude that I am better."

It is interesting to look at this in retrospect.
The fact of the matter is, the only long term gain I got in about one hundred
hours of auditing, was what happened when I left my auditor behind and
took off on my own to confront death.
I was gone for maybe three hours. Nothing was said.
I was not being audited at that time. However as it occurred in an auditing session I mistakenly attributed it to Hubbard`s brilliant technology.

I`m not trying to sound like some sort of hero here. The truth of the matter is I was shit scared. But I held that fear and embraced it. When I came back the fear
was gone. Soon I`ll tell you what really happened and how it could help you to
reconnect with who you really are.

I was put back in the academy where I pursued my training with vigor.

That feeling of love and joy I`d experienced was something I realized was
available to everybody and I assumed that Scientology could deliver it.
So I started bringing people into Scientology. Friends, family, people I`d meet
at work or on public transport. I literally walked hundreds of people through the
Auckland Scientology organization.

I`d learned to do a thing called a "touch assist."
This is a procedure taught on the HQS course for handling body problems.
There is a strict procedure to follow. However what one is doing by touching
a person on alternate sides of their body is drawing their attention to it.
You are coaxing the spirit to get back into communication with their body.
It`s obvious that a person with a sore leg is not in good communication with that leg. Restore the communication and healing occurs. Makes sense.

My younger brother Bruce was feeling out of sorts. I brought him into the org with me the next evening and asked if I might borrow an auditing room to run
a touch assist on him.

I really loved Bruce. We had been through a lot together and my enthusiasm for David Bowie`s music had exposed Bruce to this cutting edge art as well.
We were both avid fans.

I began the touch assist. "Feel my finger. Thank you. Feel my finger. Thank you."
Every so often I`d inquire about his condition.
Seems he just had a general feeling of being unwell.
I spent over an hour with him. But there was no change.

He was probably just bored when he originated that he was feeling a little better.
That was my cue. "Okay. End of touch assist."
I`d seen a hundred times what was done next. I took my PC to up
to Qual, sat him down and called out "Examiner."

Much to my surprise Dave Theobold, came out from behind a partition
walked out into the passage way where I was standing and grabbed me by the scruff of the neck. He shunted me down the passage way around a corner and held me against a wall. With his hand almost choking me, he put his face up to mine and threatened "It`s examiner PLEASE !"

He released his grip on my neck, and wandered casually back to Qual and took my brother`s exam.

I was just baffled by this. You know this behavior from the guy who`d
assured me that Hubbard would not condone this type of violence when I`d been
assaulted by Paul Godfrey.

This was just nuts.

Bruce`s needle didn`t float.
That means that Qual would lose all their stats if this wasn`t handled within
24 hours. But I didn`t know that at the time.

The next evening I was back on course.
I stayed back late that evening to help the org fold pamphlets for a bulk mail out.
Then I took the late bus home.
As I entered the house my younger brother Lloyd, was standing there. He 
said three words that still haven`t really sunk in...

"Bruce is dead."

He was 18 years old.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 23, 2009, 09:07:29 AM
                                SENSE OF DOUBT

                                         Part 29

                                 It`s happening outside.

I walked through the house to find my mother standing stunned in the kitchen.  My new found view point on life inspired a few words of comfort to her.
I said "He`s not dead. He`s just left his body."

Years later I was told that when my older brother and sister had arrived to break the
sad and unexpected news to mum, they`d walked in , but before they had a chance to say anything my mother had said "It`s Bruce isn`t it."

Apparantly Bruce had been out with a friend and as was typical of teenagers those days, they had a car with a dodgy battery. They`d been visiting a friend
but when it came time to leave the car engine wouldn`t turn over.

Bruce had climbed out and was attempting to push the car so they could jump start it. What was not known by anyone was that Bruce had been born with
a heart defect. The strain of pushing the car had caused his heart to fail.
He dropped to the ground and it was all over.

I went out to my sleep out.
There are so many emotions running through your mind at a time like this.
I was worried about how Bruce was coping with the loss of his body.
As I lay there in the dark, tears formed in my eyes.
If only I could have a few moments with you Bruce. Just to tell you how
much I care for you.

And there he was.
I could feel him across the room.
Was I imagining it ?
Can a mother recognize her own baby by its scent ?

He said nothing. He was not afraid. I`d heard at the org that if
you encounter a disembodied thetan (spirit) you should say this to them...
"Pick up another body and get into scientology."
I told Bruce this.
He seemed amused.  He looked around at all the David Bowie posters I had on the wall of my room.

Then he was gone.

The next morning I awoke and felt that same calm presence that I`d experienced after the time I embraced death.
There is this timeless sparkle to everything.
It`s like your favorite song  has entered your soul.

I went inside and just fluffed around. Nobody was saying much.
At some point my older sister arrived. We hadn`t seen each other since it
happened. We embraced.
It came up somehow that the lady we had lived next door to where
we grew up needed to be told. She had since moved to Papatoetoe
and no one knew her phone number.
My older sister offered to drive me to her new home so we
could tell her about Bruce.

So we set off up Buckland Road , did the short dog leg of Portage
road and then headed towards Papatoetoe along Station Road.
We could have done this at any time that morning.
A phone call could have delayed our departure.
Someone could have started a conversation that would have held us up
for a few seconds.
But no. We left at that exact time and were now on Station Road at that
precise moment.

My attention was gently pulled towards the traffic coming towards us.
And there to my utter disbelief was David Bowie.

He was driving a yellow four wheel drive and we passed each other.
"Holy fuck !!!!!!   That was David Bowie !!!"
My sister looked at me speechless.

I tried to gather my senses.
Okay. I`m in shock. I`m hallucinating. No. That was him alright.
But how is it possible the biggest rock star in the world ,at the time, was driving through my poky little town ???

My body couldn`t contain my excitement.
I was on an emotional roller coaster ride. Every cell in my body was tingling.
I just saw David Bowie. This is the most priceless gift anybody could have ever given me.

That evening my phone rang. It was a buddy of mine.
He said. "You`re not going to believe this.... I have a friend who works at Henderson Rentals and you`ll never guess who came in today and
rented a yellow four wheel drive..."
"Was it David Bowie ????"

"How the fuck did you know that ? he asked.
"Because I saw him driving down Station Road in Papatoetoe."

I have further confirmation that I wasn`t hallucinating.
In 1999 Susan Wood interviewed Bowie on TV via satellite.
She asked him if he`d ever gotten out and about here in New Zealand.
He replied that he`d rented a four wheel drive and drove about 20 minutes
south of Auckland and back.

Now of course despite the billions to one chance of all these variables coming together in perfect unison, some could speculate that it was all just an amazing coincidence.

But I have a different take on it. It`s a personal one.

Bruce... Thank you so much for your wonderful gift.
You must have been so pleased with yourself to have pulled it off.
Every time I think about it, my heart is filled with absolute love
for the great mystery that we all share, known as LIFE.

  Cue  "Heroes."


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 29, 2009, 08:34:24 AM
                            SENSE OF DOUBT

                                         Part 30

                                    Billion year baby

  The next evening I went into the org. News about Bruce had gotten around. And pretty soon I was taken in for an auditing session. An elderly gentleman named Phil took me in. He asked me to tell him about hearing the news of Bruce`s death.  He was getting me to run the incident as an engram. So I went back to the moment I came through the front door and heard the news.
Then he insisted I go through it again, and again, and again. I was just not getting into it. I told Phil that this was just a waste of time. But he assured me that we needed to run it through again.
So I did one more time. I put myself right back there as if it was happening again.

Gees. I`m done with this. Phil started to get angry with me. He was like a school teacher forcing his student to complete his homework assignment.

I tried to calm him down. "Listen ... This is just a waste of time. I`ve had enough of this." How could I get it through to him ?

After an hour or so Phil finally gave up and took me to the Examiner.
Just my luck ... It`s fucken Dave Theobold. My needle didn`t float.
I thanked Dave for letting me know this with my best table manners.
The last thing I needed right now was another assault.

The next day I was standing outside a funeral home in Otahuhu.

It was a sunny day and I thought of all the things Bruce and I could have been doing.
I entered the building and a pleasant lady escorted me to a room where
a single coffin was on display.

It was open and I peered in. Man this is a sobering experience.
He`s laying there as if frozen in time. Still and silent.
I felt powerless.
I could hear the sounds of life outside. Through the net curtains I could see cars
and the occasional person go by.
Then I began to feel agitated, like a teenager stuck at home on a Saturday night.
I turned around and walked out.

The next morning when I awoke Bruce was there waiting for me.
No. I couldn`t see or hear him. It was just a presence.
But as obvious to me as a chord change in a song.

Later that day I was at the funeral.
My father was there.
Neither of us made eye contact.

That night I was back in session.
This time it was Dick Povall sitting in the drivers seat.
He got me hooked up and tuned in then asked what the
deal was with the session I`d had with Phil.
I told him it was unnecessary to run Bruce`s death as an
engram or a secondary.
A secondary is a moment of loss that restimulates and activates
an engram. Then every time it gets activated thereafter it becomes a lock.
So one ends up with a chain of incidents all with a common theme.

Dick enquired why it hadn`t been necessary to run the loss out.
I explained that Bruce had appeared to me minutes later and
although I was frustrated at my ignorance of what was going on
I hadn`t actually suffered a loss. Not on a level that unhinged me.
"Your needle is floating."

A few days later I was asked to come in to the org to see a Sea Org member
named Andrew Stevens.
He had also been a musician and we struck a chord together.
Andrew had actually played saxophone on a record I had.
It was a song called "Learning about living" by a band called "Animal farm."
It came out in 1971 and I had it on a record of the Loxene Golden disc awards finalists.
I`m pretty sure the song "Smiley"  by Craig Scott won that year.

Andrew invited me to join the elite of Scientology...The Sea org.

He assurred me that my desire to understand life and help others
would be fulfilled by like minded people who had dedicated their
lives to just that cause.

I did so much want to see an end to suffering.
He pulled out the contract.
Did I read that right ?  "A billion years.!"
Andrew explained it was a big job.

Mmmm.... I mentally checked my diary.
Apparently there was nothing in it.

So I had the choice.... spend my eternity salvaging this sector of
the galaxy, or putting on weight and blocking supermarket isles like everyone

The choice was obvious.   I signed.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 05, 2009, 12:43:40 PM
                                     SENSE OF DOUBT

                                        Part 31.

                                     Cuts both ways.

I really had no idea what I was in for by joining the Sea Org.

I had a desire to understand life and to help other people.
The nearest Sea Org base was in Sydney Australia.
So that meant having to leave everything I knew behind me
and set off into an uncertain future.

Naturally I told my family and friends that I would be moving to Australia.
One night I was walking a girl home whom I`d been having a relationship with.
I`d taken her into the org and she was doing the communication course.
As we walked I could hear something rattling in her bag.
"What`s that rattling in your bag?" I asked.
"Just some pills." she replied.

"But what are you taking pills for?"
She had no answer.
I persisted

After a while she broke down and told me,
"They are in case I can`t cope."
"Cope with what?" I asked.

"In case I can`t cope with losing you."
I had no idea she felt like that about me.

The next day when I went into the org I told Andrew what had happened the
previous night.
I was passed around from desk to desk until I was put at a desk with
a pen and paper and told to do an O/W write up.

It was explained to me that somewhere else in the org the girl
in question was doing the same thing.
Apparently the reason she felt sad about me leaving was because she had committed overts on me.

According to what I was told , if a person can be the adverse effect of
something it is because they have harmed that thing.
I was now unable to join the Sea Org because of the PR flap that would occur if this girl topped herself. I was the adverse effect of this girl.
And she was threatening suicide if I was to go. So she had overts on me.

I was told that when I`d finished writing down every evil deed I had done to this girl I would be sent to the examiner to see if my needle floated.

I`d just come out of over 100 hours of auditing. Surely I didn`t have any more

Then I was told about the two different types of overt.
There was the one I already knew about. An overt of commission.
That`s where one actively does something harmful to the dynamics.
Maybe something like fraud.

Now I learned about the overt of omission.
This is where failing to act could be an overt.
Say for example I became aware of fraud and stayed quiet about it.
This opened up a whole new door.
It seemed to be a bottomless pit.
There was all the litter I`d never picked up.
There was all the charities I hadn`t donated to.
The starving millions in third world countries that I`d never fed.
Luckily I had to stay on topic and just write down my overts of omission
and commission relevant to this particular girl.

The way it was done was by thinking of something you`d done, or not done, that you  didn`t want the world to know about. Then write a short explanation under the following four headings.
Time. Place. Form, and Event.

Here is an example...
Mid 1979

Auckland. New Zealand

This was an overt of commission.
Specifically, orchestrating the break up of a relationship
to serve ones own ends.
A strategy was put in place to introvert and dis empower the party deemed of value to us and to terrorize the other into silence. This was justified as being for the greater good. Despite the fact that it was contrary to the PR line taken.

As I began to write I told Pat Illingworth that what I was writing was going
to be of a very personal and sensitive nature and I didn`t want it bandied around. 
She assured me that  my write up would be turned over to the Case Supervisor
by the examiner and would not go anywhere else.

When I put the pen down an hour or so later, I marched up to the examiner
and passed the floating needle test.
I went and made myself a cup of tea and awaited further instructions.
Soon after that I was taken to the Ethics officer. Much to my surprise
Lynnaire Ensor was sitting at her desk just turning the last page of my write up.
She looked at me and said..."You need to get your ethics in !!!"

By the end of the night I was aware of six people who had read my write up.

I waited at reception. The girl who`d threatened suicide walked out escorted by
Vicky Dickey. She looked like she was about to explode.
I drove her home.
She said nothing. I never saw or heard from her again.

I`ve no idea what was done to her behind those closed doors.
All I know is something more motivational than love or suicide had
Seems Andrew Stevens didn`t want to know me after this episode.
He returned to Sydney empty handed.

This wouldn`t be the last time I would witness Scientology interfering
in peoples personal relationships.
And I`ve also seen opportunities where Scientology could have used
their "How to save your marriage" technology to salvage a marriage
but it was withheld.

It seems that if one partner was not an asset to scientology`s
aims of a world without war, crime and insanity then preserving that
marriage was of no interest to them.

And there lies my example of an overt of omission.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 07, 2009, 07:59:10 AM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                       Part 32

                                  Clear as mud.

Pretty much from this point forward I was contacted at least once
a day via phone. It seemed as if the moment anyone at Scientology had a
thought, I`d get a phone call.
Somebody was in town from overseas and they wanted to see me.
Or there was a briefing I had to attend. But mainly it was to confirm that
I was confirmed for an upcoming event.

One such event was a special new release and "all scientologists had to attend."

I arrived with three friends at the Ellen Melville Hall that Saturday evening.
As we entered the lobby the stairs were in darkness a drum was being struck
every five seconds somewhere up on a higher level.
As one ascended the stairs there were little alcoves with live works of art in them. There was a motorcycle crash scene with enough gore to satisfy any seasoned rubber necker. Then there was a guy laying in the gutter with a syringe
in his arm. All these scenes of human decadence.
The live models in each scene were motionless. It was really surreal.

Then at the top of the stairs one went through a curtain, out of the darkness
and into the bright lights of the main hall. This is where the event was to be held.
The place was filling up nicely. Double the amount of people  that I`d seen at
earlier events. Liesa Collins was there to greet each person as they entered.
She smiled warmly and pointed out that each person was actually walking on a small bridge. When you looked down ...sure enough she was right.

Someone had constructed a small ramp to symbolize Hubbard`s bridge to total freedom. It was a bit wobbly.

The event started with a woman talking about how much Hubbard cared about us and had spent many years researching how people could get more gains per hour of auditing.

The result was now proudly being announced. NED was here.
New Era Dianetics.  Auditing was now going to be 80% faster.
All those who had crashed and burned in their prior auditing could now avail themselves to NED and finally achieve the elusive state of clear.

There were many sighs of relief throughout the room.
When it was all over a large portrait of Hubbard was pointed to and a standing
ovation followed. Hip hip hooray, hip hip hooray, hip hip hooray.

Registrars were located at desks positioned around the exit door allowing
each person a chance to see how they could take advantage of Hubbard`s new
discoveries. It turns out Hubbard had not put all his new discoveries into a book
that one could buy for a couple of bucks. NED was a course that could only be done in a Scientology academy. It wasn`t cheap.

Hubbard must have been so busy. A few weeks later there was an announcement.
Now that NED had clarified what the state of clear was, it was suspected that
many scientologists had actually gone clear, but hadn`t noticed it.
The clear check was released.
It was only $50. Before long there was a stream of scientologists being
brought through to the academy to be announced as CLEAR.

A large bit of cardboard was mounted in the passageway beside the HGC and
within a week there were one hundred signatures on it of newly attested clears.

Wally Collis was doing the clear checks, and I`d use any excuse to have a chat with him so I paid my $50 and the next day I was back in Wally`s auditing room.
I was excited. Maybe I to was clear. Let`s see.

I held the cans and Wally asked me ."When do you think you might have gone clear ?". I closed my eyes and scanned my memory for any blips.

Yeah...I had something.  I see a ship. This is the lifetime when I was Sigmund Freud. I saw the ship sinking just like the Titanic had.
I used all my attention to try to make sense of this.
Then I recalled a conversation I`d had with a colleague about this wonderful
feeling that had come over me one evening in my study, as I lay on my psychiatrists couch. I`d been mentally going through my latest theory regarding the mind when I was overcome with a feeling of love and connectedness to everything.
I`d told my colleague about this and felt devastated when he poo poo`d the
idea. I took a boat trip shortly after and the memory of that conversation had
sent me into a severe depression. The boat hadn`t sunk. I`d such a clear memory of wishing it would.
It`s like all my lifes work had been for nought.

Wally asked me to return to the moment I thought I`d gone clear.
I was back on the couch.
"What year is this ? " he asked.

......" Nineteen hundred and thirty five."
"What time ?"
 ............ Five ...............Oh shit...!!!
Time disappeared. The seconds all melted into one long stream of consciousness then I transcended it.
I was drifting outside of the physical universe.
The total love and joy I was experiencing was indescribable.

Wally called me back..."Your needle is floating."

I was bundled up and rushed off to the examiner.
"Your needle is floating."
Next thing I`m being announced to the course room as the "latest
person to achieve the state of clear."

I was applauded. It felt wonderful. People were smiling.
Here I was on top of the world, and people weren`t beating me up.
I was being accepted. I could feel the tears in my eyes.

The Course supervisor could sense how special this moment was for me.
"And let`s give a hand to LRH. "
Yeah why not. I didn`t care who crashed my party.

I signed the big poster in the HGC (Hubbard guidance centre.)
I was Clear number 124 in New Zealand.

I was still busy bringing new people into scientology.
This always included a tour through the building.
It`s then that I noticed my PC folders, all four of them, on the auditors admin
desk. There were all sorts of books and references open.
Someone had been busy looking at my case.

When I saw them later they were short one folder and the there was a package
of brown wrapping paper containing what I assumed was the most recent one.
Written on it was...
All in bright red marker pen.

Within a few weeks a new technical bulletin came down on a priority basis.
I read it with interest.
Hubbard was declaring that it was impossible to go clear with psychoanalysis.
Only Dianetics can produce a clear. No other therapy or practice that has
ever existed will produce the state of clear. It is a new state in this universe.

I waited for my clear status to be withdrawn.
But it never was.
Was I still clear ?
I`d never audited out any engrams.
And Hubbard didn`t invent the state of Clear till 1950.
Yet I went clear in 1935.
It had been verified on the e meter.

I`d have to wait several months before Hubbard invented the "Clear certainty Rundown."

Then I`d be able to clear up whether or not I was clear.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 08, 2009, 09:56:48 AM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                    Part 33

                                Lethal weapon.

I wasn`t concerned about whether or not I was clear. I was noticing that
all those who had attested to the state of clear were just as crazy as ever.
When I brought this up I was told that if someone was made into a clear, yet
they had no training, they would revert back to the same old behavioral patterns.

I was even shown a reference in Hubbard`s Scientology technical dictionary.
It was the words "Cleared cannibal." Hubbard explained that if you cleared a cannibal he would continue to eat people, but he`d be the best at it out of all the cannibals.

Not knowing any fine young cannibals I had to take Hubbard`s word for it.

However I was shown some new material that I found fascinating.
It was Hubbard`s dissemination technology.
Based around a four step procedure, it is a mind control tool which , correctly
used renders the victim putty in your hands.

Over the years I came to master this process. I`d actually go so far as to say
I have never seen anyone apply it better than I could. Even top Scientology execs.

Like everybody else, I get religious people knocking at my door.
I am always highly amused at how ineffective they are.
Their techniques are so bad I stare at them in disbelief.
They are essentially sales people and I`ve encountered actual sales people who are just as useless.

I want to teach you some of what I`ve come to learn on the subject. And I invite any critiques or opinions on the following. I never apply this stuff myself anymore.
However I`m still interested in the subject.

Here is the bottom line.  People buy what they need. They are "sold" what they don`t need.

If you listen to a sales guy training salesmen. He`ll inevitably tell you...
"It`s a numbers game." You approach 1,000 people and you get one sale.
So approach 2.000 people and you get two sales.
Naturally it follows that if you want five have to ....

And that`s what these religious groups are doing. They are approaching thousands of people waiting to find the person who life`s circumstances have already placed in an emotional space where a close is assured.

Yet I can assure you, I could go out with these religious doorknockers and get
a close one for one. I`m not talking about something I imagine I could do.
I actually did it. What would be the hardest thing in the world to sell ?
We`ll I can assure you it is Scientology. It has a PR image from hell.
It`s over priced and ... well here is an example. In all the years I worked in
Scientology public divisions, I only ever once had someone walk in wanting Scientology. This guy came in one Saturday afternoon holding a Scientology pamphlet and he liked the colour of it.

He then proceeded to tell me the FBI had placed a bugging device in his tooth.
I told the people listening in, that I was sending their agent back out on the street.

So reach for Scientology from the world.

What I learned from Hubbard is that you don`t wait for Life`s circumstances to
place a person in the frame of mind where they are susceptible to your charms.

You manipulate them into a frame of mind where what you are selling becomes desirable to them.

So say you are pushing the sale of a screw driver on a guy... Rather than
tell him the merits of your screwdriver... Why not just find an area of his life where he has a screw lose.

Here are the steps
1.) Contact
2.) Handle
3.) Salvage
4.) Bring to understanding.

A book could be written on each of these steps. And any sales technique could be placed into one of these categories.

The steps must be accomplished in order. If you don`t fully achieve the step
you are on, the next one won`t open up for you.

But realize this, if a sale takes place, these steps were all in.
If you didn`t know these steps, then you just got lucky. You found your
one in a thousand.

Contact ) Is all about getting a rapport with the person. Reading them and tuning in. The mistake people make here is including time into the equation.
You just stay tuned in to the person till you have their trust.

Handle.) Once you are positioned as a friend (genuine or not)
in the persons mind, you can mention what you are all about.
Watch and listen for any hesitancy from the prospect.
Take up any negativity the person has on this subject and
handle it till you reestablish the bond you had prior to the intrusion of this new element.

Say for example you are selling God to someone and they say "But Religion has
caused more human suffering than any other single subject in the world."
You could point out to them that God isn`t a member of any religion.
Just make sure you are putting their mind at ease on the subject.

Salvage.)  Here one finds the person`s "ruin".
You are looking for an aspect of the persons life that they would like
to have resolved. Sometimes this is best achieved by getting the person
to imagine their life as they would wish it to be.
You must get the person emotionally involved at this stage.
They must get the experience of having an ideal scene.
Then you ask them what is preventing them from achieving that.

" My current partner is holding me back."
" I can`t seem to make enough money."
" I can`t seem to lose weight."
" I`m disorganized."
" I`m too shy."
" My carpet is a depressing colour."
" I hate my job."
It doesn`t matter what their ruin is.

Ask them how they`d feel if this aspect of their lives was completely resolved.

Bring to understanding.)
This is where you dangle the solution in front of them.
No selling is needed. The person has now been manipulated into a position
where you hold the keys to their happiness and contentment for the small fee of

That`s the close.
If they don`t rush for their cheque book you have fucked up an earlier step.
Simple as that.

The above is the basic steps. I could write a book on each of the steps.

But was the thing you sold the person really the solution to their problems?
Well that`s a whole other subject. If your confidence in the product or service you are selling diminishes, it will create an ethical dilemma for you.

I sold Scientology products and services for years. I was good at it.
I believed what I was selling would solve these peoples problems.

Pressure was being put on me to join staff at the local Scientology org.
I had been handled so incompetently by the existing staff, that I knew the New Zealand public had no chance of getting onto Hubbard`s bridge to total freedom without my help.

Oh...What to do ??

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 09, 2009, 09:30:00 AM
                                   SENSE OF DOUBT

                                            Part 34

                                    Slave to freedom

I had been working for a Private Detective till he was sent to jail for blackmailing
someone. The Police case against him was presented by Detective Inspector
Bruce Hutton. He was the guy who it was later discovered had orchestrated the
planting of false evidence at the crime scene in the Crew Murders. Causing
one Arthur Allan Thomas to have to endure two high court trials and over eight
years in jail for a crime he absolutely never committed.

My boss was out of jail now, but a new Bill had been passed as a result of his trial.
It became known as the Private Investigators and security guards act.
The Bill had stipulated that Private Detectives should be licensed, and that
they had no criminal convictions in the last ten years, also that they be over the age of twenty.
So that ended both our careers.

Ray, my boss, was absolutely set up by Bruce Hutton.
I know this for a fact. I was working for him at the time.

A year and a half passed before Ray was released from jail.
Ray was quite the entrepreneur and had purchased a do up house that we
were both working on. One day while I was doing some painting a news flash
came over the radio. "Eleven top Scientologists have been arrested in the United States and Canada for burglarizing Government offices."

I dropped what I was doing and phoned the org.
Terry Nicholson answered the phone.
I told him what I`d just heard. Apparantly it was old news to Terry.
He`d already been briefed on it, before the media got a hold of it.

Terry explained that the whole thing had been a set up. It wasn`t as serious as it sounded, and that in fact all the staff were laughing about it.

I had just had personal experience of the carnage a bent cop could create,
so I easily fell for the PR angle Scientology was taking.

When Detective Inspector Bruce Hutton was publicly exposed for setting up
Arthur Allan Thomas, as portrayed  in the film "Beyond Reasonable Doubt, based on the book of the same name by David Yallop, Hutton resigned from the Police force and purchased a farm in Mangere.

It was just pure coincidence that one of the properties that backed onto his farm was being leased by a Scientology front group called Narcanon.
I went out there one time as I had a friend who was out of control with his drinking.
There were three staff there and no customers whatsoever.
Dave Fulton seemed to be in charge. The other two were Brian Moore and Dave Sampson.  Brian and Dave  F. explained how they got someone off drugs and alcohol.

There was a thing called the sweat program. Substance abusers were required to take vitamins, jog and sauna, meanwhile doing the Communication Course.

My friend decided it was easier to be a substance abuser than do all that.

Finally I succumbed to all the pressure to join staff at the local org.
I signed the two and a half year contract late on a Friday night.
I had stipulated that I was willing to do any job except doing the initial contact
surveys out on the street.
It was agreed.

I had to take a bus in on Saturday morning for my first day as a Scientology staff member. I ended up arriving a few minutes late and was told off by Lynnaire Ensor. When I was shown where my basket was in the communication center I discovered someone had already sent me a welcome to the team note.
It was a "Late chit" from Gwen Keon. Five chits and there would be an ethics hearing .

I just felt like getting all my overts and walking straight out the fucking door.
These Scientologists were extremely fascinating as people, but so short sighted, it never ceased to amaze me.

There was absolutely no personal benefit to me in being there.
The pay was often around $2.00 for a forty hour week.
I was openly disliked by 90 % of the staff.
I realized that no one in their right mind would stay in this asylum.

So ... who was going to save the world ?

If I didn`t pitch in and do my bit who would ?
No one was stepping up to the plate.
People were out there suffering. Ron had found the way out.
Oh fuck it. I`m here now. May as well make the most of it.

I was taken down to see the Staff section officer and was given a
program of courses I had to do to train me for my job.
Then I had to sign a promissory note that I would be liable for the full cost
of this training should I ever break my staff contract.

So immediately I was financially obligated to stay for the length of the contract.
I guess that was Hubbard`s way of inspiring you to stay with the program.
See... I had no personal reason to be there. But now I had a reason to not, not be there.

An event was being promoted. This was going to be the  big one.
Hubbard had discovered what was behind the downfall of society.
The cause of all mans problems, take four.

Now I wasn`t getting a stream of phone calls to reconfirm, that the reconfirmation of me confirming I would attend each event was confirmed.
We as staff were informed that failure to attend this event would result in
an automatic treason assignment.

Treason is the only crime in New Zealand where one can still, to this day, receive the death penalty.

This was serious stuff.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 10, 2009, 10:27:25 AM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                              Part 35

                                          Run like hell

I was posted in Division six in the Auckland Foundation org. Foundation hours
were nine till five weekends and six till ten week nights. Division six was responsible
for getting new people into Scientology. The main tool for this was as follows.
A person would stand on Queen Street at the entrance to The Imperial Arcade
with a clip board doing a fake survey.

Once he had hooked a public individual his job was to get them upstairs to the testing center. Here the person would be passed to the testing I/C (in charge).
He`d set them up to fill in the 200 question personality test.

When they`d finished that he would draw their results on a graph and present
that and the person to the test evaluator.
His job was to go over the results with the person and point out the persons ruin.
Then the person was turned over to the registrar who would sign the person up for a course. If the person was a tourist, unavailable for a course,  or not interested in a course then at the very least they were to be sold a book.
If they did sign up for a course then they were taken to the Basic Course room
and turned over to the Basic Course Supervisor.

You see the assembly line method here.
That was five people, five different functions. During the evenings we had those
posts covered. There was mediocre success. However on the weekends I held
all five posts myself and had a 100 % success rate.

Yes I was good. But it also shows the assembly line approach wasn`t
very effective in the Public area.

The reason it fell apart was ,  the fourth and fifth terminals were having to deal with a person whom they knew nothing about. As soon as the person balked
they had no data to work with. This would often be exasperating for the new customer.

It was only a matter of a week or two and I was promoted to the position of
Public Executive Secretary. I was the boss of the public division for Auckland Foundation.

I started to receive phone calls from FOLO ANZO.
These were my Sea Org bosses in Sydney.

At first these were very welcome. I was booming the org with an influx of new people. So the calls were highly complimentary.
Here was how an average evening would have worked, as it was set up.

Staff muster at 6:00 pm.
Then I`d meet with my juniors in Div 6 and set them all up for the evening.
Even before that was over I`d have other terminals (that`s staff members in earth speak) queuing up to see me.
Each had a program from up lines to implement and they all seemed to revolve around me.
So I`d be given some orders by the E/D (Executive Director)
Followed by some orders by the Deputy E/D.
As soon as she stood up the LRH Comm(unicator) would take the chair.
Next was the Flag Rep. More targets to be met.
Then the Dissem sec. More quotas to be met.
During these meetings I`d be called to the phone to get orders from
my two seniors in Australia.
Then the book store officer was there telling me to sell more books.
If there was a Sea Org mission over I`d get orders from them as well.
Okay 10:00 pm .. Time to go home.

I had at least nine people giving me orders that all MUST BE DONE NOW !!

It`s lucky I`d been a fan of Monty Python, otherwise I could have taken this insanity seriously.

Let me give you a very real example of how I became so unpopular;

Bookstore Officer : "Why aren`t you selling books ?"
Me : "Because I`m sitting here talking to you."
B/S Officer : Don`t be a smart arse.
Me : Okay. Who do you want me to sell a book to ?
B/S Officer. " I don`t give a shit. Anybody. Don`t put C/I (Counter intention) on  the lines "
Me : Okay. Here is a book. It`s $40."
B/S Officer : "I already have it."
Me : "Well what`s one you don`t have ?"
B/S Officer : "You fucken arsehole !!"
Me: " I just wanted to prove I don`t have C/I to selling books."
B/S Officer." Just.... just sell six books tonight before you go home."
Me : "Which six do you want ? "

I was quickly learning that having a sense of humour was not an asset for a Scientology staff member. It wasn`t just my imagination either. Hubbard had written a policy called "Jokers and degraders."
In it, he is scathing about anyone finding something to laugh at on the subject of Scientology, particularly if it involved him.

Making people happy was no laughing matter.

The event I`d talked about earlier was happening on Saturday evening and
I was part of the push to make this event a success.
In fact I already knew what the new release was. The speaker for the event
was  an old time scientologist brought in from the cold to give credibility to
the importance of this new release.
It was a guy named Maurice Harding. He was an OT. Maybe OT 7.
He had the official release speech and he was rehearsing it in my Division.

After he gave it a run through. He was given a critique by Bruce Gibson the
guy in charge of "The Guardians Office." Which is now called "OSA."
This is Scientology`s Intelligence department and it`s all Top Secret ,classified stuff that they do.

Anyway.. Bruce suggested that Maurice inject a bit more , well actually ANY,
enthusiasm into this new milestone in the salvation of mankind.

But Maurice just delivered it as a monotone.
This guy was flat lining.
Bruce was dumbfounded.
"Maurice.... You sound like you are delivering a funeral. Look... You need
to get punchy with the lines." Bruce repeated a line from the speech with
some drama and hand gestures.

Maurice tried again. But he just couldn`t cut it. He sounded as sincere as a guy selling tyres on a TV ad. He was doing his inappropriate, mis timed gestures,
like throwing his hands in the air to emphasize the word "the."

It was too late for Bruce to get anyone else.
So I watched him driven to despair as he tried to get this OT to exude enthusiasm.

What was so ironic was that the new release was anti drugs.
And I`d never seen a speaker in more need of a snort of coke.
Maybe if we slipped something into his juice bottle.

That evening "The Purification Rundown " was released.
Finally we had the tools to handle the one thing that was preventing
mankind from going free. Drugs.

Ron had discovered that any drugs taken would remain in the fatty tissue of
the human body. We were all polluted. Over time bits of these drugs would work their way lose causing the drugs to go back into our blood streams to a greater or lesser degree.
To remedy it Ron had designed a program which over a three week, on average,
period would purge all the poisons including drugs, alcohol and radiation from
a persons body causing a renewed vigor for life and a clarity of mind.

All one had to do was take certain vitamins, run and sauna.

Hang on a minute... Wasn`t this the sweat program Narcanon had been using for years with mediocre success ?

I`d been told, off the record, that a doctor who had dabbled in scientology here
in Auckland  had been the originator of the sweat program.
His name was Dr John Hilton. But it was actually his brother from Tauranga who
had invented the sweat program.

So maybe Hubbard had just improved on that. I couldn`t spot the difference
till I heard the price of the Purif. Yes there was a vast difference.

A few days later and the very first sign ups for the purif started to appear
in the org. As there were problems getting twins for some of these paying customers various staff were appointed to do the program with them.

I couldn`t believe my eyes one evening, when I came in early for post, to see Trish Illingworth taking the prescribed daily vitamins for the purif.
She had a coffee mug full of them.

I wasn`t surprised that she was required to go for a run after taking them.
What surprised me was that she could stop.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 12, 2009, 09:46:24 AM
                             SENSE OF DOUBT

                                      Part 36.

                                  Out on the street

The very first public person to sign up was a guy named Rod Patterson.
Rod was not qualified to go on staff. That`s right ...certain people were deemed
by Hubbard to be unacceptable as staff members due to certain specific things
that had transpired in their past.

For example, having had any treatment by a psychologist or a psychiatrist
or, psych as Scientologists called them, barred one from ever joining staff.
And a big one for the Sea org was that you had never taken LSD.

These stipulations were not up for discussion. They were cut and dry.

It probably hasn`t occurred to most scientologists that auditing was supposed to undo any psychological damage done to a person, and that the Purif was supposed to completely handle any effects of previous drug use. Just read the promo.

So why couldn`t a previously unqualified person who`d achieved "clear" and who`d done the purif join staff ?
Hubbard by this fact, makes it clear that he himself had no confidence in the tech people were going into debt to pay for.

Rod met up with his twin, ( partner for the duration of the course) they
took their coffee mug of vitamins and set off down to Queen Street.
Scientologists were going to be a common sight jogging around the streets of Auckland. What a great chance to show the WOG world (Hubbard`s word for non scientologists) how motivated Scientologists were.

This first outing had a lot riding on it. These two guys got down to the ferry building, turned left and started jogging past the large international Hotel
situated there.  Rod pulled up and told his twin he wasn`t feeling well.
He staggered over to a decorative flower bed outside the hotel entrance and
unloaded the contents of his stomach.
As he was gathering his senses he was suddenly overcome by the second wave. This time he unloaded right there on the pavement right in front
of the hotels main entrance. They staggered back to the Org and reported their progress thus far to the Purif I/C
Now I want you to imagine if you can what inevitably would have happened back at the hotel entrance.
A guest at the hotel would have come through the front door and been met with a putrid smell. He`d have scanned the pavement for the source
of it and then seen a smelly pile of 400 or so half digested vitamins, some tomato skins and diced carrots.

This is just some average guy, mind you. He would have been totally baffled by what he saw. Maybe he was even a clear who`d
been off lines for a while. He`d think "what sort of escaped mental patients are running wild on the streets of Auckland ?"
If a forensics team where called in to examine the crime scene. What would their report have said ? Would anyone have connected up this steaming pile of vomit with a genius who was saving the world. I think not.
It wouldn`t be the last time that Hubbard would come out with something that the world found hard to digest.

Based on the principal.."if it doesn`t kill you . it will make you stronger", Rod
was loaded up with another coffee mugs worth of vits, which were washed down with milk, and they set off again.

Rod had a severely upset stomach for three days.

It wasn`t till about 20 people had gone through the purif that a new reference arrived in the purif I/C`s basket drastically reducing the amounts of vitamins to be taken.

Of course if anyone had died or received serious physical damage from taking these insane quantities of vitamins, it would have been due to some undetected medical condition that they`d had prior to starting the purif. It was of little comfort to those who`d acted as Hubbard`s Guinea pigs in the furtherance of pseudo science.

Still... people were getting amazing wins from doing the purif.
It`s amazing what taking a few vitamins , going for a run and then spending a couple of hours in the sauna, every day can do for you.
Only you wouldn`t know that if you hadn`t tried it before.

Try it now if you don`t believe me.
It`s exactly the same result you`d get by doing the Purification Rundown.
Except it would cost next to nothing.

In 2006  the Purif cost US $2,560.00 at Flag.

Scientologists reading this will inevitably say.... "Oh but he`s only telling one side of the story."
Guilty as charged.
And isn`t that exactly what Scientology has done since 1950. Only ever told one side of the story !!! ???

Prove me wrong and post here one published account by scientology of a technical failure.
Find me one example of Scientology voluntarily admitting they got it wrong.
 Just one.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 16, 2009, 09:19:05 AM
                               SENSE OF DOUBT

                                        Part 37

                                    OT Phenomenon.

Scientologists are always keen to point out that Dianetics was
about the mind and Scientology was about the spirit.
They are two entirely different things.

A naive public were always confusing the two.
This is not a small point. You see Dianetics can operate independently
in the field of the mind. After all it is the modern SCIENCE of MENTAL HEALTH.

Scientology deals with the spirit.
Dianetics is used till a clear is achieved. Then Scientology is used to
rehabilitate the spirit, or thetan as Hubbard called it.
Have you got it ? 
Do I need to hammer this point into your head ???


Ron clarified this by releasing "New Era Dianetics for OT`s" ....   !!!   ???

This became OT level five. NED for OT`s.
But research accelerated to a point that OT Eight was now available.
A woman from Auckland who had, with her husband, operated a Scientology
mission in Ellerslie, was the first Kiwi to avail herself to this level
of the bridge.

OT three was "freedom from overwhelm."
OT five was "Cause over life."

What could be better than that ?

Excitement mounted when it was announced that Olive Roundhill was
back from America, was now an OT 8, and was going to give a briefing
at the org.

Hubbard had written extensively on the powers of a full OT in every issue of
"Advance Magazine" that came out once a month.
An OT could stop a planet in its orbit. An OT could remove the atmosphere
from a planet at a whim. I`d even been told that someone had come at Albert Mc Graw with a knife one time, and Albert had given an auditing command to this guy and he`d dropped to the ground in the fetal position.

There were stories published each month called "OT Phenomenon."
It was the one section every reader would skim through the magazine to find.

There was a guy one time watching a soccer game on TV. The commentators
were worried that the game could be cut short due to possible rain. Fortunately this OT was watching.
He used his mental powers to push the rain clouds away from the stadium.
Not like here one minute, gone the next. Just gently and imperceptibly he pushed
those clouds away. The spectators at the game would never have known that
an OT had intervened. Amazing. They really could have used that guy at Woodstock !

Another OT was driving a car with three passengers. They were hopelessly lost.
The OT thought .."What am I , an OT, doing lost.?"
Almost immediately the whole car appeared on the street they were looking for.

Here`s one from the second to latest issue.
Excuse me if I select the shortest one...

The Pen.

I was recently heading out to a restaurant to meet
someone and thought I could get some work done
while waiting for the person.
I parked and got out of the car and thought to myself that
I needed a pen and checked my pockets, car,trunk, etc.
No pen anywhere.
Instead of giving up I just decided I really needed a pen
right now and headed to the restaurant. I had barely gone
two steps when I saw a pen lying in the parking lot at my feet.
Perfect. Problem solved.I still have the pen and keep it as a
reminder that thought is senior to MEST.- A.N.

Always just initials. That`s okay. Penthouse forum does the same thing.
By the way MEST is short for Matter, Enengy, Space and Time.

So here we all were awaiting the arrival of the first OT 8 in New Zealand.
Would she make pens materialize ?
Would she walk in or float ?
She was a little late. Was parking a problem for an OT ?
Of course not . She just wanted to build a little tension.

This was exciting.

Ladies and gentlemen .... New Zealand`s first OT 8,.....Olive Roundhill.

Not what I pictured.

She looked like one of the cast from a Brittish soap opera.
Her talk was equally underwhelming.

Apparently on OT 8, one started changing the molecular structure
of their body. Olive told us how a bald guy on OT 8 had started to
grow hair again. But despite the fact his hair used to be white, the new growth was coming through bright red....just like Hubbard`s  !!!!

Shortly after that a recent photo of Ron came out. Hubbards hair was now white.

Olive told us that at the top of the bridge you could have the body you wanted.
I realised I didn`t want Olive`s body.
Apparently neither did she.
Two months later she was dead.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 24, 2009, 04:22:38 PM
                                      SENSE OF DOUBT

                                              Part 38

                                Beware the savage jaw...

One evening at staff muster it was announced that our working hours were to
be increased. A full hour was added to each day.

So from now on we were to be on post at 5:30 pm and knock off at 10:30 pm
weeknights. And for Saturday and Sunday we were to start at 8:30 am finishing
at 5:30 pm.

This happened because Ron wanted the planet cleared pronto.
In fact his daughter Diana had been promoted to a high level management position and had set a goal of having earth cleared by "1984".

Exactly what a cleared earth was, was never explained.
Some thought it meant every person had been presented with a $200 "Clear bracelet, that they paid for themselves.
Others told me that it just meant getting a point of critical mass.
I was told that the planet is covered in a cloud of enturbulated theta, or entheta.
All one had to do was remove just over 50% of that cloud and the rest
would clear up like a domino effect.

So instead of having a totalitarian government that had enslaved the planets population without challenge, as Orwell had warned of, Scientology would control everything.... without challenge in 1984.

So long as you were happy doing what scientology wanted you to, you would be free to do what you were told.

In his book "Science of survival" Hubbard had written what was to be done with those who wouldn`t play the game. Hubbard had told of some historical, political leader who had decided to cure leprosy by putting all the lepers on a boat, putting it out to sea and then setting it on fire.

Naturally anyone opposing Scientology was a leper to society.
On Hubbard`s scale of human emotions there is a demarcation point.
It is 2.0.  Antagonism. As one ascends the scale one goes through boredom (2.5) , Conservatism (3.0) Enthusiasm (4.0),  Exhilaration  (8.0)

Below 2.0 were the minus emotions.
Lets go down them now.

1.8 Pain
1.5 Anger
1.2 No sympathy
1.1 Covert Hostility
1.0 Fear
0.9 Sympathy
0.8 Propitiation
0.5 Grief
0.375 Making amends
0.05 Apathy

In "Science of survival" Hubbard states that anyone who displayed any of
the lower tones chronically (The no case gain) on the subject of Scientology should be " done away with, quietly and without sorrow."
As in 1.2 on the tone scale.

Of course something like that could never really happen.
With everyone being clear , which is 4.0 on the tone scale, ie. enthusiasm,
there would be no need for extermination camps.

 I`ve seen footage of the Jews being rounded up for the gas chambers in Nazi Germany.
None of them looked like they were going to get up tone any time soon.
In a Scientology world there would be no need for any last minute phone calls to
the Ethics officer because someone on death row had suddenly gotten up tone.

I`d seen Bruce Gibson coach Maurice Harding, an OT, to display enthusiasm. So
I knew at least Maurice would survive the Scientology Holocaust. If Maurice could do it..
there was hope for us all.

There was so much tech developed by Hubbard to raise a person on the tone scale that genocide was going to be a last resort. Kind of a FINAL SOLUTION.

Scientologists never mention that paragraph from "Science of Survival."

If you ask them about the book, they`ll tell you all about any other section of it. But won`t mention Hubbard`s final solution. But it IS there.

Scientologists rage against the abuses perpetrated by the mental health industry. If you told them that a mental health practitioner had advocated extermination of all his failed cases, they`d be all over it.

Well there is one. His name is L Ron Hubbard.

Put that in your "Industry of Death" traveling roadshow and promote it.

The fact that I read right past that paragraph and didn`t stand up and throw the book at the course supervisor and storm out of the org, is something I have to live with.  I sincerely apologize to every single one of you.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 25, 2009, 06:23:31 PM
                                    SENSE OF DOUBT

                                                Part 39

                               Prayers, They hide the saddest views.

There was a buzz around the org. Scientology was going to hold a massive public event called "Prayer day." The biggest scio event ever in NZ.
Over a weekend there were going to be a series of speakers, all with the common theme of human rights. This was to be promoted heavily and many high profile opinion leaders were invited to attend.
And the highest technically trained person in the universe was coming to speak at it.... David Mayo.

I`d seen David Mayo in Hubbard`s movie "The secret of FLAG results"
In it he played the highest technically trained person in the universe.
Despite the fact that he was playing himself , his performance was less than convincing.

I`d purchased five tickets to "prayer day" despite the fact that I was one of the performers at it.  Firstly I was to be a part of the Scientology choir. Then on the final night I was to perform a musical item at the entertainment evening.

I was busting to be a performer but had set my ambitions as a musician aside to save the universe. I managed to borrow a KORG  synthesizer off the bookstore officer, and had recruited my best mate Jimmy Chung , who played bass, and his
brother Ken, a top notch drummer, to back me up. Ken was playing in Russell Crowe`s band at the time. Years later when Russell hit the big time as an actor in Hollywood, Ken was getting phone calls from media organizations all over the world wanting any dirt he had on Russell. They were willing to pay... Too bad.
Ken wasn`t talking. Always admired him for that.

Despite my busy schedule, I had a wog job during the day, then the org post evenings and weekends, we were able to get the three required songs down.
The synthesizer I`d borrowed was high tech, buttons and lights everywhere.
When we rehearsed the songs, for some unknown reason, the synth, would out of the blue, just starting curving a note. There was no predicting when it would happen... And I had zero time to study the inch thick manual to undo this embarrassing pre set.

The gig was set for Saturday evening at the large event center, named Trillo`s, in the new Downtown complex opposite the old Central post office.

When I peeped out from behind the curtains I was surprised at how many people were there. The place was packed. Oh shit.  What am I going to do if this
weird preset curving note kicks in ? There was no apparent trigger.
And when it happened it sounded like someone had stood on a cat`s tail.

Jim , Ken and I nervously awaited our turn.
The M/C for the evening was a chubby guy named Peter Bonner. He and his wife
were professional musicians who had recently joined Scientology.
They were the main draw card to end off the evenings entertainment.

As our turn was nearing, a team of guys assembled our gear out on stage.
I heard Peter, out in front of the curtain, announce us and the crowd applauded politely.
Jim , Ken and I looked reassuringly at each other, took a deep breath then made
our way towards the stage door.

IT was locked !!!!!

I couldn`t believe it. We were being announced and were locked in back stage.
I spun around looking for another way out. There was a door on the other side
of the room. Grabbing my briefcase we ran through the door, down a passage,
round a corner and down some stairs. The applause was fading from our ears.
I shunted open the door at the bottom of the stairs and we rushed through it
out into the darkness of the street behind Downtown.

There was nothing for it except to run around the outside of the downtown complex and come back into Trillo`s through the main entrance.
It made me think of the time when David Bowie had been in Holland and was
dropped off at the wrong venue by his chauffeur. He ended up having to hitch hike to his own concert, but was quickly picked up by some lucky, very surprised, fans.

Anyway Jim, Ken and I wove our way through all the tables and climbed onto the stage, quite breathless, I parked my briefcase on the floor beside me and waited
for Ken to count us in.

Okay now we`re doing it. Intro was really beyond my expectations.
I leaned forward to deliver my vocal line only to discover Win Dickey, husband
of OT Vicky Dickey, who was up in the control booth, had forgotten to turn my microphone on.

We got through Warszawa by Bowie, and jumped into "Art decade."
Two absolutely beautiful instrumental numbers from the second side of the album "Low."

You have no idea how relieved I was when I hit the last chord and the synth hadn`t gone all psycho on me.
I was on top of the world.
I slid over to the grand piano and we finished off with the Elton John hit at the time, "Song for guy."

When we were done the applause sounded genuine.
I detest polite clapping.

But my moment of glory was short lived.
Someone woke Win Dickey up and he played Elton`s version
of "song for guy ", over the PA system as we unlocked the stage door and made our exit.
Elton`s version was much better than ours.
Thanks Win, you moron !!!

I hadn`t been allowed to attend any of the meaty events of Prayer day.
I had to remain on post.
However I did ask my brother what David Mayo`s talk was like.
He told me David Mayo had burped on stage. Due to Win`s vigilance it had
been broadcast far and wide via the on microphone.

It all wound down and I waited eagerly for the flood of new people coming into Scientology , that the promoters of this event had assured me of, to eventuate.

I sat at my desk. There was stillness. I waited some more.
Nothing. Someone had left a pack of cigarettes on my desk. I reached over and
pulled one out. Found a lighter and lit up after a year of being a non smoker.

And that is what I got out of the biggest public event Scientology ever staged in New Zealand. A desire to inhale harmful chemicals into my lungs.

David Mayo flew back to Florida.... , by plane. (That`s a scientology joke).
But he was about to land in a world of shit.
By the time it was over he was to lose all of his teeth.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 27, 2009, 07:34:59 AM
                                        SENSE OF DOUBT

                                               Part 40

                                          Walls and bridges.

The first I knew that anything was up was a five page ethics order in my in basket.

David Mayo was declared a Suppressive Person. A terrible blow to all us Kiwis as
we were always reminded that he was a Kiwi every time his name had been mentioned.

There was a saying that one used to hear a lot on TV dramas like Perry Mason.
"I`ll throw the book at him." It was an expression used to let people know that
every part of the law would be used to convict someone with malice.

Well Hubbard was throwing the books, the meters, the films and tapes at Mayo.
If there was a law or rule Scientology had, Mayo had broken it.
The second most respected guy in Scientology was suddenly, over night, now the most despised and hated fiend ever.

David Mayo was hereby banned from Scientology for all eternity.

What ?

I had a few problems with that.
Firstly Hubbard had reassured us that there was no hidden data line.
There is a policy on it, stating quite clearly that all the technology on Scientology and Dianetics was available to all, in the books and tapes.
There was no secret stockpile of special tech to be pulled out in emergencies.

So what reference was Hubbard quoting when he banned Mayo for eternity ?
An eternal ban(ation) is no where to be found.

But also it just didn`t make sense...

It seemed like a bad strategy. Maybe something said in the heat of the moment.
No.  It was emphatic. Mayo was being cast off the bridge with no possibility of

Wouldn`t half of an eternity have done the job ? Or even 99.9% of an eternity.
Surely even Mayo deserved a chance to sneak back in, moments before the end of the universe. What possible motive would Mayo have for wanting to reform
and have the freedom to do what scientology told him to do, if it wouldn`t make the slightest bit of difference? Hadn`t Hubbard just created his own enemy ?

Isn`t this the same mistake God made when he cast the devil out of heaven?
And we all know how that`s been going.
I didn`t see it as any different.
Hubbard was the OT of OT`s.
In fact there is a tape of Hubbard`s where he scoffs at God and says "He could never do my job."

Yet Hubbard was treating Mayo in the same irresponsible way that God was treating the devil.
If only there was some forum where rulers of the universe could meet their
arch nemesis and  present their cases to Judge Judy and agree to abide by her decision.

No matter how unlikely that sounds, it pales in comparison with what was to follow...
Mayo and the Marcabians were about to bring the battle for the universe to
Portland, Oregon.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 30, 2009, 09:06:30 AM
                                        SENSE OF DOUBT

                                              Part 41

                                        War of the words

"No-one would have believed, in the last years of the 20th century
that human affairs were being watched from the timeless worlds of space. No one could have dreamed that we were being scrutinized as someone with a microscope studies creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. Few men even considered the possibility of life on other planets. And yet, across the gulf of space, minds immeasurably superior to ours regarded this Earth with envious eyes, and slowly, and surely, they drew their plans against us.

It all started so inconspicuously.

A young woman by the name of Julie Kristofferson had been lured into the Church of Scientology, in Portland Oregon, with the promise of improving her IQ and eyesight.

Shortly after that, the Senior case supervisor International, David Mayo was abducted by aliens.

And deep beneath the earth at 46°12′00.17″N 122°11′21.13″W , just north of
Portland, in the Pacific north west, a force was developing that was soon to send thousands of people running for their lives.

But I`m just going to have to leave these developments to percolate for a while.
I was off to the Hubbard Communications Office (HCO) here in Auckland, to tell them I`d had enough of this bullshit and wanted out.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 30, 2009, 10:14:03 AM
                                   SENSE OF DOUBT

                                         Part 42

                       "To see what condition my condition was in."

It was a cold wintry Sunday morning. The org was so quiet I could hear the clock ticking. Despite the fact I had about five staff in the Public Division, none of them came in on the weekends. They`d all stipulated that when they signed
their staff contracts.
Back then nothing was open in the city on a Sunday morning
with the exception of the Uncles 24 hour takeaway bar on Queen street, situated beside the entrance to the Imperial arcade.

I had to get some public in and despite the fact I`d stipulated I would not body route when I signed my contract, I had been left with no choice but to grab the clip board and venture out to the cold, empty street.

After about fifteen minutes of absolutely no one coming by, a drunken bum
still milking Saturday night for all it was worth, sat at the bus stop a few meters away and proceeded to eat the hamburger, hold the lettuce, that he`d just purchased at Uncles.

I`d heard him giving the guy at Uncles a hard time when he tried to slip a bit of lettuce into this bum`s burger. "Thars tha farken lettuce the fuck outta the
farkkkk ."

Halfway through his burger he decided to engage me in conversation.
"What`s the fark..... You fark...... you lookin at."
I looked hopefully up and down Queen Street.
Nobody.  As I fixed my attention on this bum again he leaned forward and
vomited the burger he`d just eaten all over the pavement.

I spun around and decided to head back up stairs.
I busied myself with some paperwork that needed filing when Gary Judge, the Flag Rep wandered into my area.
"Where are all the people ? " he asked in a don`t tell me... show me !, manner.

"There is no one in today." I answered.
"Well you`d better hurry up and get someone then." Gary responded unsympathetically.

"I`ll just wait till a little body traffic picks up outside and I`ll go down soon."

"No, no, no. You don`t WAIT. You just do it.

"There are only winos and freaks out there at the moment."

" I don`t want to hear your C/I bullshit. Get the clip board and get down there NOW!"
" No fucken way. You get down there if its so important."

With that Gary lurched over and grabbed me out of my seat. He forced the clip board against my chest and wrestled me towards the door.
Gary was one of these wankers who had been seen walking around beating up imaginary opponents with Karate punches. Was I in the mood for this on a Sunday morning ???

I was still making up my mind when he threw me into the elevator and hit the down button.
I knew I must have committed some horrendous overts on Gary. What else would be causing me to want to sneak into his office and replace all his "Michael Franks" cassettes with "Iron Maiden" albums ?

Dammit the bum was gone. I was entertaining the idea of body routing him up to Gary`s office and passing him to Gary to enlighten him about the purification rundown. Maybe he and Rod Patterson could twin up.
On the subject of vomit ...there it was, steaming in the morning sunlight on the ground in front of me.

Just then a seagull swooped down, looked at the vomit, looked at me as if to say "Hey ! Where`s the farkin lettuce ?" and proceeded to feast
on the bum`s regurgitated breakfast. I hope it doesn`t have chicks.

"What am I doing here ?" All those educators who had just shaken their heads when my name was mentioned had been right. I`d finally fulfilled all their prophesies and amounted to nothing.

The next evening I went to HCO and said "I want out!"

I was really depressed. A girl named Sue was assigned to handle me.
I think she and her brother had gotten into Scientology a little after me.
Eventually she was to become the Executive Director of Auckland Foundation.
She has since left Scientology and moved back to her home town where
she runs a semi successful one woman business providing stress relief for lonely sailors.

I was under a lot of stress .. But back then Sue was using the Hubbard method.

Sue opened up the Ethics book and showed me a list of conditions.
They were as follows.

Power change
Normal operation

Sue asked me which condition I felt I was in on the subject of being on staff.

Mmmmm....    Mmmmmm ?  

   I spotted it.

         " I have a sense of Doubt."

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on May 03, 2009, 10:42:19 PM
                                      SENSE OF DOUBT

                                            Part 43

                                      Who are you ?

According to Hubbard`s discoveries, as well as there being an emotional tone scale there was also a scale of "states of operation" that an individual or a group passed through.

I`ve listed them above in the previous part.
On the surface they make sense.
A new venture arises from NON EXISTENCE.
Because it is not established yet it is vulnerable and in DANGER of not making it.
If it doesn`t fold immediately one has to frantically cater for all the unexpected
situations that arise. Kind of like dealing with an EMERGENCY.
Once established one could see that a NORMAL OPERATION mindset had evolved.
This would now put one in a position where a windfall or sudden AFFLUENCE could arise. And assuming that was handled correctly it could elevate the operation into a position of POWER. So long as one handled this POWER CHANGE
appropriately, one could go from strength to strength.

I was feeling totally dis empowered.
Sue was about to coach me through the lower conditions.

I listened to the radio playing in the background as we worked.
Two songs particularly stayed in my mind.
"Asian Paradise" by Sharon O`Neal and "The hospital" by the Modern lovers.
Whenever I hear those songs I go back in my mind to that evening with Sue.

Hubbard had discovered formulas, which if followed, allowed one to control their
ascendancy through the conditions.
He said... When one cannot make up one`s mind as to an individual, a group, project or organization, a condition of Doubt exists.
I read over the "DOUBT formula.

Step one. Inform oneself honestly of the actual intentions and activities of that group, brushing aside all bias and rumor.

Okay. That was easy enough. Scientology staff members had the goal of a world without war crime or insanity.

Step two. Examine the statistics of the individual, group project or organization.

Mmmmmm ?  Well there were certainly a lot of people sharing their "wins" at staff musters and in the Academy. At the events we heard of all the wonderful things scientologists were doing internationally. The magazines were full of "success stories." Had to admit it was pretty impressive.

Step three Decide on the basis of "the greatest good for the greatest number of dynamics" whether or not it should be attacked, harmed, or suppressed or helped.

Obviously helped.

Step four Evaluate oneself or one`s own group, project or organization as to intentions and objectives.

"`s the problem Sue.  I`m just not happy here. I`m sick of the assaults. I`m tired of being broke. I have had enough of being screamed at."

Sue : "So what is your solution ?"
Me : "I want to leave staff."
Sue: "And how far would Scientology get if we all just went home ?"
Me : "But why would anybody want to quit if they were getting better ?"
Sue : "Some are"
Me : "Not me. I`m miserable."
Sue : "So this is all about you. Fuck everybody else. Let them all go up in a nuclear explosion."
Me : "Hey I`m not saying that.
Sue : "Well what exactly are you saying ?"
Me : "Shit. I don`t know. I`m confused."
Sue : "Now we`re getting somewhere. Read this !!!"


The formula for confusion is :
                                        FIND OUT WHERE YOU ARE.

Me: "I`m here in the org."
Sue : "Write it down."
Me : "Done."
Sue : " What did you write ?"
Me : " I`m here in the org ?"
Sue :" But where is that ? Find out where you are !"
Me : I`m here in the org. Auckland, New Zealand, Planet Earth, Milky way galaxy, somewhere in space."

Sue: Okay. I`m upgrading you to TREASON.
Me : "Thanks a million."
Sue: "Read this !"

            The formula for the condition of TREASON is:

                       FIND OUT THAT YOU ARE.

Me: " Okay. I am. I exist.
Sue: Write it down.
Me : "Done."
Sue : " Very good. Read this..."

          The formula for the condition of ENEMY is just one step:

                FIND OUT WHO YOU REALLY ARE.

Me : "But that`s what I came into Scientology to find out."
Sue : " Well... What have you found out ?"
Me : " It`s still a work in progress. But I know I aren`t a bad person."
Sue : "Not the type of person who would walk away from a team who were actually doing something to salvage mankind....???"
Me : "........!!"
Sue : "Let`s stop fucking around !!! I`ll come back in five to read your ENEMY formula."

              My ENEMY formula.

I am a good person who cares deeply about my fellow man. I am someone willing to bare any burden in the quest to lead people into a state of enlightenment.
I am someone who has great empathy for those who have found the journey into the physical plane overwhelming and frightening. I am the light in the darkness.

Sue : "Wow. You sound a lot like Ron." Upgraded. Now where were we on the DOUBT formula ?"

Step four : Evaluate oneself or one`s own group, project or organization as to intentions and objectives.

Me : "What group are we talking about ?"
Sue : "Well we aren`t talking about the group of dedicated scientology staff members who are sticking with the team despite what hardships they have to endure."
Me : " So you want the objectives of those that quit. "
Sue "Well isn`t that the team you are deciding whether or not to join ?"
Me : " I guess."
Sue : "Write it down.

        My team are the people who have given up trying. These are people who have selfishly decided that their own personal comfort is more important than salvaging their fellow man.

Step five : Evaluate one`s own group, project or organizations statistics.
          Well I guess they just disappear back into the wog world and join the rat race. Turning a blind eye to the suffering that surrounded them. I`d seen how cruel the wog world was. As a child I`d been forced into slave labour. I`d been subjected to physical violence. I`d been robbed of my money.

The media was relentless in letting us know how bad it was out there. Ruthless dictators overriding democratic process and enslaving  millions of people, forcing them into poverty, using dirty tricks to chase away any threat to their power.
Controlling the media, education, religion, mental health, the judiciary, and government. Even committing genocide. And no one was doing shit about it. The UN was a fucken joke.

Step six : Join or remain in or befriend the one that progresses toward the greatest good for the greatest number of dynamics and announce the fact publicly to both sides.

Sue got me to write a public notice which I placed on the org notice board.
It told one and all that I was rejoining the team of dedicated scientologists who were working to create a world without war crime and insanity.

Step seven : Do everything possible to improve the actions and statistics of the person, group, project or organization one has remained in or joined.

I rededicated myself to being a staff member for the Church of Scientology and
set forth to help salvage mankind with renewed vigor.

Step eight: Suffer on up through the conditions in the new group if one has changed sides. or the conditions of the group one has remained in if wavering from it has lowered ones status.

I pledged to do that.
As a reward Sue upgraded me to LIABILITY.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on May 05, 2009, 08:58:34 AM
                             SENSE OF DOUBT

                                  Part 44

                              Who`s on first ?

The formula for LIABILITY is as follows.

1.) Decide who are one`s friends.
2.) Deliver an effective blow to the enemies of the group one has been pretending to be part of despite personal danger.
3.) Make up the damage one has done by personal contribution far beyond the ordinary demands of a group member.
4.) Apply for reentry to the group by asking permission of each member of it to rejoin and rejoining only by majority permission, and if refused repeating (2) and (3) and (4) until one is allowed to be a group member again.

Hang on a second.
What just happened ?

I went to HCO to throw in the towel and half an hour later I come out ready and willing to use that same towel to mop the toilet floors. Step three of liability would often mean wearing a grey arm band and cleaning the org for free after post hours. Often referred to as an "amends project,"

And how come my lower conditions write up looked just like yours ?

There is only one correct answer to every question...but it doesn`t make sense, and yet it does.
I`ve seen this trick before.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on May 08, 2009, 10:20:37 AM
                                    SENSE OF DOUBT

                                             Part 45

                       People are strange..... when you`re a stranger.

Hubbard insisted every function performed within Scientology be statisized.
Each staff member was required to keep a graph to record the amount of work they had accomplished on a daily and a weekly basis.

By looking at the trend on the graph one could assign themselves one of the higher conditions, assuming they had produced anything at all.

So for example ...If you were an auditor and you delivered twenty well done auditing hours one week.... to stay "upstat" you`d have to deliver more than twenty well done auditing hours the following week.
Eventually you`d max out. And after the week that you delivered well done auditing hours for every hour you were required to be there, you`d now have a problem.

There was no way you could be "upstat" the following week.... Unless you started
cutting into your own personal time.

So say you decided to do that. Eventually you`d be auditing every waking hour to stay "upstat."  Ah but there was your sleep time.
So let`s say you decided to not sleep and just audit 24 hours per day for a week.
The following week you would be fucked in every way.

Sound ridiculous ?

Google "Maureen Bolstad"`s story.
She tells of how for one particular year she averaged one hours sleep per day working at Scientology`s top secret base
out in the Californian desert. However I should point out Maureen, after spending 25 years dedicating her life to scientology,
she is now considered by Scientology, to be an "enemy of mankind". Yet you`ll never see her on "America`s most wanted."
Just between you and me... I think Scientology is exaggerating on this one.

Meanwhile back here in New Zealand three Scientology businessmen had decided to use Hubbard`s administrative technology
and create a business. Most of what I have to say about this venture is second hand. It had all gone down before I arrived on the scene.

But I knew all three of these guys personally.
Jon Rich...  Now a declared Suppressive Person who left New Zealand for whereabouts unknown to escape the repercussions of a shit storm he had created here for many local businessmen and investors.

Dennis Paul.... who has had two business ventures that I have personally witnessed gracing the TV screen on "Fair Go."
The first time it was over giant lenses he was selling via newspaper adverts. These adverts showed a happy family watching a baseball game being magnified and projected onto a large screen. (In reality your living room wall)  Disappointingly, the people who purchased these TV lenses
had discovered that the pale image was not only virtually impossible to see unless the the light coming from the TV was stopped..
But also the image was upside down.
Dennis`s wife, "Bambie" was interviewed by "Fair go". She suggested that if people turned their TV`s upside down the problem would be rectified.

Lloyd Speedy. I don`t know where Lloyd was at the time but he realized that running out of toilet paper while using public
facilities could become a thing of the past if someone was to invent a way of stacking four toilet rolls one atop the other
and encasing them in a theft proof case. Lloyd became that man. He took out the patent for his idea and the rest is history.

Together this unstoppable force shook the flooring industry in New Zealand to its foundations.
It was called, appropriately, "Foundation Flooring." 
By the time they were done a lot of people decided it was safer to live outdoors and Scientology was denying all knowledge
of these guys actions and activities.

A few weeks ago I was in a carpet shop. The owner was there and he was retiring.
I asked him if he remembered "Foundation Flooring."
He shook his head and started cussing. All these years later he was fuming about them.
Never one to miss a chance to promote Scientology to the world,
I asked him. "  Did you know those guys who ran that company were scientologists ?"

"Doesn`t surprise me one bit. Bunch of fucken nutters !!!"

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on May 10, 2009, 08:52:34 AM
                                    SENSE OF DOUBT

                                            Part 46

                                        The God who fell to earth

Hubbard , as you now know was, in his mind, as well as in the mind of Scientologists, more powerful than God.
The bridge only went up to OT seven again. OT eight had disappeared off the
latest price lists. But there were at least seven OT levels above that, which were yet to be released. 

For some unimaginable reason Ron had never displayed his superhuman powers.
It was almost as if he didn`t want to interfere in the affairs of man.
And yet when evidence was presented in the Federal Court over operation "Snow white", it appeared that Hubbard was very keen to interfere in the affairs of man.

Ron was deemed an un indicted  co conspirator in that case but rather than use his OT powers to clear his good name, he chose to state that he had been ignorant of what a few renegade Ronbots had been up to, and went into hiding.

Yet in Ron`s journal `67 he gloats, over the fact that he had full copies of all the governments paperwork against him.  What... It all just appeared on his desk ?

This is what the case was about.
According to the evidence presented in court, he`d been getting all these documents by criminal means.

 Hubbard`s wife, Mary Sue, and ten top level Scientologists were in deep shit.

Here`s what the Washington Post had to say about the affair as the plot started to unravel.

U.S. Charges Scientology Conspiracy;

11 Scientologists Charged With Plot to Spy on Government;
11 Church Agents Accused of Spying, Bugging and Theft.

By Timothy S. Robinson, Washington Post Staff Writer

August 16, 1978 - Wednesday, Final Edition

Eleven high officials and agents of the Church of Scientology, including the wife of the founder, L. Ron Hubbard, were charged here yesterday in an allegedly widespread conspiracy to plant spies in government agencies, steal official documents and bug government meetings.

Much of the evidence outlined against the church's officials in the 28-count criminal indictment appears to be based on the church's own internal memorandums and other documents. The memorandums directed church operatives to "use any method" in its battle with the government.

Church spies were used, according to the indictment, to find out about Scientology's tax-exempt status, rummage through government files to get information on the church and on persons or groups it perceived to be its "enemies." They were also used as an "early warning system" to protect Hubbard from government scrutiny, the indictment alleged.

Assistant U.S. Attorney Raymond Banoun asked the arrest warrants be issued immediately for the church's Worldwide Guardian, Jane Kember, and her chief aide, Morris (Mo) Budlong, in England, and said extradition proceedings against them would begin soon.

The other indicted church members, including Commodore Staff Guardian Mary Sue Hubbard, the wife of the founder, are scheduled to appear in federal court here at 1 p.m. Thursday. Banoun said he had been assured by the attorneys for those church members that they would appear as scheduled.

A spokesman for the church, which is described in its literature as an "applied religious philosophy which believes that man is a spiritual being and is basically good," said the indictment is the latest episode in nearly 30 years of harassment against the church by government agencies.

". . . If justice is done our members will be exonerated as any have been who fought for religious freedom against government oppression throughout history," said the church's Deputy U.S. Guardian Henning Heldt, who was among those indicted yesterday.

The indictment charges that the church's "guardian office" included a bureau that "was assigned the responsibility for the conduct of covert operations," and that all of those charged with crimes were members or officials of the bureau.

The church said, however, that the guardian office is the "social reform arm of the church." Church attorney Phillip J. Hirshkop described the indictments as part of a "bureaucratic vendetta against Scientology" and said "any actions attributed to church members is a direct result of government misconduct."

The 42-page indictment, one of the longest returned by a jury here in recent memory, climaxes a sometimes bizarre investigations that began when two Scientology operatives were confronted by FBI agents in June 1976 in the federal courthouse here after employees became suspicious of their regular nighttime presence.

The two men, who had entered the building by using allegedly forged Internal Revenue Service passes, were allowed to leave. Unknown to the agents at the time, the two were part of the alleged undercover Scientology operation and had been assigned to the courthouse to enter offices there and copy documents, according to the indictment.

The two men fled to California and with Scientology officials concocted a cover story to explain their presence in the courthouse, according to the indictment. One of them, Gerald Bennett Wolfe, returned to the courthouse here a year later and pleaded guilty to using fake IRS credentials.He was placed on probation.

The other alleged courthouse intruder, Michael Meisner, had been hidden by the church in Los Angeles for more than a year, having had his appearance changed and using a false name, according to the indictment. When he threatened to return to Washington against the church's will, he was held under guard and his "bodyguard crew" was told to "gag, handcuff" him if necessary, the indictment continued.

Meisner escaped from his guards in June 1977 and came to Washington , where he agreed to plead guilty to a five-year felony. He is the government's main informant against the church, and is being held under tight security.

When he came to Washington, Meisner outlined the alleged Scientology infiltration plot in great detail to federal agents and they obtained a search warrant for the church's headquarters in Los Angeles and Washington.

Those warrants were executed on July 8, 1977, and resulted in a massive seizure of church documents that reported outlined a campaign of harassment and infiltration directed against numerous individual critics of the church as well as against government officials and agents.

According to the indictment returned yesterday, the alleged criminal conspiracy by the church began on Nov. 21, 1973, when Kember directed Heldt and his staff to obtain all Interpol (the international police organization) documents concerning Scientology and Hubbard.

Meisner was brought into the plot in mid-1974 when he was told by a superior, Cindy Raymond, that he was to help her place a "loyal Scientology agent" as an IRS employe in the District of Columbia, the indictment stated. Raymond, identified as the national secretary of the church's U.S. information bureau, was among those charged yesterday.

Kember issued another order, known in church terminology as Guardian Program Order 1361, on October 1974, directing the infiltration of the tax division of the Justice Department, according to the indictment.

Two of those who received that order, Deputy Guardian-Information U.S. Richard Weigand and Deputy-Deputy Guardian U.S. Duke Snider, also were charged in yesterday's criminal conspiracy.

Within days of that order, according to the indictment, three Scientology agents planted an electronic listening device or "bug" in an IRS conference room here and "recorded an IRS meeting concerning Scientology's application for tax-exempt status and related matters." Less than 18 days later, Wolfe was employed as a clerk-typist at the IRS.

One of the agents who allegedly planted the bug, Mitchell Herman (also known as Mike Cooper), also was charged yesterday. At the time of the alleged offense, his title with the church was Branch 1 director of the Guardian's office, D.C.

Once Wolfe was in place at IRS, the indictment charged, he began stealing IRS documents that would then be flown out to the church's top officials in the Los Angeles area.

Among the IRS offices from which Wolfe stole documents were the chief counsel's office, that of an assistant IRS commissioner, and other lawyers, according to the charges.

In May 1975, Wolfe also turned his attention to the tax division of Justice and stole documents from the offices of three attorneys there as well, the indictment charged.

Mary Sue Hubbard then told Kember and Heldt on May 27, 1975, to "use any method at our disposal to win the battle and gain our nonprofit (tax) status," according to the charges. Gregory Willardson, then the Church's Information Bureau Branch I director in the United States, soon wrote a letter to Meisner asking him to prepare a plan to get further IRS documents, the indictment stated. Willardson also was charged yesterday.

Six months later, an order known as the "Early Warning System" was issued by the church hierarchy, and it was "designed to protect the 'personal security' of" L. Ron Hubbard, the indictment stated.

"The order called for the infiltration of government agencies which had power to subpoena or bring suits against Hubbard or which would possess advance warning of such subpoenas or suits," the indictment continued.

The indictment said that as the plot continued:

A Scientologist, Sharon Thomas, was placed in a job at the Justice Department as a secretary and stole documents from an attorney's office there.

Guardian's office officials met in Los Angeles to discuss the burglaries, the infiltrations, and documents obtained by Scientologists.

Meisner and Wolfe forged IRS credentials and used them to break into the offices of Assistant U.S. Attorney Nathan Dodell at the U.S. Courthouse here.

Meisner and Wolfe broke into the offices of Associate Deputy Attorney General Togo G. West Jr. and Special Assistant Attorney General for Administration John F. Shaw and stole documents from both places.

Even after the charges were filed against Wolfe and Meisner in connection with the alleged illegal use of IRS credentials, the church tried to implement what it called "Project Troy." That project reportedly called for the installation of a permanent "bug" in the IRS chief counsel's office, and was approved by Heldt on Dec. 20, 1976.

In May 1977, the church again called for the infiltration of the U.S. Attorney's Office in Washington "for the purpose of obtaining information about any potential legal action against L. Ron Hubbard."

All of the defendants except Wolfe and Thomas are charged with one count of conspiracy to steal government documents, burglarize governments offices, intercept oral communications and forge government passes. 10 counts of theft of government property, one count of intercepting oral communications: 10 counts of burglary, and one count of conspiracy to obstruct justice, to obstruct an investigation, to harbor a fugitive, and to make false declarations before a grand jury.

Why wouldn`t the wog world just leave Hubbard and the scientologists to  practice their religion how ever they saw fit, as guaranteed them by the American constitution..???

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on May 12, 2009, 12:24:48 PM
                              SENSE OF DOUBT

                                        Part 47

                                       Cheek to cheek

This part is not going to win me any friends. I`ve sat here for half an hour trying to think of a way of tactfully relating this episode.
However this particular subject doesn`t lend itself to anything other than a natural unfolding.

It`s all about primitive urges.
No matter how hard one tries to be all sophisticated and evolved, there are certain primitive urges, which bubbling below the social pleasantries, continually threaten this image of propriety. The great film maker David Lynch captures this clash of contradictions better than anyone I know.
In 1991 he created the first truly original TV show since the creative boom of the 60`s. It was called "Twin Peaks."
Billboards across the city heralded the arrival of "Twin Peaks" by mounting a dead American beauty queen wrapped in plastic on them.
The imagination goes wild. This is the secret world we all know exists. It visits us in our dreams.
It lurks in our closet at night... like a vampire ready to seduce us the moment we let our guard down.
 Rod Serling called it The Twilight zone.
It`s the real address of The "Church" of Scientology.
I find it fascinating... I hope you do to.

As a Scientology staff member we were occassionally briefed by what was still known as "The Guardians Office."
Fronting for the GO was a very attractive girl named Darnell.
Despite the many briefings she gave us, all I clearly remember is that she had a knock out set of breasts.
Those breasts successfully distracted the male staff members from the vast holes that appeared in the logic of scientology`s version of what was happening in the "Snow White" case in Washington.

I do recall her saying that this whole case was over seven pieces of photo copy paper allegedly stolen by G.O agents.
But those breasts were calling out to be admired. I had no defence against them.

I recently read a great book by Jerry Shilling. He was Elvis`s lifelong friend. Jerry was on tour one time with
veteran rocker and bad boy Jerry Lee Lewis. Lewis, was starring contemplatively through the tour bus window
when he turned to Jerry and said. " If God made anything more perfect than the female body...he kept it to himself."

In walked Laurese. Darnell`s little sister.
Laurese had the perfect female butt. Let me put it this way... If a guy was to arrive at the Pearly Gates and Saint Peter
said. "Through this gate is heavan...eternal serenity...And through this other gate is Laurese`s bare butt."

I can assure you Saint Peter would be kept busy for eternity passing messages to these guys loved ones that "he is
tied up at the office and will be joining them sometime soon."

Laurese, who had no reason whatsoever for being in my area started to make frequent visits to my office where she planted the afore mentioned butt on the seat seductively across from mine.

Are you still reading this ???

You could have stopped.

A girl named Glynis who was the Aboriginal girlfriend of a buddy of mine, Paul, came through to see me one night and
had told me confidentially that the female staff had had a vote to see who of the male staff had the nicest arse.
I was flattered to be told I was the clear winner. That is till I started noticing the competition.

Now this all came to a head when Paul decided to get married. Not to Glynnis
but to another girl named Tracey. These are all Scientology people I`m talking about.

I was to be the best man. And Laurese was to be the Bride`s maid.
What I haven`t mentioned is that Paul was a psycho.
Months earlier I`d been having a relationship with a public scientologist. (Not staff.)
She had told me one night in the heat of passion that she`d had a pass made at her by one of her girlfriends. She asked if I`d mind if she explored this offer.
When I passed my camera to her she took it as an encouraging sign.

A few nights later she arrived at my home in tears.
I tried to calm her down and get her to explain what had happened.

So she told me how she`s gone to her girlfriends place, done the deed,
and had met up with some scientologists in town. I know....  it wasn`t appropriate to get the full story right now. What happened next was what she`d come to tell me.

Paul had offered to drive her home. He`d taken a detour. Parked somewhere isolated and then he`d raped her.
I knew I had to report this to someone in the org.
But as Paul was the Ethics officer at the time it seemed pointless getting him to investigate the merits of her claim.
I went over his head and told Sue about it.
She assurred me she`d take care of it.

A few nights later I was called as a witness to a Scientology court of ethics.
May seem a flashy name but in reality it was Sue and a girl called Vyvian asking
questions of one person at a time in a disused auditing room.

I gave my evidence and was told to keep my mouth shut about the whole affair.
You may be wondering why this girl just didn`t report the rape to the police.
Well it`s because it is an ethics offence to report a crime committed by a scientologist to the authorities, without first getting approval from Scientology`s Ethics and Justice Division.

So in effect Paul was the correct terminal for her to get permission from to have
him charged with rape. 

The girl just disappeared never to be seen again.
Paul blew and went to Australia to work in out of the way small towns
and I never got my camera back.

Six months later Paul was back with his new Australian girlfriend Glynnis,
and was promply promoted to the position of HCO Area secretary.
That made Paul responsible for routing out all out ethics behavior  in the org.
An area he had experience in from both sides of the fence.

Paul dumped Glynnis, and proposed to Tracey.

After the ceremony and toasts, the bride and groom were expected to move
onto the dance floor while all the guests looked on lovingly.
Laurese came up to me and informed me that the bride`s maid and best man
were traditionally next on the dance floor. I took her hand and we joined Paul
and Tracey ... However another girl came out of the crowd and grabbed me away from Laurese. Everyone was watching. It was so awkward. Laurese is trying to get me back and this other girl keeps pulling me out of her arms.

Laurese is determined that I dance with her, and this other girl is equally determined that I don`t.

Isn`t life funny. Today both these girls would unite and kick me to death.
Then wrap my body in plastic and nail me to a billboard.
I ended up having a relationship with the girl who fought Laurese for me.
In fact I recall we even got married ourselves for a while.

I didn`t see or hear anything from Laurese after that, till I saw a photo of
her a few months ago with her hand affectionately placed on the current leader of Scientology`s back at a motorcycle track meet. Her and David Miscavige were there in the company of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes.

It was like an episode of the Twilight zone.
Business as usual in Scientology.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on May 20, 2009, 08:58:56 AM
                             SENSE OF DOUBT

                                   Part 48

                               It`s a man`s world.

Despite the fact that Hubbard clearly states in his book "Science of survival"
that a woman`s place was in the home, the Executive Directors of Auckland Orgs have, with a few short lapses, always been female.

In deed almost every order I ever got as a Scientology staff member came from a woman.  If I`d had my wits about me at the time, I would have told them to get back to the kitchen and rattle those pots and pans. Hubbard`s words were gospel.

Some of these women could really scream. Mostly it was out of view of the public scientologists. But not always. Being on staff was a rough game. Few could stomach it for long. One girl even faked getting run over by a bus as an excuse to get off staff.

When I was being signed up for my staff status courses the Qual sec at the time told me that by the time I`d finished these courses I`d be able to run "General Motors."   Is it possible that some scientologist took that literally.
Have you seen that General Motors is falling to pieces ?
But you get the idea. Scientologists were prone to over inflating their capabilities with Ron`s beloved tech. Only those with excellent TR`s could remain with the program. There was a course known as the Professional TR`s course.
It was just the communication course but you did the training routines for longer
and you paid much more for it.
To get a final pass on the Pro Tr`s course you were going to have to do O.T T.R Zero (Confronting...eyes closed ) flawlessly for a two hour stretch.
Then T.R Zero (Confronting...eyes open) flawlessly for two hours.
And as for T.R Zero Bullbait.... You would have to remain un effected while a parade of the meanest, nastiest, foul mouthed, cut throats, that the org could muster, did everything they could to get you to react.

By the time one has finished the Pro TR`s course you could be there and confront ANYTHING !!!  How liberating.
What`s the worst thing you could possibly witness ?
Maybe human rights abuses. Things like the holocaust. A pro TR`s graduate could even be right there and comfortably confront that. And help if ordered to..
"quietly and without sorrow."

A pro TR`s graduate was tough. Ron wanted to turn your shy wandering countenance into a "fixed, dedicated, glare."

As a result of this I observed some bizarre phenomenon.
When a Scientology executive wanted to impinge on his juniors they`d  be met
with blank faced, perfect T.R`s.
With no visible sign that they were being taken seriously, they`d be forced to crank up the volume and intensity of their threats.

This caused the screaming matches to accelerate.
To overhear two Scientology staff communicating one could be excused for thinking they were listening to two New York cab drivers discussing who`s parking spot it was.

The higher one went up the ranks of the Scientology Org Board the more vicious the communication becomes. In deed when Scientology crumbles and people are free to speak the truth about their experiences inside the cult, you will hear many accounts of the current Scientology leader, and Tom Cruise`s friend, David Miscavage physically attacking his juniors.

You`ll also hear that his constant companion Laurese carries a bottle of antiseptic in her purse to administer first aid to those Miscavage has just used
his T.R`s on.

What Scientologists fail to realize is that by having their TR`s in they are denying themselves of the human experience.
Little by little the things that would have shocked and disgusted them become par for the course. Things that would have enriched their lives are glossed over.

This dehumanizing is so evident, that when I was working in the States for the Sea org when anyone told a joke.. Sea Org members would respond by saying soberly, "That`s funny. "

If you`d wandered out on the street and told the same joke to some random passersby, they`d hear the joke and give the appropriate human reaction by laughing.

If I wanted to get them in stitches I`d tell them what my life in the Sea org was like. But you`d only see the funny side of it if you hadn`t done the Pro T.R`s and become a real man, someone who could be there comfortably and confront ANYTHING in a man`s world. 

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Div4reject on May 22, 2009, 12:50:20 AM
oh man .. i can relate alot to what u have have been through... i'm just soooo thankful my own father was not the bastard nut-case that you and the rest of your family had to endure..thanku for your story..

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on May 22, 2009, 09:26:10 AM
                                     SENSE OF DOUBT

                                           Part 49

                                  Desk pounding for dummies.

A Sea Org mission arrived and my skills as a Scientology Division head were scrutinized.
They always arrived in pairs, just like the Mormons.
Dressed in Naval uniforms and TR`s that could  rival the Gestapo.
On this occasion it was Sue Griffin, Mission second, and Wayne Judge, Mission I/C.

What they observed disturbed them greatly. None of my juniors were frightened of me. I was not Scientology executive material in my present state.
Sue would take me into her office and scream at me about being too nice.
When I tried to calm her down it just enraged her more.

Finally in exasperation Sue turned me over to Wayne.
Wayne took me into a secluded office and gave me desk pounding lessons.
I was told to pepper my staff meetings with a generous amount of brisk desk slams, so my juniors would fear me.
Wayne gave me several examples.
I got the idea.

The staff musters in Div six were now observed from afar.
My staff were highly amused at the new me.
I`d taken a feather from Maurice Harding`s cap and was mistiming my exclamation points. On some occasions by the time I got around to slamming the desk my juniors were already gone.
Sometimes I`d bark an order at one of them out in the middle of the room, then
rush over to my desk and hit it.

Wayne and Sue agonized over me for hours. Had Scientology taken over the world I`m sure they would have been sad over having to send me to a Scientology slave labour camp.

I ended up driving them to the airport when their mission was called off.
But I wasn`t prepared for what happened at the airport. As they were to go through the boarding gate Sue threw her arms around me and held me so tight I couldn`t breath. I felt her tears running down my neck.
The woman of steel was gone and a sad lost soul clung to me in utter despair.

I heard Sue has left Scientology now.
Wayne has a history of coming and going.

The Judge brothers when youngsters had a group of friends that they hung out with. One of their friends owned an air rifle and had taken sparrow shooting up as a hobby. But it went further than that. He would actually perform autopsies on these sparrows and had a collection of sparrow brains in a jar, just like you see in those films about psychos.

One time this group of youngsters set off for a day in the city.
They took the jar containing sparrow brains as well as a jar of crushed wattle seeds. For those who don`t know ,if you crush wattle seeds and get them wet, they smell like rotten eggs. It`s quite an experience.

Anyway this gang made it all the way to the Farmers Department store in Hobson Street.
On the top floor was a play area, and it was the home of Hector the Farmers parrot. Every year Farmers would have a Hectors birthday sale.
Hector was actually a little shit. He`d nip your finger if you let it near him.
So these guys decided to empty the jar of sparrows brains and stink bombs into Hector`s cage.

If anyone reading this ever worked at Farmers, I have just solved the great Hector Lector, the psycho parrot, mystery for you.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on May 25, 2009, 07:24:52 PM
                                     SENSE OF DOUBT

                                             Part 50


I don`t think anyone would ever honestly say they enjoyed being on staff.
You were there out of a sense of duty. And at all times you were made aware of the vast hole you would leave if you ever left staff.

It was actually so hard to leave staff that it was, in nearly every case, just easier to stay till your contract expired. But there was a catch there as well. To leave staff at the end of their contract one was required to replace themselves.

You couldn`t just go down on the street and get some drunk to sign a staff contract. The person who replaced you was to be as highly trained as you were.
This sure took the incentive out of becoming over qualified.
But it was even worse than that...If your replacement blew (Scientologese for left without proper authorization) you would be called back to post.

None of the above was ever mentioned when you signed your contract.
"Ah...but see here it says YOU agree to abide by the policies of the "Church.""
But even if being a staff member wasn`t enjoyable, it was always interesting.
Never a dull moment. All sorts of drama and human emotion spilled out regularly into the working environment.

The people who were drawn into the org were mostly intensely interesting people.
Often with a great desire to make the world a better place.
One can only wonder how much the world has lost by these people being diverted and distracted for years by Hubbard`s bridge to nowhere.

Here is a rundown of some of the people who worked in my division while I was there. Just first names and a bit of a whatever happened to...

John. He was actually the guy I replaced when I became the Public Executive Secretary. A few years after leaving staff he was in jail for his involvement in a car theft operation.

Bob... He and his wife are now Buddhists.

Neil. Poor Neil... after being sent to my home to spy on me for OSA he got cancer and died. His photo was on the inside cover of a new revamped edition of Dianetics out at the time.

Ian. Died of a heart attack.

Cathie...left Scientology and as a result has been cut off from her mother and sister, who are both Sea Org members.

Karyn. She was raised in a Scientology family. Both her parents died of cancer
while in the Sea Org. Karyn was rescued from a bridge just down the road from the org. No amount of money could ever compensate her for what Scientology has done to her and her family.

Lloyd. Out.

Rolf... A while back he arrived at my home on his bike complaining that the motorists on the motorway were cursing at him for not pulling over to the side of the road.
He had rights as a cyclist !!!!
He then proceeded to nail all my pots and pans to my kitchen wall.

Rob... ran a hose from the exhaust pipe into his car and left it running.
He left behind a wife and three kids.

Dave... Stayed with Scio for years in Sydney till he was ordered to sign his
underage children up for staff contracts. Hasn`t been seen or heard of since.

All in all I was lucky.
I`m skipping a lot of what I know about the devastating impact scientology had
on these peoples lives, to protect their privacy.

These peoples stories are never mentioned in scientology advertising and personal success stories.
"If it isn`t positive...It never happened."

I`ve only mentioned the names of staff who worked in my division.
One for one they have all let Scientology down.... horribly !

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on May 28, 2009, 12:02:30 AM
                                      SENSE OF DOUBT

                                            Part 51

                                         The bus stop

As parking in the city was at a premium, I ended up going to and from the org daily on the bus. It was an hour each way. It gave me a chance to catch up on my reading, unless there were any rowdy drunks on board coming home.

Never forget one night going home the bus stopped at the top of Khyber Pass Road outside "The Astor Hotel." This shitfaced Island guy staggered aboard and immediately started an argument with the weedy driver who looked like the guy
who gets sand kicked in his face in the "before" ads for body building techniques.
The drunk was simply looking for a fight and its possible he only got on the bus because the door was open. He was just fucking with the driver till he could think of a reason to hit him.

What the drunk wasn`t aware of was the driver had taken his foot off the brake and the bus was gaining momentum as it coasted down Khyber Pass Road.
Just as this drunk guy prepared himself to launch a punch, the driver hit the brake with both feet. The drunk flew face first at the windscreen and then disappeared down the stairwell in a heap. Quick as a flash the driver applied the handbrake, climbed out of his seat and flicked  the drunk guys feet off the bus with his foot. The door shut and we carried on our journey.

Nothing was said. However there was a flat nosed facial splatter imprint and a perfectly shaped arc of snot across the windscreen to remind us all of our fallen, fellow commuter.

In a few months I was to be standing at that same bus stop as an ex Staff member.

I was working all sorts of weird jobs just to be able to fit in with my org job.
One of them required me to be up at 6:00am. I was away all day. Got home at
Midnight, in bed by 1:00 am. After a week of this I was starting to have delusions. When Friday came I finished work at my wog job, took the bus home and told all present that
I was going to bed and I was not to be woken for any reason whatsoever.
I finally crawled into bed just as it was getting dark. I knew someone at the org was going to be on the phone when it was discovered I hadn`t shown up for post. Sure enough I fell into a deep sleep the moment my head hit the pillow.
Next thing my mother is knocking at my door. "It`s the bloody org. You have to come to the phone." I was in no mood for this. It was Sue. "You get your arse in here and on post right this fucking second.
"Sue... I am absolutely fucked. I am doing serious damage to my health.
I need to sleep right fucking now. I`ll be there in the morning."
Then I hung up and took the phone off the hook.

By now my head was throbbing. It was like a bad drug trip.
I set the alarm for the morning and fell back to sleep.
I was awoken by the alarm. My hand fumbled around for the off button.
It was still dark... I dragged myself out of bed semi conscious.
I pulled on some clothes and made my way to the door.
The lights were on in the house. What the fuck ??

Oh my God... It was still Friday night. I`d set the alarm for what I thought was 7:15 am.  In reality I`d set the alarm to go off in fifteen minutes.
To this day. I will not use an alarm clock. And if I get woken instead of just waking up, my day is a write off. I know other ex staff who are paranoid about answering the phone.

Hubbard had put out a policy forbidding staff from receiving the free auditing
they were supposed to be entitled to as staff members.
Despite that Christine, the ED (Executive Director) at the time had organized it so she was being audited for free during the days.
When Albert Mc Graw came over on mission he found out about this and Christine was busted.
She was seen red eyed around the org for a few days and then disappeared completely. Gwen became the new E.D.
My contract was about to expire and I warned her that she`d better find someone to replace me and get used to the fact I`d had enough.
Gwen burst into tears and pleaded with me to stay.
Luckily I`d done the TR`s and was able to be there and comfortably confront her
misery quietly and without sorrow.

Paul the rapist was now the HAS. He owed me one for raping my girlfriend so I told him I wanted off staff without any bullshit. He said "leave it with me."
He also owed me about five hundred bucks at that stage. He had joined staff on both orgs so was borrowing money off me for food and cigarettes.
Paul told me to do a hat write up and turn it in to him.
I did. The day of my release was drawing near.

I needed a diversion. No matter what Paul could do to get me out,
I knew it was still going to be murder.
Then I got my break... Gwen got caught reading comics in her Executive Directors office.

It seems she`d been making the rounds each evening issuing orders to everyone
and then spending her post time finding out what Huey, Louie and Dewey were
getting up to.

In the upheaval that followed, I slid out the door on the day my contract expired.
I walked out onto Queen Street and had a kind of a panic attack.
Leaving staff was something we`d been subtly brainwashed into believing was a recipe for disaster. Would I be hit by a bus ? Would I now get cancer ?
I decided to walk home from town. It was still daylight. I took a short cut through Grafton Cemetery. As I stepped over a grave I was hit from behind.
No one was there. I felt spooked.

Hold on a second. Hadn`t this all been handled by auditing ?
By the time I reached the top of Khyber Pass Road all of my old ghosts had returned. Everything I`d spent thousands of dollars and hundreds of working hours to transcend was back.

I didn`t realize it at the time but now I know with certainty that my whole Scientology experience had been one big diversion.
Everything I`d gone to Scientology to free myself from, began  to congregate around me like vultures.
I ended up at the bus stop where the drunk had been ejected from the bus that fateful night.

The bus driver had done to him what Scientology had just done to me.
Except his trip took two and a half seconds...Mine took two and a half years.
And he got away without paying for his ride.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on October 05, 2010, 08:02:57 AM
                                    SENSE OF DOUBT

                                         Part 52

                                       Bodies in porn

A year has passed since the last chapter. I`m sitting at the kitchen table looking
through the current listener magazine. (The TV guide) It`s 1982 and the Julie Kristopherson vs Scientology case has hit the press.

I read it with interest. Julie, a resident of Portland, Oregon, was suing Scientology, basically for fraud.

Within a few months I was called into the org for a briefing by Heber Jentzsch
,the President of the Church of Scientology international.
He was accompanied by a "Viking" named Andreas. A professional singer who told
us of how he had broken his performing contract with a major hotel to come to the aid of his religion in its hour of need.

Heber told us about the government butt he`d kicked over the years for
the right for Scientologists to practice their religion as guaranteed by
the United States constitution, but very little about the Kristopherson case.

Then Andreas, the Viking, set about getting donations for the legal appeal
against what we were assurred had been an unjust decision.
Julie had won eight million dollars reparation in the courts decision.

Shortly after that more funds were needed to send a team of Kiwi`s to Portland
to join the street marches and door knocking in the "Battle of Portland."

The cult released a video of the whole thing some months later after the verdict was overturned and Julie was awarded nothing.

Lynnaire was one of the volunteers who took off to Portland.

When she returned the new verdict was still not in and she gave us a briefing.
This was not the normal type of briefing. This was only for selected Scientologists
and Lynnaire insisted on only briefing people in small groups of three or four at a time.

It was a confidential briefing. Not to be discussed outside of the briefing room.

I guess now that it`s all over it won`t do any harm to tell you what really was going down in Portland..

So here it is. Compliments of Lynnaire.

  As we all know David Mayo had been thrown out of the Church.
As well as committing every crime a Scientologist could commit he was claiming
authorship of NOTS. (OT V) When he had finally been exposed for trying to take
control of Scientology a search of his office had revealed a shoebox full of cash
under his desk !!! 

That`s all we were told about that.  So just a warning to any Scientologists reading this.... It`s not a good idea to have a shoebox of cash under your desk.
Apparently this, as far as I was told, would reveal your plot to take control of the church.

But there was more.  This is why these briefings were to be held only for small groups... Anyone who went crazy listening to this news could be handled on the spot.

The Marcabians had kidnapped the real David Mayo and replaced him with a body in pawn (Not porn.) You may have seen this phenomenon in the movie "The matrix."
The Marcabians who hark from Ursa Major , light years from our solar system,
had been watching Ron building the resistance here on Earth that would one day overthrow their evil empire.

So the fake Mayo, who was hiding out in L.A. had telepathically directed Julie Kristopherson to bring her evil lawsuit against Scientology to bankrupt it so that it could be picked up in a bargain basement auction by the evil Mayo, who would sabotage it on behalf of the Marcabians.

This was unbelievable to me. Without this confidential briefing I would never have suspected such a cosmic conspiracy could have existed.

There was a final touch designed to give us an insight into the biblical proportions of what was happening.

Lynnaire who heroically kept her composure while imparting this vital information gave us the sign....   

"Mt Saint Helens is erupting."
I was there with my girlfriend at the time, as well as the Auckland Day reg, Lauren.
This news went right over Lauren`s head. She couldn`t connect this with Mt St Helens.  I held up a copy of Dianetics and the penny dropped (More GI).
The exploding volcano that graced its cover was now bursting forth to expose
lies and tyranny in Oregon. 

I really started to get some reality on why Scientologists hated psychiatrists so much.
Can you imagine if Lynnaire had told a psych about what was really going on.
He or she would have though Lynnaire was stark raving mad and had her
heavily sedated.

I left the briefing more bewildered than enlightened.

 If David Mayo is reading this , you need to know that you are not really you.
And I wouldn`t skite about inventing NUTS !!



Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: NED on October 06, 2010, 07:54:44 AM
Yay!  You're back!!
More! More!!!!

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback 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 ?



Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback 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

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 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.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback 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.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on October 09, 2010, 07:36:39 PM
                                     SENSE OF DOUBT

                                          Part 56


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...


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback 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 !!

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback 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.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback 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 !


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback 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...

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback 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."


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.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on October 18, 2010, 10:59:01 AM
                                     SENSE OF DOUBT

                                           Part 61


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.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback 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.

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.

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.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback 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.

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 ..........


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 ??

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback 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. 

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback 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

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."

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback 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.!!"

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on October 27, 2010, 08:46:13 AM
                                      SENSE OF DOUBT

                                              Part 67

                                             Finding ist

 Things were tense in Fiji. Not just for us.  The recent elections had resulted for the first time in a majority of Fijian Indians out numbering the number of Fijian natives in parliament. This despite the fact that there was a mix of races in both major parties.  This whole problem was created in the first place when easy going natives couldn`t see any reason to spend their lives producing the sugar that was a big hit at tea parties right throughout the British Empire.
So rather than producing a reason, the enforcers decided to ship starving, entrepreneurial, Indians from the slums of India to their newly acquired island paradise in the Pacific to do the work.

Due to both races having very different but equally headstrong traditional values and customs, there wasn`t a great deal of mixing.

Wally, an OT, had told me how the different races of the earth would one day come together in harmony.

         "What we need is a great big melting pot,
          Big enough to hold the world and all it`s got,
          Stir it for a hundred years or more,
          And turn out coffee coloured people by the score"

The exact same message was being blasted on the radio by a five member group of girl singers a few months before.

The Fijian melting pot had been simmering away for well over a hundred years.
But alas, no one had been willing to jump into it. Now that the English had gone, there was no one to stop people from throwing others into the pot against their will.  The melting pot had become a pressure cooker.

Finally realizing that hitching my wagon to Wally`s star had left me surrounded by hostile Indians, I decided to bypass all the experts and take matters into my own hands. I walked down the road, something the radio was now warning us against doing, and hailed a cab. I`d never ever been in danger from enemies. The only people who had ever attacked me were people supposedly on my side.

I asked the Indian driver if he was interested in doing some business.
When I explained what we were here trying to do he said it sounded like what his school teacher wife wanted to do as well. He agreed to bring her to see us that evening.

He dropped me back at Knollys Street and I went inside and told Wally we were to expect a visit that evening from a lady that could possibly be our person in Fiji to get the Mission up and running.  Wally didn`t get it.

I explained to Wally that the problems we were having as foreigners could be circumvented by having a Fijian National front for us. He couldn`t quite grasp it.

That evening the cabbie arrived at the appointed time. I shook his hand and welcomed him in. And then possibly the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,
apart for the females reading this, graced us with her presence. I say graced..
She was the Indian version of Grace Kelly. It wasn`t just physical beauty. She had a poise and a dignity that would open doors anywhere in the world.

Her English was perfect and her accent was an International one.

I left Wally to talk to her while I entertained her husband.
Turns out he`d just gotten back from a two year spell working in Auckland.
Actually he`d been working in the Kiwi Bacon factory two hundred meters down the road from where Wally was living.

Speaking of Wally... For some reason he`d decided to give this poor woman a lecture on why she should definitely NOT  take up this venture.
I couldn`t believe it. If only Wally had given me that lecture when he recruited me for the project.

Our visitors got up and left. I apologized to the cabbie and put $25 in his hand to compensate him and his wife for having wasted their time.

The next day Wally drove my wife, child and I across to the other side of the Island to Nandi to catch our flight out of Fiji.
At the check in counter the official looked at our weigh in reading and told us that we were over weight. He did some quick mental calculations while looking us up and down and then told us that we needed to pay him $300.00 if we wanted our luggage to accompany us home. That`s $600 NZ.
These were the same bags exactly that we had arrived with.

No.... then I remembered the shorts I had purchased.
I told the guy at the counter this fact. He reluctantly waved us through without the fee.

I said goodbye to Wally, knowing that this would be the last time I`d ever have anything to do with him.

When we finally arrived back in Auckland there was one more surprise waiting for us. As we approached the luggage carousel it resembled a jumble sale.

On closer inspection it became apparent that our suitcases had been destroyed and their contents scattered to the four winds.

Someone had been frantically searching for my $600 pair of shorts.

They were gone.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on October 29, 2010, 08:44:37 AM
                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                     Part 68

                      What have I done to deserve this...?

Wally had a few loose ends to tie up in Fiji. Relinquishing the rented house, returning the car, etc.  He was due back the following evening.
In Scientology there is a thing called the overt motivator sequence. How it works is that someone pulls in a bad experience...maybe their village is attacked by savages
and their family are all killed. That was an overt by the savages on your village.

This motivates the the victim of this savage attack to get revenge. ie. Commit a new overt. He may find a way to capture and torture the savages who killed his family. Now they are on the receiving end of the overt motivator sequence and
their loved ones are motivated into starting the next round.

This has been the basis for more suffering and drama in fact and fiction than is
easy to count. Hubbard`s theory was that if you confessed all of your overts then you would not attract a motivator.

Or if you did pull in a motivator then rather than seek revenge one should discover
and erase the overt that predisposed one to the motivator.

The logic seems sound. Examples of the overt motivator sequence filled history books and the Newspapers.... If you are looking for it.

Look at Germany...As a nation they invaded other countries committing overts in a frenzy.  This motivated other countries to pound Germany into the dirt.

Overt free,Scientology, via overt free Wally and I, had invaded Fiji with theta. Dark forces had conspired against us resulting in a rejection of our help. Now the Friendly Fijian Islands were due a motivator. 

I had, what would be my last conversation with Wally over the phone the following evening. I was just checking that he`d gotten home okay. No one deserves to be rotting away in a pacific island paradise jail. Especially someone who had gone there with altruistic intentions.  Yes he`d made it back okay...
However he informed me that he was on the move again. The bank now owned his house.

When John Rich had used Wally as bait to talk all these Scios into taking out vast loans on their houses, Wally had lead by example.  I was never told the number of
Scientologists who`s lives were destroyed by John Rich. Such information was never disclosed by Scientology. They were being really quiet about this one. 
And the quieter they were being was an indicator of just how bad the situation was.  None of the money ever showed up at the org, with one exception.

Now it was that fact which got John his SP Declare.  John Rich was expelled from the Church of Scientology. His list of crimes were sadly lacking in any words whatsoever about the homeless Scientologists he had left in his wake.

Wally, now approaching his eighties, had no choice but to grab the small change left after all his debts were paid, and put a deposit on a home for himself, his long suffering wife and one adult, yet still dependent, daughter in the small isolated town of Thames.

Yes. Wally had copped a motivator.
But that was nothing compared to the huge motivator that was about to descend on the Fijian Islands. 

I put the phone down and almost immediately a news flash came over the TV.
Fiji had just experienced a military coup. There were scenes of people being beaten in the streets. Indians. It seemed the Fijian native pressure cooker had
exploded.  The Fijian Military, who were all native Fijians, started showing up
with their rifles on the city streets. Blockades were hastily erected around strategic infrastructure locations.

I felt glad to be seeing all this in safety and comfort at home.
It was then my mother came through and told me not to unpack.
She wanted me and my wife out of her home.

So out of all this the only ones to escape any sort of motivator, was Scientology.
They alone remained unscathed. A little like Switzerland in World War Two.

Hubbard had always said. "Clean hands make a happy life."

I know for a fact that no one at Scientology got their hands dirty over the Fiji mission. Or John Rich`s Greek Islands project for that matter...

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on October 31, 2010, 08:23:35 PM
                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                       Part 69

                                  Cold and unemployed.

One of the first things you realize when arriving back in New Zealand after sweating twenty four hours a day in Fiji is how cold it is here.
I had no money. I had no job. I had no where to live. But I still had one friend.

 I ran into him on the street and discovered that there is always someone worse off than you. I`d known Grant since I moved out of my fathers house at age fifteen. We were both Bowie fans and had a similar taste in music, movies and humour.  I`d managed to get Grant into Scientology to do the communication course a few years earlier. But he never took it any further.

Armed with these powerful communication skills, he`d gone into town one Friday night, abused drugs and alcohol then the next thing he remembers is presenting himself in the forecourt of a busy downtown petrol station and announcing threateningly that he had a bomb.

Grant couldn`t actually remember how or why he`d shown up at this service station. But he definitely knew it wasn`t to be blown to pieces by some lunatic with a bomb strapped to him.

A customer at the service station had just opened the large freezer beside the night pay window where party ice bags were stored. He looked at Grant and decided to abandon the ice he`d just paid for, and  make a run for it, leaving the freezer lid wide open.

Grant saw this open freezer as a safe refuge and raced towards it at full speed.
Launching himself into the air he sailed headlong into the freezer, causing enough of an impact to cause the door to fall shut tightly above him.

Soon he heard the approaching police sirens and felt reassured that help was on the way.

For ten minutes he lay on the ice, shivering and waiting till he got an "all clear".
From the safety of his cold, dark sanctuary he heard a megaphone ordering the "person in the freezer" to please exit it slowly with his hands up.
Opening the lid just a crack he noticed he was surrounded by members of the armed offenders squad, who were all pointing their guns at him.

He sunk back into the freezer allowing the lid to gently close.
The megaphone repeated the message. He peered out once again only to be met with the exact same scene.  Man these guys weren`t taking any chances.

Cold and shivering Grant exited the freezer and complied with the instructions
to lay himself on the ground. Moments later he was pounced on and hand cuffed.

A quick search determined that Grant was only armed with his wallet and a comb (Not the explosive type.)
He was bundled into a police car and driven through the police cordon where a hundred or so interested spectators had gathered. This included the night crew from the popular music radio station, Radio Hauraki, who had been evacuated from the top floor above the petrol station which the crazed bomber had recently departed from.

A few years after that I heard of Grant again, via the newspaper. He had apparently robbed a bank.
The article details are a bit vague now. I knew I`d get the story when I bumped into him again.

Which is what happened some time later. So here is the story.
Grant had been walking on a city street and caught a glimpse of himself reflected in a store front window. It occurred to him that with a few accessories he`d look just like a cool bank robber.
A few minutes in a two dollar shop proved his theory correct. So now adorned with a handkerchief tied around his face and a water pistol in his pocket, he headed off to the nearest bank to make a withdrawal. 

He stepped up to the counter and re enacted a scene from a movie he`d seen.... possibly "Bonnie and Clyde."
The bank staff played their parts perfectly and stuffed a paper bag filled with cash on the counter.
Grant grabbed it and bolted for the door. It was only as he exited the bank that he realized, to his horror, that he`d overlooked possibly the single most important ingredient for his getaway.... The getaway "plan" .

It was too late to think about that now. He took off down the street as fast as he could run. What a time to realize that you are out of shape.  He was actually relieved when the police car bailed him up so he could rest up and catch his breath.

I guess you are wondering why I`d tell you about the anti social acts caused by a friend of mine.
It just doesn`t seem relevant. I mean to say... Grant was not a Scientologist... Well he did spend a week or so doing a Scientology communication course. But that wouldn`t cause an unexplained rash of out ethics activity.
Only someone with an overactive imagination and an axe to grind would even infer that there was a connection.

But hang on a minute... Every time someone who even sat on a bus near a psych went off the rails, Scientologists were able to tie the bad citizen with a psych encounter.  Scientology even had pamphlets out tying public enemies to the briefest of encounters with a psych of some sort.

Trouble is.... Grant had never been near a psych. Never.
But he had availed himself to the Scientologists.  Is it my imagination ? ...Or is there some sort of a double standard at work here ?  By Scientology`s own well researched cause and effect rationale.... would it not equally be fair to tie all ex Scientologists (and for that matter...current Scientologist`s) bad behavior directly to their Scientology involvement ???

Now of course Scientology will say that it was probable that a psych intervention may have preceded the person doing Scientology...Except  for the fact that one was not allowed to receive Scientology training or counseling if scio became aware that the person had been even remotely under the care of a psych.  It was even checked out on the meter to verify that no psych intervention existed before someone was allowed to receive training or processing in any Church of Scientology, anywhere in the world.

 As Grant told me about the great bank robbery he`d committed, not even I suspected that per Scientology technology... Scientology itself may have been the catalyst for his reckless behavior.  That aside, Grant had somehow managed to become a computer programmer. I mentioned my surprise about this to him. "What makes you think that ? he asked.
"Well... it said in the paper that you were an unemployed computer programmer." Grant just said.

 "Oh....You can be an "unemployed" anything you want."

What a liberating thought.

It  may have  been then that I decided to become an unemployed stunt driver.

Of course I was totally unqualified to be an employed stunt driver.. So I accepted instead the offer of a job as a fork lift driver with Terry.
He was an OT seven Scientology businessman. Had a set of Hubbard green administrative tech volumes in his office. (never opened of course.)

I feel positive that had Terry ever opened them, somewhere there must have been an advice on fork lifts by Hubbard. He was an expert in pretty much everything...except "Cults". Oddly, he never really said anything about how to protect yourself, friends and family from dangerous, money grubbing Cults.

I`m positive if Hubbard had written about cults, he would have finally been for the first time, actually able to speak on a subject of which he genuinely was an expert.

And as for fork lifts... Surely even he would have seen the importance of only driving ones that had brakes.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 02, 2010, 09:22:19 AM
                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                     Part 70

                                  The cut off.

I arrived for my first day at "The Health Lunch Company".
Tony, an OT 4... I think, who was also the Executive Director of Celebrity Center
Auckland, filled me in on my duties.

I was going to be responsible for receiving all incoming deliveries. That would be
pallets of nuts, dried apricots, that sort of thing. These were to be put in the
warehouse a few driveways down the road from the one where the factory
and offices were. Or sometimes when that was full, in another warehouse down a long driveway further up the road. Meanwhile I would be receiving lists of items to deliver to the factory where all these products would be mixed.

To do all these things, I`d have the use of the companies folk lift.
I`d spent hours driving fork hoists in the various jobs I`d had over the years to support my Scientology habit. Tony mentioned that the brakes on their hoist
were a bit tricky.

The Health Lunch company was situated on a long sloping road. So when I say "Up the road" or "down the road" I`m being quite literal.

I guess there were about twelve staff all up. The ones with any sort of authority
were all Scientologists. And the company was run according to Hubbard`s business technology. Scientology as an organization had no connection to this company except for the well fed "grapevine." I realized this when the Day Registrar phoned me at my new flat in Otahuhu one evening, and told me that she`d heard I was now working for Terry. Lauren needed a favour. She had a prospect who was keen to buy some major services, but lacked the finance.
Lauren wondered if I might be able to borrow this money from Terry.

I felt quite puzzled about this.
" Why doesn`t this person approach Terry themselves "?
I could tell that there was a story behind this that I wasn`t going to be told.
"They can`t." I was assured.
Well then I asked, "Why don`t you ask Terry for the loan?"
Lauren in her efforts to present me with a sound case, explained that
the org had been ordered by Flag to STOP hitting Terry up for money.

When I saw a copy of Scientology`s Impact magazine, a few months later
it all made sense. Terry was now a Patron, or a Humanitarian Gold meritorious...
some bullshit.... "He`d "donated " US $ 60,000 to the  "Association of Scientologists International"

How would that have been possible if Terry was forever loaning out the money Flag wanted off him.

This is a great example of how Scientology warps peoples logic.
Lauren had been ordered NOT to hit Terry up for money. So it appears she side stepped this by trying to recruit others to hit Terry up for money on her behalf.

Tony took me down (Literally) the driveway.  He pointed to a business, situated at the bottom of this cul de sac and explained that the guy there made the display cabinets that the Health lunch companies big white plastic pails were
put in for easy access in supermarkets.

I was to bring maybe twelve of them up for storage in our warehouse till they could be sent off to various outlets.
I started up the hoist and and set off down the driveway. As I approached the bottom I applied the brakes. The hoist carried on with total disregard and with
 a series of loud and violent jars I was out on the road. I headed up hill to
get gravity on my side. When the hoist slowed down, Tony came over smiling and laughing. "See what I mean...?"

I told Tony that they weren`t "tricky.".... They were non existent.

" I know. I know. We`re getting a guy in to look at them. So just go slowly
and "Make it go right."  I can`t count the number of times I was given this phrase
by Scientologists. It was the phrase used to cover over every pot hole in logic
that unfolded daily as a Scientologist.

Hubbard had stated... "You are as OT as you can make things go right."

If every Scientologist sent Hubbard a bill for every time they had to "make things go right" without the benefit of his costly OT levels, he would have died heavily in debt.

I`d driven fork hoists before in WOG companies. If ever there was the slightest problem with a hoist, it was fixed within the hour or a replacement hoist was made available. But this was a Scientology company. One day all companies would be like this where "Make it go right" would be distributed generously.

I made my way slowly down the road. The carpenter awaiting me had all these cabinets lined up, three on a pallet. I scooped up the first one and made
my way back up the hill. The driveway to the warehouse was even steeper than the road. I gunned it as I made the turn and reached the narrow flat at the top,
and unable to stop, hit the warehouse wall. The cabinets all rocked forward and I
dismounted to inspect the damage. Two were fine. But the front one had
been slightly chipped and grazed.
I decided to tell Tony right away. He came over with me and run his hand across the damage. Then he said "Okay take these two inside and this damaged one will have to go back to be repaired. You`ll have to pay for it."

Yes. This was another important part of Scientology. One has to keep their exchange in and take responsibility for any damage they caused.

I dropped this, now less than glamorous cabinet, back to the cabinet maker.
I told him what had happened and that I`d have to pay for the repair.
He looked at me and said "Are you fucken insane ?" He then assured me that his bill would be going to the Health Lunch company. Not me.

Despite the fact that I told Tony, as often as possible to get the brakes fixed, he never did.  My constant reminders to him were viewed as counter intention....
Something severely frowned on by Scientologists.

Tony`s suggestion that I take things slowly on the hoist was never mentioned again. Quite to the contrary, every order I had to deliver over to the factory were all framed by the words "Urgently."

Over time I got quite skilled at driving a two ton death trap without it being able to stop itself.

One day as I was moving stock around in the warehouse there was an almighty
crash outside. I rushed to the door and saw people from all the factories around rushing out to the street. A poor young Maori guy, who had been driving a fork lift
just like mine, but presumably WITH brakes, had failed to make a turn and had
rolled his fork lift. Instinctively, he had tried to jump clear. Not suspecting that the roll cage was going to come crashing down with so much force that it was going to slice him in half.

He sat there in the cage. Both his legs from the mid thigh down were laying
on the road with each foot laying on their sides but facing opposite directions.

Terry and Tony appeared beside me. There was nothing we could do.
Hang on we are Scientologists..."The only ones who can help when there is an accident."  An OT 7 an OT 4 and a clear. I was out ranked by these OTs. I turned to them quite distressed and said. "Can`t you guys do something for this poor kid.

Terry just stood there in shock. Tony approached the guy who was semi conscious and said. " You are experiencing a bit of pain at the moment. Am I right ?" But this poor young guy was actually having a conversation with his invisible uncle. Moments later he was actually talking to Jesus.

I guess some of you will be under the impression he was hallucinating.
But if that was the case, why was he not having a dialogue with a giant pink bunny as well ? It was only after getting free of Scientology years later that
I realized why he saw his uncle and Jesus. At that moment I saw the pink bunny as well.... Scientology.

Another fork lift driver appeared and was able to grab the roll cage and lift it high enough for a group of people to slide this kid out while two others held his legs in place.
They were cut right through. Only his trousers gave the appearance that they
were still connected to him.

An ambulance arrived and moments later it`s siren faded over the horizon.

I walked into the warehouse on my own. With tears streaming down my face
I lit a cigarette and made the clear decision that freeing beings from the MEST universe was all that mattered.   

 I`d endure any hardship to find the way.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 10, 2010, 09:45:36 AM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                     Part 71

                                  Back to zero

I needed to walk away from "The Health Lunch Company while I still could.
My relationship with my wife was one long lesson in incompatibility.
I was estranged from all of my family. My lifelong best friend Jimmy Chung had
succumbed to cancer the previous year.
The local org and its members had demonstrated nothing but incompetence
and short sightedness.

I was looking for a way out. Enter Mark Harris.

Mark had arrived in New Zealand on a recruitment tour for a branch of the Sea org  known as "Golden Era Productions." He`d arrive at my flat each evening and
we`d go into a spare bedroom to talk.

Mark didn`t hold back in his explaining to me how fucked my life was due to my
envolvement with Scientology here in New Zealand.
I didn`t disagree. Then Mark informed me that I was an artist and I needed to be surrounded by like minded people. I needed to be surrounded by other artists.
Gold is where you can do that. Mark painted this picture of what life at Gold was like. He was working with internationally famous actors and musicians.
He even had a band up there.

Apart from telling me about his encounters with John Travolta, who was already outed as a scio, Mark was reluctant to mention names. But he assured me that  I would be amazed at who was there at Gold. Per policy Mark could not out any of them.
But he did point to a few stars through innuendo. When he hinted about Clint Eastwood being amongst them I was sold.

I`d already signed a Sea Org contract anyhow. So all Mark needed to do now was help me to arrive in Hollywood. He organized everything with super efficiency. He took me to The United States consulate and helped me fill in the Visa application. Plane tickets were purchased for me.

I was a little surprised that the airline had spelt Hollywood, California, as S Y D N E Y. It was only as I was in too deep to turn back that Mark explained that I first
needed to do what is called the Estates Project Force (The EPF) in Australia, before I could move onto my post at Gold.

From there I would be flown to the States.

"How long does that take?" I asked.
Mark... "Oh people can get through that in a couple of months, no problem."

Now just to demonstrate the image I had in mind about what I was going to be doing for the rest of my life, I arrived at the Airport with two suitcases full of sheet music and little else. 

Had Mark told me where I was actually going I would have taken camping equipment and a survival kit. If you are thinking of joining the Sea org, I`d suggest that you pack for a stay at Auschwitz. You think I jest.

Well this is where my story begins it`s descent into human degradation and suffering that our fathers and grandfathers laid down their lives to prevent
from ever happening again.

 Let what follows be a warning to you all.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 11, 2010, 04:13:21 PM
                                     SENSE OF DOUBT

                                          Part 72

                                  Welcome to the Sea Org.

Upon arriving at the CLO (Continental Liason Office) in Sydney in the middle of the day I was passed on to Steve Mc Mahon, the cook, who by coincidence was my step father in law.
He explained that there was no one available to take me to my berthing address
just at the moment. But could I perhaps take a cab there via a Chinese shop
in Midtown Sydney where I could purchase a desperately needed block of cheese.

Steve gave me both the addresses and I flagged down a cab. The driver watched helpfully as I loaded my suitcases and then I read out the address for the cheese.
The drivers accent was like nothing I`d ever heard on "Skippy", or "The Rolf Harris show."  Never the less he seemed to know his way around Sydney and soon
I was in possession of the a fore mentioned, car battery sized, dairy product.
Our next destination was very simple. "3 George Street."
The driver used his mental computer and soon we were weaving our way through a series of back streets till we ended up at the very bottom of town.
The cabbie pulled over and looked greedily at the meter.

I just knew the Sea org berthing would not be situated amongst the downtown prime real estate of Sydney, and expressed my doubts to the cabbie.
" Maybe he mean Redfern." Once again we we did a zig zag tour in celebration of
city planners everywhere. Perhaps the most short sighted of all the professionals who excelled in incompetence.

Twenty minutes later we pulled up outside of 3 George Street, Redfern.

Still unconvinced, I made the cab wait while I bounded up the steps to the open front door. I knocked on the door to no avail. As the meter was still running I called out "Is anyone home ?"
Moments later Steve appeared..."Where`s the cheese ?"

"It`s in the cab." I replied, Wondering how Steve had gotten here despite his
apparent lack of transportation when it came to blocks of cheese.

Steve followed me out to the cab where he collected up his precious block while I unloaded my luggage and gave the cabbie what would turn out to be a months pay in the Sea org.

Soon I was shown the room I`d be staying in. I could tell I wasn`t going to be alone. Four sets of rickety old bunk beds, three tiers high, filled the small room.
It was smelly and so soggy that I was reluctant to touch anything.

I pretty much just killed time till late that evening when my roommates all arrived home. We all introduced ourselves and had a few laughs. Another guy who it turned out was the brother of Tony, my ex boss at the Health Lunch Company, suddenly looked over my shoulder as I lay in my bed and started to swear in disgust... "Holy fuck !! I just saw the biggest cockroach I have ever seen, right behind you. I turned and saw the crack in the wall it had just retreated in to right beside my pillow.

Lights out.  My first night was a restless one.

My stay on the Estates project Force would involve manual labour till dinner time, followed by study till 10:00 PM every night.

One of the day jobs involved going over to the seven or eight story high rise,
where all the Scientology babies and children were kept on the top story.
I say kept because when I took a ride in the elevator up to the roof for a smoke, I found one of the kids playing up there.
Now I want you to really get this.

When you hand your kids over to Scientology`s care, you would have no doubt been under the impression that the most precious things in your life, your children, would be lovingly cared for and safe.

Here I am on the roof of this creche watching a boy of less than ten years of age using the narrow ledge as an obstacle course. One careless mis step and there was no coming back. He climbed back down when he noticed me and went back to the creche to continue getting the supervision his parents must have assumed he was getting all day.

One week later I`d done all the basic Sea Org training I needed to become a Sea Org member. When it came to graduation and I had to give my graduating speech people were amazed at how I`d gotten through over a months worth of training in only a week. I wasn`t able to say it then. So I`ll say it now.

"Because what I studied on the "Welcome to the Sea org Course" and "The able bodied Seaman course" was all pointless, irrelevant drivel.  Plus my desire to not be there any more was a source of inspiration for me to make a speedy escape through the graduation door. See ya later suckers !!!"

I phoned a buddy of mine who was now a reporter living in Sydney and he came and collected me. As I left 3 George Street, Redfern, it reminded me of that much needed breath of air you take after exiting a public toilet.

I was able to take a bath, wash my clothes, eat a proper meal and then we
spent the evening watching Robin Williams do a stand up set on video.

The next day I went back to see Mark Harris who was also now in Sydney.
He told me that I should expect my plane tickets to be organized by the next day.
"Well I`m not waiting around here." I`d gotten in touch with the private eye I`d worked for as a teen and he lived really close to the airport.
"Sure"... I could stay with him.

I gave Mark the number and moved in with Ray.
Four days passed before Mark called. My flight was arranged.
As it turned out flying me back to New Zealand and going to L.A. from there, would be cheaper.

So I had a flight back to New Zealand.
Maybe a night or two in New Zealand and then I got a lift to the airport from Ken,
the guy who played the drums. My reporter friend from Sydney had given me a cassette of a band named "World Party." We played it in the car on the way to the airport. There was a track there that just blew me away. Ken loved it to.
We played it over and over.

It`s title .... "Ship of fools."  I wished I`d listened even closer.

I actually saw "World Party" perform this live maybe two years ago when
they were the opening act for "Steely Dan."
Every beat of that song just ripped at my heart.  ....enjoy

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 11, 2010, 10:44:38 PM
                                        SENSE OF DOUBT

                                             Part 73

                                        Hollywood AND bust.

The plane touched down at LAX at about 7:00 am.
I found a phone and dialed the number I`d been given for the Gold recruitment office.
No answer. That didn`t surprise me.  It was early after all. It gave me time to hang around and bask in the atmosphere. After years of watching American entertainment
I was finally here. I found every detail fascinating. The way people talked. The way they carried themselves. I was like a sponge just soaking it all in.

After 9:00 am local time I grabbed a phone again and got through to a girl at the Gold recruitment office. I explained where I was and she said she`d have someone there to collect me immediately and not to move from that spot.
So I sat on a concrete wall and waited patiently for nine hours. My luggage had mysteriously disappeared. I filled in all the forms and was assured my luggage would be delivered to the address I gave them.

I guess with only twenty five years or so of flying people between New Zealand and America the airline still had a few minor problems to iron out.

It was dark and cold when a van pulled up and a black girl came looking for me.
"You waiting for a lift to Gold ?" Yes I replied. With that she spun around without as much as a smile and got back in the van.

We never spoke the whole way to Hollywood. Except when I explained that I hadn`t eaten all day and asked if she could stop somewhere.
With her reluctant sigh she pulled up outside a Mc Donald`s and I sampled the local cuisine. Tasted remarkably like the Mc Donald`s we had back home.

When I came out with my mouth full of big mac I noticed that my driver was gone.
After a thorough search I found her a short distance away filling up the van with gas. Not a "comm course" star graduate by any means.

I still thanked her for the ride when we pulled up at PAC. That`s the big blue
ex hospital building on Sunset Boulevard.  I went to enter the building but realized that the doors were locked. I observed others entering and leaving with the use of a swipe card. So I stopped one girl and told her I was trying to get to Gold.
She told me it was around the other side of the building and that I`d have to walk around outside to it.

A few minutes later I walked down the stairs of the Gold recruitment office that was actually a basement.

Some blonde girl from a Scandinavian country, who looked like she could snap your neck with her thighs passed me over to a tall blonde guy named Lars who "was coming from Sveeden."
The first real person I`d met since I arrived in America. We hit it off immediately
and became close friends. He confessed that it had been his job to pick me up from the airport. He took me to our berthing space. We weren`t the only ones there. The place was shutting down for the night and people were returning to their beds. I wanted to freshen up after my long day, so I went into the bathroom.
How delightful. It was tiny. I felt embarrassed upon entering to see a guy sitting on the toilet, another in the bath , another having a shave while yet another sat on the floor reading a novel. None of them even noticed me enter and leave.

I was shown my bunk by Lars. I was on top of one of six, four tiered bunks that
filled the room. Eight inches above my face was a concrete ceiling.
I fell into a deep sleep but sometime in the middle of the night I was wide awake and starving. So I threw on some clothes and headed off in search of food.

I had no idea where I was going so just used some sort of primitive instinct.
Sure enough before long I`d found a vending machine. I put my last few coins in and scored a snickers bar or some such rubbish.
As I unwrapped it a Security guard approached me suspiciously.
"What are you doing here ?" he demanded. I told him I needed to get something to eat. He pointed at my bare feet and warned me that I must wear shoes at all times.  "How did you even know I was here ?"  I asked. He pointed towards the ceiling and the closed circuit camera bolted there.

As I made my way back to my room I started to notice all the cameras in every passage.
I was finally a star. I walked back to my room as interestingly as I could, knowing that a team of security guards only had me as entertainment.

I wondered how the security team would have reacted if I was able to mount a camera on the wall inside their office. When you think about it, it would be handy to quote their reaction back to them when they asked you why you were pulling down all the cameras they had monitoring you.

Hubbard had a quote about this sort of thing.
"On the day we can fully trust each other there will be peace on earth."

I`m thinking that would be the day the very last security camera was pulled down. I guess by the number of security cameras here at PAC... Hubbard didn`t rate peace very highly.
It was about 1:00 PM when I awoke the next day. It was then I wished I`d brought along my Auschwitz kit.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 12, 2010, 09:13:30 AM
                                SENSE OF DOUBT

                                       Part 74

                                    Lines Hours

I was still groggy. This must be what jet lag is. The room I was staying in was right at the end of a wing so I had easy access to a balcony and fire escape.
So after checking that the bathroom was free I had a shower and a shave and got into some clothes. It`s then I noticed that this bathroom actually served two rooms. The door to the other one was open and I peered through it.

My room was tiny in comparison. Later on Lars told me that eighty people slept in that one.  I went out on the balcony and scanned the landscape. There it was the big HOLLYWOOD sign. Probably the most famous land mark in the world.
You probably don`t know this but the city of Los Angeles washed their hands of it a few years ago and without the generous intervention of two men the sign would now be a part of history. Those two men where both, in their day, considered enemies of propriety. Hugh Hefner and Alice Cooper.

Hollywood has a feel like no other city in the world. Its a place where millions upon
millions of people had come over the years in an attempt to find immorality in fame.  Of those, less than .01 percent actually got a taste of it. The ghosts of the other brokenhearted souls still haunt the streets and boulevards all just waiting to be discovered.

They had all said "yes" to every question asked of them. "Can you ride a horse?"
"Can you sing?" "Can you dance ?" Can you act ? " "Are you willing to dress up as a tomato ?" " Will you have sex with me ?"

But still the few in power had replied "No" a disproportionate number of times when
answering the question..."Did I get the part ?"

In a few months I was to become another Hollywood reject.

I made my way down to the Gold office. There were about eight women in charge
and none of them had the job of looking after me. So I found Lars writing letters
and he told me that my major problem would be getting food.
If you didn`t have a meal ticket you didn`t have a meal.
Each org , of which there were more than I could count at PAC paid in advance for the meal tickets for their staff on a weekly basis. Until the new week started I
was without a meal ticket.  So a bit of advice to any of you newbies about to join the Sea Org. Ask your recruiter what day the meal tickets get paid for by your org and then arrive that day,...early.

I was fortunate to have Lars as a mate. For the few days I had to wait for the new week to start Lars would go to the cafeteria, scoff down his food and then
covertly slip his ticket into my hand as I gathered it up and showed it to the security guard at the door.

I guess when you design a system for feeding over a thousand people three meals a day it`s inevitable that a few will get left out, but only for as much as a week.  I was given my first assignment as a Sea org member. Had I not been committing overts on the galley, I would never have had the strength to carry it out.  An American girl with a flash uniform gave me a pile of the Scientology personality tests in about five different languages. She wanted photocopies made of all these translated copies. "Sure. That sounds easy. Where do I find the photo copier ?" She suggested I try "Georges General store" situated down the road and across the street.  She told me it was managed and run by Scientologists.  So I set off down the street with this ream of  paper and was glad to find that Georges had a bit of a holiday camp feel to it.
But my holiday was cut short when I saw I needed to put 25c in the machine for every page I copied. I didn`t have enough money for half of a page.

So back to Gold. I found the girl who`d sent me and told her she`d forgotten to give me money for the photo copier.

Rather than give me money she impatiently suggested I wander the base till I found a free one.  I went outside and found I couldn`t get into the base. All the doors are locked shut. So I ended up having to pretend I was interested in the wall beside a door and wait till a busy person used their card to open it.
Then just as the door was about to close again I`d grab it and make my entrance that way. That method got me quite deep inside the building. I was going up stairs and down long corridors completely lost. Occasionally I`d get stuck inside a dead end and have to wait fifteen minutes for the next swipe card carrying Sea Org member to come through it. Finally I found this cute looking Mexican girl in an office all on her own and right beside her was a photocopier machine.

I hid the ream down at my side and just showed her a few pages with my other hand. "Could I just get a couple of photocopies done on your machine ?" I asked.
"Sure" she said.  After five minutes of rapid whirring and flashing she caught on to my scheme. I was sent packing knowing that I had been banned for life from ever using her machine again.

I made it back to the gold office and told the girl I was having trouble getting anywhere because I needed a swipe card.  She grabbed the few pages I had done and told me to go to the security office to get a swipe card.

When I asked where the security office was she helpfully pointed North.

It soon became apparent that I needed a swipe card to get to the security office to get the swipe card I needed. Oh fuck it. I`ll try again tomorrow.
I went and helped Lars to write recruitment letters till dinner.

When I returned from dinner, the girl who`d given me the photo copy project
was waiting for me. She`d been reading the recruitment letters I`d been writing and had one in her hand as an example of why my letters out were unacceptable.

She got me to read it aloud.

"Dear Reggis,
                 Have you ever thought of having a career as a movie star ?
We are looking for new talent to star in the many movies
being produced here at Golden era Productions. No experience necessary.
If you are interested , contact us here at the Gold Office...telephone 8638787
or call in personally to 28288 fdjfss Street Hollywood.


PS. Would you be willing to do your own stunts ?"

Even this cross lady had a chuckle. But my masterpiece was torn to shreds before my eyes, regardless.

I was taken off letter writing and ordered to get my swipe card.
I asked the girl if I could borrow hers. "Absolutely not !!! How am I expected to get anywhere around here without it?"

I knew exactly what she meant. 

Finally after using all the James Bond Tricks I`d ever learned, I was standing at the door of the security office.
There on the door was a sign. "Lines hours. 10;00am till Midday Tuesdays and Thursdays." It was neither those hours or those days.

There was a guy in the office, so I  told him I desperately needed a swipe card. He didn`t even turn his head. He just recited the message on the door.
I said... "But I need one to get home."




Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 13, 2010, 10:32:33 AM
                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                     Part 75

                                  Drink the Kool-aid !

I`d just ,literally, climbed into bed one night when in through the door walked Mark Harris, my recruiter. We really just grunted at each other. He was worn out from his jet setting lifestyle and I was worn out from searching for any signs of sanity.

The following morning I told him I needed to get some supplies. So he happily agreed to take me shopping. By now I had managed to secure a meal ticket and
was on the payroll. $12.50 for an eighty hour week. Probably on a par with some sweat shops in Asia. Except they could use their money to buy deodorants.
All perfumes of any sort are banned in the Sea org.  Ron explained in an advice
that whole planets had been placed in bondage on the whole track by being bombed with perfume which was really a neuro toxic. 

I guess he figured that earth could be protected by having such a foul B.O. problem that alien races would take one whiff and move on.

He also made it clear that he didn`t want Scientology orgs smelling like a cheap jail. Since , as he claimed, smell was the most powerful of the "52" senses, I guess
smelling like a cheap jail would have been a dead give away.

Mark and I had a breakfast each by me slipping him my meal ticket as I exited the galley. Then we set off under the cloudless Californian sky to find a supermarket.
I just loved walking the streets of Hollywood. I felt like Burt Lancaster in that movie where he looks at the sky and says, eyes filled with hope,.."There`s something in the air. There`s definately something in the air."

As we approached this supermarket I was amazed to see a special effects dummy
sitting on a bench beside the main entrance. There was a doll sized man sitting there with a head the size of a grape fruit. His head was moving around frantically.  As I passed him I realized it was actually a real person. A miniature middle aged man with no arms or legs. The frantic head movements were, as it
turns out, him trying to keep flies from landing on his face with a series of soundless whistles.

A few minutes later we were headed back to the complex, with a bag of toiletries.
As we made our way towards the main entrance I spied a stack of luggage piled up against the wall. I was concerned for the owner and looked around to see if someone was keeping an eye on some unknown person`s personal belongings.
No one seemed to be looking out for them. I moved in closer to investigate. "Oh my God !"  It was my lost luggage. Mark gave me a hand to carry them to my room.

When I arrived back at the Gold Office I was told to go into a closed door office there where I met Mary Mouser. She told me I was about to be placed on Gold clearance lines to check that I qualified to go "over the rainbow."

Mentally I scrambled to recall the lyrics and wondered if I would be able to hit
some of Judy Garland`s high notes. But singing wouldn`t  be part of the test.
I was going to be security checked by an auditor each evening. During the day I was being assigned to a "Top Secret Special project." What could that be?" I wondered.

I asked Mary what the secret project was. She couldn`t tell me.
I needed to go to the security office first to be bonded.

Would I be James Bonded I wondered ?

Now that I was the proud owner of a swipe card, I was able to swipe my way
to security where I announced I was there to be Bonded. Rather than push a button that opened a secret passage, the security guard looked at me the way the chief used to look at Maxwell Smart. "Bonded for what ?"

"They weren`t allowed to tell me ?" I responded, wondering if "the cone of silence" was about to make an appearance.
"Who`s they ? "  Every Scientologists instinctive response on hearing the word "they." 

"I don`t know. They couldn`t tell me....."

The security guard lost interest in me and went back to watching people walking through passages on his multitude of TV`s.

So during the next few days I worked on a secret project of finding out what my secret project was. Finally, her patience worn out, a large German woman came for me.
She mentioned my name and asked if I was that person. I admitted I was, slightly disappointed that I didn`t have a code name, like "The Ren." Or "Outlaw Pete."  Even just a double zero number.

This woman hadn`t laughed since Hitler invaded Poland... So I just followed her through a myriad of passages into the bowels of the Complex.

She told me about people not even being safe on "buzez" as we entered an area that the faded sign named as "Therapeutic Baths." 

I signed a bond that forbade me from ever telling you that I was to be making
the latest e meters that were soon to be released to the public, I am now liable
for a fine of $60,000 U.S. Later on I was to be responsible for selling these meters. Which was a bit of a bitch, as I was never un bonded and the bond didn`t have a shut off date.

So the one guy at Flag responsible for selling the new Mark VII e meters was the only guy there who had been prevented from ever mentioning them.

I pieced together why this project was top secret. Had Scientologists been told a new Mark VII meter was on the way, They would have been put off buying the stack of soon to be redundant Mark VI e meters. This would mean a drop in Gross income plus a massive stock of now worthless Mk VI`s.
This makes perfect sense........... if you are a scumbag crook.

My auditing started. This chick from New York, wanted to know little about me.
She was more interested in where my dick had been.
I`m thinking "man I`ve already sent Wally Collis to the nut farm with all my stories of lust and perversion.
Why is this stuff still reading on the Mark VI meter ?"
If only my auditor knew that there was a, yet to be released, new Mark VII meter
that would just plow through all this old material.
Oh shit !!!  Now I`ve got a withold.

So to distract my mind from my four lifetimes of debt (at Sea Org pay rates) if I was to let slip about my knowledge of the Mark VII top secret project, I really went crazy with minute details about how I`d been using my dick as a compass since Adam had looked down and wondered "what the fuck use is this ?".

Before long my auditor gave me an auditing command I`d never heard before.
"I`ve got a 2D !!!"

How was I supposed to respond to that ?

"What`s going on here ?" I wondered.
All I`d been doing is answering her questions as accurately and honestly as I could. I certainly hadn`t made a pass at her. Not my type. What with the borderline cerebral palsy and all.
Then it dawned on me... she`d given the command to herself.

Oh fuck. I`d turned her on.
Get me out of here.  We ended for the night. I went back to my single bed
and her to her "2D".  I suspect that nothing he was going to do to her that night
would compare even remotely to what I`d just done to her.

The next night we assembled for muster in the Gold recruitment office.
There were some official looking people there to give us a briefing.
A new arrival at PAC who was doing his EPF had come down with Hepatitis .

As a safety measure we were to all line up in single file and march over to the big hall in the Elk`s building, where we were to receive an inoculation.
No questions ! No talking !

We were marched outside into the dark. Security guards and uniformed officials lined the footpath. This was surreal. It was like a really fucked up dream.
Lines of people hundreds long from every direction converged on the hall entrance.

Anytime there was a sound security guards raised themselves to check that no one was going to cause trouble.

Upon entering the hall, there were tables evenly distributed throughout.
Two people with face masks and white gowns were stationed at each table.
"This isn`t happening ! Wake up " I told myself.

But I was escorted to a desk as it become vacant. My sleeve was rolled up a dab
of disinfectant was swabbed on my shoulder and a girl I recognized who was
breaking off used needles and replacing them with fresh ones, handed another
woman the syringe. It`s then I recognized the girl who was loading the shots.
She`d been on the EPF when I was doing it in Australia. She may have been 16.
Certainly too young to have spent any time in Med school.

Before  I had a chance to protest I felt a poorly placed needle enter my arm
and the cool drug being injected into me.

Another swab. Band aid. Out !!!

To this day I can`t believe that I allowed this to happen.
The only other place that someone got away with this sort of thing
had been Jones Town Guyana.

I went back to the Gold recruitment office and waited to see if somehow Jim Jones
had taken over Scientology.

For all I knew , we may have been off to join Ron at Target two.
Over a thousand people were herded up that night and given an injection without their informed consent.  But the horror of this is that no one, not even I, raised even a sigh of protest.
That`s control. That`s fucken dangerous. That`s why Scientology needs to be towed out to sea, and set alight.... Quietly and without sorrow.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 14, 2010, 12:33:38 AM
                                             SENSE OF DOUBT

                                                 Part 76

                                              Drop the act

Each morning I`d make my way to the therapeutic baths which had a numbered key code lock, and join the assembly line soldering the tiny transistors to the circuit boards.
There was a quiet guy in there so I decided to introduce myself.
At first he shrugged me off. He was obviously pissed off about something.
Over time I managed to gain his confidence and he told me of his woes.

His name was Frederic Rivier and he was "naturally from Paris."
Upon arriving at the gold recruitment office he had been taken off base to a
Scientology owned ex hotel known as the Wilcox building where he was given a
bunk to sleep in.

It turns out that Frederic`s father was a member of the French Parliament,
and Frederic wasn`t used to slumming it. When he was unable to sleep due to bed bugs, he made it clear that he was not staying here in Hollywood a moment longer.

So Frederic had been assigned a bed in big blue in an attempt to console him. When he went back to the Wilcox to retrieve his luggage from his room , it was all gone. Stolen.
Frederic was now stuck in Hollywood with no passport, no money, no clothes,
no anything, except bed bug bites. To make matters worse the new bed he`d been given was also infested with bed bugs.

I saw the bite marks.

Security had assured Frederic that they were going to make everything okay and meanwhile
it was decided to take his mind off his problems indefinitely by assigning him to
a top secret project, making Mk VII meters. Out of sight, out of mind. That`s how we ended up getting together.

From then on Frederic, Lars, and I were a team. We got together every moment we could.
After production each night the galley would re heat what hadn`t been used and put it out in the Elk`s hall for any night owls who still had the energy to chew.
We`d meet there every night and just have a blast. There is nothing I could wish for more than to have the three of us together again.

Ron had put out a policy forbidding people to mimic others. He found it demeaning and offensive.
He suggested that one "Find your own identity."

This must be hell on Scientology actors.
But it does explain why Tom Cruise is Tom Cruise in every movie he stars in...
And why John Travolta was able to play a singing, dancing, fat girl in "Hair spray."
However I was a bit less ethical.

One day as I exited my berthing space I looked up the empty passageway and far
in the distance Lars had just arrived from the stairwell and was walking towards me.

Even from that distance, without saying a word, without any provocation, I made a simple gesture and Lars
fell to the floor in fits of laughter. Totally destroyed.
Between gasps for air he cried out in recognition... "Benny Hill.... Benny Hill.

I attempted to help him up. But he was beyond help.
I was late, so had to leave him there to recover on his own.

Meanwhile Frederic went AWOL from the Top Secret project.
There were teams of security guards hunting for him everywhere.
Despite the fact he was on the run from the law, Frederic still showed up for our midnight
meetings. When security quizzed me about his whereabouts I told them about my lines hours.
I warned  Frederic that Security were looking for him. He said in his cute French accent.
" Zay are bunches of fucken retards. Zay are sheet."

Did I just mimic him ?

I guess I`ll be in for it "further on up the line at the other end of the bridge."

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 14, 2010, 12:35:19 PM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                   Part 77

                                 The whole trap

My evenings were spent being endlessly grilled about my past.
I was getting off all of my overts and witholds, in session, for the second time.

How could this be ?
Surely Ron`s "state of the art", "laser precise", with "80 % more gains with NED," technology, wasn`t at fault. It must be that there were other aspects of these incidents on my whole track I hadn`t inspected thoroughly enough.

I knew I was correct when I was audited again by a different auditor a few months later at Flag and had to get the same old overts and witholds off yet again.  It seems that the aspect I hadn`t examined was common sense.

This came to a head in 1990 when I was back in Sydney and was taken into session by a dear old lady named Joan. Despite the fact that she was an OT 8,
with semi perfect TR`s, we were a mismatch from Hell.

Now my witholds changed to things like, not allowing the tea to draw for a full three minutes. Using margarine instead of butter on scones. Telling her that Max Bygraves was a twat. I really blew it one time when I was referring to a Rudolph Valentino movie, assuming she`d have seen it.
She was most indignant. " How old do you think I am !!!? He was way before my time !!!"
So doesn`t that mean she would have at least heard of it last lifetime ?."

Anyhow... I pissed her off, and from there on my overts and witholds disappeared
to be replaced by judgment. At least it was a step in the right direction.

Okay.  Here is what you need to know. I`m just taking a narrow strip here.
Just to clarify a specific frame out of a very large movie.

Overts, motivators, and witholds are a myth. Same with sins and transgressions.
They are made up by insecure beings who want to control you.

There is no such thing as right and wrong. They are invented.  Pure fantasy.

Everyone of us acts completely appropriately at all times... given our model of the world. Including those who invented overts and sins.

Their creation was motivated by FEAR.

But surely there are things that are just plain wrong. What about murder?
Well no. That one doesn`t work. There are places in your country right now where you can get training on how to commit murder. You can even get a medal for committing mass murder and become a hero with a nicely ironed uniform.

So long as you murder the right people of course.

So it is right to murder some people. And wrong to murder others.
Killing the wrong people is very wrong. Murder is wrong. If you
do it in some places you get yourself murdered by the State. ... Which is the right thing to do... unless they get the wrong guy. Either way it teaches society that murder is wrong ??
So who decides what is right and wrong ?
God ? Hubbard ? Politicians ?  Judges ? "Sit. com writers ?"

This is what`s wrong about right and wrong.

Here in the west our definitions of right and wrong are based on
a book called the Bible. Which had multiple authors all inspired by
God.(Who abruptly stopped  communicating to sane people the moment it went to press.) But it`s always interpreted selectively. Isn`t it !?

You sometimes have to swear on it before a judge.
If instead you opened it up and read this sentence.."Judge not. Less thee thyself be judged." You would probably be held in contempt of court and judged severely for it.

Now to quickly debunk Hubbard`s overt, motivator, withold, theory.

There is not one scintilla of evidence anywhere in the world which demonstrates that confession is of any therapeutic value whatsoever.
All confessions are motivated by fear. Ask any political prisoner.
Try to think of any confession that wasn`t the result of threatened dire consequences.

"Now", it may appear to be a sin or an overt. Now that you realize you still want to go to Heaven or go free, or get out of Jail. But what you are confessing to was completely appropriate at the time it was done....given your model of the world.
Confession is designed to break your free spirit and control you. Nothing more !!

Motivators... Bad things that happen to you. Once again... totally invented.
One has a bad experience like for example being tied up having needles stuck through your nipples, and having your balls stomped on by stiletto heels. Then getting a good lashing with a cat of nine tails.

Yet some people, pay good money for exactly that. Do a search on line and you`ll see photos and videos. You may even see the Judge you got into trouble for quoting the Bible to. Judges and politicians are common clientele for these sorts of gentlemen`s establishments.

So what exactly is something bad happening to you ?

"Nothing in this world is good or bad unless YOU judge it so."

How is it that you can fuck two girls at the same time and be busting to tell your mates, and yet when you are visiting Granny or your purer than pure auditor, suddenly it`s a big no no to talk about ?  Because it is inappropriate !!!

To be put in a position where you are forced to betray confidences and
speak of inappropriate things destroys your sense of judgment.

Now just to cap off this little sliver of the bigger picture.

Every experience you have had becomes what Hubbard calls the whole track.
It is the story of how you got to where you are now. It is not the story of where you want to get to from here.

What happens often is that someone arrives at a place in their lives where they don`t want to be. The smart thing to do would be to set a course to where you would rather be.

However Hubbard, the moron, insists that you will get to where you want to go by returning to where you have already been.  This can go on for ever, endlessly. Ask any OT.

All that exists on the whole track is what led you to where you are now...
Which isn`t where you chose to be now. There is nothing in "where you have been" that is relevant, or helpful in any way as far as getting to where you want to be.
All that is in the past are the factors that led you to where you don`t want to be now.

To follow Hubbard, chasing your mind back 75 million years and beyond is
what I now call the whole trap. The whole trap lasts for as long as you are amused by it. I`m not saying it`s wrong to do this. But to quote Woody Allen
"If I had back all the money I spent in therapy, I`d never have needed therapy in the first place."

I was back in session in L.A. trying to account for every drop of semen I`d ever spilled in, on, or in the vicinity of women over many lifetimes.  I was willing to do anything to free myself from my whole trap.... even by moving there. Hubbard promised great things by following his clearly marked path.

One evening I pretty much had the whole batch accounted for. Maybe still a few minor indiscretions on Sanbartan after the revolution of the 8th trillenia wars.
But I was heavily intoxicated at the time.

I was spent . Nothing left. The well was dry.

Then it dawned on me.

I squirmed in my chair. I know you`ll find this one difficult to handle.
My auditor waited patiently. She knew this was big.

Well I may as well tell the whole fucken world.

I realized that...... I realized that.......that ...I`m GAY.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 15, 2010, 10:55:23 AM
                                SENSE OF DOUBT

                                    Part 78

                                Fading star

My auditing came to an abrupt end. I was taken off the Gold clearance lines
and out of the Top Secret Mk VII meter project. But that could have been due
to Security being suspicious that I was harboring a fugitive.

Frederic had become a fugitive by being robbed and demanding that security spend as much time helping him recover from an actual crime, as they were spending turning over the base, looking for him now.

I was stuck between a rock and a hard place ?

One of the precepts of the "Code of a Sea Org member said...

16.I promise to come to the defense of the Sea Org and fellow Sea Org members whenever needed.

Should I continue to defend a fellow sea org member from the Sea Org itself ?
Or should I throw a guy I loved dearly under the bus and possibly get a reward and maybe even a medal to pin on my nice new Sea Org member uniform that never arrived?

There was a frequently used saying in Scientology... "What would Ron do ?"
But that wasn`t going to help either.
I had no money to take, and nowhere to run to.

Thankfully there was an unexpected distraction that evening. Bus loads of Sea Org members were being shouted to the movies and some incompetent had forgotten to take my name off the list.

We arrived at Grauman`s Chinese Theater and I just loved the buzz of Hollywood Boulevard`s walk of fame.  Grauman`s is the theater where many a star had cemented their names in Hollywood legend along with their hand and foot prints.

To my delight I found the spot where both Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell had
knelt over to press their hands into warm, wet, cement. I dropped to my knees in awe and went back mentally to possibly the most fulfilling place a man could have been back on that sultry day in 1953. I spent a few minutes paying tribute, in my own special way, to these two silver screen sex sirens, one after the other.

I was jarred back to reality when I realized the movie was about to start and that the Sea Orgers where filing into the theater. Within a few minutes Mimi Rogers, a Scientology actress, appeared on screen with, soon to be Scientology opponent, actor Tom Berringer. Mimi was famous for recruiting Tom Cruise into Scientology.

She wasn`t really ever famous for any particular movie she was in. Certainly not this one. I realized that we weren`t at the movies because the Sea Org bosses were kind.
We were there to make an otherwise unremarkable movie appear to be a box office hit. Purely because it had a Scientologist in it.

In the record business this method of padding the numbers was used after  payola was outlawed in 1950. Payola was just straight out bribery to get your product on the charts. The method in use now by the entertainment industry was to find out which outlets were being used to monitor sales for the charts and then send all your mates in to buy from that outlet.

Scientology could fill any required theater for weeks.

My soon to be ex wife`s mother, who was a Sea org member stayed with me a few nights years later, and admitted that she had been taken to see "Battlefield Earth" at least twenty five times. Multiply that by the number of Scientologists and theoretically you have a hit.

The Gold recruitment office had dashed my hopes of ever having a fake hit movie and now due to my latent homosexuality I was relegated to being a mail man for HCO at PAC. Just as Hubbard had predicted, now that I had chosen an out ethics lifestyle, I was about to pull in a motivator. It came in the form of a bladder infection.  There was no pain. All I had was the constant urge to pee.

I told my new boss about my problem. I could tell he was very concerned by the way he handed me some more communications to deliver.
After a week of this when I started to have a wet patch on my crotch, he said he`d put in a purchase order for me to see a doctor. So for now I had to stuff toilet paper down my front. But before long that would get soaked through and flies would start following me around.

There was to be a special briefing. Everyone from Gold must attend. NO excuses.!!!  I`m still in Gold ? Of course I was Gold HCO as an expediter.
A Scientology word for gofer.

That evening we were taken by bus back again to The Walk of Fame.
We stopped a few doors up from Grauman`s at a flash new building owned by
Scientology`s "Author services."

Standing outside, in the evening light, was a woman with bright red, long hair.
On closer inspection I realized that she was Hubbard`s daughter, Diana.
She`s the one that gave the order that no one listened to, back in 1980, to have a cleared planet by 1984.  Here I was standing next to Hubbard`s very own progeny.
Someone who Ron had passed his genes and body thetans on to.

Soon we were all seated in a large conference room.

I found Norman Starkey`s entrance a bit too Nazi for my liking. I think I actually pissed myself. He was the Trustee of Late Ron Hubbard`s estate, with a long and loyal dedication to the Sea org.  He stood at the front of the room and showed off his penetrating TR`s and crisp white Naval uniform.
He was the epitome of self discipline. I wasn`t..  A bit more wee came out.

He had so many medals and General type ornaments on his left breast I wouldn`t be surprised to discover the damage to his spine would even have been beyond the reach of Dianetics.

Norman gave a brief talk about expansion and big booming orgs, and then called to the back of the room. Moments later, amongst great fanfare, appeared all of the main characters from the recently released Mission Earth "decology" (Hubbard invented word. Means absolutely nothing) series of sci fi novels.

These guys all looked like super heroes with their tights and strong smiles.
They did absolutely nothing but stand there, despite their grand entrance. My eyes were drawn to the blond in the red skintight catsuit. She had legs that didn`t stop.
A bit more wee came out.

Norman explained that Hubbard`s ten volume science fiction story would be released fully acted, on books on tape. So these actors, who were starting to feel a little self conscious by now, were soon to be heard, but not seen, in the retelling of the latest Hubbard masterpiece.(s)

They left the conference room laughing and joking, which they continued to do outside in the lobby. Unfortunately for them, they were distracting Norman from putting on his white gloves and showing us a CD he was proud of.
This was a sample of the CD`s that were soon to be buried in seven secret locations around the world in bunkers. Hubbard`s technology on saving the planet was going to be well preserved in anticipation of it`s failure to save the planet.
The idea was that in thousands of years when beings arrived here to find that we as a species had become extinct, they would at least have a complete record of why we were all doomed.
He started to delicately unwrap a bronze tablet, but the up tone actors were making a bit too much noise for his liking. He barked out so loudly that the whole building went completely silent. A bit more wee came out.

This was a tense briefing. We saw the tablet. "Keeping Scientology Working" set in bronze. Certainly would make a great hot plate for any survivors of the apocalypse. 

I didn`t come away from this briefing totally clueless.

I learned that, in the interests of hygiene, Norman Starkey needs to throw
away his medals and replace them with a sign.

"Do not come near me ...if you have a weak bladder."

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 17, 2010, 10:28:25 AM
                             SENSE OF DOUBT

                               Part 79

                              Baby you can drive my car.
I was called to Mary Mouser`s office again, in the Gold recruitment basement.

Saw a recruitment cycle in progress as I waited for Mary to call me into her office.
Maybe someone had responded to one of the few letters I sent out that got past
"Quality Control."

It was the Grammy award winning songwriter, Peter Schless, It had been six years since he`d written the music to the hit song "On the wings of love."

I guess by now he was wondering why the next hit song hadn`t materialized.
I think he would have tried anything to get the feeling again.
As evidenced by his dragging his arse into the Gold recruitment office that day.

Assuring him that becoming a musician for Gold would get all sorts of supernatural forces lined up to help him , was Jennifer De Vocht. Wife of Tom, who was then
the C.O. CMO at Flag.  I`m just formalizing this, as I was being witness to possibly the only time in her Sea org career that Jenny was being nice.

For a full ten minutes she didn`t raise her voice once. Phrases that were not threats were coming from her mouth. Jenny`s dad was the producer who bankrolled hit movies like "Fast times at Ridgemont high" in 1982, and the recent Kevin Costner movie "The Untouchables".

There is a cultural phenomenon that is unique to L.A. I found it hysterically funny.

For me people doing things purely because their forefathers did them is so demonstrably insane that if you don`t buy into the ritual and act all reverential
it`s just like watching a mental patient having an argument with themselves.

A friend of mine who had lived in Thailand, or was it the Philippines?, years later had warned me about standing and talking to a native with my feet together.
Apparently this was considered highly offensive. To point ones feet at another
is the height of rudeness. I was going there because a woman here had held a raffle in her homeland and I was the prize.

But that`s another story.

In L.A. the whole culture is based on becoming someone... You know, powerful or famous or rich...And I`m sure the line .."It`s not what you know...It`s who you know." was penned in and for Hollywood.

So when one is introduced, people are over nice. They need to find out if there
is any possibility that you can help their career. As soon as it`s realized you can`t, the smile disappears and what`s behind you , over your shoulder, suddenly becomes immensely more interesting than you.

This cultural habit was as old as Hollywood itself.

I`d love to become rich and famous just so I could go back there and fuck with them.
Jenny, due to her famous Dad was an untouchable herself.

Oh shit... Where was I ???  Oh yeah.

Mary Mouser called me in and said there was a Staff section officer visiting from
"over the rainbow" looking for someone to fill a vacancy in their treasury dept.
I assured Mary that money had been running away from me my whole life. I was the least qualified person to make financial decisions, since the Decca records rep said;
"The Beatles won't make it anywhere. Guitar bands are out"

Nevertheless Mary insisted I meet with this guy and she warned me sternly to
"try to act "NORMAL."

I probably didn`t pick the right moment to tell Mary I had no control over my bladder. My doctors appointment still hadn`t materialized after three weeks.

Moments later I was in a small room with this tense guy. He looked like he hadn`t slept for days. He seemed to relax upon seeing me.
He wanted to know what experience I`d had with finance.
I told him how I once loaned money to Jody Foster.
He just looked at me.

Then I remembered as a ten year old schoolboy I was presented with a "Dollar Scholar" certificate by answering ten simple questions when New Zealand converted to decimal currency.

We both knew I was wasting his time.

Obviously Mary had been given a quota of bodies to put in front of this recruiter, and I was the bottom of the barrel.

I could tell that the powers that be were looking for ways to get me off their hands.
As it turns out , the courier van driver who went between the Top secret location where Gold base was situated and PAC, was being transferred. I was sent to get hatted by him on what to do.

He looked like Donald Fagen of "Steely Dan."
He explained I needed to do a, Hubbard invented, course called "Car school" and then I would be qualified. Plus I`d be bonded. He couldn`t recall the amount.

Some sea org members had been bonded so many times, and for so much,  that they were probably afraid  of falling asleep in case in a dream they blurted out all their Scientology witholds and rung up a bill in the hundreds of millions of dollars.

There were "Reward" posters all over the inside of the complex.

$5,000 reward for turning in anyone who divulged any Scientology "confidential information."

I guess it was no secret that Sea Org members masturbated.
Each time I went to the Comm center there would be a fresh pile of "Knowledge reports written up by the vigilant few who felt their bunk beds trembling the previous night. If masturbating had been a Scientology secret the Sea org would have gone broke paying off all the snitches.

Hubbard had written about his extensive research into masturbation.
What he discovered was that "All primates, including man, masturbate."
From his own relentless and presumably frantic research, he came to the conclusion that masturbating restimulated painful memories.

Which on this occasion happened to fit in well with the unspoken motto of every Scientologist..."What`s true for Ron, is true for you."

But I could see innumerable examples of what Hubbard was saying by the number of famous masturbaters throughout History.

Hitler...and obviously, Goebbels, Goering, Himmler. The Bush dynasty, Attila the Hun, Napoleon Bonaparte, Julius Caesar, Richard Nixon, Joseph Stalin, Margaret Thatcher, David Miscavige... The list goes on and on.

Speaking of Miscavige... I now found myself in the Gold course room with Ronnie Miscavige,  the brother of Scientology`s version of Frank Sinatra.
Apart from being called "ol blue eyes", Sinatra also crooned by the nick name
"Chairman of the board."

And in Sinatra`s shadow, Miscavige had adopted this cool sounding title that meant.... absolutely nothing.
There was no board. There was no consensus. To picture Miscavige as part of a team sitting around a boardroom table was as unlikely as seeing Sinatra in a gown singing with the tabernacle choir.

I looked over the "Car School " check sheet.
What a bunch of hooey.

One was supposed to know the history of the automobile and the names and functions of all the working parts. Then one had to star rate the road code.

I had no problem with doing that part, and would have studied it with interest, had there been one there to study.

I passed the exam with a honk and a three point turn and found Donald Fagen
down at the car pool.
He told me I needed to get used to the idea that I was going to be placing blind folds on all of my passengers.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 18, 2010, 10:06:52 AM
                                    SENSE OF DOUBT

                                         Part 80

                           From rags to riches and back again

I spent a day driving around L.A. with my, Donald Fagen look a like, instructor.
No one needed to be couriered between Gold and PAC that day. So we were just doing some local deliveries and pick ups.

At one point we stopped in at this warehouse in an industrial part of town,where a group of about fifty Mexicans were busily assembling "glossy "Way to happiness" packs which each included a vinyl 45 record of one of the songs from the album "The road to Freedom". That day the one sung by Lief Garret, ex teen idol and more recently, convicted felon, was being added to the pack.

I guess Scientology management were very "happy" to have found a source of labour even cheaper than Sea Org members.

I managed to talk Donald Fagen into stopping for half an hour while I ducked into a sheet music store we passed, and I promptly blew a months pay on a couple of rare, to me, songbooks to add to my collection.

Upon arrival back at PAC that evening we were met by Security. They were supposed to be presenting me with a bond to sign, after having checked my ethics folder to make sure I didn`t pose a risk to  security over the secret Gold base.

When I left for L.A. I had personally carried all of my folders. Five in all.
You are not ever allowed to look in your own folders. Every word you have ever uttered in session is recorded there. Reading that stuff could make you go insane.

Security had a problem with me being the replacement driver, based on four factors.

The first being that when I arrived at PAC my Ethics folder wasn`t there.
I explained that I didn`t have one any more. A general Amnesty had been given a few months before I came to America. It stated that everyone in Scientology except declared SP`s were having their Ethics folders wiped clean.

So on one of my visits to Auckland org I had grabbed the E.D, at the time, and asked that my Ethics folder be tabled.  I reminded them of the Amnesty and pointed out that per that, this folder shouldn`t exist.
So I tore it, and everything in it, up and threw it in the bin.

Security weren`t comfortable with someone not having an ethics folder. What was
I trying to hide ???

Why , out of thousands of Scientologists, was I the only one who took the Amnesty at its word ?

Secondly... There was a potential problem, particularly in that, near the border location. Mexicans were illegally visiting The United States, looking for a better life and happiness.
Some had even found the way to happiness in the warehouse Fagen and I had visited that day. This meant that there would be road blocks where Immigration Officials would be looking for vehicles carrying human cargo.

With me being a foreigner, it could mean that I could come under suspicion myself. Usually having blindfolded people in your vehicle was cause for further investigation as well.

Thirdly. Security already had me on their list of suspects in the curious affair of the missing Frederic.

Fourthly. And to be honest they didn`t mention this one. But my sexuality must have also been a factor. Scientology knew that in one moment of weakness everything they had done to help you could be wiped out by a sudden out burst of sexual fulfillment. For trillions of years I had mistakenly believed that I was heterosexual and pursued my interest in women with a passion. Now thanks to Hubbard I had cognited I was gay. Exactly what a gay man is supposed to do I didn`t really know. I wasn`t a big fan of "Boney M" or "The village people."
Plus I still needed to reconcile the fact that, despite the gay cognition I`d had in session, my dick still hadn`t gotten the message.
You know what ? I`ve had enough of being gay. My dick would be my compass again. I renounced my homosexuality. And with that my bladder infection was gone !!!

But those four ingredients added up to Donald Fagen being stuck without a replacement. He was arguing with these guys, but I had more important things to worry about...Where could I find the nearest toilet ? How wonderful to feel that need again, and be able to hold it in. I was in heaven... but not for long.

I swiped my way inside the car pool entrance and wandered hopefully down a set of stairs. Before long I was in the basement.
Down at the end of a dark dank corridor, I came across a door. I could tell by the smell that there was a hidden toilet there.
I opened it and found a nest of about sixty people instead. The RPF. Or to be honest... HELL !

In his book Dianetics, Hubbard had stated boldly that he had discovered the actual technology of the human mind, and that punishment was no longer going to be necessary.

The room was jam packed with sweaty, gaunt, people huddled around desks covered in other pearls of Wisdom that Hubbard had "humbly tendered as a gift to mankind". They all wore black, or near black, shorts and tee shirts.

The Rehabilitation Project Force was where all those who didn`t "make it go right" were sentenced to slave labour indefinately.

They were allowed no more than six hours sleep per night. They could only eat the scraps left after the upstat scientologists had done with their food.
All mail to and from them was censored. They were forbidden from walking.
They had to run everywhere. They were not allowed to speak, except in response.
They were sentenced to slave labour from early each morning till evening. And then were thrown into this room together with all of Hubbards technology and told they couldn`t come out till they`d made sense of it. Their living space was
officially called "Pig berthing."
All of their documents were confiscated. They were payed $7.50 per week. If the org had any spare money left over.  And the icing on the cake... They had signed contracts forgoing every human right that had been won over centuries
of struggle.

I was told some guys had been in there for as long as eight years.
I was just floored by what I saw. It reminded me of two things. Concentration camps and Zombie movies.

I apologized for my intrusion and explained "Sorry...I thought this was a toilet."
I quietly closed the door but could still feel the outpouring of body heat and stink.

Within a day or so I smelt it again. But worse.

I was called out of evening muster along with seven others.
We were escorted by a woman I hadn`t seen before down to the delivery entrance and all climbed into a van.
As we drove through L.A, our driver told us that we had all been selected to go out
on a recruitment mission for Gold and were going to get our uniforms.

We actually drove past the Shrine auditorium, host of many an Academy Award`s Ceremony. You can`t help but picture the red carpet and all the immaculately dressed and glamorous attendees, in your mind.

Eventually we arrived at an abandoned, dusty, poorly lit Warehouse.
The type you see on cop shows where a drug deal goes bad.

In the middle of what was otherwise an empty floor, was a mound of disgusting
smelly, discarded Sea Org uniforms.  It was about three meters high and it smelt like it was hiding a dead body.

We were told to find anything that was our size. These were going to be our new uniforms. We needed two of everything.  Including caps and pairs of shoes.

Now you have to understand something. These clothes hadn`t been dumped here because they had gone out of fashion. These had been dumped here because they were stained and threadbare and offensive to the senses.

There were no fitting rooms or anything. Just an empty warehouse with a pile of clothes that needed to be burnt.
So we had to strip down to our underwear, men and women, and crawl through a third world rubbish dump looking for anything that wasn`t stuck to itself by human glue.

Some of the items forced on us made your skin crawl.

Upon arrival back at PAC we were taken to a laundry room that I`d not even known was available. For 50c we could wash and dry our new uniforms.

Once that was done we were taken back to the Gold basement and paired up.
Us four guys were made the Mission i/c`s (In Charge)  and the girls were our mission seconds. Just by chance I did turn out to be the more qualified to boss around my second than she was to boss me. She was a girl from Switzerland who later on acquired the distinction of being the person who came closer to squashing Scientology`s "Chairman of the board", David Miscavige, than anyone else ever has.

Bright and early the next morning Agnes and I were delivered to LAX where we
boarded a flight to Dallas Texas.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 19, 2010, 10:47:36 AM
                                    SENSE OF DOUBT

                                          Part 81

                              Could you pick God out of a lineup ?

What a peculiar title. Who on earth could even conceive of such a question ?
It must be someone who had totally misunderstood what reality is.
Surely someone doing so must have had a bizarre quotient of experiences
that put him in a position to have the audacity to pose such a question.

Never the less, I think you`ll agree that when it came to creating this universe,
someone fucked up..... badly.  But let`s not go falsely accusing, what could turn out to be an innocent God, of gross incompetence. He`s already suffered plenty
from a presumption of guilt without the right to a fair trial of his peers.

Before my story is over, there will be a trial. I`ll call it "The crime of the eternity"
and possibly ask Supertramp to re unite to write the musical.

What in hell am I going on about ? Have I taken leave of my senses ?

You`ve stayed with me a while now. And I`m just so chuffed that you have.
I`ve been sharing my experiences with you and I would consider it an honor to
have you benefit in some way from those experiences. For me, there is no hope of course.  I`m going straight to hell for sure, or even worse according to Hubbard.

So maybe if you hear my screams of agony coming through on some medium`s TV show you will remember me fondly before they cut to a commercial.

I`m not qualified to give anyone advice. No certificates. No diplomas. (Dollar Scholar excluded)  My mind is completely un cluttered by anything of practical use.

Yet I have gained an insight into life that I have not read about in any of the materials I`ve studied by far more learned thinkers than myself.

Do you recall how I said that I would endure any hardship to free my fellow man from their attachment to the physical universe. Well I did endure all those hardships.  Plenty more to come by the way, as my story continues.

My mother used to say to me despairingly. "You are so smart, and yet you still get mixed up with your Scientology." 

Mum I`m so sorry for all I put you through. And to my family and friends as well. Please accept this and what`s to follow as my humble apology.

We are surrounded by answers.

You could be blindfolded and throw something randomly. It would hit an answer, every time without fail.

We are blind to the fact that we are surrounded by answers. To remove this blindness you need to do something that only you can do.  Ask a question.
By asking a question the answer to that question miraculously appears.
It had always been there. But your question created a vacuum that attracted the answer to fill that void and thus brought it into your consciousness.

This phenomenon has remained beyond our experience due to our own unwillingness to observe it.  Let me illustrate it. People have varying degrees of recall. Right ?
It seems the longer they go without asking why their memory is so bad...the worse their memory gets.

This happens because you`ve had answers forced on you. Answers for which no question was asked. No question asked, means nowhere for the answer to arrive.

You probably spent ten years or more sitting at a desk in school in a daze.
If you were to recall what you actually learned at school, you would realize that
all that is there is the answers to the questions you asked.
The rest just went right over your head.
You were swamped with answers to questions you never asked !!

Do you get it ?

Now of course some will say. But I passed a couple of exams. So I must have taken in some of what I was taught.  But before you took that exam didn`t you ask yourself...... "How can I pass this exam ?"

If you have any questions about the above...please feel free to PM me.

Now believe it or not....  what I have told you opens the door on understanding
the mystery of the human mind and in deed ultimately everything. You ask a question. You create a void. An answer fills that void.

"But why doesn`t that work for me ?" you may well ask.
"How come I just get wrong answers ?"

Well since you asked, and to demonstrate this principle at is the answer.

Ever heard the expression  "Ask a silly question...get a silly answer.
Well it turns out to be true.

But there`s more... interested ?

I assure you without exception that the void exposed by a question, will only be filled by the exact right answer to the question posed. EXACTLY !!!

A Christian question posed can only receive a Christian answer.
A financial question can only receive a financial answer.

A mathematical question  ?  You guessed it.

So do you see that we have had inappropriate or bad answers due to our inappropriate or bad questions.

Now... you have the freedom to keep asking less than satisfactory questions and receiving less than satisfactory answers for eternity.

There is no such thing as right and wrong. That includes questions and answers.

However if you were to ask why I, and others stayed addicted to Scientology, or anything else for that matter, despite the clear evidence that it wasn`t a fulfilling experience, I guess you`d have to come to terms with the fact that it gave the perfect Scientological answers to your perfect Scientological questions.  And likewise, someone who practiced alternative medicine would have a completely different explanation than a Doctor of medicine for the cause of physical disease.
A Scientist would have a different answer than a Religious Scholar, to the question...How did we get here?  So who`s right ?
Soon I`ll explain why they all are. Everyone gets the answer to the question they posed.

 My God !!!  Who could be so crazy as to organize it so that what we get and got everything we ask and asked for precisely ???

Must be God. Or the atom. Maybe even Hubbard...Or according to Stephan Hawking`s recent addition to the list of usual suspects, Mr. Gravity esquire.

              One of these is responsible.  Could you pick God out of a lineup ?

Look I know this all seems a little patchy and poses many contradictions.
But over time I`ll fit it all together nicely for you.

Whew. That was a lot to juggle... especially since we were landing in Dallas
and it was raining. Would it be another thirteen  hours wait for our scio lift to arrive ?

No. As soon as we entered the arrivals lounge we were met by Billy.
Billy , if you`re out there, I really hope you have escaped the cult and are reading this. What a wonderful human being. Loved the guy.

Billy had arrived in Scientology in a peculiar way. He was also small framed but unlike me he had started out gay and now was pretending to be heterosexual
for Scientology. Whilst in my case, I d started out heterosexual, gone gay in Scientology and was now in recovery.

Billy had spent a spell working at Disneyland as Mickey Mouse.
However one magical day the powers that be were looking for a small framed male to play of all people, Peter Pan. Billy had no choice in the matter. He was now Peter Pan. It turned out to be a role that posed a few potential occupational hazards. Even worse than the string of Snow White`s that had
quit the job because their bums were regularly pinched by men who for some reason see Snow White as a very desirable sex object.

The problem was, Billy was absolutely terrified of heights. And as Peter Pan, they dressed him up over a harness that was hooked to a cable which was drawn high in the air above "Fantasyland ".  He did his best but eventually management told him his regular flights over the heads of the little kiddies were less than acceptable with his loud screams of terror.

He was pulled from the position.
Now of course Mickey`s costume was being filled by someone else.

All Billy wanted was to be able to get into a Mickey Mouse outfit again.

Enter The Church of Scientology, Dallas.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 20, 2010, 02:12:45 PM
                                       SENSE OF DOUBT

                                              Part 82

                                    We are schizophrenic.

I can`t tell you how liberating it felt to be away from "the complex."
No security cameras monitoring my every move. No military presence dictating my everything I did.
Agnes and I were taken to our accommodations. We were put up in a house just across from the Org.
She had the sofa, while I shared a room with someone ? Exactly who I didn`t know till later.

It turns out that the Dallas Org was having an event the following night so we didn`t even have to do any call in for our obligatory briefing to the staff and public.

Billy made us welcome the next morning, gave us breakfast and showed us our work space.
There were no offices spare, so we wound up using the corner of a large room set aside for events.

Being a non smoking org, possibly the first, I would slip out an exterior door whenever I felt like a cuppa and a smoke. I set up some garden furniture and would gaze endlessly at the passing trains that I had an unobstructed view of. The air was chilly but fresh. With a little bit of imagination I could
see myself slinging a guitar round my neck and jumping a train in search of America just like Woody Guthrie had.

When lunch time came around my new room mate had made an appearance in the kitchen, where he was busily making hamburgers for all the staff. His personal hygiene was a bit off putting.
But more worrying was the fact that he was making every effort to not let anyone see his face. Which to me suggested he may have been on the run.

It seems he`d had the same Woody Guthrie dreams I`d had. But he`d had them somewhere else and had jumped off the train here in Dallas. Some stat pushing staff member had signed him up for staff only for Billy to discover that the guy was a vagrant and a bum. The only place he could be relied on to be three
times a day was the kitchen. That, and that alone qualified him as the cook.

Billy was what`s called "The Cope Officer." It was his job to cope with all the problems that Hubbard hadn`t anticipated when he introduced his Spirit Freeing assembly line admin tech to the world.
Needless to say, Billy was kept very busy.

In hushed tones he warned me to "watch that guy. He`s mental."
This is my room mate ???!!!

The briefing rolled around and the crowd were assembled. I was introduced by the Executive Director. My name and nationality spoken in Texan was enough to give me a sudden dose of Schizophrenia.

My other personality, much to my surprise, was a stand up comic.

 I didn`t have a clue about Gold, so instead I entertained the crowd with a lesson on how to pronounce my juniors name, which the E.D. had decided not even to attempt.  I`ve already introduced her to you as Agnes from Switzerland.
But that only came about because I absolutely could not pronounce her actual name which was, and I`m doing my best here, YAGgnaaZeeiar

Her name was impossible to  string together without having accompanying facial expressions.
It was a lesson in pronunciation the likes of which none of these Texans had ever experienced before.

You start off with the first syllable by recreating that moment when you get distracted while zipping up and your valuables get bit. Sort of a crossed eyed, gasp " Auhng.
It quickly turns into the sour lemon face GInah.
Then as you spin around to see where the G disappeared to, and how it turned into an "N", you get hit by a car and land on the hood. "Nargh."
Only to realize it is going into an intersection on a red light. "Shiiiiiiii"
Finally to realize you have survived "Ya".

My mission second took my lead and began protesting as I butchered every Syllable of her name.
Soon the whole crowd joined in.

All those years they`d spent in Scientology trying to get up tone and in a few
minutes YAGgnaaZeeiar and I had them rolling in the aisles.

Knowing that only having Billy fly overhead doing his Peter Pan impression could top that, I passed the crowd back to the E.D. and we made our hasty exit.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 20, 2010, 07:49:05 PM
                                      SENSE OF DOUBT

                                         Part 83

                                      Sex and anxiety

It wasn`t too long before my second, who insisted on following policy by calling me "Sir," made it obvious that she had a bit of a crush on me. However, after many years of experience, I had learned never to get involved with anyone who would get involved with someone like me.

They were trouble. 

Hubbard in his wisdom had forbidden Sea Org members from having any sort of sexual connection outside of the bonds of marriage. This caused many a Sea Org couple to drive frantically to Las Vegas, get hitched, fuck their brains out and then get back to the S.O. and often start making inquiries as to how to get a divorce.

The sex drive of humans is like the force of a raging river. Anyone who tries to stand in its way is a fool, or someone with a psychiatric condition.
It will break through somewhere. If all its normal outlets are blocked off, it will
raise its ugly head in the rectory after choir practice and in other inappropriate places.

Fathers of teenage girls have been driven to despair over this force.
They try to fight off the mounds of raging hormones that knock ever more frequently on their front door. But all their efforts are in vain. Those hormones end up partying in their daughters vagina's sooner than he can learn the culprits last name.

Ron wasn`t getting any, so in true Hubbard style he ordered that what was true for Ron, should be true for those who foolishly took him seriously.

Now just so you really get the required reality on what I`m saying.
I want you to mentally do a bulk mail out to everyone in your address book, ordering every unmarried person you contact to cease having sex forthwith.

I`m sure those that responded would tell you that you "can go and fuck yourself !!"
They would wonder if you were a fool, or had developed a psychiatric condition.

Well Hubbard gave such an order. What does that tell you about his mental condition ? He`s not the only one. There are other people on this planet who
have given the same order.  I suggest you discard anything else they tell you as well.  I`d also ask them, if the human genitalia is so sacred why do they not hang samples of them around their necks and on their walls and do plainsong chants in their honor...? And while we`re at it "Why do you feel the need to dress funny ?"

By the way..I have nothing against the sanctity of marriage. I think it`s a great thing in "less than fifty percent" of cases, according to current statistics.

If people feel the need to have someone sign a contract to stay with them, I
think that`s quite sexy.

But can you imagine a world where you woke up every morning next to the person you woke up next to, purely because they were the person you wanted to wake up next to more than anyone else in the world ?

Now a little insight. Do you remember how back in the 30`s I tried to tell people that their sexuality was so close to their spirituality that they could be mistaken for the same thing ?  Why else would people with crazy spiritual beliefs predictably manifest crazy sexual beliefs every time !!!  You find me one Religious Zealot that would be safe to fuck ????

Yet I can give you the names and phone numbers of nurses, plumbers, golfers,
teachers and accountants. (......maybe not accountants) that you can have a sensual liaison with and not risk your life.
 Would you let a Religious leader babysit your children ? I`d suggest you warn child protective Services first if you do.

Now you understand why Hubbard was so motivated to have control of peoples sexuality. When you do that, you have harnessed a force unparalleled in this universe. Did you realize that Stephan Hawking came up with his theory about black holes due to a wager for a years subscription of "Penthouse" ?

Interesting that most of the landmark discoveries and achievements that have occurred over the centuries were accomplished by men. Not women. Men.

Does that give you a clue ?  There is a sexual differentiation there that
shows how one half of this energy manifests itself.

I`m going to pull back from that now. Maybe I went a bit too far already.

Who the hell do I think I am ?  God !?

Okay I`ll add my name to the list of suspects in the soon to be held, "trial of the eternity."


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 21, 2010, 11:46:52 PM
                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                         Part 84

                                        Time out

Spending time in Dallas was a wonderful opportunity to take a breather and clear my head.
Scientology keeps you so busy that you don`t even have time to think.
But worse still, you have been subjected to the most sophisticated mind control
technology in existence. From there , what you have left to think with and about
has been paralyzed beyond your comprehension.

I just want to hack away a bit more at the big picture before I resume my story.

The reason I don`t just come out with it, is that I`m not trying to come out with some sort of technology that can be applied like a recipe. We all know how that approach went. No... what I`d like to do is take you on a bit of a journey to get you simply to observe.

If I just tell you that the reason you are here is .... Enid Blyton.

It would mean nothing,... unless you happened to be a large eared man, with a bestest friend called Noddy, living in Toyland who asked "How the fuck did I get here ?

Do you see how important this question and answer partnership is ?

The only beings who have reached enlightenment asked the appropriate questions from the appropriate perspectives.
But it`s not an academic thing. It is pure, raw emotion.  Some are content to never ask the big questions. "Shit happens. "

The quality and accuracy of the questions posed, to a greater or lesser degree
are determined by ones life circumstances.

Two people exit the same Casino. One lost big. The other won big.
Their different experiences have caused them both to be asking "How did this happen?"

Neither of them are able to see the others answer. It just isn`t on their radar.

The guy who lost big isn`t hearing "Because you are blessed.  Because you deserved this. Life loves you."

So do you see why it is so difficult to break free of our confinements.

Somebody schooled in Science can only pose the big questions from the perspective of that identity.  If he has the presumption that the big answers to his big questions can only be discovered in the sciences, then he will keep getting Scientific answers every time.

You may relate to this example. 
If a Science fiction writer were to ask the big questions, then that Science fiction writer would report back with a Science fiction answer to the formation of life as we know it.  Care for a bit of Xenu anyone ? There is no way he could tune into anything but.

An unhappy drug dealer posing the question... "How can I become happy?"
has, by asking from a drug dealer identity eliminated any answer other than a  happy drug dealer answer.

And thus it is with a Scientologist.

Back then I never realized that I was stuck on this treadmill.

But I had made a deal with the Devil to endure any hardship to figure out how to free beings from M.E.S.T.

I didn`t realize it at the time but I was on a collision course with the exact opposite of where I desired to be.

This placed me in exactly the appropriate place I needed to be to ask the big questions. Then I got the appropriate answers.

What inspired me to pursue this path, believe it or not, was not for personal reasons.  I`ve always had the capacity to bounce back.
In fact when someone sets out to harm me or cause me to suffer I kind of get a laugh out of it.
They really have no idea what they are dealing with.

But I see others. I sense their suffering. It`s then that they want answers.
And it frustrates me that there are so many incompetents out there who are
supposed to have helpful , relevant answers and they just don`t have a fucking clue.

Maybe your circumstances are how you want them at the moment. In that
case you probably aren`t asking the big questions.
But when the day comes, and I hope it never does, that you desperately need answers, you`ll see what a lonely world we really live in.

By the time you have finished my story, I hope to have taken you to
a place where you can see clearly for yourself that the following is the case;

That enlightenment is yours for the asking. . There is no journey to take. There is nothing to learn. There is no one holding you back. No one can give it to you.
And certainly no one can sell it to you.

And that no matter who you have been or are being presently, it all works out fine.

Now this one will need a bit more explaining later on.....

You may come to bless Scientology for being the perfect manifestation of what enlightenment is NOT !

Okay let`s get back on the road to unenlightenment.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Sharone Stainforth on November 22, 2010, 10:39:25 AM

I didn't really want to interupt here on your story, but wanted to tell you how much I have enjoyed reading this.Not sure whether it was intentional or not, but a couple of chapters recently had me roaring with laughter.

Great stuff, and good to have made your aquaintance.

Thank you,

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 22, 2010, 10:57:28 PM
Hello Sharone,

              No you aren`t interrupting at all. I`ve been hoping more people would start posting on this board.

If my story has inspired you to do that, then I`m really chuffed.

I welcome any comments, questions, disagreements, praise or criticism.
I just want suffering to become a thing of the past.
Even if that involves someone pointing out the flaws in my conclusions, I would be grateful.

I have to admit recalling some of these wacky experiences has had me chuckling myself.

Really nice to let me know you`ve had a few laughs as well.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 23, 2010, 11:12:55 PM
                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                         Part 85

                                  The night Chicago died.

After a week and a half of interviewing every Scientologist we could find in Dallas,
Agnes and I had still failed to close a single person for the Sea org.
But I have to tell you this public had been well picked over by an endless stream
of recruitment missions that had preceded us. There were so many different orgs within the Sea Org that the left hand didn`t know what the right hand was doing. 

I don`t know if these Class Four Org public were telling me the truth, or they just knew it was a fail safe for getting the pressure off them. But I`d estimate that 90% of the people I interviewed disqualified themselves from joining the S.O. by admitting a drug history that included LSD.

Hubbard`s decision to ban people who`d had LSD was based on a survey he had apparently done aboard his ship, back in the 70`s.

Legend goes that he got a list made of all the people who were fucking up. and
discovered that, one for one, the common denominator was that they had all taken LSD.  What Hubbard failed to realize is that what these fuckups also had in common was that they had all joined a pretend navy, led by a science fiction writer, who was cruising the Caribbean looking for treasure.

This would also be a factor in exposing Hubbard`s tech as dangerous, over the ensuing years.

What Hubbard didn`t predict, is that he was eliminating scapegoats from then on.

Sea org members have faithfully continued their forty odd year tradition of fucking up.
But without being able to conveniently accuse psychiatrists, or LSD, for causing all their problems he was left holding the can. Hubbard had barred psychiatric or LSD victims from becoming Sea Org members. So what was the only other mind altering practice remaining, that every qualified Sea Org fuckup had in common ?

Doesn`t take a billion years to figure that one out.

The one thing all Sea Org fuckupers had left in common was they were under Hubbard`s tutorship. 

It became apparent that as far as recruiting people for the Sea Org went...I didn`t have what it takes.

It was decided that Agnes and I would be parting company.
Our mission was over. I was sent to Chicago. I don`t recall where Agnes ended up. But she did send me a letter soon after that. It was my copy of a knowledge report she`d written on me for giving her a day off when she wasn`t feeling well.

Still it was worth it for me... I`d seen the relief on her face when she was treated as a human being again after months of being a pack mule.

When I arrived in Chicago on a cold snowy evening I located a phone box and called the org. The girl there gave me instructions on where to find a train and then a bus. I told her, as if it wasn`t obvious, that I wasn`t American, and didn`t know how to do simple stuff like using public transport. "What if I get mugged ?"

She assured me that I`d do just fine and that my S.O. "Ethics presence" would keep me safe from muggers, and presumably organ thieves as well. It would be just my luck to finally have one of my organs working properly again, only to have it stolen by  Chinese gangsters.

My first job on arriving at the org was to organize my new senior a ride from O`Hara airport, where he was due to arrive the next day.

I got a few names of prospects from Sara, one of the few people actually at the Chicago org. So I phoned up this guy who sounded like he`d been a character in  the Richard Dreyfuss movie, "The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz"

He told me he`d be happy to drive me out to the airport.
So I said "I`ll let you do it on one condition..."

In a very puzzled tone he asked "What might that be ?"
I told him I wanted him to stop off at 2122 North Clark Street.

He had no idea why I`d want to go there. Which meant he also had no idea why he should say no. ....."S u r e ??? "   
Brilliant !!!

Right on time the following morning my driver arrived curious to know, "should we go to the airport first or 2122 North Clark Street ?". I thought we`d better play it safe. People had warned me that Anthony, my new Senior,  didn`t like to be disappointed.  "We`ll go to the airport first and Clark Street on the way back. Is that doable ?" 
He assured me it would be no problem. And then promptly got lost.

We ended so far out in no man`s land, that I could hear the theme from "Deliverance" in my head.

We ended up arriving at the airport two hours late and instantly recognized Anthony by his ability to accurately personify the picture of "Anger" on Ron`s tone scale.

Anthony was winding his way back to L.A. after a whirlwind successful recruitment tour through Europe.

I made a mental note for the next time I needed to organize an airport pick up
to ask for a list of people who owned convertibles.
Anthony started to explain why he`d been unable to take a shower for over a week but the air rushing through my fully opened window drowned him out.

Eventually we pulled up at the address I`d given our driver.  Anthony looked around puzzled. "What are we doing here?" he asked.

I explained that this is where the "St Valentines day massacre" occurred.

Back on St Valentines day, 1929, seven gangsters were machine gunned down against the brick wall at the rear of a garage at this very location. The murders were never solved.

The only survivor was an Alsatian. And he wasn`t talking. One of the victims who died at the scene was asked who shot him, by the cops.
Despite the fact he had fourteen bullets in him,  his final words were "nobody shot me."  Even the cops didn`t believe his story.

"Yes... So why are we here ?" asked Anthony restlessly.  I could have told him how I wanted to put him up against the wall in case the shooters came back.
But instead I just said..."This will only take a minute, " and climbed out of the car.

For me, coming from a country where nothing ever happened, I wanted to actually be somewhere that something significant did happen.

The street still had the old Chicago feel. Brown brick buildings with fire escapes.
It looked like a location from the Paul Newman, Robert Redford hit movie "The Sting."  I soaked it all in. A guy was pushing a hand cart by, so I stopped him and asked where the old garage was ? "You`re standing in it. It was torn down years ago."

I looked around for any trace of it. Nothing. Just a car park. So I asked this guy "Well where did the machine gun peppered back wall go?"
He told me "some guy brought it... and I think it`s a tourist attraction in Las Vegas."

But here I was standing precisely where an event, that had captured the imagination of people the world over, had happened.  I soaked in the vibe.

Awesome !!!  Here is something to ponder. If you could see beams of light coming out of people which traced where their attention was. You would see something close to the twinkling of stars in the night sky. 

But what if suddenly they all became strong beams focused at one specific point. Would it be tangible ? Would it leave a trace ?  Think of it... Billions of people who`s attention normally blinked and flickered criss crossing other beams to all suddenly come together in one spot.

Bamm !!!   Makes the hairs on my forearms stand up.

I climbed back in the car and noticed that Anthony seemed to have lost his anger. Plus the previously nervous wreck of a driver we had, was relaxed ????!!!!  What the fuck was that all about ?

We got to the Chicago org and parted company for the night.
I was put up in a spare room with a couple, and Anthony went to stay with someone else.

The next morning I got busy scheduling appointments for prospects to see Anthony. He had a reputation for being a high producer. He was averaging about five people a week up until he met me.  I had a lot to learn from him.
Got my first lesson about mid afternoon that day.

He and a student on course that day shook hands after spending about twenty
minutes together in Anthony`s office. Anthony looked at me really pissed off and motioned me to follow him into the office.

"Why did you tell that guy about the pay in the Sea org ? he asked.
"Because he asked me." I replied.

Anthony just looked at me as if I was a moron.
He was searching for the right words....

"Listen from now on I don`t want you talking to the people. I`ll do all the talking."

"But Anthony ...What did I do wrong?"

"I don`t want you telling these people what it`s really like in the Sea Org. How the fuck are we going to recruit anyone that way ?"

No wonder I was a fuckup when it came to recruiting for the S.O.

I saw it clear as can be.

If people knew the truth about the Sea Org, not one person would join.

Not one !!!

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: SallyDannce on November 25, 2010, 09:25:48 PM


Let me catch up on my reading here. 

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 26, 2010, 08:41:27 PM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                      Part 86

                                 The shame of it all.

Anthony did his best to keep me feeding him with a constant stream of qualified prospects. But to be honest, I`d lost all enthusiasm for the project.
There was no way that I was going to be feeding Anthony with people to put on a one way train to Siberia.

Now I had time to notice that one of the women, in a senior position on staff, made great eye candy. My compass started coming back to life. Unfortunately she was married. Her husband, a cab driver, would come in at varying times of an evening to run her home when she was ready. One evening, her equally stunning, daughter, Jackie came along for the ride. This had the geological equivalent of trying to get my compass to stay steady on top of a giant mineral deposit.

There was something going on, besides me, that I couldn`t quite put my finger on.
It was like the vibe one gets when watching "The postman always rings twice."

Jumping ahead now for a minute

 A few months later I bumped into Jackie at Flag. I was delighted, but surprised to
see her there in a Sea Org uniform. It turns out that her mother and Dave, the Executive Director, of the Chicago Org had developed a thing for each other and
had both Blown staff and in her case blown her husband (for the last time).

Due to her parents breakup, Jackie`s life had been thrown into disarray. The scandal happened right after Anthony and I left Chicago.

It didn`t take long before it became apparent that it was no coincidence that they both chose to blow on the same day.

Jackie told me that the resultant fallout from this most surprising turn of events had almost caused the Chicago org to collapse.

Jackie`s world had fallen out from under her, and the very next Sea Org recruitment tour through Chicago had turned her personal tragedy into a stat.
She was now through the E.P.F. and part of the crew at Flag.

She must have straightened my tie four times during that brief conversation.
It didn`t occur to her that at the same time as she was bad mouthing her mother, and vowing never to speak to her again,she was making it obvious that, depending on my reaction, she was willing to do the exact same thing. But we`ll get to that later.

I just had one more growling to get from Anthony before we set sail for Minneapolis.  One of the recruitment cycles led us to be walking down through downtown Chicago one evening. To me it was all just fascinating. I`d never seen an elevated railway before. I`d never seen buskers who sounded so good. The architecture and feel of Chicago reminded me of those cutout toy towns one amused oneself building as a kid.

Anthony, very angrily, told me off for taking it all in.
He`d noticed a group of black guys walking the same direction as us and didn`t
want me slowing us down in case they caught up with us.
I was mystified.
To me this was just a bunch of guys walking the same direction as us.
But to Anthony, they were potential murderers and muggers.

If we`d stopped and talked to them who knows.? One of them may have turned out to be the current President of the United States.

As we were getting our animated safety briefing aboard the flight to our next port of call, I did manage to get a bit of humour out of Anthony.

The ever so pleasant on board safety commentary started to tell as what we should do if there was an emergency landing at sea.... Anthony without taking his eyes off his magazine muttered..."Isn`t that what they call a crash ?"

Next stop Minneapolis.

We were hosted by the H.A.S. This is the person who has the responsibility of overseeing all the departments that keep Hubbard`s ethics tech being applied.

I spent the evening with this girl going over potential names of people I should  warn that Anthony was in town. We ended up laughing and joking around till it was home time.  Where to put us up at that late hour ?

She sorted out a bed for Anthony and told us there was a spare bed at her place for me. Once we were there I was shown where the laundry was and the shower.
Then she pointed down the hallway to a door saying that she`d have a bed made up for me in there when I`d done my laundry and had a shower.

An hour or so later I made my way to what I thought was my bedroom, wearing only a towel. There was enough light coming in from the street for me to realize that it was actually her room.  I made my way over to the spare bed as this girl began whispering instructions to me. I was surprised to realize she was still awake.  We exchanged a few words until she got the giggles and before I knew it she was kneeling on the floor beside me wearing only a tee shirt.
She explained that her three year old daughter was asleep in her bed and didn`t want our conversation to wake her.
Five minutes later she was in bed with me.

Disregarding how interesting what happened next might be, of equal interest is the fact that this girl was fully dressed in all of Hubbard`s ethics tech and within the few minutes it had been since I entered her room it had all been discarded as quickly as her top. All those years of  intensive mind control neutralized in a few minutes.

Had we lost our minds ?
This is a perfect opportunity to resolve a mystery that has baffled mankind since we evolved one.          The human mind !!!

How many words have been written about it ? Research teams have experimented over it. Addicts and the fearful have cursed it.
Philosophers have pondered it.  Psychiatrists have theorized about it. Millions of dollars have been spent trying to understand it.
And Hubbard has exploited it.

I really want you to get that this is a big deal.

The thing to realize is that all the money, all the research , all the energy spent
and thoughts thought, has been done by victims of it. No name stands out more than Hubbard`s in this regard.

Well here is a clue. "You can`t find your mind, when you are using it to look."

Or put another way ..  " You will never unearth the spade you are digging with !!"

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 27, 2010, 08:39:40 PM
                                      SENSE OF DOUBT

                                          Part 87

                                      Mind how you go.

Before I talk more about my view of the mind, I`d just like to mention that
I would probably be at the bottom of the list of people one would normally
go to for information on this unfathomable subject.

In my view the only information available on the subject of the mind was conceived by one.  This is a little like asking the Police to investigate themselves.
"Nothing wrong here!!!"

The obvious outcome of this approach has been repeated so frequently and has
resulted in a victory for the mind and more defeat and suffering for its owners.

The mind posing questions to itself finds ..."nothing wrong here !"
As a result, that answer sets the benchmark of what the mind is.

For example Hubbard wrote and lectured on the subject of the mind till he went mad.  He wasn`t the first. So if your mind wasn`t like his, he could only conclude that your mind was not the model to aspire to. The crazier he became , the more he insisted that his mind set the benchmark. Evidence of this is clearly written in "Keeping Scientology working", where he rejects and outlaws any input from any mind other than his own.

What he had in common with the layman, is that everyone is an expert on the other person`s mind. Just listen in to conversations anywhere you happen to be.
Even Taxi drivers and street sweepers can tell you what`s wrong with the minds of world leaders.

Let`s take this slowly.        A mind asks... "What is the mind all about ?"
The mind gives the appropriate answer, taking into account what was asked and from where it was asked. This is where Hubbard got in the way of his own research.
His mind concluded that the analytical mind was never wrong. It was not designed to be. It was the perfect computer. So he decided that wrong answers could only come from another mind that was out of the analytical minds consciousness, but could veto, any conscious mind decisions.

And plenty of Dianetics readers fell for it. Myself included.

Here is another explanation.

A mind asks a mind what it is all about, and the mind tells the mind "What ever you like. I`ll give you whatever you feel you need."

"You want to hate someone ???  I`ll give you an infinite number of reasons why you should. The way they chew, the way they love themselves, the way they talk. Need more...I got more ..."

You want to feel depressed..? "Here you go. Look how depressing everything is.
See everything is exactly as bad as you said it is."

Want to get away with the perfect crime ? "Give me a little time.... I`ll collect some data for you. Locks !! Learn how to pick locks.......What did Al Pacino do in Dog day afternoon  ?  Make sure you have a get away PLAN. Remember that guy Grant ?"

You want to eradicate Jews, and Negros and gays ?  Its about time someone realized this was essential. You`ll need to make it legal to do this all around the world. Let`s start with Mother Germany. I`ll make up the rest as we go along."

You want the world to think you are God ? "Why not start your own religion.
I can fill your head with so much shit you won`t stop talking for thirty years."

And there you have it. The human mind solved.

It`s whatever you create it to be. As fast as it can be created, it can be uncreated. In fact it can be created or uncreated on a whim.

So why do I have trouble with mine  you ask ?
It`s because you have filled your mind with so much bullshit that it`s become like quicksand.  Your mind could be so bogged down that it now has trouble living with itself.  From there, your bogged down mind asks your bogged down mind how
can I ever hope to free myself from myself ?

And your bogged down mind tells itself that it is just too complicated and distraction is the answer.
Due to a fad I started early last century, regressive therapy grew in popularity, and price, right up till people started to realize it didn`t work. That`s actually still happening as I write.

Hubbard leaped on that fad and made a fortune out of it. Unfortunately, from that perspective he asked his mind " How can I get more of everything ?"

And that answer included YOU !!!

Regressive therapy has not worked in a hundred years. The only time it appears to have worked was when the regressed mind said... " Doing this is no longer emotionally fulfilling... and at a whim it chases itself down another rabbit hole.

What you can do now if your mind is telling you it`s had enough of itself. 
1.) Stop taking your mind seriously.
2.) Watch this...

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 28, 2010, 09:20:11 PM
                                      SENSE OF DOUBT

                                          Part 88

                                     New York, New York

Anthony`s winning streak had come to an abrupt end once he hooked up with me.
The powers that be decided to put him on a plane back to PAC and put me on a plane to New York. I was to hook up with a guy who`d been sent out on mission at the same time as me.
His name was William. I called him that till I got to know him. After that he was Willy. His second, a real babe had abandoned him for unknown reasons.

As the plane descended over New York city that evening I was just in awe at the size of the place. It really has a vibe. I had instructions once I`d landed, to take a bus to Grand Central Station. Then to find the org on whatever street it was...
(84th I think) by Times Square. It was a Friday evening and there were people everywhere. It was like being at a carnival as a kid, with all the side shows. Every doorway seemed to have a hawker outside trying to lure me
inside to experience every vice known to man.

Finally I found the org and got directions to Willy`s assigned office.
There he was all full of himself and keen to tell me that his previous second
had made a habit of going into his berthing space wearing only a SO shirt.
I never found out what happened to her. Never saw her again.

Willy was keen to issue me some orders to let me know he was boss.
So I fluffed around for the few hours till it was time to knock off.
Then we headed to this eight story building a few blocks away called The Excalibur.
It was a flea pit. Willy and I had to share a room. All the while I could
feel Willy examining me...trying to figure me out. It was only us in the room.
So there was nothing else to distract him.

The next morning we were on post and Willy was catching me up on his two hot prospects. First there was this guy called Joseph Excellent. Never forgot that name. He was an immigrant from Haiti and the nicest guy you could ever meet. He was trying to get his family into America. He didn`t care how. Lord knows how Willy used that to sell him a lemon. Joseph was just so accommodating and would
say and do anything he thought would please you.

The other was this young smiley guy from Portugal, named Eduardo,
who was just trying to get out of the family home. His mother was like a Jewish mother... Poor Eduardo would have joined the foreign legion to escape the strangle hold she had on him. Whenever I spoke to him on the phone I could hear her barking orders in the background. Talk about a potential monster in law... This guy was never going to get laid.

So with only these two sorry prospects, I knew we`d have to get busy.
I found a guy foolishly lounging around in the org the next morning and decided to take him up to see Willy, who was in charge of interviews.

I had to go into the office a few minutes later for something and heard this guy ask Willy, "How come I can`t join the SO since I`ve had LSD ?
Willy very tactfully informed the guy, "because you`ve got brain damage."
It`s as if Willy had so many feelings for himself he had no room for the feelings of others.

I sent in a second guy. A black guy who was on a student break.
I manned the phones and laughed at all the celebrity voices people used
on their answering machines. Moments later this guy comes out of the interview.
He looked at me as if he`d just been told he had cancer. He said as he walked by, "That guy is more fucked up than I am."

I walked into Willy`s office and called him an ARC break machine.
So he decided to ARC break me as well. Then he started ranting about "back flash", and all sorts of policies I was breaking.
I said, "Well here`s my policy... I don`t work for retards. I quit !!!"
Then I marched out of the org and went back to the Excalibur. It was locked.
No one came to the door when I knocked. Typical !!

I just hung around till I was delighted to see  my old buddy from PAC, Lars Nordin
walking up the street. He`d been traded to OSA from Gold and was there doing anti psych stuff.   

I told Lars about the problems I was having with my senior and he told me his.
Lars had been put in lower conditions for "jeopardizing the mission" he was on.
He`d been sent to an anti psych picket and had been responsible for getting a large banner there. One of those long fabric signs that you unfurl and is supported by four or five poles.
Lars had taken this cumbersome bundle down into the subway and had created a bit of a scene by mistake. He was holding it all upright as he took the exit escalator up to the street.
There was a mighty explosion as the ascending escalator compressed the tops of his poles against the ceiling firing splinters of wood all over the people behind him.

Lars collected all the pieces but the damage was done.
The sign that was to have towered ominously over the picketers was now just a mini version of it`s former self.
Lars and I walked the streets and laughed as we told each other what we`d been
up to since we last met.

When I got back to the Excalibur that night, Willy was waiting for me. However his ethics presence was diminished by the fact that some abandoned Scientology kids had turned our room into their clubhouse. His bed was now a pirate ship.

Willy told me that he`d reported my misconduct back to Gold and that I was
in a pile of trouble.  In actuality I think I may have been the first Sea Org member ever to go on strike and I doubt they knew how to cope with that.

The next morning I decided to go exploring.  I was in New York after all.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on December 01, 2010, 10:28:14 AM
                                       SENSE OF DOUBT

                                              Part 89

                                      A walk in the park.

I recall it being a Friday evening when I finally showed up at the org again.
It would take me a week to summarize what I got up to while I was AWOL.
I`m sure it`s fully documented in what became my new Ethics File.
Coming in from the cold was quite apt as it was closing in on Christmas and
it had started to lightly snow.

I went up to our office and was delighted to see that Willy was not there.
However on his desk was a note ordering me to call the Gold recruitment office urgently. 

I gave the name on the message a call. It was this European chick who I`d
seen on and off while in L.A.  She was pissed off with me and told me I`d be going to the RPF for sure when I got back.

She was organizing the funds to fly me back to L.A. and in the meantime I was to do all I could to leave my case aside and help Willy to get his recruits on a plane to Gold. I told this woman that helping Willy do anything compromised my sense of sanity.
 "Just fucken do it. I`ve a sec check organized for you there in New York.
Go and see the Director of Processing right now."

Getting away from Willy was my priority. So this meant that now I`d have to
stay in touch with the org to get my flight information. I found the Director of processing. She was a middle aged woman who was about as neurotic as you can be and still stand up.  She had that Tom Cruise thing going on where
she`d start a sentence and finish it five subjects later.

I think she was always just as surprised as everyone else by what she had just said. 

She took me in for a sec check herself.

"Do you have a withold ?" 

I didn`t wait for the needle . I just jumped right in.

"Yes. I`m attracted to women. I love to fuck them. I love to touch them and
caress them. I love to look at them. I like to do weird kinky things to them.
I love the way they smell. I love the way they walk. I love everything about them, except the fact that they like to argue."

The D of P. took a while digesting all I told her. She gave a half acknowledgment, and then kind of took a break from the sec check to argue with me over whether or not women liked to argue.

Eventually she realized she was demolishing her own case.

She checked the question again.

"Do you have a withold?...... That`s clean."

I guess I`d jumped the gun on the first asking.

Next question " Do you have an overt?.......  That reads ."

" I went out 2D with the H.A.S. in Minnesota."

The woman took on a "holier than thou" attitude and asked...
"And what did that involve exactly ?"

Mmmm.... I can`t tell you .

"No .... You need to tell me... "

I`d had enough of this bullshit. I pulled rank on her." Listen ... All you`ve been
told to do is find out whether or not I can be handled to stay here in New York. So I`m going to tell you straight. I can`t be. I`d rather be on the RPF than have to work with Willy. He`s embarrassing."

I was right. The sec check ended despite the fact that the words "floating needle" were never mentioned.

I didn`t even go to the examiner.

I asked around to find out where Willy was. The receptionist told me he`d shot off to New York Celebrity Center. I asked for the address and set off.
I`d picked up a map book so was able to spot C.C`s address almost directly
opposite where I was, but on the other side of Central Park.

Obviously the shortest route.  So I made my way to Central park and walked the thirty or so minutes it took to get to the other side. Strangely ..there weren`t many people there. It was dark after-all. Whatever.

Once on the other side, I realized I was really close to the Dakota. That`s the building that John Lennon was shot outside of as he returned home late one night from the recording studio.

It`s not as easy to find as you`d "imagine."
In fact from on the street it looks the same as every other building. But as I walked I started to get this weird feeling. It was on the same frequency as the Saint Valentines massacre site. But a different flow.

I started to feel this intense vacuum. It was getting stronger and stronger the more I walked. Just as it reached its peak I turned my head towards a driveway and instantly recognized the security hut.

I was standing in the spot where John Lennon was gunned down. He`d staggered into this security hut with four bullets in his back while the guard called 911.  A few police cars arrived shortly after and John was carried to the back seat of one of them. The cop who was sitting with him asked if he knew who he was .  Lennon grunted in acknowledgment and died moments later.

Within an hour the focus of the world was on this exact spot. Once again
the thoughts and attention of billions of people were all directed at one central location.  For some reason ...I`m sensitive to this collective consciousness.

One might say... Well you only imagined it because you recognized the spot where it happened. But I assure you I felt it before I recognized it. Maybe others can get in tune with this phenomenon. I don`t know. Try it sometime. Go somewhere that was the focus of attention of a large number of beings and see if you can sense it.
But realize these historic locations draw people to them. It`s a fact. Why is that ?

Unlike the Valentines massacre site, which was a feeling of intrigue.
The Lennon site was like a non energy. It was like the energy was pulling back.
Like the feeling you`d get when a collective consciousness resisted accepting what had happened here on the 8th of December 1980

My eyes filled with tears. Then inexplicably, I was completely calm.

I knew I`d tapped into something.

Two years later I was to become the proud father of a son.
He was born on the 8th of December 1990.

It was getting late . I needed to hook up with Willy up the road at Celebrity Center.  When I arrived I was surprised to find a party in progress. There were quite a few couples who actually knew how to dance. Quite different from the head banging gorilla moves I`d encountered at parties back home.
It was a delight to watch. Willy spotted me and came over.
"What the fuck are you doing her? he asked.
"I`m here to help you get your two prospects on a plane to L.A."

"Did you phone Gold ? " He asked with a suppressed sadistic grin.

"Yeah done all that. Had the sec check as well."

Willy could hardly contain his excitement.
I`d dared to challenge his authority and it was now payback time.

During the lull in the music, Willy who was from New York, and knew a lot of the people here at C.C., inquired as to how I`d gotten there.

"I walked."  A few others were drawn to our conversation and one of them mentioned that it was a long walk here from The New York org.
"No it isn`t. " I said.

"You did walk here from the Org.... That`s a couple of hours walk."
"No it isn`t. It only took me half an hour to get across Central Park."

"YOU WHAT ????" ......   Hey everyone . This guy just walked across Central Park....... at night !!!!!"

Turns out that I was the new Celebrity at Celebrity center.

Everyone was looking at me in disbelief. Beautiful women were coming up to me to see if I was for real.  I guess they figured I was a Crocodile Dundee sort of guy.

It started to dawn on me that I did seem to remember hearing many times over my life that Central Park after dark was a no go zone due to a strong likelihood of being mugged, murdered or raped, or all three.

I did not meet one celebrity who drew more attention that night than I did.

Actually I didn`t even see anyone I recognized at all.
It was more like a wanna be celebrity waiting room.

Willy and I didn`t stay around long. He`d realized that I was going to be helpful to him getting Joseph Excellent sorted out to be on a plane the next day.

Moments later we were in the subway at midnight heading to the Bronx.

I was familiar with the social customs in this neighborhood from seeing the
Paul Newman movie "Fort Apache the Bronx" So felt quite safe stepping over
the human refuse littered everywhere.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on December 03, 2010, 11:12:32 AM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                      Part 90

                                 Escape to prison

I followed Willy through  the set of a post apocalyptic movie  till we approached
a near derelict apartment building. Naturally the elevator was "Out of order",
so we entered the graffiti covered stairwell and maneuvered our way around piles of rubbish and pools of..... I don`t even want to think about it.

Joseph opened the door to his one room apartment and was delighted to see us.
He was dressed in a cool leather coat and looked a lot like John Shaft.
He and Willy talked while I sat on the only bit of furniture in the room, a double bed.  Willy gave Joseph his airline ticket to L.A. and told him what time he needed to be at JFK the next day.

Poor Joseph asked "But what am I gonna do with all my stuff ?"
With that Willy set to rummaging through Josephs belongings, saying "That`s crap. That`s crap. We can sell this......."

An hour later piled beside me on the bed were an assortment of cameras, LP records, jewelery, a painting, a TV, a ghetto blaster, and a guitar etc.
It was obvious that Willy was willing to sacrifice Josephs bond and just leave
the room looking like a tornado had hit it.

Willy explained to Joseph that he`d sell all theses items and send the money to him at Gold. With that he looked at me with his inimitable manic grin and started loading me up with booty.

He piled the rest on himself and we bumped and crashed through the door and made our way back to the stairwell and down to the street.

It`s now about one in the morning and here we are walking through one of the toughest neighborhoods in the world looking like two burglars that hadn`t thought to steal a car before we went out breaking and entering.

Willy tried to engage me in conversation, but I really wasn`t interested in anything he had to say. In fact I recall saying back to him. "Save it for your psychiatrist."

Robert Kiyosaki once wrote... "From the moment you realize you are talking to an idiot,  there are two idiots standing there."

Half an hour later we entered the subway and made our way back to Times Square. So here we are carrying everything of value owned by a Haitian guy through Times Square at three in the morning.

Steam coming out of the storm-water drains, just like you see in the movies
and surrounded by "night people."
In New York there is a whole sub culture of people who, like vampires, prefer to disappear during the day and only emerge after sunset.

The sight of two guys making our way through the city streets with piles of goodies, stopped a few of them in their tracks.

By the time we reached the Excalibur, we were exhausted. You know how exhausting it is to move home. Imagine doing it by foot.

Little did I Realize that we would go through the same routine the next day.
By mid morning we were at another apartment in Harlem where Willy was putting another poor black guy through the same routine. This time Willie hailed a cab which we proceeded to stuff to the roof with the possessions gathered over this guys lifetime. 

When we finally had all that transferred to our room, come clubhouse, it started to look like a pawn shop.

The next day Willy told me that he had another cycle to do that didn`t require my help. I`d had enough of the furniture removal business anyway and was relieved to have  a Willy free day.

At the bottom of the New York org is a theater. I was drawn there by the
party atmosphere coming from inside. I took a seat surrounded by about fifty kids and watched a guy I`d talked to many times over the last three weeks. The local staff had told us not to bother with him as he was a complete fuckup.

Being a fuckup myself, naturally we got along great.

It turned out that he was the guy who was entertaining the kids for the Scientology children`s Christmas party. This "fuckup" was up on stage with his guitar giving these kids a world class performance. I couldn`t leave, he was so good.  I get tingles all over my body when I see an artiste at work. I was buzzing. Before long I was clapping, laughing and singing along with all the other kids.

Interesting to realize that a guy who could bring joy and magic into the lives of children, who were normally deprived of it, was considered Dev-T.
(Scientology term for time wasting.)

Fuck that has made me mad. Just thinking about it.

I was on a high for the rest of the day...Till the phone rang.
It was Eduardo, the smiley, Portuguese guy`s mother. 
"I want my sons car brought back to him immediately."

I realized that it was Willy she needed to be talking to. But he was out.

I told her I`d get my senior to phone her the moment he got back.
She called me every name under the sun including a thieving bastard.

"If that car is not back here in two hours, I`m reporting it stolen to the police !!"
The thought of Willy being arrested and given a psychiatric examination had me so worried that I went looking for Lars.  "Hey want to go cruising ?"
"Sure. I`ve seen the girl of my dreams. Want to come and meet her? he asked.

Lars and I made our way across town towards the Waldorf Astoria, probably the most famous hotel in the world at that time.
Lars told me how he`d been there a few days before on a reconnaissance mission for OSA. Apparently there was going to be a Psychiatric convention there and Lars needed to bring back anything he could get concerning it.

Lars had gone there and inadvertently buddied up with the Hotel manager who
it seems had treated Lars as if he was his long lost son. He was an Asian guy who was keen to give Lars a tour of the Waldorf. When they finally parted company, all Lars had succeeded in getting was a plastic bag full of "Waldorf Astoria" memorabilia, including about two dozen "Waldorf Astoria" emblazoned pencils, of which Lars kindly gave me one.

His senior had been enraged by Lars failed project and for not the first time he informed Lars that he had "jeopardized the mission."

It turns out that the woman that Lars was lusting after was an advertising  poster in a shop window a few doors away from the hotel. It was an advert for weight loss and she was there as a deterrent for what could happen to a woman who didn`t buy their product. 

Despite his protests, I dragged him away from the poster and we explored the night life that is unique to New York.

Before long we were held up for a few minutes by a crowd that had gathered on the sidewalk. There was something going on ahead but I could only see bright lights.
A voice coming over a megaphone told as all to "Walk now. Action!"
A street jazz band started to play as Lars and I were swept along by the crowd.
It`s then we realized we had inadvertently wandered onto a movie set.

Once we were through the set, we pulled up and just tried to figure out what this was all about. Lars walked back to check it out as I moved up against a building so as not to block the foot traffic.  I leaned against a wall beside another  guy who appeared to be doing the same thing. I kind of did a double take when I realized I was standing next to movie legend, "Bill Murray."

Moments later he was recognized and a crowd gathered. Can you imagine what it`s like to have people queuing up to touch you and tell you how much they love you ? Here I am, dressed in my Sea Org uniform saving the universe and people would rather acknowledge the guy standing beside me, who makes them feel happy and gives them a sense of joy.  Myself included.

One guy tried to get a photo of Bill with his Polaroid camera. The flash didn`t work. So he quickly pulled it down and jiggered with it. He fired off a random shot as the flash went off in my face. In the few minutes it took to reload.
Bill had wandered off and this guy waited impatiently for the shot he just took to develop.  He swore at his camera and then passed me the photo as a keepsake.
It was a photo of me. No movie star in sight. If you ever see the movie "Scrooged" watch for the jazz band street scene. I`m pretty sure they didn`t use our take. And by the way a movie well worth watching.

I ended up posting the Polaroid to my friend Greg still here in New Zealand. "Hi Greg,
Here is a photo of me standing next to Bill Murray."

Willy showed up back at the org two days later. I told him Eduardo`s mother was looking for him, and possibly the police as well, regarding Eduardo`s missing car.

Willy and I ended up back in our pawn shop room at the Excalibur for my last night  in New York.  The next morning we made our way back to the org, but Willy just wanted to check out the parking lot a few doors down.
There was one car there that gave Willy cause to curse in disbelief.

It turned out it was Eduardo`s. Someone had smashed the rear window of this hatchback and Willy was trying to take in the fact that all of Eduardo`s personal belongings were gone. I mean everything the guy had owned.

Willy was so stressed he didn`t even have time to notice that my airline ticket details were on his desk when we got back to our office.

I scooped them up and went back to the Excalibur to gather my things.

It was Christmas eve.

I spent Christmas night flying over storm clouds between New York and L.A.

I knew what Santa was bringing me the following morning. A routing form onto the RPF. But that didn`t dampen my Christmas spirits.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on December 04, 2010, 02:07:04 PM
                                     SENSE OF DOUBT     

                                         Part 91

                                     Learning to fly

Okay. We still have a bit of time to kill before landing in L,A. Maybe you
could grab the seat beside me and I could show you some things that
you have looked at every day of your life but never seen.

I`m going to give you a flying lesson. But not the type you might expect.
This is an artistic flying lesson.
When Bowie collaborated on his Berlin trilogy with Brian Eno, Eno was quoted as saying “In art, you can crash your plane and walk away from it.”

So let`s take a plane ride now. Buckled in ?

As we fly over the vast landscape below, we can sense the drama that has unfolded across this giant game board, going back thousands of years.

Occasionally we can see lights of a city or town through the clouds.
Somewhere down there a father is arriving home from his job at the factory, wondering how to tell his wife that he has been laid off.

Somewhere else a guy is on the net defending something he posted the previous night on a message board and he`s been criticized for it.

Meanwhile two men are parked in a car in an alley awaiting tensely for the manager of the 7/11 to close for the night and exit through the rear with the days takings.

Further up the road a woman is trying to sleep knowing that the next morning she is due for surgery on that knee that has been so painful since her fall.

In that house down there a teenage boy is trying to cram a years worth of neglected chemistry learning into a few hours, so he`ll not disappoint his parents when the exam results come back.

A tramp has found an old curtain that will protect him from the winter chill for another night under the bridge.

It`s all down there. Can you see it ? Can you feel it ?

An hour before this plane took off , you were down there and involved in it as well.
But from up here we just glide over the Monopoly board completely unaffected.
We have moved from being a participant to being a spectator.

There is some real serious shit going on down there.
But you have to be down there to experience it. In fact being down there is why you are experiencing the seriousness of it at all.

From up here your perspective gives you a sense of neutrality.

The guy down there trying to keep the bank from taking his house is completely overwhelmed. Yet from up here the house he frets over is an insignificant dot.

I`m assuming that you are somehow caught up in some form of drama of your own.  From that perspective you can still see this  phenomenon by observing a game that you are not stuck to.
Ever seen kids fighting over a board game ? Maybe you did yourself as a kid.

Mum comes in to see what`s causing the upset.  "Why can`t you kids play nicely ?"
"But mum he`s cheating. Look he threw a six, which meant he was going to land on my hotel. But he moved seven spaces."

These kids may start hitting each other if mum doesn`t sort it out soon.

She doesn`t know enough about what has happened to make a ruling. So she just says... "Listen !!! It`s only a game !!!"

But these kids have totally identified with the markers on the board. They have possessed them.  In fact if you were to pick one of these bits of plastic up off the board and stamp on it, you`d create a psychotic break in the kid who was using it. He would feel the pain and humiliation on such a personal level that he would be inconsolable. (Unless he was losing real bad.)

Yet to mum, it`s just a lump of plastic, not unlike her special picture frame that you were whacked for breaking.

Now imagine doing this.... If some time later you were to break this plastic marker
and torture it, your kid would not care less.
Yet two days ago if you did it, he`d vow to never speak to you again.

So what changed ? Only that now the kid is not identifying with the marker. Yet two days ago he had a stake in it. He was so passionate about winning the game that he believed that he WAS the marker and any attack on it was an attack on him personally.

So as we take this plane ride and float above this serious world can I play mother for a moment ???

"It`s only a game."

Hey ,,, Look out the window..  Isn`t that your neighborhood ???

Yes. There`s your house. Look down. Do you see it ? ...

There you are on your computer.
"Why so serious ?"  Look up at yourself and smile.

"It`s only a game."

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on December 06, 2010, 08:19:58 AM
                                    SENSE OF DOUBT

                                        Part 92

                                 Are friends electric ?

The details on how I arrived at the Gold Recruitment office in Hollywood are a bit
vague.  I`d done some sort of a weird time warp.The time I`d spent on the plane never happened. People were still up, but the Gold office was empty.  I dropped my suitcase there and made my way up to the galley to get a cup of tea. It was so surreal. There were Sea Org members just walking around casually. It felt like it was the night before the end of the world.

Loud music was playing in the galley and the lights were dim. There was some sort of a party going on. People were dancing and mingling. Including a group from the Gold office. I walked over to them and said "Hi." No response....
Not only had I gone back in time. I was also now invisible.

Each person I smiled at and nodded to just looked right through me.

Then it dawned on me. I was in Hell.

This was a party to celebrate the fact that I was hated by everyone.
My kind of party.

I fitted in perfectly.  I was the guest of dishonor.

I started to groove to the music when an angel appeared in front of me.
It was one of the female senior officers from Gold. Her words still echo in my mind.  "You are not welcome here !"

My whole Scientology experience summarized in five words.

But she wasn`t finished. There was still the staring daggers with tone 40 intention routine to go.  I did my perfect TR`s to show I was still trying to be a good scientologist. But this just seemed to infuriate her.
"Fuck off !!!!"

I abandoned any hope of getting a cup of tea and collected my things from downstairs and made my way to my room.

In the morning I was awakened by a security guard. He told me I was to spend Christmas day white gloving the Gold office.

That`s cleaning in English.  Ron had found an ingenious way of making sure cleaning assignments were done to his high paranoid standards. The cleaning assignment would be checked by a person wearing a white glove which would randomly check surfaces for any signs of dust or grime.

But his clean checking tech was squirreled routinely. I guess due to the fact that no one could afford the time and money to get a new pair of white gloves every time a white glove inspection was done, a piece of tissue paper sufficed.

I showered and threw on the second pair of sea org uniform trousers I`d still not worn.  They were some sort of synthetic material and hugged my award winning butt really tightly.  As I walked through the base it felt as if it was the calm after the storm. The galley was still a mess, but there was some milk and cereal out for the few stragglers who popped in.

Okay now down to the gold office. Where to look for the cleaning supplies ?
I grabbed the door handle of what appeared to be a cupboard only to be tossed away by an electric shock. Man I was really in a new league of Ron`s overt motivator sequence.  I tried the door again. No shock this time. It must have all been in my mind. This was just too weird.
Great a vacuum and some rags and a bottle of squirt.

I plugged in the vacuum and made my way to a corner office to start there.
As I touched the door I squealed in surprise as yet another electric charge threw my hand off the door.  I tried again. No shock...the door opened to reveal a dead rat lying in the middle of the floor. It was laying on a bit of cardboard with some sort of wet glue on it.  I just knew the vacuum wasn`t up to the challenge.

Then it started to move. It wasn`t dead. I decided to start vacuuming somewhere else. A few  minutes later one of the gold serious ladies came into the office and turned her head away when I looked at her.

She was walking towards the first office I`d gone in to vacuum.
I hesitated for a moment, " No I should warn her...

"Hey. You might not want to go in there. There`s a rat in that office in the middle of the floor. "
Without breaking stride she made a U turn and without a word exited the way
way she`d come in and jogged back up the stairs to the street.

By the end of the day I`d gotten electrocuted several dozen times but somehow managed to get the gold recruitment offices up to a standard where they could be condemned.

I made my way back to my Auschwitz berthing and woke the two guys in there sleeping each time I touched a door handle. Finally I stripped off my electric trousers and climbed into the shower.

I was totally friendless. Lars was back in New York. Frederick was still missing.
I was surrounded by many hundreds of Sea Org members all working tirelessly to make this world a better place, yet I felt alone.
Was it because they were all sulking ?
And this was the one day of the year we are supposed to forget everybody is a cunt and have peace and goodwill to ALL men.
Someone had pulled the plug on that one at PAC.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on December 09, 2010, 08:29:40 AM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                         Part 93
                    Thought crime and thought punishment
When I awoke the next morning Santa had been. I peered down over the edge
of my bed, through the labyrinth of bunk beds and saw that Lars was sleeping in his bed.  It was early. Security hadn`t arrived yet.  I should point out that most staff were terrified of the security guys. They were often times used to carry out Hubbard`s "head on a pike" policy. Me ? I just felt sorry for them.
I had seen so often guys that were no good at holding tech or admin posts get demoted to Security. There was only one post lower, before all hope was lost and the person was deemed unfit for the Sea org, and that was the post of Nanny.

I crept over to Lars bed and woke him gently. "Hey.... wanna come with me to see the Spruce goose ?"
Lars eyes opened and without hesitation, he said, with a giant smile ... "Sure."

For those who don`t know...The Spruce goose was the nick name given, by critics, to Howard Hughes controversial Sea Plane, the Hughes H-4 Hercules.

He`d built it during World War II, as a prototype transport plane.
Due to a shortage of aluminum, he`d built it from wood and it was probably
the largest plane in the world at the time. Definitely the largest ever sea plane.

The press made a mockery of Hughes and said it would never fly.
By the time the plane was completed the war was over and Hughes was in deep trouble with the authorities. There were inquiries and threats etc.

He took the Spruce goose out on the water at Long Beach, California just to do a few test runs at sea. On the fifth run he did something he wasn`t supposed to, just to make a point.

Lars and I dressed, breakfasted and snuck out of the complex without anyone being any the wiser. Three hours later we were standing in the shadow of this monstrosity.  For all the ex Scios reading this.......It was gargantuan !!!

There was a five story staircase that took one right up to the cockpit window
and sitting in the pilots seat was a very realistic wax model of Howard.

It really just sends a thrill through you to see the tiny body that masterminded this engineering marvel. This plane has a wingspan longer than a football field.
Because it was the day after Christmas there were few people there.

I couldn`t have timed it better. I was able to take a moment.
I was able to tune into the single most underutilized commodity in existence,
that being........ potential expressed.

For anyone interested in finding out more about this amazing man, I strongly recommend, the Martin Scorsese motion picture... "The Aviator."

Hughes was a complex man, not unlike Hubbard. The notable difference being that Hughes actually got his crazy ideas off the ground.

A few minutes walk from the Spruce Goose  the luxury ocean liner, the "Queen Mary" is permanently moored. Lars and I walked up the gangway and explored a bygone era.
The rich and famous had cruised between the United States and England on this ship from the thirties up till her retirement in 1967.

After a thoroughly enjoyable day Lars and I headed back to Hollywood.
The next morning, bright and early, Security was there to escort us to our respective sentences, before we had a chance to go missing again.

The guy escorting us, used his walkie talkie to report our successful recapture
to HQ. When he told his boss that we had been out to Long Beach the previous day, the consensus was that we were both completely stupid and wasting our lives.

I seized the opportunity to ask my guard what he`d gotten up to yesterday.
I guess his lack of an answer showed who was really stupid and wasting his life.
Lars was told to take a seat in a corridor while I was taken further along
and a door was knocked on.

I was handed over the the Boson of the "Estates project force."
I took a seat and the security guard left the room.

The Boson located a folder with my name on it from a pile of similar ones on his desk. As he took his time familiarizing himself with my case, I couldn`t help but notice that he looked and moved like a turtle.

Maybe he`d played one in some school pantomime and had gotten stuck in a win.
Eventually he tossed the folder down, gave a sigh and began..

"Here`s the deal. You have been fired from Gold. Now normally when one is fired,that`s it. They are gone. But here in  Scientology we give people a second chance. A chance to redeem themselves."

I felt cheated..."I thought I was going to the RPF."
He continued... "You had better count yourself lucky that you haven`t been put there. Out 2D is not an RPF-able offense. But let me assure you...One more screw up and that`s where you`re going." 

I could tell that there was a lot in that folder which the Boson was keeping to himself. It seems the adults had assessed my conduct and on balance had concluded that I was someone who, with the right kind of guidance, could be reformed and taught to think more like Ron did. But no mention of what I`d done to my Willy in New York ???

The Boson handed me a handwritten program, like a check sheet.

I read it with interest. It was a list of materials I had to study and processes I had to get through all with the intention of curing my propensity to get erections.
I had been sent here for the sole purpose of penal reform.

I didn`t recall reading anything about this on my Sea Org contract.

The Boson went on to assure me that he ran a tight ship. He wouldn`t tolerate any nonsense. By the time I graduated from the decks I would be able to ask permission to re enter the group of in ethics, on purpose Sea org members working tirelessly to help Ron achieve his goal of setting man free.

We did MEST work all day and then studied at night.
I got off to a bad start. At the end of the first evening after we listened politely to the one person who spoke up when we were asked if anyone would like to share their wins, I discovered my copy of a six page knowledge report on me by some woman I`d never even met, in my comm basket.

It was a blow by blow description of all the out ethics 2D activities I`d engaged in during our five hour study period.

I couldn`t really make any sense of it.
The next evening  I was at the Bosons desk waiting while he digested all the juicy
details of my out ethics the previous night.
When he finished he looked at me and shook his head.
He assigned me a lower condition. This would mean having to work extra time
and write up my crimes and all that shit.
I protested..."I don`t have a fucking clue who this woman, I`ve offended, is."
The Boson moved his head to single out a girl with her back to us.

I recalled her looking at me when studying the previous night. Seems she was studying me and to be polite I had smiled each time and gone back to my book.

That was my out ethics ?

I caught up to her at break time. 
"You must be Lyn ...."

Hey that was quite a KR you wrote up on me. I found it fascinating."

She then proceeded to explain that she had been sent to the decks for trying to
seduce a guy who had been her designated boss. Apparently she had a thing
for younger men. He`d turned her in rather than just say "Thanks. But no thanks." Anyhow she was now paranoid about being attracted to men and wanted to cure herself of it, even if it meant dragging innocent young men down with her.  Thought crime.  The horror... the horror ...the horror.

So her KR was a list of everything she "could" be guilty of doing with me. And my smiles were my tacit consent to the same sort of out ethics that, according to Hubbard, had nearly wiped the religion of Buddhism off the map.

Hubbard cited their own historians as the source of that little gem.

Anyway Lynn assured me that there was no future for us and that it was our duty to get this insidious monster under control.

When she`d finished... I realized I`d really like to fuck her.
So I asked, " Would you like to have lunch with me ?
I felt her coming back to life as she whispered softly,
"Yes ." and walked off seductively.

Excuse me a minute... I actually have to just stop for a moment and laugh at
what an idiot Hubbard was to think he could overrule peoples sexual urges.

That single policy about sex in the Sea org has caused more problems for his
self esteem and credibility than all of his failed tech put together.
Here`s why;

" Those glorious moments experienced just after your best ever orgasm
are indistinguishable from enlightenment."

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on December 11, 2010, 08:54:24 PM
   Just a quick note.... I`m actually taking a bit of time with part 94.

    You`ll see why, when you read it.

   It is my intention to prove to you beyond doubt that
    "I am out of my mind !!!!"


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on December 12, 2010, 04:32:51 AM
                                SENSE OF DOUBT

                                     Part 94 a

                        Where`s that confounded bridge ?

I`ve been asked some specific questions by a reader.
These questions have arrived with perfect timing. 
Here they are... Accompanied with my answers.

Did you ever, in your 23 years in Scientology know why you stayed in for so long?

No. I never knew in those 23 years why I stayed in for so long, I did however know why, when I got out.
Did you feel you got benefit from auditing?

Are you kidding ? Due to auditing I accumulated at least five folders worth of who I am not. When I worked at Flag as a folder admin, I discovered that there were Scientologists who had up to thirty folders chock full of who they were not.
It is only through discovering who you are not, that who you are can manifest.
Did you feel it helped you, if only temporarily?

Yes I feel Scientology helped me....... to stay in Scientology.
So long as one stays in Scientology the gains one makes are real.
Some people even stayed in there for twenty three years to keep those gains.
Of course when you leave Scientology you cannot but surrender all your gains.

After twenty three years of stretching the Scientology rubber band, I knew
with certainty that I was not a scientologist and let it go.
I was catapulted from the murky depths of unenlightenment into the clarity
of enlightenment. And so to can you.
I would really like to know.

So it shall be.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on December 12, 2010, 08:45:32 AM
                                     SENSE OF DOUBT

                                         Part 94 b

                                      One step closer to 94 c

By far the most misunderstood political activist in history was a guy named
Jesus H. Christ. The mythology that is associated with him has been so blown out of proportion, and so manipulated, that it took on Biblical proportions.

Followers of this myth should be grateful that the expectation about him returning on Judgment Day is also myth. For if he were to appear beside the pope over Vatican square, he`d be quite baffled. When told who he was and what he represented... he`d say, "Are you fucking joking ?" 

What he really should be famous for is inventing the parable.
Before the invention of the parable all one could do to make a point about morality was to write commandments.

"Thou shalt not cry wolf when said wolf is only imaginary."

Hardly a memorable lesson.

But if someone was to make up a little story about a young shepherd boy who
disobeyed this commandment and what happened.  Then you get people emotionally involved. Emotional involvement is key to any change in conduct.

There is a parable warning people about following a God like leader who promises to make all your dreams come true. You`ll see it clearly when I tell you the the story of the "Wonderful Wizard of Org."

This young naive girl lived happily on the farm with her Aunt and Uncle.
One day circumstances turned her life upside down as if a destructive tornado
had ripped her world out from under her. When she regained her senses everything had changed. The world looked different. It had become a spooky place. She wanted to get everything back how it was, when she was carefree
and happy.  She was surrounded by others who had stunted growth.

They told her of this wonderful Wizard of Org. He had magic powers and he could grant all of your wishes.  She wondered if it could be true. Magically an OT appeared from the East and told her she could get everything she wanted if she just followed the black rickety bridge.

So she set off and had many adventures. Along the way she met some wonderful people who also felt incomplete. She told them about the wizard and got a commission every time one of them joined her on the road to Org.

When they finally got to Org  the Wizard would not meet them till they had
fair gamed the Wicked SP of the West. So they did this and everyone cheered
and sang. They partied so hard that no one thought to ask why would a wizard so powerful need us mere mortals to fight his battles for him.

But finally this young girl and her friends were granted an audience with the Wizard.  He was so awesome that their minds didn`t dare question him.
However this girl had a mindless dog. This mindless dog smelt something fishy
and pulled back the curtain exposing a pathetic old man controlling all sorts of apparatus that created the illusion that he was great.

His name was L. Ron Humbug.

He told them all that he was a good man and had helped them all regardless
of the fact he was a fake. After all hadn`t the cowardly lion shown great courage on his way over the black rickety bridge. Hadn`t the straw man showed he had a brain by figuring out how to cross the bridge. And hadn`t the tin-man shown he had a heart by helping so many other lost souls across the bridge. The Wizard of Org gave them medals, certificates and other glittery official looking stuff to acknowledge their achievements.

Our heroine just wanted to get back her life.
The Wizard told her to just close her eyes and say three times with full intention,
"There`s no place like home. There`s no place like home. There`s no place like home." She clicked her heels three times and was transported back to her old life.

Isn`t that a wonderful story ?  Does it sound familiar ?

Jesus himself couldn`t have told it better.

I hope this little parable has helped you to pull back the curtain and
gotten you back to the farm.

Please try not to cry about your time in org.
It has made you aware of abilities that you never dreamed you had.
It has given you a true and faithful friend. Yourself.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on December 14, 2010, 08:37:45 AM

                             SENSE OF DOUBT

                                  Part 94 c

                                Have you ever....
                                                                                      mind ?

Hubbard declared that "the human mind was capable of resolving the human mind."
And yet his own one failed miserably. Evidence of that has been right before your eyes, if you hadn`t been looking through Hubbard`s mind.

The day he introduced heavy ethics, was the signal that he had failed. It`s been a long observable fact, that people get frustrated and angry when they can`t fix
something. It drives them nuts. Now if it`s your computer that isn`t cooperating with your preconceived ideas about what a computer should do... the worst you can do is smash it to pieces in a psychotic rage. However if the whole population of a planet isn`t responding to your "be like me" ideas then you have to punish them in a psychotic rage.

Anyone who hung out with Ron can assure you he was prone to sudden outbursts of psychotic rage.

The whole field of spiritual and mental health has been infected by this phenomenon.  It`s such an observable phenomenon  that Hubbard had to order those applying his tech to "never get angry with, or strike a preclear."

So regardless of any altruistic motives Hubbard started out with, they were ultimately abandoned and replaced with punishment via ethics tech.

"If they won`t cooperate by their own good sense, then I`ll force them to cooperate. I will give them no choice but to go free. They will be slaves to freedom."

See... it`s interesting when you stop and look at it. And yet it was there all along.
You lived it.

Apparently in Hubbard`s case and in every other case to date...The human mind has not been capable of solving the problem of the human mind.
I`ll tell you when the human mind has been solved. The day alcoholics anonymous
goes out of business.

To say that the human mind is capable of solving the problem of the human mind is just so demonstrably flawed logically that it`s like saying  a piece of art is capable of solving the problem of a piece of art.
Can anger solve anger ? Can depression solve depression? Can violence solve violence? Can insanity solve insanity ?

By using his mind to solve the problem of the human mind, Hubbard ended up at the bottom of the very tone scale that his mind created.

Take a moment with that one.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on December 16, 2010, 07:08:42 AM
                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                       Part  95

                                   Going out of my mind

I met up with Lyn for our lunch date.  We`d taken our trays to an outside courtyard and I guarantee neither of us would have the foggiest idea what we ate.
The interaction between us was just so focused. 
Lyn was "of two minds."  On the one hand she wanted to be seduced so badly that her cheeks would blush. On the other hand she wanted to go free with the Hubbard method which required her to lose her identity and embrace his.

Do you recall way back on page one I talked about everything being vibrationally based ? It follows that each different vibration has a different frequency.
Often times two or more frequencies are compatible. But just as often they are not.  In music , compatible frequencies sounded together create an harmonious chord. Incompatible audio frequencies create noise.

The consequences of harmony vs disharmony make the difference between someone who makes music as opposed to someone making a racket.

However two incompatible frequencies on core beliefs have vast consequences on the mind.  These two incompatible forces, if not resolved quickly, can cause the mind to go into meltdown.

This is much worse than it sounds. To actually go through the experience is to dance with the devil. It`s like a bad drug trip. It is a panic attack. It is living a nightmare. When it happens everything is surreal and the victim has totally lost control of their mind. Suddenly that lawn is throbbing. Your child wanting to be told a story is a bee. You try to get help but it feels like you are talking through a megaphone that is broken. You wonder who said the words that you just uttered.
In severe cases, like what happened to me, your mind even abandons automatically breathing for you. I hadn`t mentioned it before, because it is a bit trippy. But in the depths of my psychotic break, back in `78 my heart went psycho as well. It would start flapping like a fish out of water, then suddenly stop. It would feel as if I had gravel clogging my arteries. I was forced periodically, to take direct control of my heart till I got it ticking away again calmly.

This is an all too common occurrence in Scientology. They call it being "caved in", or going PTS type three. 

Lyn was headed that way. Her mind was trying to reconcile two irreconcilable
identities each vying for control of the same mind.  Years later the same thing happened to a Scientologist by the name of Lisa McPherson. Google her name if you don`t know of the case.

I didn`t have a clue how to help Lyn back then. She disappeared within a few days of our lunch. Did she lose the plot ? Did she blow ? She certainly didn`t graduate from the Decks project force.

Because Scientology is in competition with others for your mind and the vast amounts of money people are willing to spend on theirs and other peoples minds, Scientologists are forbidden from taking a chemically assisted holiday from their anxiety attack. 

For Scientologists who adhere to this no drugs policy.... Don`t just talk the talk.
When you get your next rotting tooth pulled, tell your dentist you want it done without any chemical assistance.

Till you do... Shut the fuck up !!!

The pain you will experience doesn`t even compare with the pain inflicted by
an out of control mind on its creator.

To that end, all mind owners are Dr Frankenstein.
Why do my words make sense and yet they don`t ??

Have I lost my mind ?  Am I just having "mindless" fun.

Have you ever realized you were much, much happier before YOU had one.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Sharone Stainforth on December 16, 2010, 11:55:15 AM (


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on December 17, 2010, 09:03:43 AM
                              SENSE OF DOUBT

                                     Part 96

                                    I Ronbot

Being put on "the Decks" was the equivalent of being sent back to the factory for
repair. Every sea org member sent to The Decks is made thoroughly aware that they are a fuckup. A program is written up to target the specific aspects of ones behavior that didn`t fall in line with Hubbard`s vision of how one should conduct themselves.

Those sent to the RPF are considered so flawed that only a complete rebuild will suffice.  The existing you is obviously going to get in the way. So the first order of business on your program is to remove the existing you.

Here is how its done...

This is how you take some fun loving carefree kid off the farm and turn him into a killer.

This is brain washing.  To do it you have to put the mind in situations where it constantly fails. Every time it fails, that piece of it is surrendered.
Once you realize that your mind is failing you on all fronts, it could be said that you are now broken.

From there, the new you can be assembled.

In boot camp you are rebuilt as a political assassin ready for WAR.
All this War nonsense could be eliminated rapidly if all "War News" was placed in the "Business" section of the worlds Newspapers, where it belongs.

Likewise, Scientology`s war on Psychiatry is just business.

There is an old saying. "War is money."

As a teen I recall a poster..."Imagine if they held a war and nobody came."
The thing I want to point out is that the only people who show up at a war are mind owners.  It is a sad fact that only those who own minds can be subjected to mind control and brainwashing.

I still had a mind back in 1988. But I wasn`t all that attached to it.

The Boson of the  DPF  had taken a personal interest in my case.
He was frustrated that he couldn`t fix me, and it became obvious that he wanted to smash me to bits in a psychotic rage.
In one of those rages he reminded me that the reason I was there is that I had seduced a married woman ?????!!!!"  That was news to me.

It turns out that Boson Turtle had worked for the Minneapolis org before joining the Sea Org. In his mind The H.A.S. was still married. No one had told him that she and her husband had separated months before I got there.
I didn`t bother telling him either. It was too much effort trying to get through that thick shell of his.
Plus it`s all orders of magnitude. I`d been worked over by a pro from the age of four. His chances of reforming me were about as likely as he would get laid
for free.

I was in the DPF academy one evening when another guy who`d failed miserably to deal with my "Attitude" problem arrived. I looked up from the book I was studying and saw Willy stroll in. "What an arsehole" I thought.
He was dressed in civvies and was wearing a fancy gangster hat.
He sat at the bosons desk and they started to talk.
Willy must have returned from mission and was discussing my progress with the DPF boson.

They did talk for quite a while. Eventually Willy stood up and scanned the room.
I just ignored him.  Then he pulled out an empty chair and sat at a table with the other fuckups.

He stayed there till the end of the night.

When I got back to our dorm room Willy was already in bed. Anthony who was married and didn`t have to sleep with the rest of us wankers, was gloating over Willy`s misfortune. As I entered he said... "Ah here is the other playboy."

Anthony left in disgust. Willy was laying there a broken moron.
Seems he had been recalled from his mission and was now on the Decks as well.

He told me of his woes. Apparently he`d lost the plot and had ended up paying for hookers and visiting "gentleman`s establishments."

I stood there emotionless and took it all in.
When he finished, I grimaced in sympathy, shook my head, turned around, opened the door, walked through it, closed it behind me, and then burst into hysterics.

That corridor echoed. And I have no doubt that Willy heard me laughing the whole length of it.

I was twinned up with Willy, the new guy, by the boson the next day.
The DPF were sent off on a hush , hush, project as our MEST work.

We had to walk about a hundred meters  down the road from the complex to
a rundown apartment building that Scientology owned.

The assignment was to enter the lobby as casually as possible, go to one of about nine vacant apartments, close the door behind us, Pull out all the demolition equipment we had hidden under our coats. and then gut the apartment without any of the tenants knowing we were there.

It seems this building was going to be sold. But Scientology, the champions of Human rights and Social reform, were keeping this a secret from the remaining tenants. 
At the end of each day a team of us DPFers would stroll through the corridors
covered in dust and plaster powder,with our concealed tools, as if it was a perfectly normal thing that shouldn`t alarm any of the puzzled tenants we passed.

It was good to be part of a team that was making the world a safe place for families.

The contradiction that Scientology is can be best grasped by
picturing a team of Scientologists marching the goosestep as they sing "We are the world."

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on December 18, 2010, 08:56:58 AM
                                     SENSE OF DOUBT

                                             Part 97

                           If you see me walking down the street....

After weeks of gutting apartments in silence, Willy and I were assigned a special project. The boson took us down to a woodwork room down near the RPF nest.

He didn`t think much of Willy and me. We were scum and morons. At least he was half right.

He explained that the boson of the EPF needed a box built to store his posters and charts in. We were to build a wooden box yay long, ....yay high
and yay wide. Yay is a measurement commonly used by fishermen to show how big the fish they caught was.

But this box was to have holes drilled in its lid so that rolled up posters could be stood in them for easy access.  You could tell that the boson had zero confidence in Willy and myself to get it right. He started to get really animated with his over the top descriptions.  Meanwhile a woman on the RPF had entered the woodwork room and was pottering around looking for something.

Finally after one more yay big and yay high, the boson asked sarcastically "So do you think you two morons could get that right ?"

"Yes sir", I answered insightfully as I spun around and marched towards the door.

The Boson was just aghast that I`d say I understood and then walk off in completely the wrong direction. "Where the fuck are you going ?" he asked exasperated. 

    " I`m off to round up two of every kind of animal."

I looked back as I left the room.
Willy, the boson and the RPF girl were just falling about in hysterics.

In all the years I watched people coming out of session, I never saw any of
them come even close to the F/N, VGI`s and cognition that I`d just given these three.  It`s as if I`d lit the touch paper and stood well clear as all their pain exploded into a delightful fire works display.

We`d finish study at ten PM each evening, have a final muster and then be dismissed.  I started taking walks up to Hollywood boulevard each night.
It took forty five minutes just to get there. And I`m not a slow walker.

There were some shops open twenty four hours. And there was always plenty of
traffic cruising the walk of fame. One thing that was quite a new experience for me was that cars of girls would be cruising as well. I got many beeps and wolf whistles. Something that never happened back in New Zealand.

Being out on my own late at night did pose its risks. At any time one of these
carloads of blond, tanned bodied young girls could have overpowered me and
taken me to some isolated spot and abused me sexually. But I figured it was worth the wait.

In fact the one and only time I did get accosted on the street was by the deputy boson from the Decks.

It was a typical sunny Californian day and I was walking on the sidewalk a short distance away from the complex.

The deputy boson spotted me and crossed the street to place himself in front of me. He then demanded to know what I was doing there.

I want you to grasp the enormity of this.

Here I am, a Clear twice over, a Member of the most ethical group that has ever existed, the Sea.Org, and yet I am approached by a scio with the assumption that I`m up to no good.  The confusion of the Scientology mind control program creates very revealing physical manifestations.

Now that I have abandoned Hubbard`s road to freedom I can walk down the street and no one demands that I give them a justification for being there.

I like it better this way.
If you happen to be  Scio and you ever see me walking down the street, I suggest you...



Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on December 20, 2010, 07:04:33 AM
                                   SENSE OF DOUBT

                                        Part 98

                                 Reverse Scientology

So here I am sentenced to an indefinite time in a mind control, slave labour camp,
under the assumption that I have flaws in my Clear mind.

I am witnessing gross human rights violations and yet I stuck with the program.
I have seen not one iota of evidence of the super human abilities advanced Scientologists were supposed to have.

To the contrary what I witnessed was the more dedicated the Scientologist, the more insane they were.

Everything was the reverse of what one was assured life as a scientologist would be like.

So what the fuck was I doing there ? Why was I putting up with this multi layered fantasy camp of the damned ?

I didn`t have a clue back then. Now I see it so clearly that I realize I couldn`t have seen what I now see without it.
Scientology is a toboggan ride to unenlightenment.
It is the exact opposite of what people wanted from it.
In fact it is a fact that to become enlightened you wouldn`t be too far
off the mark by doing the exact opposite of what Ron would do.

I had, as a being, asked the universe for ultimate truth. I had asked for freedom,
I had asked for understanding of the giant lottery we call life. I had asked who I am.

Instead, here I was contracted to a billion years of abuse, deprivation and slavery. My innate ability to free others and enlighten them had now become out ethics self indulgence.

How could Scientology get away with this ?
Why did God, the atom, gravity, evolution, or Hubbard allow this to happen ?

We`ll sort out who the real villain is a little later on.
For now lets just work with what we have.

Ask any religious person to tell you about the moment they became a .........
They will gladly tell you. It is a moment where an Epiphany occurs.
They will tell you how they were once lost and are now found.
You will see the person get all re invigorated about their faith as they tell
you about the mess that ............. saved them from.

If you take a moment and just be with their story, it becomes a story that could be named "The boot camp called life."

All these stories tell of a broken person finding the repair shop.

Maybe you can think of examples where this doesn`t apply. Like say...a person born into a religion. Well it still applies. It`s the same story but just on a grander scale.

Do you recall early on in my story how I said something amazing was about to happen ? And then all I did was talk about my father thinking he had lost all his money and walking around crying and muttering totally uncharacteristic phrases.

Well. That was the day I saw God !!!

"Oh for God`s sake !!! What the fuck is this crap ? You may well ask.

I`m not talking here about the fairy tale God that is on both sides of the same war. I`m not talking about the God who sends you to hell to burn for eternity,
yet still loves you.  I`m not talking about God, the escaped mental patient, who
got replaced by Santa Claus because he was such a disappointment.

I`m not talking about the God that broken people pray to out of desperation, only to have their prayers ignored.

I know the word God is so broad and provocative....  Maybe just for now I`ll use a substitute word.  Let me pick one at random.......

YOU.  Okay this is a word we can all relate to. It`s kind of handy to, as it draws one in from being a spectator to being personally involved.

So let`s start over again. When I saw my father fall to pieces I saw YOU.

And who are you ? YOU are what is left when everything else is gone.

YOU is uniquely the same in every one of us.

YOU is what is left after your, guest of honor, visit to the crematorium.

I know this is a highly charged subject. And I know there are far more learned
people you could locate on this topic. Trouble is you could find equally learned people who would vehemently disagree with their conclusions.

All I have in my favour is the fact that I lost my mind. And no school of thought interferes with my ability to observe.

At the age of four (Part one) I asked "How did I get here?"
The feeling that overwhelmed me was one of fear of being nothing. I had no identity.
Soon I will take YOU back to that moment and we`ll see what happens when
I embrace the fear and see it as an answer instead of a cue.

I have told YOU that enlightenment is there for the asking.
So why have YOU not become enlightened ?
It`s because you prefer something else.

It`s the same reason you never look in the video rental shop for a film where nothing happens. You want to experience some action. Some drama.
All your friends and family celebrate when you "make something of yourself."

YOU struggle your whole life just to become "somebody."

YOU don`t want to be another nobody.

Okay... Let me wrap up this part.

YOU collect anything YOU can, to get a sense of identity.
Any identity is better than no identity.

Losing your identity is self betrayal.  YOU feel as if YOU have failed YOU.

A person without an identity is lost and vulnerable.
A religion, with it`s own identity crisis, promises YOU an everlasting Identity.

YOU rebuild yourself in someone else`s image.

To try to take that identity off someone is to threaten them with becoming nothing again. YOU are pushing shit up hill.

That`s why people stay in Scientology. It`s why they stay in anything.
It gives them a sense of identity.

Now here is the bombshell.

"It is only by becoming nothing that YOU actually
restore your full potential to be or not to be everything and nothing."

Here... Bowie explains it better.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Sharone Stainforth on December 20, 2010, 10:16:12 AM
I think you explained it better, actually. (

Have a great evening!

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on December 24, 2010, 07:49:53 AM
                                SENSE OF DOUBT

                                       Part 99

                                  A bridge too far.

The thing is that when you try to use words to convey a concept from a much higher frequency than the one most people are tuned into, words fail to capture the higher reality. It really becomes a pure emotion. It is as if the message told in the spoken word isn`t adequate. Words have a grounding in the physical dimension. As one transcends physical, there is a tendency to evolve words into poetry, which then evolves into music.

As proof of this. A lot of people have a favorite song. If you quiz them about what the song is about. They often have no idea.  The lyrics are not what people are tuning in to. It`s the emotional punch  of the whole package.

Here is an example. For those who have heard Elton John`s album, "Caribou"...
there is a song on that album where the lyrics are just made up nonsensical sounds.  "Solar Prestige a Gammon."

Speaking of nonsensical sounds....

I got called out one day at the Decks morning muster.
A guy I hadn`t seen before took me aside and told me I would be released from the decks if I would be willing to go to Flag to be a Division head.

It turns out that Gold needed the current FLAG bookstore officer at Gold. He was a fully qualified electrical engineer. His name was Chuck Lemmon.  Someone had obviously read my "Life history" where I`d confessed to the number of Dianetics books I`d sold over the years. 

One of the things required of the new Sea org member is to answer, on computer, the questions listed on the life history form.

Google it if you want to see what it looks like.

By the time you have answered every question and been meter checked, that all has been disclosed, there is nothing the `powers that be` don`t know about you.

For example. You have to list every single person`s name that you have ever had a sexual relationship with, what was done, and how many times.
There is also any crimes you have either committed and with whom, or any crimes that you are aware of.

You are also asked to name all of your family and friends. what their jobs are, who they are married to, and any connections they have.

I might point out that this is of no therapeutic value whatsoever. It is purely an intelligence gathering exercise.

So realize this, if you have ever been a friend, relative, workmate, accomplice, or lover of someone who subsequently joined the Sea Org, then you are safe to assume that they know whatever your friend knew about you.

Very handy information if you ever need to be silenced.

Within a day or two I was on the roof of the complex unloading a shed up there full of suitcases. Mine were recovered when I`d half emptied the shed.
The two suitcases I had up there in storage where my very precious sheet music/songbook collection.

I was then introduced to Don Henderson. He was a tall ginger headed guy with glasses. Reminded me of a Christian.
He was an S. O. member who was moving home from L.A. to New York. He had been promoted to the post of C.O.  CMO West US.

He`d rented a Ryder truck and we loaded all his household goods into it along with my three suitcases. Don`s wife was working at Flag, so he was going there to set up his new home and then move on up to New York to work.

I didn`t have time to find Lars. No one knew where he was anyway. Frediric was still AWOL.  So without anyone to say goodbye to I climbed aboard the Ryder truck and we set off across America.  The first stop was only about two hours drive.  Don`s brother in law was the guy who, amongst other, things had directed the ZZ Top video. " Legs."

Don would drive while I slept in the back of the truck. When I awoke we`d swap places. If ever we were awake at the same time we`d sit in the cab and listen to Bruce Springsteen cassettes.

Don and I had little in common. I was keen to experience everything about America. Don was making a trip from one Wendy`s to the next.

Don would over react to everything that happened that wasn`t on an American family sit com script.  One surreal moment happened when I was at the wheel late one night. It had started to snow as we made our way across miles of Texas desert.
I was headed down a long incline.
The incline turned into an even longer bridge, and  at the far end of it we could make out car headlights facing every direction and unmoving.

I proceeded towards the multi car pileup. Don suddenly became aware of what was happening ... All the cars had skidded out of control on this iced up bridge.
He started literally screaming at me "Stop. Stop. Hit the breaks. You`ll kill everyone. You`ll crash into them.!!"

So here I was. I`d never driven on the right side of the road before. I`d never driven a truck before. I`d never driven on snow and ice before. And I`d never had a psycho passenger screaming at me as I tried to prevent massive loss of life.

I still had the presence of mind to look over at Don, who was in the fetal position squealing like a girl, and tell him to shut the fuck up.

I maneuvered  the truck through the four or five cars that were scattered around and pulled over at a safe distance down the road. Don and I rushed back to the carnage and started to drag people from their cars. Moments later the next set of headlights appeared at the top of the incline. Soon this white hippy van he was aquaplaning towards us straight down the bridge, out of control. All the able bodied ran off the road into the snow and watched a motor vehicular game of ten pin bowling as each new car or truck made its way down the road and smashed into the mess. By the time a cop car arrived, from the other direction, there were about eight car wrecks scattered around the bridge.

All I can say is, thank God, "over reaction, Don" hadn`t been driving, or we would have been one of them. After the cop arrived and bolted up the road to warn oncoming traffic to not come down the incline, I noticed a trail of blood in the snow.

I followed it quite some way through the trees. Sitting in the snow was a young Asian girl who I suspect was more afraid of immigration than her obvious injuries.
I approached her and she looked so vulnerable and frightened. She was bleeding badly. I spoke a few words to her, but her puzzled look alerted me to the fact that she spoke no English. I knelt beside her and gave her a reassuring smile.

As I pulled back the blanket to inspect her for wounds I saw that she was holding a tiny baby in her arms.
What to do ?  I pulled her to her feet and held her up as she limped barefoot through the snow. A paramedic van had arrived and I took her to the guys there.

As she was bundled into the van a state trooper, an Indian guy, approached me.
He was not very friendly. He said... "You injured ?
"No. We got through and are parked down there." I said as I motioned towards our truck.
"Get in that truck and get out out of here."

I called to Don and we carried on our journey.
It took us four nights and five days before we pulled up at the Hacienda Gardens, an apartment village where Flag staff lived.

Security showed me to an apartment where there was a spare bed.
I climbed in exhausted  and dreamed of a bridge too far.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on December 25, 2010, 08:34:14 AM
                                SENSE OF DOUBT

                                     Part 100


Apparently early last century I wrote a book called "The interpretation of dreams."
I can assure you, I have no idea what I wrote back then. It`s the type of subject matter that is vague and cloudy at best.

A little like what Science has evolved into.
We are given regular updates in the news about the leading edge of what Scientists around the world are doing.

This is the story.  "Scientists at Moneywaste University have concluded a ten year investigation into what causes 90% of old people to not cooperate with Scientific research. They SPECULATE that it COULD be, due to 60% of them not being able to think of one issue of importance to them that Science has helped improve their lives with. It WOULD be interesting Scientists THINK, if
the other 40% who didn`t cooperate but could think of ways that scientific discoveries had enhanced their lives, had in twenty years decided to cooperate.

So it`s POSSIBLE that one day we  COULD all be smoking lettuce leaves."

What the fuck are the words COULD, SHOULD, MIGHT, POSSIBLY, THINK, MAYBE,
HOPE, SPECULATE, WOULD, and CHANCE, etc. doing in the field of SCIENCE ?

Just listen to the next SCIENCE news story.

The only other subject that is able to get away with such wild unsubstantiated claims is religion.

This is what you get for sending the mind out on a mission to discover truth.
You may as well send the fifth Symphony out to investigate Beethoven.

Here is how it actually works.... The mind is a slave of the emotions.

Welcome to the Labyrinth...

Emotionally someone loves eating.  The mind will block out the fact that they are putting on the pounds. When evidence starts coming in that they are getting fat,
the mind will invent a reason for it. "Glands, Hormones, I`m big boned. I can take it off later. Being thin is for suckers. I can move to America. My partner loves me for me not because of my body...... " It can go on endlessly.

One day you break the chair you are sitting in or some mindless kid calls you fatty.

"That`s it !!! Today I take back the reins.
Now the mind starts scanning the universe for weight loss methods.
There are pills, diets, Or I`ll pay a fortune to some company and if I become a zombie for six months I`ll come to, as the thin person I desire to be.

Now there is the daily exercise program, the daily weigh in and the marking of the calender. Then there is all the positive thinking. "I am thin. I am thin. I am thin,"

This goes on for a week or so. It`s a real battle. You feel worn out. You need a break from fighting with your own mind. Then it dawns on you. If I have a donut, I can work out for an extra ten minutes tomorrow and burn it off.

Hang on a minute... You ask the mind ..."why am I putting myself through all this torture ?"
  The mind says "because you need to look good for the wedding in April.
But it`s only January. I`ll start losing weight in February, and use the wedding as motivation. Brilliant. Now "Get out of the way kids... I`m headed for the fridge."

As you press that chocolate cake into your face, there is this enormous relief.
Ahhhhhhhh ............!!!!

All the exercise equipment is conveniently moved under the bed, into the closet,
or into the garage. The size ten dress you used to lure the thin person in you out
suddenly looks ugly, and you don`t like that color anyhow ... What was I thinking ?"

 This is why two thirds of peoples lives is spent by people arguing with their own minds. The other third is spent sleeping. It`s a time when people give themselves a break from their minds.  It`s when they connect with their raw emotions.

Now here is the thing. Watch someone sleeping. Their breathing is connected.
In, out, in, out,...... No pause.  There is a saying.... "Slept like a baby."
Watch a baby sleep.... In out in out in out. No pause.

Watch the baby when it is awake... In out in out....No pause.
Watch an adult awake In,...........out..In ......................out. ............In....

What the fuck is that all about. It can`t be important . Otherwise Scientists and
philosophers would have told us it was significant  ... Surely !!!!????

I need to get on post at the Fort Harrison. I probably won`t even notice how erratic my breathing will be through the ensuing days , weeks and months at the MECCA of technical perfection.

At Flag there are no failed cases.

"I would rather see you dead than incapable " 


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Sharone Stainforth on December 25, 2010, 02:29:18 PM
US and THEM! Pinkfloyd>com/watch?v+zlY-JlE5ZCo&feature=related (>com/watch?v+zlY-JlE5ZCo&feature=related)

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on December 31, 2010, 09:06:45 AM
                                        SENSE OF DOUBT

                                           Part 101

                                         We are the dead.

I took one of the, standing room only, buses that Flag used to ferry the staff
from the Hacienda Gardens to the Fort Harrison. It was about a twenty minute journey and it was so hot and stuffy that getting off it was more fulfilling than most sessions I had.

Breakfast was served on a help yourself basis in an old hall across the road from the FH.  Morning muster would be announced as you were gulping down your last mouthful of food. All the divisions lined up and Division Leaders did a head count.
Anyone who was absent was reported out loud to the Captain who stood on
a small stage at the front of the hall.

It sent a message to everyone that if you weren`t at morning muster, your
name would be called out in front of about 800 people and it was made clear that you were letting the team down. Occasionally Ron Norton, the Captain of the Flag Service org. would make inquiries as to the whereabouts of any absentees and he`d sometimes order an HCO member to find them and get their arses down here now.

The captain posed a very intimidating presence. He gave off the aura that he  had really important stuff to do and that any petty personal matters were not
going to get a hearing in his hectic schedule.

After muster the whole crew had to cross the street.
I wonder if anyone ever filmed this daily migration. It was quite a scene.
This army of uniformed Sea org members would approach the intersection and just ignore the traffic. There was no break in the parade of people jay walking.
If you happened to be a Clearwater resident on your way to work who happened on this intersection you would be stuck there for five minutes minimally, despite
what the traffic lights were saying.

As I entered the bookstore I was approached by my new juniors who were
all more qualified to do my job than I was.
Just a smile and a hand shake was all I got in when David Light came in and informed me that I was supposed to be at a meeting in the board room.

I followed him to a dimly lit room where about 15 serious Senior Officers were gathered around a large table. I was introduced as the new Bookstore Officer and took a seat and tried to get into my serious character.
The discussion was about money, and the bigger amount you could mention the more you were accepted.
The captain was cheering the meeting and was essentially asking how much money you were going to pull in today.

Each person had a turn. The Captain would confirm that it was coming from this or that prospect.  When some prospects names were mentioned he would roll his eyes and make some derogatory comment about them.

This was a very tense meeting. If you didn`t have a rock solid vision of receiving vast amounts of money that day, you were not going to be a hit.

My turn was approaching. What the fuck was going to say. I didn`t want to
show everyone what a goof off I was on my first day. I scanned the faces of
 the other guys around the board room table as if there could be some help for me somewhere....

That`s when I saw him. Sitting opposite me a few seats down was a big overweight guy, with unkempt frizzy hair, who was sound asleep. His head was rolled back, his mouth was open and a trail of saliva was running down from the side of his mouth.
As I watched him a pen, thrown by the Captain, hit him on the side of the head.

"Paul Miller !!!! You fat slob. " Paul was startled awake and promptly fell back to sleep.
Now the Captain threw a ream of papers at him and continued the abuse.

The meeting progressed as others took their turn trying to impress the Captain
with their high figure postulates.  By now I had the giggles.
This was murder. Paul was sitting almost opposite me and he was totally in my line of vision. I tried to look down. I tried to look up. I tried to look left.
But inevitably I`d just have to take one more peek at Paul and sure enough his eyes would be glazed over and his head would be nodding as he lost the battle with sleep.

Just as I got another glimpse of Paul, the Captain fired yet another projectile at him and I was on. "Think of a number....... Forty thousand.... No. That`s too low.
What about sixty thousand ? " I started to mutter, when the woman beside me
whispered to me out of the side of her mouth.... " Say Eighty thousand."

"Eighty thousand" I announced.  The Captain looked penetratingly at me.
"How did you come to that figure ?" he demanded.
"It just came to me... What.. no good. ?"

The Captain was no dummy. he knew the woman beside me had foolishly helped me, so he ordered her to help me have my act together for the next meeting.

And before I knew it the meeting was over for the day.

The woman assigned to help me didn`t have a clue how to run the bookstore.
But she was able to fill me in on Paul Miller. He was one of the top reges on the planet. However he had some disease that caused him to fall asleep without warning, anywhere, anytime.

Paul would have his list of global prospects. He`d phone them up. Get in comm with them, tell them they needed to buy their next level and then promptly fall asleep.

Or he`d have a prospect at his desk and fall asleep on them.
Despite that, he was one of the top reges on the planet.

I guess for a prospect you`d be continually worried that if you weren`t able to hold Paul`s interest , he would just nod off on you.
Paul`s method had won him his entire bridge. His bridge all the way to OT 8
was just sitting there awaiting his arrival in the FLAG HGC.

But do you see the problem....?

"Can you recall a time when.........?

 " ZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

I`  repeat the auditing question... Can you....?


Auditing apparently does not work on people who are asleep.
So the cause of his sleeping disease could not be solved with Hubbard`s tech.

In chess they call this a "stale mate."
Over the ensuing months HCO was ordered to handle Paul`s malady with
conventional methods.

Paul was banned from the canteen and forbidden any junk food whatsoever.
By that time, I had an office situated between Paul`s desk and the canteen.
I overlooked the lobby, but was able to see out of the curtains that hid my
existence from anyone outside my office.

I would see Paul periodically sneaking through the lobby and heading for the canteen. Moments later he`d reappear with bags of chips, chocolate bars and bottles of  soft drink.  He`d creep around staying out of view and disappear.
Moments later, Joan Freeman, the Asian lady in charge of HCO would be chasing him.  Sometimes he`d be hiding on one side of a pillar as she walked past it frantically. Then Paul would stuff his mouth full of junk food and move somewhere else. On his face was an "I don`t give a fuck." look.

There came a time when not only had Ron`s tech failed Paul, but also his ethics tech had met a similar fate.
Paul was taken off post and ordered to go out in the punishing Florida sun
and paint the roof of the "Sandcastle."

At the end of the day when Paul didn`t return... A search party was dispatched.

Eventually he was found on the roof of the sandcastle , where he had been fast asleep all day. His sunburn was so severe that he had to be taken to hospital.

Ron`s proclamation that "There are no failed cases at FLAG", began to wobble.

I`m no Hubbard... But it occurs to me that what was up with Paul was that
he didn`t have the need for permission.  This could easily be demonstrated by
someone in authority just arriving at Flag and giving permission for every staff member to have a sleep. Were this to happen I assure you that not one
person there would be awake five minutes later. People would just slip into
a deep slumber where they were. The staff there are so sleep deprived that
they are the walking dead. They don`t know what is real any more.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on January 03, 2011, 07:21:05 AM
                               SENSE OF DOUBT

                                  Part 102

                               Hysterical strength

Flag has the slogan.. "The friendliest place in the world."
This is simply not the case.
I can honestly say that Flag was the unfriendliest place I have ever been.

Flag is there to take your money. That`s where the friendliness stops.

When you have an image to protect, and what you are protesting it with doesn`t work, it creates a giant contradiction that is out of sync with itself.

As I mentioned before, when you can`t fix something, when something doesn`t respond to your bullshit notions of how it should respond, it induces a psychotic rage.  Flag was in a permanent psychotic rage.

This became very clear to me when I arrived back home in New Zealand.
I became aware that there wasn`t a single person in this whole country who could intimidate me. There was no one here who had the kind of horsepower rage I`d become accustomed to on a daily basis at Flag.

There was no experience I could have had, like the one I had at Flag, that would expose me to a level of understanding that has defied all the great thinkers of this world.

I can`t tell you the number of philosophy and self awareness books I`ve just put down after a few pages when I realize so many of these guys have fallen for the same old basic assumptions that are just plainly symptoms rather than truths.

I relayed it this way to someone recently... It`s like I get out cook books and they launch into their recipes with the stipulation that you need a good ice box to bake all the wonderful culinary delights to follow.

Then it gets repeated again. It wasn`t a typo.
Why keep reading the book ?

Well that`s how I feel about reading anything about philosophy, including Hubbard.

Let me give you an example. The whole of Dianetics and Scientology is based on the premise that the goal of all life is to survive.

Well I`d like to inform you that survival is a symptom or a byproduct. Not a fucking GOAL.

But it seems to be a self evident truth  !!!

Look around everything is trying to survive. You threaten someone`s survival and they react strongly.  Your survival is threatened and you take evasive action.

You see your friends, or ,family, or group threatened and you take it personally.

I`m here to tell you that if you were to base a philosophy on the premise that the basic goal of all life is to survive, you will end up with Scientology.
And if you follow that philosophy your ability to survive will be reduced the longer you follow it.  In deed if you ended up using all of your focus on doing what the philosophy on how to enhance your ability to survive said to do, you would end up not surviving at all.

Hubbard himself is the perfect example.

His single minded determinism to survive resulted in his ship sinking and taking
down many silly enough to be on board with him.

I guess now you are trying to guess what I`m going to tell you.
No one has seen it in thousands of years. So I can quite confidently tell you
that you won`t see it either.

Listen... I want to assure you that what I`m going to reveal here is all good news.
It`s not something that will hit you from left field. It isn`t something that will make you think it took someone smart to figure it out.

To see this you must view it from somewhere, that the false assumption itself
has prevented you from seeing it as false.

This false assumption has been the cause of all the tears you have cried.
It has been why your prayers are mercilessly ignored.
It is why people join weird religions and cults, it is why instead of waking up each morning and laughing all day, you wake up and drag your unwilling arse through the day.

It is why you can`t simply sit down with your worst enemy and have a good laugh.
It is why you wake from a nightmare and realize that no matter how much control you think you have of yourself, there are aspects that you have no control over whatsoever.

It is why science has been preoccupied with blowing things up.
It`s why governments have been so preoccupied with controlling their populations.
It is why religions are an insane fairy tale.

It is why you don`t know why.

How much would you pay to know the secret ?

Sorry ... You can`t buy it.

You are surrounded by answers. But until you pose the questions... they are
not part of your experience.

So.........  Go on .... Ask the fucken question !!!

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on January 05, 2011, 09:57:37 AM
                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                      Part 103

                           The day the world stood still.

We are about to embark on  journey that few have ever taken.
And of those that did, none to date have ever successfully been able to
communicate it to those who haven`t.  Evidence of that is all over the news
every day.

But evidence of it is also in the mirror you gaze into each morning before you go out and face yet another day. 

This sense of "something is wrong" comes about because one is unable to see the perfection in the imperfection.

The world is imperfect, and will remain imperfect while you see the imperfection.
You will remain imperfect until you see the perfection that is YOU.

The moment you see the perfection will be the day the earth stands still.

Imperfection creates time. Perfection is timeless.

So you can spend time changing the world, or changing you.
You, by seeing the imperfection have created the time to remedy it.

People know instinctively that, given time, any imperfection can be remedied.
They have been doing it for thousands of years so far with no end in sight.

And that is why you are here and will remain here.

You have been trying to fix all of God`s fuck ups.
 And what a cunt he is. Tornado`s , poverty , disease, crime, insanity, war,
global warming, pollution, advertising, tooth decay, earthquakes, aging, rap music,
flies and mosquitoes, depression, loneliness, birth defects, cults and addictions.

These problems require some serious attention.
And that`s exactly what people have given their attention to for thousands of years with no end in sight.

Of course some have abandoned all hope of ever achieving a perfect world.
They have put their attention on how to not think about these issues.
And that keeps them very occupied and creates the time to do it.

Let`s say for example that those efforts fail when your doctor informs you that you have six months to live. Now you`re fucked. The big issues, will catch up with you one way or another. Honestly if I was told this, I`d ask the doctor if there was any way we could bring it forward a bit.

How could anyone be so cavalier about such a serious thing?

It seems insane. Have I lost my mind ?

The answer is yes. Pretty much. Still a few little pockets of intelligence here and there.
But nothing I`m married to.

The mind is really over rated.  It`s a bit like a fair weather friend.

Even the greatest minds in the world abandon their creators when the going gets tough.  Most people are three bits of bad news away from going insane.

Any time your very existence is threatened and you teeter on the brink of life and death, your mind has mysteriously disappeared.

"Thanks a lot mind. Hey... wasn`t it listening to you got me into this fucken mess in the first place.!!!"
As you lay on the road cut in half by a fork truck the mind is too embarrassed
to remind you that you are Harvard educated , like the colour green, and support
the Red`s. It is in this moment of mental abandonment that YOU can ask the questions.

For the kid laying on the road outside the "Health lunch company" Jesus and his uncle, not a giant pink bunny, arrived immediately to answer his questions. 

 As what you are reading is probably immobilizing your mind....
I`ll jump in quickly and  explain what you are seeing.

The mind is just a bunch of frequencies and vibrations. It is a bridge between
YOU and physical. It can be mocked up or unmocked at will.

It is a servant of your emotions. If you are emotional about anger it will manufacture justification to be angry. If you are emotionally frightened it will manufacture justification for your fear. It is your servant.

I used to talk to Scientologists about their next step on the bridge.
One for one their mind would manufacture imperfections with their case and how it had been handled thus far. They were very emotional about it.

In fact they were all wanting justice. They were in no doubt that they had been betrayed. 

Some time later I might see this fucked up OT escorting a new selectee through the org. Now they were glowing about what Scientology could do to remedy their prospects imperfections.

What the fuck ???

Now their mind was delivering up a completely polarized version of what it had delivered up previously.

That`s the mind for you. A complete slut. A party animal.

I`ll explain how to put your mind on notice later.
For now I just want to break your heart and tell you that your best friend is a
frigging traitor who convinces you that you need it to survive.
And that is true if you believe you are the mind.
But if you suspect you are an immortal spiritual being.... I`m just curious
why you feel you can be intimidated by anything at all ????   ????

But the mind cries out...
"Please don`t destroy me. I know facts and I`ll do whatever you ask.
Please ...please.... please...just give me one more chance. I`ll help you. You won`t regret it. I can think of ways to remedy all your and the worlds imperfections."

So you say to the mind. "Okay, I want to be like Elvis Presley."

The mind collects data on how to be like Elvis.
A week later it says to you.... "This is too fucken hard. Fuck you !!!"

And you say to the mind... "Hey you promised to help me....?"
The mind says, "What`s on telly ?"

I`ve yet to see one celebrity being interviewed who said the secret of
their success was "sitting around on their arse."

And yet that is exactly what your mind will recommend you do.

These people you are inspired by, got to where they got by ignoring their minds.

Last example... Heard of hysterical strength ??
It`s what occurs when a person performs a super human feat that defies the laws of nature during a sudden emergency.

You have probably heard anecdotal  stories about such feats.
Like a woman pulling a car off her child after an accident.

These things actually occur more frequently than reported.

The reason they occur is because the person doing the super human feat
did not consult their mind first.

So I can assure you that you will not ever be super human while you have a mind.
Your mind knows you aren`t special.

So how does one get rid of it ?
Well that is where we come across our first hurdle.
Your mind has convinced you that it is you and you are it.
" I`m shy. I`m reasonably intelligent. I have a sense of humor.
I had some bad experiences in the past that effected me deeply. Without me you are nothing. You`ve seen what happens to people who lose their minds.
Why not wait for Scientists to solve this so I know it will be safe and
sanctioned by the government.  Did Jesus ever tell his disciples to lose their minds?  I don`t think so.
Maybe that bit will show up in the dead sea scrolls.

" Your mind has never told you that it`s "soul" purpose is to perpetuate the form."
I`m telling you now. If you got it...the world just stood still.

 What`s on telly ?

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on January 06, 2011, 08:17:23 AM
                                   SENSE OF DOUBT

                                     Part 104

                             "Hold the form of the org !"

Medical science has yet to show us a mind.  Despite all the advances in technology,
there is still no where you can take your kids on a rainy Sunday afternoon where
they can see what a mind looks like. Doctors have dissected bodies till there
is nothing left but dog tucker, yet the search has been in vain.

One can certainly see it`s traces. One can easily see the devastation the mind has caused on a body, yet like a Houdini, it has eluded capture in every case.

Will the day come where Science captures a mind and parades it around like King Kong ?  Will the day come where one can download all the contents of a mind
for the entertainment and education of school children. How will they edit out the naughty bits ?

Scientists with brilliant minds are quite convinced that it is located inside the human head. They have computer generated images of lightning storms in the brain. This sets off lightening storms in their own brains just watching it.

At that moment the mind they are investigating is having an impact on their brain as well. Yet they would never connect the fact that a mind that wasn`t in their head was having the same effect on their brain as it was having on its rightful owners brain.

If you are in awe of any medical specialist and feel intimidated by his mind, just ask him to explain death to you. You will find an absolute moron sitting there.

He is completely stupid on the subject that his whole profession has been charged with preventing. They are trying to inoculate you from death, yet they haven`t a clue what death is. How fucken dumb is that ?

I`ll talk about death later on. I know you must be dying to hear what I have to say. 

For now I want you to understand why losing your mind will be the single greatest
thing you have ever done.

Hubbard of course has already spent a ton of your time and money trying to eliminate a part of your mind. All your problems , he suggested, were caused by
data that had been recorded in a section of the mind under great threat to your survival.  By relocating the unknown (reactive) data bank into the known (Conscious) data bank, all your problems would be solved. 

But rather than creating clear thinking individuals, all he was doing was creating addiction to the therapy. 

If you are seen to be threatening the availability of this therapy by a scientologist, he will REACT very strongly and perform CLEAR defying acts to
eradicate you.

A question to ask a Scientologist, that would cause a major mind malfunction would be;

"Could you get your addiction to Scientology audited out ?"


The mind is whatever you create it to be. The mind is an effect . Not a cause.
A mind is totally at the mercy of circumstances. 

But I want you to really get this. It is NOT a physical thing. It`s effects are.

A thought has a vibrational frequency.
Your thoughts will be available to you if you tune into them.

When you disassociate from your own thoughts you have the ability
to tune into thoughts other than your own.  All of our senses are interpreters of vibrations. 

Being non physical , all thoughts are eternal.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on January 07, 2011, 08:15:12 AM
                               SENSE OF DOUBT

                                 Part 105

                               Auditing out FLAG

As the "Bookstore officer" I had the job of getting Hubbard`s junk out in exchange for as much money as possible. I was overseeing not only the pokey little bookstore
but also the massive warehouse where all this junk was stored.

Ironic that I`d been a security guard for Coca Cola. I was used to being responsible for products that were of no benefit whatsoever to the consumer.

Coke has zero nutritional value, and Hubbard`s books were of no philosophical value.
There was a warehouse full of Hubbard`s empty promises at FLAG.
I went over to meet the Warehouse manager.

His name was James. He was American and he was sexy.
Soon as I met him I felt his energy. He was a psychological mess.
His sexual energy had been thwarted by Hubbard`s ethics tech.

I wonder if similar, contradictory, urges are the basis for Schizophrenia ?

It didn`t take me long to get James to open up to me. He had starred in a porn movie a few years before. We had a good laugh when I told him I`d seen it.

It turned out that James had a non action roll and this had allowed him to
qualify for the S.O.  I knew how preciously Scientology guarded its squeaky clean PR image from when I was on mission with "Agnes". She had been photographed topless by a magazine back in Switzerland and told me that OSA were sending her back to Switzerland to hunt down the magazine and get the negatives destroyed.

If years later when she worked at the top with Miscavige and someone produced evidence that she owned a pair of fully functional breasts, it could be used to embarrass the Cult.

The two helpers assigned to help James in the Warehouse were a great source of amusement to me. Neither could speak enough English to save their lives.
They manned the phone which was constantly ringing.

The calls were from disgruntled book buyers who had not received what they had paid for. Some of these callers it seemed had quit their jobs and dedicated their lives to just getting what FLAG had promised them. Some of these cycles went back years.

Now I understood why they had two non English speaking staff on the phones.

I did take a couple of calls while I was there. I jotted down the persons details
and assured them I`d get straight onto it.

I took the notes back over to the Fort Harrison where treasury was located.
If these guys had paid for books, tapes, meters or jewelery, there would be a copy of the invoice in their book account held by treasury.

I introduced myself to the treasury secretary. As it happens, he was a Kiwi as well.
His name was Tom Morgan. A very distinguished looking gentleman with white hair.

 He was also an accomplished pianist, as I was to soon discover .
Tom had written a one inch thick manual, published by Scientology, called
"Scientometric testing."  I was possibly the only person alive who had ever read it.
I found an old copy of it in a drawer, when I was head of the Public divisions back in Auckland.

This book taught one everything you wanted to know about Scientology`s personality test, The "Oxford capacity analysis."

One would assume that Tom himself would have a personality off the top of the graph. I quickly became aware that what Tom had in knowledge he lacked in personality.  It`s a bit like some books I`ve returned to the library shelf, unread, with titles such as "How to write a hit song." By Ive Neverhadahit.

As for finding an invoice.... I could have easily spent my thirties just finding the guys folder.  The treasury division used a filing system called "There`s a space."

The staff I had under me were all there for one reason. They were deeply in debt. To stay in the S.O. they were paying these debts with book commissions they were earning.
Apart from the regges, the bookstore was the only place one could earn commissions. If someone came into the bookstore and spent any money, you were entitled to a 10% commission.

More on that later.

 I`d say at least 50% of the bookstore income was a donation racket.

There was a never ending stream of schemes to get Scientologists to donate to.

Here is just one we complied with. The leather bound Dianetics book sales had slowed down.
We were supposed to be regging people for donations to buy these over priced bits of junk.
The scheme was to get a leather bound copy of Dianetics in the hands of every celebrity in the world.

So you could phone scientologists and ask which celebrities they would like to get into Scientology, and thus become their FSM.  Plus we will send a letter you have written to the celeb to accompany the book.

Naturally people would wonder ..."But how do I know that celeb would ever get the book ?" Well I can assure you they would.
I had the private home address and phone number of every  politician , sports star, movie star, author and musician on the planet.

The scio celebs had obviously opened their confidential black books for the cult.
I noticed that my staff were all phoning people they knew back in their homelands who had bucks. I thought about rich Scientologists I knew back in New Zealand.
It was a very brief thought.

My juniors were making a killing. They would just phone Klaus back in Germany and say I need 20 grand from you. The person was asked which were their favorite celebs. A quick check of our data base would soon show which celebs were still available. "Yep ...Neil Armstrong is yours but Elton John and Barbara Streisand are already spoken for. How about Steven Spielberg. He`s still up for grabs ? "

We made a killing with that scheme.
But the real Bonanza came with the new Top secret product which was to be released at the forthcoming event.

That week we pulled in U.S. $750,000. And I was to find the Executive Director
of Scientology International, Guillaume Leserve, hiding in some bushes.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on January 10, 2011, 04:27:04 PM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                          Part 106

                                       Speed of life

After the daily finance meeting where fifteen grown adults in white uniforms
dreamed about money, I had to attend another meeting where we dreamed about
book sales. If someone had either of these meetings on film, anyone sane watching them would think... These guys are fucken nut jobs.

The book sales dreamers meeting was where I got together with, amongst others, the  "Way to Happiness" campaign manager, who told us all one day his ambition was to be the best salesman in the world.

 Hubbard`s sales tech was contained in a book called "Big league sales."  In the book, the author, Les Dane, suggests that you close the deal by saying to the mark, " Look...I won`t cash your cheque for a couple of days, so that you have time to think about it." Then cash the cheque immediately and leave town.

If you ever want to become a hermit and not have any friends or self respect, I suggest you study how to become a super salesman.

Also at these meetings were the Bridge and N.E.P. reps.
Bridge published for the U.S.A.  New Era Publications published for Europe.

The Bridge rep was a guy named Harvey Jacques. One day after our meeting
which was at my desk, Harvey stayed on. When everybody else had gone Harvey came around to my side of the desk, he leaned over affectionately, smiling as if he was about to share a joke with me. Then like a deranged serial killer he suddenly held his fist in my face and with the most threatening expression I have ever seen said. "One day a big fist with LIFE written on it is going to hit you right in the face !!!"

Harvey walked off, leaving me totally baffled.  I quickly composed myself by realizing that Harvey Jacques was a psycho. I wasn`t really intimidated by the threatened violence, but to see into the Edgar Allan Poe world behind his eyes made me shudder.

If you want to see a photo of this Hannibal Lector, just look through any Flag promotional magazines where they show the current Captain of the Flag Service org, smiling and welcoming you to "The friendliest place in the world."

It was time for the event where the new Top secret product was about to be released.

Once the doors to the event were closed we accepted delivery of a truckload of the new Mark VII e meters to place around the sales teams desks in the lobby.

When we were ready, I was able to sneak in to the event where the Int execs were briefing the world about the latest wins. In fact there is a shot of me clapping when the camera had to cut away as Jeff Walker, the Senior Case Supervisor Int announced a new release and someone on the RPF lowered the wrong cardboard cutout from the sky onto the stage behind him.

The new Mark VII was duly released and it was announced that for tonight only there was a giant reduction in the cost.  They were going for US $ 250 each.

I realized that we didn`t have nearly enough stock piled in the lobby ready for when the event was over. So I snuck out again and asked where the rest were.

I was told the number of a cabana behind the Flag auditorium and made my way there around the outside of the building. As I approached the cabana I detected a lot of activity in the cabana right before it.

I was surrounded by security guards who told me I could not pass.
As they talked me out of going that way I could see all the Int Execs sitting around a multitude of closed circuit TV`s watching the event.

Despite my requests and the urgency of it, I was told I`d have to go round the other way.  Ten minutes later I was a few feet from where I had just been and
had the exact same access to the nest of Int execs. But now security had lost interest in me.

I entered the Cabana which was filled to the ceiling with boxes of meters.
I grabbed four of them at a time and carried them back outside and made my way the long way round back to the lobby.
I told my staff that we needed to get more, but they insisted that they needed to be there in case the event ended .

So I set off on my own again out into the night.
As I made my way there I mentally drew a more direct route for the return journey.
Once I was loaded up again I took some stairs down onto the lawn and started to
make my way back to the lobby. I was just able to slip between a few bushes that led to a hidden area, which was in a straight line with where I was going.
It was dark. I was surprised to find E. D. Int Guillame Leserve there.
He had his back to me but I could tell it was him. He was rehearsing his speech.
Not just the dialogue but also the gestures and expressions. He sensed I was there and that he was in my way. At the same moment a security guard came out of the bushes and motioned me to turn around and leave immediately.

I had seen Guillame one time before in L.A. Man he walks fast.
I`d been corresponding with him regarding getting reimbursed by SMI for my expenses on the Fiji project. But before I had a chance to approach him, he was gone.

It`s then I realized, I probably wasn`t the only one who was owed money by Scientology and had approached him for assistance. No wonder he was such a fast walker.

Every single meter we had was gone by the end of the night. After that
many had paid in the hope they would take delivery of their new Mark VII`s in the near future........

Per LRH POLICY all auditors had to have two working e meters.
What would happen if your meter broke down while you were in session ?

Has it occurred to anyone else that you would be auditing illegally from the moment you plugged in your back up meter. Well think about it.  Wouldn`t you now be auditing without a back up meter ?

A few nights after this highest ever book income statistic, I was taken into a room
by three women. The Gross income Executive international, The Books Exec int,
Kathy Lemar, who happened to be the wife of the guy who I`d swapped posts with, and The Flag Banking Officer for MORE .  Never bother what the MORE was for. I can only assume that it was MORE money.

These three started in on me about all my confessional folder details.
Either they were truly OT, or they`d read my files.

I assume I was supposed to be highly embarrassed. To the contrary I found it all rather humorous and flattering. Then they started to insult me and belittle me.
Once again I was highly entertained.
One of them informed the others that Dan Henderson, had told her I had purchased a David Bowie biography at a truck stop in Texas as we drove across the States. 

Now they got stuck into accusing me of masturbating as I read it.

They wanted a confession. This sounds all innocent enough. But I know that
had they been working on someone other than me, that person would have been
on the verge of a psychotic break. These women were ferocious.
They were like women who`d just heard the wrong name coming from your mouth when you had just been intimate with them.

This was like a cat fight. I started to notice that Kathy was pulling back as the other two started to accuse David Bowie of being a fag and a non talent.
The other two turned to Kathy as if to say "Are you with us.?" But Kathy instead admitted to being a big Bowie fan herself.

As these three turned on each other I saw my opportunity to make a discreet exit.

A few days later the Books exec Int told me I was fired.

I was curious as to why. She explained I had failed a test Ron had devised before
anyone was permanently posted. It`s a policy called "Bait and Badger." Google it
if you don`t believe me...

Actually I`ll see if I can find it.  Here is some info about it.
Long article.

Hubbard`s rationale was that if you insulted someone ferociously and they didn`t react strongly in response they didn`t have the  mettle to hold the post.

The rationale behind the pro TR`s course was to be able to be there and confront anything, without reacting, no matter how rough.

So if you want to get posted at an org, per LRH, all you have to do is flunk the TR`s course.

Not to mention that per LRH an upstat can get away with murder.
I had just reported the Bookstore`s highest ever stat.
But admittedly... that isn`t really murder. If he is upstat he has ETHICS PROTECTION  !!!

As for me being fired, it gave me the opportunity to take over the post of a Sea org member who made his post available by getting himself killed by a speeding car.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on January 11, 2011, 03:45:33 PM
                                    SENSE OF DOUBT

                                         Part 107

                                 Money. It`s a gas.

The post I was demoted to because of my superlative TR`s was "Book commissions I/C ." It was my job to tabulate all the 10% book sale commissions for the previous week and get cheques to the right people.

Some weeks FLAG didn`t have the money to pay these commissions.
So it was my job to inform the queue of desperate people who marched into my office that I didn`t have their cheques.
I was forbidden from telling them the reason I didn`t have their cheques was because there was no money.
Some of these Europeans are pretty intense. I remember one guy who told me he would be back in the morning and if I didn`t have his cheque he would seriously fuck with me.

One FSM I would have loved to fuck with me, was Lisa Marie Presley.
She`d sold a meter to her then husband Danny Kehoe.

I put her cheque aside till I`d put all the other cheques in their envelopes, or hand delivered them.

I really wanted to send Lisa Marie the perfect letter to accompany her cheque.
I mean this was the daughter of "The King."

I desperately needed to have something else on my C.V. besides Dollar scholar and my 40 cent loan to Jodie Foster.
In the time it took me to walk over to the canteen and get myself a cup of tea
the cheque had disappeared off my desk.

I went into the bookstore and asked who`d taken the cheque, to be posted to Lisa Marie Presley, from my office. A European guy named Ingmar Johnson owned up.

He said... "Don`t worry. I took care of it for you."
In all the time I held that post Ingmar never again dropped in to help me with the letters and cheques.

I had just given Ingmar his commission for the Mark VII feeding frenzy, we`d had the previous week.  Most of the bookstore staff got commissions for about three grand each.  None of them threw me a couple of bucks for sacrificing my own chances at getting some bucks to make sure there was a constant supply for them to sell.

My commission for that week was 80 cents. I`d been sent out to find people to sell books to. I felt like a Psychiatrist wandering the wards, inspecting his patients. As soon as public saw my uniform, and realized that I was walking towards them,They cowered into a corner and pretended they were busy studying the floor.

The public at FLAG have had a constant, unrelenting campaign to sell them everything that was for sale.

I did finally have one Mexican guy take pity on me.
I told him I was the bookstore officer and was keen to sell him any books he didn`t have.

He looked utterly exasperated. " I`ve got a warehouse full of every kind of LRH
publication and I can`t do a thing with them.
Seems someone had sold him a business proposition where by buying in bulk he could make a tidy profit on selling the books in Mexico with the help of the promised book store promotional tour that never happened.
What did happen was that no sooner had he placed the last hand trolley full of
Scio products in his warehouse, when all the books were re released with
new covers, and user friendly additions.

He told me in no uncertain terms that he did not need any more books...Thank you very much. !!!"
I was genuinely sorry for this guy. I just talked to him as a person and didn`t try to "handle" him.

As I walked away, he found a few coins in his pocket and told me to get him a book. I asked which one. He just shrugged his shoulders.
I found a kids study book was all we had for the eight dollars he had given me.

He mentally made room for it in his warehouse.
And I had an 80 cent commission to party with.

Sometimes a book store sale would show up where ten people were all claiming the commission.  This is all thanks to Hubbard`s brilliant admin tech.
He used to make fun of the business world`s antiquated methods.
I saw his admin tech in action. I can, without reservation, tell you that any business that gets involved with W.I.S.E (World Institute of Scientology  Enterprises) will be so distracted by Ron`s admin tech that they won`t even realize that their business is being destroyed beyond recovery.

I`ll take one example of how stupid the commission procedure was.The multiple commission demand. This one was a real head ache.
It was for a few grand worth of Garish Scientology jewelery.

I had to track down the lady who bought the jewelery, and in a tactful way, ask her who sold it to her. Turns out nobody did. She had just taken leave of her senses one day and wandered into the bookstore. She saw the jewelery and realized she must have it. Other people in the bookstore had told her that each piece looked great on her.
And now I had those flattering, friendly people involved in a "no holds barred" war.  I sorted it out by saying that the commission would remain unpaid
till they submitted a joint list of who would get what percentage of it.

The war was over within a few hours, and ten cheques got written. Some for as little as ten dollars.

I was minding the bookstore during lunchtime one day, when a woman walked in and started buying pretty much one of everything. I tried hard to hide my delight. By the time she was done there was a commission due for about $500.
It was later that week when I realized that one of the regges had sent her there and he had claimed the commission. Talk about a let down !!!

If I`d have gotten that $500, it would have been the equivalent of over a years pay in one go.

It became apparent to me that if one wanted to earn a decent wage in Scientology, one had to be ruthless, single minded, and willing to walk all over others without conscience. All characteristics of Scientology`s reclusive spiritual leader.

And no matter how much money a Scientologist gets, somehow it always ends up in the cults hands, without so much as a thank you.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Sharone Stainforth on January 12, 2011, 04:35:14 AM
Enjoying reading your story very much Ididn'tcomeback.

In Part 106, Speed of Life you talk about 'Bait and Badger'. I did believe you as I have come across this before. I still googled it as I was curious as to many references I could find.

Here's a quote from an anonymous piece of writing.

Scientology executives are trained in a technique called "Bait and Badger." This is a control method use to get you to produce more on your post by haranguing you. They are trying to get at the reason you are not producing more and keep at it until you "fess up" with some excuse, then another, until you have no more. Then they keep riding you until your production levels are up. The bottom line is that you are expendable for the greater cause of clearing the planet. You will be pushed and goaded until you either rise up into the executive strata willing to harass others to produce more, or you become a well-trained robot who is quietly willing to work long hours for low pay. In the end many in the SO will wind up on the Rehabilitation Project Force (RPF), which is barbaric, inhumane and a down right insult to the spirit of man. Little sleep, little food, no communication, degradation, no medical care, and constant harassment are the lot of those who wind up in its grasp. They are made to believe that they are degraded beings who have to accept that fact and thank LRH and the SO for giving them the opportunity to re-deem themselves. The accounts I have read of life in the RPF make prison life look good in many cases. At least a prisoner has a fixed sentence. Many staff members at any organization eventually have to leave because you canít stand the conditions. Then as you are leaving you are hit was thousands of dollars of free-loaders debt as you were invoiced out for every corrective , training, and auditing action you did while on staff. Finally you and those around you are made to think that you are a failure because just werenít tough enough and not a "Big Being."


It saddens me no end to know you were caught up in this for so long.
With Love,

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on January 12, 2011, 09:27:07 AM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                    Part 108

                                  The Ronfather.

FLAG is quite definitely the "unfriendliest" place in the world.
There are other places where it is unsafe to walk the streets. But you know that.
The evidence is in plain sight. At Flag the complete disregard for your well being is skillfully hidden. The moment you get addicted to the freedom drug...... Scientology owns your arse.

It is a con of galactic proportions.

The racket Hubbard designed makes,  Al Capone, Lucky Luciano, John Gotti, and Pablo Escobar look like small time amateurs.

Hubbard had no need to deal in contraband. Freedom is more addictive and popular than any drug known to man.

Imagine a Police raid on a Scientology organization.
"We have a search warrant. We are here to confiscate all the freedom you have in your possession !"

They could get a team from C.S.I. in to do forensic testing. But to no avail.
There is not one trace of Freedom in any Scientology owned or leased property anywhere in the world. Yet that is the fix every Scientologist recklessly passes their hard earned money over for.

Plus Scientology`s team of lawyers could challenge Law enforcement to quote them the, non existent, statute that outlaws freedom.

Now you see how brilliant the con is.???

This is why the government hasn`t broadly swooped on Scientology organizations and shut them down.  It`s totally out of their league. They get all excited when they raid an org and find Cal Mag ingredients.  You see the mentality ???

The victims of this scam are also under qualified to know how they were conned.
They can remain addicted to freedom for years after they go into their own personal witness protection program.

Hubbard very brilliantly used positioning to confuse his marks.

"Scientology and the truth will set you free."

For most Scio victims the only place they got a taste of freedom was in an auditing setting.  And like I did, they confuse that taste of freedom with Hubbard`s tech.

But let me ask you how many times this week were you in an environment conducive to asking the big questions ???

As I have explained every question brings into view the appropriate answer.
The Scientology PR machine puts you into a perspective where answers are anticipated and are thus forthcoming.

The more you have paid, the greater the expectation.

So you get all these answers and experience a taste of freedom and empowerment..."Let`s give a hand to LRH !!!"

Look I know this is tricky to grasp.

What I`m telling you is that all the answers you want are available to you
for free. But you resist asking them. And when you do finally summon the courage, it is usually from a perspective that has an agenda. It is usually from a bad space.

" How can I put an end to my suffering ?
How can I improve my lot ?
How can I make my wife faithful to me ?
You ?, how ? how ?"

From that perspective you are asking the big questions of the very
apparatus that you mocked up to perpetuate form. (The mind.)

I know a few of you get frustrated that I just don`t come out and say what I mean.

Here you go then...  "The big answer is Enid Blyton !!!"

Thanks for asking Noddy.

From your physical perspective you need data that is rational, makes sense,
and is something you can think with.
Like Science. Like plumbing, Like mathematics. Like all the other hard won
knowledge that has left you totally clueless.

Okay here is a big one...... 

Look around you right now.
Find one thing manifestated that is not the result of a prior thought.

Let`s take your computer...
Did it just materialize ?

You came home one day and a computer materialized on your desk ????

No the computer on your desk appeared there as the result of a prior thought.
If not yours, then someone else`s. But did you wake up in front of it ?
Or are you sitting here now because of a prior thought ?

Are you here on this web page because it`s the only one your computer can access ? Or did you think... I wonder what this mindless twat is raving on about now ?

Come on really do this.  Look at the manifestations that surround you.

Connect the manifestations with the prior thought.

Think of your town. Tune into the multiple thoughts that created that manifestation. Do you see ? Your town is the physical manifestation of an amalgam of a myriad of prior thoughts.

Why isn`t your town a little slice of heaven ?
It would be, if that was the collective conscienceness.

The manifestation is exactly what the prior thoughts asked for.

So why are there unsatisfying manifestations ?

They are and can only ever be inspired by unsatisfying thoughts.

I can assure you that if you went to the hospital to visit a guy with a broken leg,
that with a little probing one could trace even this bad manifestation
back to a prior bad thought.

It will be along the lines of wanting a break from intolerable circumstances.
Something along those lines. 

If you found yourself in an auditing chair, it to was because of a prior thought.

That thought was. "I am not perfect. I need fixing. I want freedom. Scientology
may be able to help me."

And it was so. Within the confines of that auditing room all your questions were answered. All your expectations were fulfilled. You are now addicted to freedom.

" End of session. "

 Welcome to "Scientologists anonymous."

Let`s give another hand to LRH !

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on January 20, 2011, 08:33:44 AM
                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                Part 109

             It has been a week since my last confession

Over the last week I was unable to settle on a viewpoint to write from.
I had actually written the next part , but went to check a link, and when I returned, my post had mysteriously , irretrievably, disappeared.

Trying to recreate what I`d written just wasn`t happening.
Efforts to, felt similar to going down to the local kindergarten and doing finger painting with all the toddlers.

When I write ... I just open a reply box and it arrives. I am just as surprised by what I say as anyone else.

Which is exactly what is happening now.

Over the last week I have struggled to breathe again. Just like when I became a Scientologist. As well as that, my eyes shifted focus. My right eye now makes a close object appear distant. So when I look at anything, I have the same object near and far. Of course, if I was to go to an optometrist, he`d find some physical
reason for this. But you see, I don`t buy into that shit any more.

I know with certainty that any physical manifestation is the result of a prior thought process.  Even aging ... Even the "Big C."  Even an erection , or lack of.

Of course most people never make this connection. They are just plagued by
circumstances that are out of their control.
"What did I do to deserve this ?"

The connection is never real while you have an out of control mind.
The mind is endlessly sabotaging all your dreams and aspirations.

Stage fright is a perfect example.
If you have ever had it, you will understand that your mind is not your friend.
If you`ve ever had to recover from a broken heart, you`ll know the mind has
a different agenda than your well being.

But you need a mind to make your heart pump, digest your food, and your lungs work.
I`ve been in a position where that part of my mind malfunctioned
and I had to take back conscious control of those functions.

But eventually the mind goes... "I`ve got it now. Leave it to me."

Maybe after a while your mind starts to do a sloppy job.
Your doctor can confirm this for you.

When you see the graphs you can then believe.

After all...isn`t "seeing believing."

Well that is a lie.  And one of the key reasons you are clueless about ultimate truth. And vulnerable to cults and mind control.

Skeptics of paranormal activity are a perfect example.
It`s not so much that they don`t see it, as that they can`t see it.

For non believers, a genuine demonstration of paranormal activity can cause their mind to say..."I`m outta here" and them to fall to the ground in a mini coma.

Sure there is a lot of fake paranormal activity. However you actually can`t easily spot the difference until you can see genuine paranormal activity.

And here is how you distinguish the two.

Fake paranormal activity has an agenda. Make money, draw attention to oneself,
Feed the ego, perpetuate the game, prove a point.

Real paranormal activity has no agenda. It`s not ever a surprise. It`s not even seen as unusual. In fact it only happens because you never expected anything but.
So it doesn`t register as unusual.

It turns out that "You are as OT as you don`t think you are."

The fastest way to destroy your native OT abilities is to be acknowledged as someone with OT abilities.

From then on you have an agenda, and believe that what you do defies the laws of nature. The more you believe you defy the laws of nature the more nature makes a fool of you. 

When this becomes a part of your belief you will see it is true.
"Believing is seeing."

For centuries Gypsies have gazed into crystal balls and been able to see things that the human eye cannot. There is a also a method of doing this called "mirror gazing." If one focuses on the mirror and the reflection at the same time, the human eye is unable to process what it sees.
Once the physical perception is bypassed, an ability to see directly opens up.
Between the mirror and the reflection exists a dimension that the mind can`t register or process.  If you tune into that dimension, you will see what was there all along but you were blind to.

It is then that you will realize that believing is seeing.

My eyes are now permanently fixed this way. So a whole new experience is opening up for me.

It will open up more for me  the less I give it an agenda.
If I was to say to you..."Now I have super powers"... It would close down to that degree. 

But I can assure you that you are performing OT phenomenon daily right now.
You don`t believe that ?  That`s why you don`t see it.

Here is an OT in action.  He has lost his mind.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Sharone Stainforth on January 22, 2011, 12:45:08 AM
Loving your story I didn't come back,great video! X

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on January 22, 2011, 01:11:37 PM
                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                        Part 110

                                       A lad insane.

It was as if my identity was slipping away from me.  There was just no time allocated for any Sea org member to just take a breath.
We had Saturday mornings reserved for what was called CSP.
No idea what that stands for. Cleaning stations comes to mind.
It was the time you changed your sheets and did your laundry.
Naturally most people did their laundry after post in the wee small hours so that
they could wake up on a Saturday morning and just roll over and go back to sleep.

But that was short lived. One morning we were all hauled out of bed and ordered out into the yard.  Two shovels, a rake and two pairs of secatuers were
handed out amongst about six hundred people, and we were ordered to tidy up
the grounds around the Hacienda Gardens.

For months every Saturday morning anyone passing by this bastion of efficiency would see lines of people on their hands and knees mowing the lawns with their hands.

Others were sweeping the pavements with bits of cardboard.

The guy who had the bunk above mine was in a bad spot. He had to be on post same as everyone else at 8:30 every morning. Trouble is his post left him tabulating all the auditing hours for one of the HGC`s till 3-4 AM every morning.

He told me that if I could wake him and get him up he would drive me to morning muster with him in his car.  Before long he started to hate me.
So I`d say ..."I can take the bus." But he insisted I wake him.
One morning as we drove to the Fort Harrison he just completely lost it and started punching me.  What was I gonna do ? Knock out the guy driving the car I was in.

So I just covered myself as best I could till it was over.

He came looking for me later and apologized profusely.

He went so far as to insist that the next libs day I had, I could borrow his car and go anywhere I wanted.

A liberty day occurred every second week..... if your written request was approved.

There was no point in even making the request if your stats weren`t up.

This is why every single graph in the Sea Org goes up one week, down the next.
You even hold back cycles that are about to reach fruition if it isn`t your libs week.
Why count it now when all it`s going to do is make your job harder the following week when your libs are coming up.

I got a libs day.  Luckily I didn`t have a post that needed to be manned.
If you had one of those, having someone cover your post was essential to
getting your CSW request approved.

So I dropped Walter down at the Saturday Midday muster and set off to explore
Florida.  It wasn`t too long before I came upon a giant shopping mall.
Everything in America is four times bigger than what I was used to back in New Zealand. 

After parking in this car park that would have been a suburb back home, I hiked
to the mall and went inside.
An hour or so later I exited only to realize I had no idea where I had parked.
Worse was to come. I couldn`t for the life of me remember what the car looked like.  I knew it was white.

So I spent my libs day looking for Walter`s car.
I had to walk down each row looking for something recognizable in a white car.

Eventually I saw some scientology course packs in the back seat of one and when I tried the key. Much to my delight it fitted.

I was running low on smokes so decided to drop into a superette I passed.

As I waited for my turn at the counter, I noticed the magazine rack and there were all these girly magazines. It peaked my curiosity
I went in for a look.
They were all wrapped in plastic. Dam it. I really needed to re familiarize myself with what the female body looked like.
Oh fuck it. I grabbed a few that looked promising and took them to Sandra Dee
at the cash register,

When she rang them up, I sifted through the few notes and coins I had in my wallet and realized I had just enough for the mags and would have to forsake the cigarettes.

I threw the mags in the back of the car and headed back to Flag.

I parked Walter`s car in his usual spot, hid the keys on the drivers side tire
and went to the canteen looking for a few cigs. They sold them individually.

But the canteen was unmanned. The lights were out. As I approached the counter i saw a stack of money there. I got it. People had just grabbed what they needed and left the money on the counter.

So I helped myself to some cigs and made a mental note to reimburse the
canteen in a day or two.

I got on the bus that takes the RPF back to the Hacienda Gardens.
Much to my surprise I saw the GIEI and The Books exec Int in the bus wearing blue rags.  Their last act as Int execs had been to fire me.
Now they were both on the RPF. 

Our faces met. I smiled and said "hello." Both turned their heads away.
They were per Hubbard policy supposed to address me as "Sir."

Neither did. I was starting to like them.

The next morning I was called in for a sec check.
I had a withold. The magazines I`d purchased and had yet to look at.
I was ordered by the sec checker to place them in the dumpster when I returned
to my berthing that night.

So I`d spent my libs day, mowing lawns with my hands, looking for a car in a Mall car park, spending a weeks pay on some magazines that I never got the pleasure of looking through, and stealing cigarettes from the canteen.

How could life be any better than this ?

I decided to cheer myself up by joining Tom Morgan on the grand piano in the lobby of the fort Harrison. Tom would once in a while sacrifice his midday meal to
keep up his form.  I still had the two songbooks I purchased in L.A. in my brief case.
So I slipped the first one up in front of Tom so he could give me a chance to enjoy my purchase. It was the song. "As the world falls down" from the songbook "Labyrinth." Bowie had written the song and I was keen to hear how it sounded on piano.

Tom made an effort. But he soon got frustrated, looked at the cover and announced..."I HATE David Bowie."

I mean ..what do I care. But I was once again taken a back by Tom`s un endearing personality.

Little did Tom realize that David Bowie`s piano player had sat exactly where Tom sat right now and had drawn a huge crowd of public and most of Flag crew with his brilliance.

Bowie was no longer working with him.
Some years later, Bowie announced in the rock press that he was delighted to have Mike Garson back as he had now left Scientology.

Here he is, back where he belongs....


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on January 23, 2011, 09:29:33 AM
                                     SENSE OF DOUBT

                                        Part 111

                          Whoever controls the penis...
                            controls the world.

It didn`t take long for HCO to come and get me. I was unceremoniously removed
from my office with all my personal possessions and my time in the bookstore was done.  I was taken around by a guy who looked like Stephan Boyd. We ended up in some HGC somewhere and he showed me my new job.

It was just admin rubbish. But the part that got me was that I had to add up all the auditing hours before leaving each night.
This is the job that had turned Walter into a psycho.

I asked the dude showing me around..."How am I supposed to get back to the Hacienda Gardens each night. He told me to use a bicycle.
"Oh for fucks sake."  Some people take to bike`s.  I`m not one of them.
Still it was my duty.  "Okay where is the bike ?" 

That`s your responsibility. Make it go right."

Next I was shown the part of the job which I realized was going to make my life hell .

Here you go. You help me.  Add up the number of hours and minutes here.
Then think about doing this at three in the morning. Here is a tenth of the equation.



Well what did you get ?
By all means ..use a calculator.

  When I arrived for post the next day I was told I had been transferred again.
Now I was going to be providing rundown check sheets to the auditors who needed them. An old guy was on the post presently. He had a tiny dark office and we really got on great. I quizzed him about his life.
It turns out that he was an engineer. But not just any engineer.
He had worked for the company that produced the "O" rings that had sent
the Space Shuttle, Challenger, into history as space junk.

By the end of the day. I had the job nailed and was ready to take over this job.
When I arrived the next morning I was told by Stephan Boyd that I was being transferred again.

For five days in a row, I had a new permanent post assigned to me every day.

It all came to an end when I was permanently posted as the folder admin for
OT Six and Seven.

This meant I had to find out who was arriving at Flag for OT Six and seven and get all of their PC folders over to the Sandcastle, which was a fifteen minute walk from the Fort Harrison.

I was taken to a warehouse out in this Industrial area. It was stuffed full of PC folders. I`m talking from the floor to the roof.

Near the entrance was a box containing an alphabetical list of names.
What was supposed to happen, was that I was supposed to get the card of the person who`s folders I needed and look at the last line on their card.
 It would say " B 27, C 1, Z 18, M 8, F 12, .......etc.

The alphabet was for the row. The number for the shelf.

So let`s go to B 27.  What`s her name ? Betty Stokes.
A 15 minute search at the top of a ladder failed to reveal any folder for Betty Stokes. Let`s try C 1.  No Betty Stokes. But I did see a Betty Grizwald.
Was this the same Betty ? Was she married now ?  No I was nearly right.
She was on her fourth husband.

This folder at C 1 was labelled # 45.
So somewhere in this warehouse there were at least forty four other folders I needed to find and deliver over to the case supervisor at the sand castle.

 So I`d have to start a pile of Betty`s folders near the door.

So let`s say I found all of Betty`s folders, all 50 of them.
Now I had to get them all transported a mile away to the Sandcastle.
Luckily I had been given just the tool for the job.
One empty E meter case.

There was a guy who arrived from another HGC who had a van. I was supposed to
talk him into letting me load all my PC folders into his van. But he only went as far as the Fort Harrison.
So I`d have to unload all these top secret , confidential folders in the parking garage there. I asked the van driver what he does when he can`t find a folder.

He said "we have a notice board in the folder admin room where you can post a notice that you need it."

When we got there I couldn`t see the notice board because the whole fucken room was plastered with notices about missing folders.
Hundreds of them.

As the only people who ever saw these notices were the people who didn`t
have a clue where they were, it struck me as somewhat pointless.

In the time I held that post I`d say that the most folders I ever delivered to the C/S was about half.
These folders were the basis of the meticulous personal service people were paying thousands of dollars to get from the Mecca of Technical perfection.

This is where their programs were put together to solve their cases.
This is where their folder error summaries were thoroughly scrutinized.

In short. Hubbard`s folder admin system was and still remains the most moronic, counter productive, admin system I have ever witnessed.

And one match could have brought that warehouse to the ground in a few minutes.  Believe me...I was tempted.

When taking the job, one is told that looking in any of the folders is strictly forbidden. There is stuff in those folders that could make you go insane or possibly kill you.

I don`t know the number of times folders fell out of Hubbard`s rickety old
wooden shelving and lay there scattered on the floor.

When you came across a pile of them. You had to get all the screeds of paper work, back in the right folders, in the right order ...without looking at them.

I can almost guarantee you that some PC`s have someone else`s auditing sessions, or programs in their folders.

One day a woman arrived at the warehouse. Her job was to go through the folders of any PC`s that Hubbard had audited personally, photo copy the worksheets, keep the originals and place the photocopy back in the folder.

Sometimes we were working together in very confined spaces. The inevitable body contact started to become more frequent.

As important as Hubbard`s scribble was... before long this woman`s  focus on her job was replaced by her constant need to reach for folders that were mysteriously always reachable by brushing up against me.

Hubbard would have been rolling on his rotisserie if he knew that the woman assigned to fondle his scribble had found something infinitely more interesting
to fondle.

I felt like a bomb about to go off.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on January 26, 2011, 09:16:37 AM
                                SENSE OF DOUBT

                                   Part 112

                                 Fear of Love.

For about two weeks I was the folder page for the OT six and seven HGC`s.
It was thoroughly demoralizing. It didn`t matter how conscientious or diligent one was, Hubbard`s filing system was the problem.

One day when I couldn`t find all of someone`s PC folders a random guy suggested I try looking in the storeroom behind the Fort Harrison Ballroom.

I took the stairs to the top of the Fort Harrison and made my way to through
the circular ballroom that I`d always seen so glamorously  photographed in
the glossy Scientology magazines that had overwhelmed my letterbox at home.

It became obvious that they had been reproducing an old photo.

If they had photographed it now you would have seen that the ceiling paint was all crumbling and people had started to pile boxes of over spill from the various rooms that surrounded it.  Still there was one thing that was inspiring to see.
And that was the view from the window. I could see the blue ocean crashing along miles of white sand. I took a minute.

I distinctly recall having the feeling that a prisoner must have as he sees the outside world through the bars of his cage.

I entered the room where I was told the PC folders were.
"Oh ! For fucks sake !!"

This was a mini version of the mess I was working in daily.

Then it occurred to me that this was full to the brim as well.
Obviously there were other storage places taking up the over spill from this one.
I`d had enough of this shit.

The very next morning I was transferred again.

Thank God  !!!

I`d now seen so many examples of how Hubbard`s admin systems were completely irrelevant and soul destroying, in the real world.

I was about to see how irrelevant  and soul destroying his actual tech was.

I was taken to HCO and placed at Joan Freeman`s desk.

She explained to me that there were so many PC`s going insane that HCO didn`t have enough staff to baby watch them.

I was given a confidential HCO folder of references to study.

There was another guy in the office, I think his name was Charles. He was already doing what I was being trained to do, but he`d fucked up and was
here retraining.

He chatted with me as we read the training packs.

He said that his guy had escaped, gone into downtown Clearwater and had
punched a cop.

He helpfully explained how if your nut starts talking about Nazi`s you just have
to ignore them.

And that was the guts of Hubbard`s tech on handling insanity.

You isolate the psycho and ignore them.

If they don`t snap out of it on their own one was to seek out someone loyal to scientology who lived where the psycho came from and ship them back home.

Failing that send them back to their families. But get rid of them with as little out PR as possible.

This is what the biggest expert on the human mind that poked fun at psychiatry
had come up with. 

To handle someone who was insane...Hide them, don`t talk to them, and send them back to their loved ones.

I want you to realize that after twenty five years of research with unlimited funding, this is Hubbard`s answer to the problem of the human mind.

You would do well to mentally pile everything Hubbard ever published or said about the human mind and set it on fire at a rubbish dump.

But Hubbard being Hubbard he never missed an opportunity.
He realized that if he called this method of dealing with the psychotic breaks he himself was causing, "The introspective rundown"...He could charge the victims
for the privilege of being hidden, ignored, and deported.

A few years later this little scam was exposed in the media, when one of the
Introspection rundown victims refused to eat. Google her name...
"Lisa Mc Pherson."

I never saw any of these victims. It was Securities job to keep them out of sight.
And security did a number on me and told Joan Freeman that I did not pass their security check. 

I can only guess how many people were going psychotic while paying for the privilege. My feeling at the time was that there were about eight people currently
being baby watched. With more coming through weekly. Mainly from the L`s HGC.

I was taken by a tall blond Swedish staff section officer to help out in another part of HCO. I was to help file knowledge reports.
There was a room with staff member folders scattered around on tables and the floor.

At the front of the room were piles of Knowledge reports maybe three of them , a meter high each.  These reports were written accounts where one staff member was dobbing in another for misconduct and violations of Hubbard`s admin and ethics tech.

These piles of KR`s were evidence of how smoothly things were going at FLAG.

"Not very."

The mindset in Scientology was that to have a KR written on you was a bad thing.

But I see it differently now.

I see these piles of KR`s as evidence of how useless Hubbard`s mind control
method`s were. To me these KR`s were people still expressing their independence.
People still thinking for themselves. People who were rebelling against becoming Hubbard clones.

Once again I was to file stuff blindly.
I was told by the big Italian guy overseeing us,  "File. Don`t read."

A few days later we had the piles of KR`s distributed into the eight hundred or so staff folders that were scattered around the room.

The blond Swedish woman came and got me.

"I`m going to take you over to be interviewed by someone."
She looked at me sternly and said. "Don`t say any of the weird stuff you say,
to him."

"Why ?  Has he gone insane ?"

The girl rolled her eyes and escorted me to a guy in a fancy uniform who we met in a park off base.

Can I just comment briefly on the mind and efforts to understand it.
Everything that is known and understood about the mind has amounted to
nothing. If someone goes insane these days there is no where you can take them with a clear conscience. 

You won`t really understand the hell this is until you or a loved one has a psychotic break.  Then you know that despite all the research and all the money spent and facilities erected it has all been in vain.

This has all come about due to a completely incorrect premise.
It has been assumed that the mind effects the emotions.
Even Hubbard fell for this with the invention of his emotional tone scale.
What he has actually listed are dramatizations of emotion.

When you break it down there are only two pure emotions. Love or fear.
Both completely misunderstood by the world at large.

Ever heard the expression. "Tough love."?
Here you have love and fear adapted by the mind to be the same thing.
And a license to wreak havoc.
Talk about "tainted love" ...???

Fear creates thoughts.  Genuine love creates inspiration.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on January 27, 2011, 12:45:21 AM
                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                      Part 113

                                Fear for dummies.

When I was four I experienced fear. And the fact that you are here means you did at some time as well. Fear is what causes one to incarnate.

Fear is what motivates one to assume an identity. And losing that identity is the reason people fear death. By failing to see the perfection in fear, one now has something to remedy....Something to do. And thus time is created.

For as long as you see imperfection, you will create the time to remedy it.

Now you may well ask..."Well how the fuck am I supposed to see this so called perfection when all I see is evidence of imperfection. ?
Just look for God`s sake !!!"

To see perfection in things that are obviously the complete opposite of any sane person`s definition of perfection is surely self delusion.

You`re probably about ready to give up on me. I don`t blame you.
After all ...Isn`t the very stuff I`m telling you so obviously imperfect that it doesn`t even make any sense ?

Well let me assure you that the greatest feelings of joy you have experienced didn`t make any sense either.

Well Mr Spock can you explain to me rationally how it makes sense to make funny sounds to your baby ?   It`s cute. Okay got me there. 
But why do it again ? And again ?  And again.

Until you catch the fear virus you cannot be controlled or modified in any way.

Then have a look at what happens.

Did you go through the school system due to love ? Or did it disintegrate into
threat of punishment ?
Did your love of God draw you to Sunday school and keep you going back ?
Or was it fear ?

Do you love your job... Or do you do it for fear of what might happen if you stopped showing up ?

Are you in a relationship inspired by love for another person ? Or is it your fear of being alone ? Or the suffering you will cause another if you leave ?

Do you try to save money because of love ? Or is it motivated by your fear of being without it.

Are you alive today because you love life..? Or is it because you fear death ?

 Are you polite to people because you love them ? Or is it because you fear offending them ?

Are you being YOU every single moment ? Or are you afraid of what people may say or think?

Are people obeying the law because they love the criminal justice system or
is because they fear getting caught breaking the law ?

If you can connect up with what I`m saying here, you should see that the
personality, identity and mind that you have created is based on fear.

You look at the world around you through that mind and what do you see ?

Imperfection !!!  That mind can only see imperfection.
To see perfection would cause it to falter. To experience perfection would cause it to disintegrate.

 And where would you be then ?

Don`t worry.... the mind will never permit that to happen.

But do you remember what it felt like to not have your mind frightening you half to death all day ?

Is that possible ?    It is... if you just believe.           

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on January 28, 2011, 07:59:20 AM
                                          SENSE OF DOUBT

                                             Part 114

                                          Worlds colliding.

The reason that you are struggling to see the point I`m  communicating
about perfection and imperfection could be any number of things.
The biggest candidate being that it is pure bullshit. After all, the people out there solving the worlds problems have never said anything like this.

Why just the other night on the news some scientist announced to the world that he thinks he has discovered the gene that causes people to be religious.
So surely the whole list of imperfections we endure are caused by chemicals.

Finally truth revealed. Okay everyone, drop what you are doing. Our chemicals have already predetermined the limitations of our existence.

Can you imagine how wonderful life will be the day scientists can give us a pill and we will all be perfect in a perfect world.

This revelation about chemicals has just caused a chemical reaction in me.
Those chemicals are asking..."But why would one bunch of chemicals give a shit about what any other bunch of chemicals was doing ?"

I`d also suggest that the gene that causes someone to be an idiot is lurking around in the very lab where the religious gene "may" have been discovered.

If that gene could be located and modified before that Scientist issues any more press releases, I personally would find that very chemically satisfying.

Failing that, if the "lazy" gene could be located and a cure distributed freely to the press, we`d get the same result.

Meanwhile let`s be entertained by two test tubes.

Anyone out there happen to know the recipe ?


Okay now more from the guy who was expelled from the best school in New Zealand, despite the fact that the smartest kid there once came up to me and said "You are a fucken genius."

Why is it you are surrounded by imperfection ?
Why can you not see the perfection in this imperfection?

This answer will appear imperfect.
If I was to issue it as a press release, scientists and religious leaders would
scoff at it. They`d say "This guy has lost his mind."

And I`d say yes !!!!  That`s how I came to see the perfection.

You will never see it if you look through a mind.

You may need a lie down after you see this.

The world you see with all its imperfections is a perfect physical manifestation of you.

Did that just blow your fucken mind ?  I hope so.

The physical world you see is unique to you.
Just listen to a Scientist resolving the big questions with a Religious leader.

These guys are talking about two different worlds.

Why ?  Because each is seeing an outward projection of their own personal world.

Richard Dawkins was the clear winner of this debate. (Unless you are a member of "The New Life Church.") But what was achieved ?

I know it`s powerfully emotive subject matter. It triggers all sorts of stuff in your mind. 

But lose your mind for a moment and look at what can be seen.

Each of these guys is observing the imperfections in the others world.
And are hell bent on righting these imperfections. They write books . Give lectures. Try to correct minds of others. This makes a game and perpetuates form.

It can go on for an eternity. It`s already gone on for half an eternity.

Okay... Let me try my imperfect explanation as perfectly as I can.

What is the most imperfect thing that gets to everyone.

I know... Your child suffering. 

Are we agreed ?

Well what about a child of a Scientologist who has been declared a Suppressive person ?  That Scientologist parent will turn their back on their child, disown them, and say "Good fucken job."  That`s tough love in action.

Now do you see it? The exterior world is a perfect manifestation of YOU and your interior world. Unique to you !!!

The impulse is to remedy this imperfect world by modifying it.

The imperfect world you live in is a perfect representation of your imperfections.
And it is unique to you.

Two options arise. Fix the world. Or fix you.

The first option is in vogue. It creates drama, solidifies your attachment to the game and creates a mind that gives you a sense of identity. Which unfortunately
gives one a false sense of security. However it does create time and something to do in it.

Imagine yourself explaining what a mess the world is in, to a dead body.
What are the chances of that body springing back to life to join your crusade ?

Surely after a while you will become aware that for all this time you
have only ever been talking to yourself.

How you see the world is how you see yourself. Always has been. Always will be.

And it starts today...

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on January 31, 2011, 09:29:33 AM
                                   SENSE OF DOUBT

                                      Part 115

                                    The reactive mind

I think this would be a good time to own up to a bit of deception on my part.
I`ve spoken often about losing ones mind.
I can imagine you thinking.. " Well...What am I supposed to think with then ?"

"What was the point of all the experiences I had and all the things I learned?"
And "Why would I want to lose something that is serving me pretty well thank you very much ?"

 We`ve all seen evidence of the carnage caused by someone who loses their mind. Not a month goes by without some nut showing up on the news after he`s gone mad and wrecked havoc ahead of a parade of sirens and flashing lights.

In almost all cases it`s a male. When women go nuts it`s more likely that they will cause self harm than take hostages and go on a shooting rampage.

And there is an explanation for that... Women are psychologically programmed to create and nurture life and be rather inward looking. Whereas men are psychologically programmed to be tough and in control and a bit more outward looking than the women who they perpetually disappoint.

But a spirit is not specifically one sex or the other.
No role has been selected.
To have the, in vogue, male or female psychology one has to have selected it.

The selection is reinforced by our fear of being nothing.
The mind now is created to make the selection manifest.

One now identifies with the mind and the manifestation.

I AM........   a thirty something year old woman. I like baking, animals, music,
and walks on the beach. My favorite colour is blue and I`m looking for a
open minded man I can pamper and love... I am Aquarius.
No need to reply if you are presently incarcerated or in therapy.

So do you see ? People buy into the character they have created.
They take it seriously. They identify with it. They have nothing else.

And all that is sexy and fine, until their circumstances change for the worse.
Maybe the guy who she hooked up with is on the verge of going on a shooting rampage. Maybe she starts getting insufferable migraine head aches.
Maybe her life circumstances have become unbearable.
Depression sets in.

Most people when they stop distracting themselves, are so unhappy that tears are only a few pointed questions away.

It`s from this perspective that they start to ask the big questions.
And the answers they see can only justify why they feel the way they do.
They see that their experiences and what they have learned has led them to this crossroad.  Or they see a present time situation that is so overwhelming that it is insurmountable.
There seems no way out.

The final straw comes when you seek help. It`s then that you realize that compared to the mental health experts, priests, councilors friends and community groups that offer help, you are in good shape.

Go to Scientology and you can add broke to your list of problems.

Then one sees happy people on TV. "If only I had the..."

Just watch TV particularly after midnight.
Ever wanted to know what Hell is ?  And for only three easy payments of Ninety nine dollars, ninety nine.

I know...I`m raving.  But if you are suffering, and not distracted, at the moment, what I`ve written will be a breath of fresh air.

Okay... Let`s bring all the above together. 
People who go nuts haven`t lost their mind. They have actually turned it on fully.
They have totally identified with it. Every thought in it is crowded around saying "pick me...pick me .  Every experience you`ve ever had, everything you have ever learned is of vital importance and must be obeyed or suffer the consequences.  Fear is what created the mind.
The mind you allowed to happen is now swamped with Fear.

And that fear is the fear of becoming nothing.
The irony is that you are nothing.
So you are afraid of yourself.

When you lose your fear of nothing, you lose identification with the mind.

The fear of losing ones mind is rooted in the mind itself.
So do you see ? If you lose your mind...You lose fear.

I know it`s a big jump. However, did you realize you can create another one ?

All your thoughts and experiences and what you have learned are still there.
But now that you have been willing to waste them, they actually become available, often for the first time since before you took them seriously, like when you were a kid and used to laugh a lot and have mindless fun.

I don`t want to be hooking your mind up with things that seem logical and giving it more reason to keep you prisoner, but when you lose identification with your mind you actually have the ability to tune into other minds.

This can come in handy. Like knowing ahead of time when someone is about to hurt you for being so serene.

Okay one more biggy before I get back to Flag where intimidation and hurt are dished out like psychologists hand out anti depressants...

" How can you be a healthy, happy, fun loving version of you when your mind,
which has convinced you that it is you, insists on coming along as well."

Hello Dr.  I want you to fix my depression, my bad health , my addictions, my
shyness, my lack of fulfillment.... By the way ...I`ll be hanging on to all the reasons I am that way, because that`s who I am.
So I want to be who I am and someone else at the same time."

And the doctor hears a cash register going off and says. "This is perfect.
I find you fascinating."

And the mind goes..."Awesome. What do you want from me ? I want to help.
Need traumatic repressed memories?  Need to see images of yourself being fucked by Buck Rogers... Anything you want.  Want evil galactic warlords
fucking with us 73,000.000 years ago ?  Look I`m here to serve you.
I`ll give you anything you want. I know in the past I let you down. But I`ve learned my lesson. From now on it`s you and me. See I`ve given you what you want. You were lost... You had no identity. I am you. I love you/me."

Okay... Here we go.... The whole mind is reactive.
It responds to circumstances.
You cannot be enlightened, and a mind owner at the same time.
The mind is there to perpetuate the form.

The mind will even trick you into sitting cross legged on a mountain in Tibet to
give you the illusion of enlightenment while it sits there smugly.

All it has done is locate you in circumstances where nothing is going to set it
off. So.. it distracted you.  It gave you what you wanted and had a reprieve of execution.
Why is it that people living monastic lives are so unwilling to receive communication from the outside world ?

I laughed out loud when I read this line one time...." If you want to test your enlightenment, go and spend a few days with you parents."

Next post I`ll be back at Flag...    Promise.

Unless , of course.... I change my mind.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 01, 2011, 08:15:16 AM
                                       SENSE OF DOUBT

                                            Part 116
                                  The Hubbard Purpose Rundown   
The guy I was introduced to was Don Jason who was the head of the
special project to get all of the Senior execs at Flag through the "False
Purpose Rundown." Don recently got out of Scientology by escaping his
imprisonment aboard the Freewinds.

The "False purpose Rundown" was an intensive mind control auditing action, designed by Hubbard to remove any competition Hubbard had with you
fulfilling his desires.

It all seems innocent enough. Find out what your true purpose in life is.

The end phenomenon of course was that you were 100% a Ronbot.

This is naturally cloaked in a desire to save the planet and do the right thing.

As usual the guts of this rundown was to make you confess your sins.
If you could be made to think that all your troubles in life stemmed from
not being an obedient Scientologist, your arse would be owned by the cult.

I was taken on by Don as the tech page. This meant I had the job of putting PC`s in front of the six auditors we had in the F.P.R.D Mission.

My stat was to keep those auditors busy from dawn till well beyond dusk,  seven days a week. I`d get a stat each time I had a PC in session within five minutes of the last one coming out.

The trouble was that it was at least a five minute walk from the Fort Harrison over to our offices. And in the sweltering Florida sun.

I was even told that if I ever got ten in a row I would get a $100 bonus.

Plus I had the Staff section officer program me for a few hours study every evening so I could become a fully qualified tech page. Once I`d achieved that I would be permanently posted and get a $100 bonus.

There was an overweight Mexican girl who was supposed to help me when she wasn`t snowed under with her admin duties. She got around the City of Clearwater on a bicycle. I recall as a kid going to church fairs and school fair days
where there was the occasional "Go slow bike race. It was a race to see who could cross the line last.  This Mexican girl was the "Go slow bike race queen.

Pedestrians would pass her.
After I`d gotten the hang of the job I told her that if she dedicated a day to
helping me we could earn the hundred bucks and split it.

By the end of that day we had twenty PCs in session within five minutes.
That meant we were going to be able to get $200 to split.
I told the girl this and she was so exhausted that I don`t think she understood what I was saying. 

The money never materialized. What did materialize was a Knowledge Report
on me. One of the Case Supervisors in our area had noticed that after I`d been running in the baking Florida sun for for fourteen hours that I smelt sweaty.

I don`t like to smell. It`s not my style. But I couldn`t do my job without running
everywhere. I was also using, shampoo, soap, and deodorant that I had purchased from the FLAG canteen.  They stocked LRH recommended products only.

So by rights I should have crossed my name off the KR and sent it on to Hubbard.
Trouble was of course that he had been dead for over a year now and probably wasn`t smelling too pretty himself.

When there was a shortage of PC`s I was used to keep the auditing hours stat up.

I was put in with a South African guy named Ray Bester.
He was never the same after that.

So I go into session and he starts in with these fucken overts and witholds shit.

So now for the fourth time I have to tell another person all my dirty secrets.
Nothing new. Just the same stuff I`d freed myself from forever back in Auckand in 1978.  My reluctance to talk about all this shit again was seen as proof that I still had terrible, undisclosed secrets.

Okay here we go again. But this time to make it interesting for myself I put a humorous spin on them.

After these sessions I still had to come and go from the same workspace that my auditor was writing up my sessions in.

He would suddenly burst into hysterics. I mean cry with laughter.
Sometimes I`d come into the office and it was obvious he`d been regaling the other staff there about my misadventures.  I didn`t give a shit.

There was a woman who was C/S ing my auditing who had an office across the hall way from our rooms. We`d say hello etc. But over time she came to hate me.

Because I was out and about all day all over Flag I got to spend a bit of time with some of the women who worked there.  By now I`d been without female company for about six months. So I was giving a lot of these women sexy flows.
Before long I had five or six of them all juiced up. I was just flirting.

Then I bumped into Jackie, from Chicago, at the fort Harrison front entrance.
I mentioned her earlier. She really got my kettle boiling.

Was this love or lust ? What did I care?

I`d met a Flag public a bit earlier who worked at J.P.L in Pasadena.
A wonderful middle aged guy who was part of the space program.
By the way ...J.P.L is short for Jet Propulsion Laboratories.

I`d followed what they were doing there since I was a kid.
I thanked him so much for all the joy he and his team had brought to my life.

A few weeks later he sent me a package of photos of the planets taken
by the pioneer probes. These photos were better than porn.

There was one that blew me away completely.
It was a photo of sunrise and sunset on Mars.

I was so inspired by this photo that I had it framed and gave it to Jackie.
She looked at it baffled. "What is it ?"
I told her that is a photo of sunrise and sunset on the surface of Mars.

She looked at me like I was a nut.

She was mighty pretty. The idea of committing overts and witholds on her was very alluring.  But it all just went cold for me when I realized that a photograph that had been thousands of years in the making left a void in her head.

I mentally placed her outside the tent of my harem.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 01, 2011, 08:42:15 PM
                                   SENSE OF DOUBT

                                      Part 117

                                   "I`m back." 

Outside of our office was a hallway in which the few other staff who were getting auditing would sit  while waiting for their turn to be audited.

I didn`t think much of it when I noticed one of the girls I was flirting with was sat  there. But a few days later one of the other girls I was flirting with showed up as well.  That didn`t pose any problems. They had different auditors. And nothing physical had happened between any of us.

However I started to notice that the blond, attractive Case Supervisor who was C/Sing my auditing was getting less and less friendly towards me with each passing day. There were over four hundred female staff at Flag back then. The fact that two of the ones I was flirting with showed up in the staff HGC was just a freaky coincidence.

Then the third one showed up. Then the fourth. Then the fifth. Then the sixth.

Cathy Sebella, the C/S was getting less and less friendly towards me with each passing day.

It`s a no brainer to connect up Cathy`s dislike of me to the fact that these girls were all bringing me up in their sessions.

This was even further complicated by the fact that one of these girls worked for O.S.A and I`d spent time with her going through my immigration woes.

You see I only had a one year visa which was running out in about three months.
Due to her willingness to please me, she had been diligently submitting a purchase order to the weekly Financial planning meetings to get funds to fly me out of the US. 

I was getting in early due to being told that there were some staff members who had over stayed their visa`s by as much as two years. They risked arrest and deportation. Which also led to being banned from ever coming back to America.

My P.O.`s were declined every week. But I figured I`d get lucky one week, so long as the OSA girl kept submitting the requests to F.P.

Meanwhile my auditing sessions had become unbearable.
Ray was puzzled by my lack of enthusiasm to achieve the freedom that Hubbard`s own ethics tech was preventing.

He was trying all sorts of lists on me. Finally I just explained to him what was going on. "How the fuck am I supposed to be encouraged when my own C/S
is openly hostile to me ?"

My session wrapped and my folder went to Cathy for her expert opinion.

Now in typical Scientology style...Rather than just take a moment and think...
"Actually he is right. I hate that prick."  she programmed my auditing with more security checks.

"Do you have a withold ?"
Do you have an overt ?"
Has something been missed ?  etc.  etc.  etc.

When that failed to break me.
The security checks became more targeted.

" Do you have a withold from the C/ S ?"
"Do you have an overt on the C/S ?"
Then it started to get tailor made specifically for my situation.

Do you have overts on Cathy Sebella..?"



"Have you ever fantasied about giving Cathy Sibella a spanking ?"
"Have you ever fantasied about rubbing oil over Cathy Sibella`s breasts ?"
"Have you ever cheated at scrabble ?"
"Have you ever enslaved Cathy Sibella ? "
"Have you ever inserted a cucumber up Cathy Sibella`s Jacksie without her written consent ?"
"Have you ever taken Cathy Sibella to a dance and taken another girl home
and left her there to be embarrassed and a point where she got so depressed that she joined the church of bastard ?"

"Have you ever tried to drive Cathy Sibella insane ?"
" Are you trying to make Cathy Sibella lose faith in herself ?"
"Why are you picking on me ?"

Oh for fucks sake.  Get me the hell out of this asylum !!!!

I arrived on post one morning... Cathy, the C/S, looked like she hadn`t slept.
She made a point of coming up to me , smiling and saying "Good morning."
Then she went back to her office presumably to vomit and tick off the final handling she would ever do on me.

I was assigned a new auditor and I can only assume that Cathy handed my C/Sing over to someone she hated.

My new auditor was Italian. His name was Andrea. My "delusion" that my case supervisor hated me never came up again... except for the day that she made it clear to everyone in the F.P.R.D. mission that she hated me ...and always had.

I was to find out later that my new auditor was held in high regard as someone who could crack cases. Within a few hours of being audited by him I blew his fucken mind.  He did some really fancy, skilled shit on is new super mark VII meter
and realized that he was actually auditing the famous Sigmund Freud.

He came at it from every angle. Finally he sat back and said... " I`d like to indicate that you "were" Sigmund Freud.....  Your needle is floating !!!"

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 04, 2011, 09:07:25 AM
                                   SENSE OF DOUBT

                                       Part 118


Each evening after meal time, I did an hour or two in the staff course room.
I really needed that $100 bonus every staff member was promised when they were fully hatted and permanently posted. The pay we got as Sea org members was
hardly enough to scrape by on. About every third week there was no pay at all.

The tech page hat was probably the shortest course in Scientology.

I mean to say how long can it take to teach someone how to receive a name,
locate that person, and escort them to their auditor ?

But it was taking me ages because any time another student needed to do some drilling, it was me the course supervisors would approach to help them out.

Anyway, I did complete the Tech page full hat, and was permanently posted.
The $100 bonus never materialized. Instead I received a no charge invoice. That`s a bill I`d have to pay if I ever broke my billion year contract.

The bill was for the auditing I`d received at Flag. It was for US. $60,000.

So what did I get for my $60,000 ? 

I got to learn that I was Sigmund Freud. Which is something I already knew back in `78, before I ever picked up the cans.  Incidentally, there was no upside to having this fact confirmed. For one thing, psycho analysis was seen by Scientologists as a suppressive technology and a close relative to Scientology`s mortal enemies, psychiatry and psychology.

It would also mean that it would always be "the why" anytime a Case supervisor
was trying to crack my case.

As well as that, I`d gone into debt to the tune of $60,000 defending my desire to
express my sexuality of my own free will.

But most importantly I had  endured $60,000 worth of intensive efforts to destroy
me, and yet I was still here.

One of the regges who would be chasing me up for this money later was a guy
named David Forster. He was being put through his F.P.R.D. at the time.
A man of about fifty, with white hair and mustache, who wore glasses.

He was being audited by Norman Herring who was having a terrible time getting Dave into session. As it was my job to get Dave in session this peculiar affair came into my job.

I could get Dave over for auditing. But I needed to get him there without having just been assaulted by the Captain of the F.S.O, Ron Norton.

It had become part of the Captains routine to go into Dave`s office, scream abuse at him, grab him by the scruff of the neck and hurl him into a wall.

I was just trying to remember if Ron Norton actually ever punched him.
And then I remember Dave`s glasses being broken for a time.
So he must have.

The remedy was to get Ron Norton over for his F.P.R.D. to cure him of his violent
outbursts. See you can`t order the captain of the Friendliest place in the world
to stop hitting people... it has to be something he orders himself to cease doing.

One of our auditors was an OT eight. He was taken away for a few days which cut my workload down a bit. Robbie had been on course and was about to leave
when dinner time came around. However a Staff section officer had blocked Robbie`s exit, insisting he stay and complete his course. Being an OT eight, Robbie was having none of this so used his intention and Tr`s to warn the S.S.O to get out of his way. When that failed Robbie slammed him in the face and sent him tumbling down a flight of stairs.

Robbie kept his cool and made sure to not trip over this semi conscious person in a heap at the bottom of the stairs as he made his way to dinner on schedule.

As I came out of our office one day I noticed a really hot black girl sitting in the
corridor. She seemed a bit upset so I took a seat and started to talk to her.

Over the next few days I got to know her quite well. It turns out she had been Blondie`s personal hair stylist for a time back in New York.

Regardless of what we talked about it was her eyes that said all I needed to know.

Her eyes were saying. " I really need you to fuck me."

I told her to do what ever she needed to do to get libs on Saturday.
We met up in the lobby of the Fort Harrison at about 1:00 PM and walked down the road to the bus terminal. Before long we were on a bus headed for Clearwater
Beach.  I was about to catch up on six months of suppressed out 2D.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 05, 2011, 10:03:56 AM
                                        SENSE OF DOUBT

                                           Part 119

                                         ...ism found.

Clearwater Beach had a party atmosphere about it. It stretched as far as you could see in both directions. A road ran the length of it and and a string of shops and motels stretched out along that.

After a brief inspection of the beach we headed across the street to a motel and went inside the office.
I told the guy behind the counter that we were after a room.
He said "I`m sorry. They are all taken."
That was a little surprising. It didn`t seem that busy.

No problem we went to the next, and the next and the next.
All were full.

As we got to the fifth motel Lisa was insistent that she wait outside while I inquired about a room. So I went in and came out with a room key a few minutes later.  Not only that, the guy behind the counter wished me luck on "scoring some pussy."

Which kind of confirms that he hadn`t seen Lisa waiting outside.

Lisa gave a knowing sigh as I approached her. It was then I realized that I had just had my first encounter with what is known as racism.

It really had a big impact on me. For me the idea that someone was totally disowned because of their skin colour was baffling and to be blunt...nuts.

Skin colour wasn`t the only thing that inspired ..ism.   There was someones sex,
age, class, country, religion, that could also bring out this insanity.

Someone who practices ...ism, is referred to as an Like a racist.

It`s all to do with what`s known as prejudice and bigotry.

This subject has caused so much suffering and misery in the world. It has been the fuel for wars and crimes against humanity.

If this subject could be understood and out created, it could make living on planet earth a much richer experience as well as plenty of fun and sexier.

Speaking of fun.  The greatest sex you will ever have is forbidden sex.

And I was about to have a double dose.
According to Scientology it was forbidden to have sex without using the Hubbard method.  And according to the community of Clearwater Beach, having sex with someone of the wrong colour was a no no.

I`d like to formally thank The nutty church of Scientology and the nutty town of Clearwater Beach for providing the circumstances for me to have a truly
rapturous Saturday afternoon.

Sorry no youtube link.

However I have something even better to share. The solution to this ..ism insanity.

I have never once been the victim of ..ism. Yet I am a colour. I am an age. I am a sex. I am from a country. I have been associated with various religions all my life.  But the difference is I have never taken any of it seriously. I`ve never identified with any of the forms.

As I am none of them...I have none of them to defend.

Remember how I told you that the world you experience is a perfect reflection of you ?  So if you experience  any form of ...ism. It can only be a reflection of something you have inside you.

The fashion presently is to experience some form of ...ism and then blame that experience on a bigoted,

It`s a great band aid to hide the deep wound you have festering below the skin.

An is a generalized term that conveniently makes one person typical of a whole group. Which is exactly the same thing the was doing to offend you in the first place. 

In other words to call someone an, is a manifestation of being one yourself.

I know it sounds silly . But when you accuse someone of being a, you
are being an "Istist."

An Istist is someone who is trying to take the moral high ground, while protecting
the identity they have created to pacify their fear of being nothing.

Maybe this example will help you to see the point...

If you were a Scientologist or still are... what happens when Scientology is mentioned on the TV or the radio or even in the newspaper? Or you hear the word in a conversation by others nearby ?

There is an immediate instinctual defensive mechanism that grabs hold of you.
You feel as if you are being violated. It`s as if the underwear you wore yesterday is about to be scrutinized by scientists live on TV.

The feeling is surreal.  There is a sense of vulnerability and panic.

What is going on is that someone is threatening to un mock the character you have identified with.  If you believe you are this character, this becomes life threatening.

For those of you that are no longer identifying with the Scientology identity, the same news item becomes a source of great amusement.

You would F/N through the whole program. Yet a Scientologist watching the same show would be showing signs of high anxiety.

So any time you are offended by accusations of being typical of a race, age , sex, country, religion socioeconomic class... instead of being an Istist, start seeing it as a gift from yourself to release yourself from identification with form.

You only ever have to defend lies. Truth just is.

You want to free yourself from physical ? 
How can you... if you keep being it ?

Late that night Lisa and I took the long walk across the causeway back towards downtown Clearwater and the trouble we were going to be in.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 06, 2011, 08:43:26 AM
                                   SENSE OF DOUBT

                                        Part 120

                             I heard it through the grape vine.

One thing that I`d come to witness through the years I had been involved with Scientology was gossip. I`ve never been involved with any group where gossip was so rampant. What other people have been up to is of zero interest to me.

I guess because Scientology was so obsessed with finding out people`s deepest darkest secrets there was a constant stream of juicy scandal bubbling up and doing the rounds.  When you were at meetings or working on cycles when a name was mentioned, you`d hear. " Oh that was the guy who fucked a cow." or "She`s the one who had an affair with so and so."

So just be aware that when you are on lines at any Scientology organization , your reputation proceeds you.  When your name is mentioned at ad council or F.P.
or any meeting of Scientologists, your name being mentioned has inspired a series of groans from those present. And your whole life is summarized in a few cutting comments.  The greetings those staff give you to your face are perfect representations of the caricature drawn on the Tone scale to represent 1.1, covert hostility.

If you heard a recording of what Scientology staff had been saying about you, behind your back, you simply would never go in there again. 

I was called in for a D of P (Director of processing) interview. Greg was the name of the guy who had me on the cans. 

I was grilled to find any flaws in my conduct and attitude.
It didn`t take him long to extract from me the fact that I`d gone "Out 2D."

Greg, hearing this sprang to life and wanted to know...If anything kinky had occurred.  He wanted juicy details.  I didn`t even examine the question.
To someone like Greg anything other than the missionary position performed within the bonds of a marriage sanctioned by people who used wax seals on their letters out, was kinky.

I went back to post, while my fate was being decided.

I was no longer greeted with a smile when I went to get these upper management execs for their sessions. I was met by these looks of disgust.
I specifically remember being approached by John Donalovich, a guy who I see has recently taken over as Captain of Saint Hill, who walked up to me out of the blue, focused his death stare at me and said..."You piece of shit !!"

Within a few days I was being shunned by practically everyone I interacted with as part of my daily routine.

The grapevine at Flag was well fed, healthy and streamlined.

I was taken out of circulation and given an assignment in a pokey little back office.
I was put at a desk with a stack of PC folders, all belonging to one of the women I`d been escorting to the F.P.R.D. mission office.

The C/S supervising me instructed me to go through this OT`s folders page by page. I was told I was hunting for the sign "R/S" , with a circle drawn around it.

If I found any I was to bookmark the page and continue looking for any others.

R/S is a an abbreviation of the words ROCK SLAM.
A rock slam was a wild erratic motion of the needle on the e meter, supposedly caused when the PC`s attention is drawn to an unspeakable, evil, act that they had committed.  Things that one could be jailed for. Or expelled from Scientology for.

I`m not going to mention this woman`s name. 
So I started going through these fifty or so folders from her first ever auditing session.  Upon seeing any words that were circled I`d read those words just to see there was no R/S noted.

What had been circled were the words "Bob`s balls."  "Bob`s cock." "Bob`s scrotum."  "Bob`s dick."

It just went on and on . Year after year after year.

This woman`s whole auditing time had been dedicated to her husband`s genitalia.

I`d gotten to know this woman and she, despite being a top exec was borderline crazy. I realized that my assignment was to provide the sliver of proof that she was hiding evil acts which were causing her to be unbalanced.
But to me, a layman, the evidence was overwhelmingly clear... The therapy she was receiving was complete horseshit. 

I didn`t find one single "R/S" in any of the fifty or so folders I scanned.

Completely by coincidence I wound up standing behind her husband the following morning at morning muster. I watched from behind as he swayed backwards and forwards as sweat soaked his shirt. Then he just fell forward like a tree in the forest and caused a domino effect all the way to the front of the line.

Bob lay on the floor out cold. He had fainted.
Ron Norton the captain obviously had never paid any attention to Hubbard`s theories on dealing with an unconscious person. He was cracking jokes about Bob
as a group of staff carried him out.

Only I knew the burden Bob was carrying in his briefs.
The cause of every problem his wife had had for the last twenty five years.

It wasn`t long before I was escorted out of sight as well, for the same anatomical
reasons. According to our D of P....I was an excellent worker. I was a very valuable member of any team, "but you just don`t seem able to take control of your dick."

Back to the penal reform colony.  I was taken to the boson of the Flag estates project force.

Little did I realize that I was about to encounter something that David Miscavige was desperately trying to hide.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 07, 2011, 08:26:41 PM

                                       Part 121

                                An answer to a question.

I have been asked a question by a reader ;

I'm wondering about the 'perfection is there' comment. Do you have to find
the perfection in what is imperfect to be at peace with it all?   Or, is the imperfection itself ...perfect?

I figured it`s entirely possible that my writing may have inspired the same question in others. Here is my answer.
Seeing the perfection is a progression in evolution.
The more evolved you are, the more the perfection is
clear and apparent.
For someone very un evolved the perfection is completely hidden from their view.
You will always see the degree of perfection appropriate to your question.
Now are you seeing how it all fits together ?
Because I have explained the question and answer
phenomenon to you, you can see more perfection than before. 
As more and more falls into place, the more and more perfection becomes apparent.
Do you see the perfection in that ?
The mind hates perfection. It spells redundancy for the mind.
The mind will go to enormous lengths to hide the perfection from you. 
This is why it is so important for someone seeking enlightenment to cease identifying with their mind.
The mind would rather kill six million Jews than question itself.  And the mind will jump ship every time it gets you in trouble.
Even Hubbard spent the last years of his life as a paranoid
loony. His mind had convinced him that he had conquered the mind and that
he was totally justified in ruining eight million lives
What`s funny to me is that when you do become enlightened, you go "man that was intense.  Can I try it again ?"
That`s hard to grasp from an unenlightened perspective.
But from an enlightened perspective you see all your trials
and tribulations as FUN.  You see the perfection in everything .
And that would be my definition of enlightened !!!
Everything you just endured is revealed in its perfection.


Another reader asked.... Was I awake to the fact that Scientology was a scam
while I was witnessing all this crazy conduct that I`m revealing as my story unfolds ?

No. I was distracted from the detail by Scientology`s mind control.

Scientologists are constantly reminded that they are; "saving the planet,"
"clearing the planet", "creating a world without war, crime or insanity," "Freeing mankind." "getting mankind out of the trap" , "Creating O.T`s".

"There is NOTHING more important."

Right now try and think of one thing that is more important than "saving the world."  There is nothing real or imagined that can supersede that purpose.

Now notice this. I`m assuming you saw "Star-wars."

During the in space battle scenes, Luke Skywalker was firing off missiles at enemy space ships and getting about a 10 % strike rate.

That means that 90% of the missiles he fired would cruise endlessly through space till they hit something. Regardless of how long it would take before they made contact. They would inevitably hit something.

This has become known as collateral damage.
Not something a soldier or crusader has time to think about.
After all, they are under heavy stress dealing with the problem facing them here and now.

Collateral damage occurs out of their zone of influence.

Achieving the most important objective in the world places everything else in the category of, "dilettantism",  "other fish to fry", "out ethics", "abberated",
"theetie weetie", "Low confront", Glibness", "Irresponsibility", "wog","Ethics bait"
"counter intention", "down stat", "Dev T",  "only one", "Off purpose","Suppressive !!!", "low condition", "down tone", "squirrel."

Show any symptoms of the above and the Ethics Department are there to
get you back on purpose.  You are broke and need fixing.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 14, 2011, 11:26:43 AM
                                     SENSE OF DOUBT

                                         Part 122


There were only about seven of us on the Decks Project Force.
Some dude with a white uniform and a clip board would meet with us each morning
and give us our work assignment for the day. Did I mention the sweltering sun?

Being a kiwi, I was used to hearing the buzz of cicadas during the hot summer months. In Clearwater what one heard outdoors was the hum of air conditioning units.

The oppressive heat was tolerable so long as you were just passing through it
on your travels between one air conditioned building to the next.
Being on the decks meant that we were out in it all day.

Trying to do physical work out in that heat made it feel as if you were wearing a lead suit.
But we didn`t have it as bad as the RPF. They wore black and had to run everywhere. Two of them had an artificial leg each.
They still had to run.  I knew one of them. A guy from New Zealand, Norman Knox. (Brother of Chris Knox. Semi successful recording star who is now a stroke victim.)
I managed to get a few words in with him a couple of times back at the Hacienda gardens after work. (midnight)

Turns out he`d been out on mission somewhere and had used some of the mission funds to purchase some much needed personal supplies. Because he fiddled the books to hide the fact, he had been branded as a thief.

My guess is that, had he actually received his pay and whatever he had coming to him, he never would have needed to dip into the mission funds.
So his attempt to stand up for his rights had been responded to by Scientology
ethics and justice and he now was without any.

I listened to Norman`s woes and told him of my sympathy over his predicament.

For my trouble I received, the very next day, a lengthy Knowledge report in my comm basket. Norman had dobbed me in for seducing him into bad mouthing the Sea Org.

No one came to correct my erroneous thinking. After all... the KR was written by someone on the RPF. Who gave a shit about what they said ?

I stumbled on the RPF nest by accident one day.
The Fort Harrison had a multi leveled parking garage. Most of it was reserved for public use. But if you really explored it there was a level reserved for staff.

It was in the corner of this level that a blanket or canvas had been used to cordon off a room sized space.  It served as a workshop, tool room but there were a few blankets laid out on the concrete floor that were being used by some RPFers to sleep on. Possibly the RPF`s RPF.

I couldn`t help but be struck with the sharp contrast between what I had just seen and what I was about to see.
Parked on the ground level, out of the way, was this immaculate, luxurious white Cadillac.

I don`t have any interest in cars. Just get me where I`m going. That`s my only concern. However this one really stuck out. It was obviously someone`s pride and joy. There was a guy  stationed there who I detected was mentally preoccupied with this symbol of luxury. I asked him about the car.

He confirmed that the car had belonged to Hubbard and had been brought in
from some unknown location for the purpose of having it sold.

The RPF space. The car.  I couldn`t hold both images in my head at the same time.
The beneficiaries of the discoveries made by this car owner were living in squalor, doing slave labour, and eating food scraps.

My question is... If the RPF is such a beneficial program, why is it not part of the bridge ? Why are no RPF photos and success stories ever published in the Cults glossy magazines ?

 I`m sure you`ve all seen those magazines put out by the cult.."Ron.. the writer",
"Ron.. the musician. "Ron.. the humanitarian." etc.

Where is "Ron.. the inventor of the RPF." ?

Why is this Hubbard RPF tech denied to the world at large ????

Speaking of Ron`s tech..... As there was no program for me to graduate the DPF
I was free to work out my own salvation during the evenings in the DPF academy.

I`ve always had a fascination about how we as a species had evolved into the morons we have become.

I`d never read "A history of man." by Hubbard. It was just sitting on the shelf so I decided to get Ron`s version of "our last sixty trillion years."

I gotta tell you... nothing prepared me for this.

When I finally closed the book I realized it should have been titled;
"Why you should stay away from a typewriter when you are using heavy drugs."

I can only surmise that this book was Hubbard`s cry for help.

When that cry wasn`t answered...I guess it gave Hubbard the green light to
say anything he wanted, knowing it would be believed purely because he said it.

A mysterious elderly couple would come and go from our HQ on the decks.
They seemed bewildered most of the time. They had a sixteen year old daughter who was just drop dead gorgeous. She was blond and tanned and her presence made every guy forget who he was.

She was just as mysterious as her elderly mother and father.
They were on the decks and yet they weren`t. 
This was, to put it in Scientology terms,..."really squirrelly."

They didn`t come out on our work assignments. We really only saw them first thing in the morning and then in the evenings.

I asked who they were. They assured me that they were "Ma and Pa".
The daughter was just a first name...

One evening I could tell that Ma was really stressed.
I sat with her and after a while she let me in on who they were and what was happening.

Holy shit  !!!!!  They were the parents and sister of Annie Broeker.

When Hubbard had died a Sea Org FLAG ORDER had been circulated throughout the world stating that Hubbard had turned control of Scientology over to Pat Broeker and his wife Annie.

This FLAG ORDER was Ron`s final message to the world. He was adamant...Scientology was now in the hands of Pat and Annie Broeker.

 Shortly after that, David Miscavige staged a coup de tate.

He took Annie Broker prisoner while Pat escaped.
Annie Broeker`s family were rounded up and were being held hostage in a secret
location.  Which just coincidentally, happened to be where I was also being held prisoner.

I needed to make my break for freedom.
Who`d have guessed that Scientology enemy number two (The IRS) would provide me with that break.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 15, 2011, 08:32:02 AM
                                    SENSE OF DOUBT 

                                          Part 123

                                  Who created David Miscavige ?

There are many Scientologists who have gotten out of the "Church" of Scientology
who still believe in Hubbard. They say Miscavige is an evil tyrant who has taken over the cult and is perverting the tech.

It would be of great benefit to them if they were to be asked

   "Who or what created David Miscavige ?"

Here he is at work.....

And Pat Broeker


                             There is only one Source
(Excerpted from a talk given by Mr. Pat Broeker in Los Angeles, California on the 27th of January, 1986)

There is only one source of Scientology and Dianetics tech, and that is L. Ron Hubbard.
    The existing tech — the body of knowledge that LRH has issued in HCO Bulletins and HCO Policy Letters — stays exactly like it is.
    There is one exception, which is the matter of some off-Source issues that need to be handled. For some time now, there has been an exhaustive search for those issues others wrote that weren't seen or approved by LRH, but which somehow were sandbagged* through the lines and issued over LRH's name. What we are doing is checking them against LRH's taped briefings and conferences, those writings that come directly off LRH's typewriter, the research notes and despatches which were written in his own hand, and notes written up by Commodore's Messengers which can actually be verified as accurate — to completely sort the wheat from the chaff*, the truth from the falsehoods.
    You've seen some of these revisions and cancellations of off-Source issues in the past years. We're coming right down the road on that, and there's just a little bit more to do. To give you an idea of the percentage of material I'm referring to here, if you were to collect up all of the tapes, all of the books, all the Policy Letters and Bulletins, all the films and writings and all the collected works of Dianetics and Scientology — just one copy of each — and put them all together, the issues that we are weeding out amount to a tiny percentage. In other words, 99.99999 % stays.
    There is also new LRH material that has not yet been issued. New OT VIII is completely written up and currently in the hands of International Management. Senior C/S Int, Ray Mithoff, is full bore* on finishing his Solo NOTs®, and he is going to be the first one to do New OT VIII. At that time a few others will do it, the first priority being the ship's crew who are necessary to deliver it, and that will dovetail with Management's current effort to get a ship for the delivery of New OT VIII!
    New OT IX and X have also been finished and written up. There are several other OT levels that it is my job to compile. It essentially consists of taking what LRH has written, putting it into paragraph form and adding the appropriate HCOB references that go along with each level. They will be released in due course.
    We have a thick sheaf of LRH's notes for New OT XI, XII, XIII and so forth and then a stack about 5 feet high comprising the materials of subsequent OT levels!
    One more thing, which is very, very important: There is — not “was”, is — only one Source. It is very important that you understand that. Source does not pass from LRH to Management or to any other thetan. Source is Source.
    What is it about LRH that made him Source? His technology — the Grades, the OT levels, all of his discoveries. Nobody else — nobody — ever discovered it. That is what made him Source, and we still have that.
    Therefore, Source is with us and it is him.
    You know whose books to read and whose material to apply. And if you do apply LRH's materials, then you're there. It's as simple as that.

*sandbag: to force into doing something, using deception.
*to sort the wheat from the chaff: to separate and remove the impurities from something.
*full bore: at full speed

FLAG ORDER 3879    19 January, 1986

                           THE SEA ORG & THE FUTURE

       I, LRH, Commodore, am hereby assuming the rank of ADMIRAL.

       The rank of COMMODORE IS RETIRED FROM ACTIVE SERVICE in the Sea Organization at this time. As we move on up the track the Commodore rank will be reinstated as will be needed.

       A new rank of LOYAL OFFICER is created directly above the rank of Captain.

       Pat Broeker is hereby promoted to the first LOYAL OFFICER rank.

       Annie Broeker is hereby promoted as the second LOYAL OFFICER.

       There are several Sea Org Officers they will want to promote.

       The SEA ORGANIZATION will always be the Sea Organization, no matter that we may leave the surface of this planet when we're finished and operate on others (hopefully not too many devoid of seas — joke) and no matter what we will operate, in general, throughout the universe — solid, liquid, gaseous, and yes,— there are other states of matter, which are ours for the taking because nobody else seems to know about them.

       I'll be scouting the way and doing the first port survey missions. I expect your continuing backup. You've got a little under a billion left on your current hitch, and it is hoped you will sign up again — veterans are valuable!

       So, there it is. You know what to do. You know how to do it. Hold the form of the S.O.! You've got the watch!!

       I will be in comm.

       We will meet again later.







                                                                 Originally dated 19 Jan 1986,
                                                                  issued in March 1986,
                                                                     cancelled 18 April 1988
                                                                    Execs and Staff, All Orgs    
                                                             Public Notice Boards in all Orgs    


       Flag Order 3879 of 19 January 1986, entitled THE SEA ORG & THE FUTURE, stated that Pat Broeker and Annie Broeker had been promoted to the rank of “Loyal Officer”. In the months that followed after this FO was issued, it was found that they were involved in a serious out-ethics situation. On 17 July 1987, they were confronted with the fact of their out-ethics and they resigned this rank.

       Full investigation revealed that the Flag Order 3879, THE SEA ORG & THE FUTURE, had not in fact been written by or seen by LRH, nor were the contents of the issue based on any advice, request or note from LRH. The Flag Order was fabricated by Pat Broeker.

       Therefore, Flag Order 3879, THE SEA ORG & THE FUTURE, is CANCELLED.

       With the cancellation of this FO the rank of “Loyal Officer” is also hereby cancelled, as there is no such Sea Org rank in any Source materials.

       In a further attempt to boost his status, Broeker had claimed to have worked closely with LRH during several years prior to January 1986. Thorough investigation has since revealed the fact that during the time period Pat Broeker asserted he was “working close to LRH”, Broeker was absent for extended periods of time under false pretenses and was in fact almost never at the same location that LRH was.

       Additionally, when he was with LRH prior to 1986, he was there only as domestic staff, not in any technical or administrative capacity.

       Pat and Annie Broeker are currently under standard justice handling and are being dealt with appropriately.


       Though LRH did not write the FO “THE SEA ORG & THE FUTURE,” his estate planning definitely took into account the future of Scientology® and the Sea Org and this is being executed as intended. LRH also made plans for the eternal existence of Scientology technology, which he commented on in Ron's Journal 34, THE FUTURE OF SCIENTOLOGY, and these plans have been activated and are being cared for by the appropriate Church executives.

       LRH's intentions with regards what needs to be done in and with Scientology were clearly expressed in his HCOBs, HCO™!PLs, EDs, tapes and advices, including directions for the issuance of previously unreleased materials which are being complied with.

       In the tape Ron's Journal 38, TODAY AND TOMORROW: THE PROOF, LRH described the current set-up of International Management and the role of all Scientology staff and public in keeping Scientology working, and if you have any questions concerning Church management structure you should listen to that tape.

       The cancellation of FO 3879 does not change or affect any existing org boards, strategies, plans or programs. It removes a lie from the lines.


Capt. David Miscavige
Chairman of the Board,
Religious Technology Center®



 Pat Broeker could say what no one else in Scientology could: He outranked David Miscavige.

But he left the church in 1989 and started a new life in Colorado. Still, Miscavige worried about him.

"He (Miscavige) came directly to me,'' Marty Rathbun recalled. "He said, 'Marty, you get on this guy. I want to know every move he makes.' "

Broeker and his wife, Annie, assisted Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard in the months before he died in 1986. Hubbard bestowed on each of them the title "loyal officer,'' outranking Captain Miscavige.

Pat Broeker had something else: Hubbard's written research of Scientology's upper levels of counseling and training, completed in his last years. Without the papers, Broeker would be diminished. Rathbun said he and Miscavige came up with a plan.

With Miscavige and Broeker on a trip to Washington, D.C., Rathbun told the caretaker at the Broeker ranch that the FBI was about to raid the place; he needed to get in right away and get sensitive documents out of there. Rathbun said he and Miscavige put them in a church safe.

Broeker was done. He set out for the Rockies.

Miscavige wanted him watched, said Rathbun, who arranged for two private investigators to find and stay on Broeker.

One became a drinking buddy and gave Broeker a cordless phone as a Christmas gift.

In the early 1990s, before cordless phones became sophisticated, conversations could be monitored via a police scanner from a block or two away. It was a legal practice.

"Dave loved this idea,'' Rathbun said. "He wanted to hear as many conversations as he could with Pat. We recorded all his conversations for probably a year. We knew everything he was up to.''

Broeker relocated to Wyoming, and the PIs followed.

Rathbun said his direct involvement in the "Broeker op'' ended in 1992, when he went to Washington to help Miscavige negotiate the church's tax status with the IRS.

Rathbun stayed beside Miscavige another decade before leaving Scientology. Rathbun's closest associate, Mike Rinder, left two years ago.

Last March, they reconnected at Rinder's apartment in Denver and shared stories. Rathbun recalled setting up the Broeker surveillance in 1989.

Rinder had a fresher memory. Early in 2007, Miscavige had him recommend cuts in his departmental budget, which included expenses for intelligence operations.

Rinder said he asked his staff about a line item he couldn't understand. He was told: That's for the Broeker op, and it's untouchable.

Broeker did not respond to interview requests left with his family.

As published in The St Petersburg Times.

In Print: Monday, November 2, 2009


Okay.... Are you getting a feel for what was going on behind the scenes ?

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: The_Fixer on February 15, 2011, 09:06:45 PM
Interestingly, I have trouble with certain concepts. ???

If someone is a clear or even at the OT IIIX level, how come they can still become an SP or for that matter, any other Label? After all, the mind is now clear and there should be a zero effect from a non existant reactive mind.

Looking from another angle, the tech must be a little (at least) suspect, because it is not detecting the BI's and/or the so called evildoers to the church at a point where they can be restored or saved?

Try these examples:

Why is Tom Cruise still a twit at an OT IIIX level?
Why can't Kirsty Alley be causative over her weight issues? (i.e. Not a problem any more with her new mystical powers?)
Why does Tommy Davis still act a total psycho idiot (surely he's an OT)?
If DM is such a psychopath, why can't the church deal with him?
Why would all these senior execs fall from grace so spectacularly? Given the quantity of the candidates that reach this level, do you need to be an SP or whatever other label they put upon you to attain these positions of power within the church?  This would also cast a suspicious finger at DM.
Any Valid answers would be interesting.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: The_Fixer on February 15, 2011, 09:41:37 PM
Another set of questions.

If the Broekers were left in charge,how did the reactive mind that didn't exist suddenly spring into life and assume control to a point where the great DM had to take over and assume control?

Does this mean that the tech cannot sort the wheat from the chaff and allows anyone through?

If the people along the journey are not working at the proper ethics level, does this mean that all the Sec Checks are out tech? Then....THE TECH IS FAULTY! It cannot check itself!
Don't tell me L Ron and his cronies built an error into the system?

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 16, 2011, 07:56:41 AM
  Hello fixer.
                Thanks for posting.  You are absolutely right.

Scientology is a Fantasy Camp for the mind.
Every time that fantasy camp mentality touches ground, it leaves destruction and suffering in its wake.

Not just sometimes.  EVERY TIME !!!

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 16, 2011, 10:32:33 AM
                                       SENSE OF DOUBT

                                          Part 124

                                        Ethics, tech, admin.

One sweltering day, our clip board guy came to the Decks HQ and announced that our study time had been postponed indefinitely. There had been some break ins out at the Hacienda Gardens.  We were now assigned the job of assisting security in apprehending the offenders, should they strike again.  We were assigned stakeout detail.

A lone security guard met us on arrival and took the five of us to the first station.
He unlocked the door to one of the units and left a guy there at a specific window
so he could monitor the fence line along that side of the property.

I couldn`t help but notice that it was even hotter inside the unit than it was outside.  Eventually I was placed similarly in another unit.

Obviously the air conditioning was off while the units were not inhabited to save power.  I found my way to the control box and pushed the power button.
Nothing happened. I studied the control box and tried every combination of things possible to kick it into life. Nothing. It was dead.

Fifteen people were sleeping in this sweat box. It was just in humane.
It was only after our uneventful stakeout when we were all being debriefed that I learned that I was living in one of the few units on the property that had a functioning air conditioner in it.

Yes. I should have been grateful for my good luck. And would have been except for one slight problem.  It was an Italian guy who lived in our unit called Maritzeo.
He was on a mission to achieve two things in life. One was to have the perfect male body. And the other was to pass the IQ test to qualify for the sea org.

Maritzeo was getting word clearing by another Italian a few hours per day and then working manual labour in exchange for his food and lodging.

He would arrive home after the rest of us had turned in for the night.He would then turn the air conditioner down to freezing and go to bed.

In the morning the unit was like a chiller. You would wake up shivering.
Then it would be a dash into the bathroom to get under a hot shower.
Upon entering the bathroom one was greeted by the sight of Maritzeo`s footprints on the toilet seat.
There were eight guys in our unit and not one of them ever took the time to explain to him how to use a toilet. One just hoped that his word clearing included
words like sit and shit.

Once out of the shower and dressed, it was time to descend the stairs and get a ride to the Fort Harrison. Trouble was by the time one had descended the stairs your uniform was drenched and sticking to you.

I received a letter from my mother. I was one of the few people that received my mail unopened. The mail girl was one of the girls I`d been flirting with.

Anyhow inside the letter was a clipping from a newspaper describing how my father had been woken late one night by a gang of thugs standing over him with a plank of wood and had proceeded to hit him and demand he turn all his money over to them.
They then went on to ransack the house and loaded what they fancied into his car and sped off, leaving dad badly beaten and shaken.

Dad had received a great deal of satisfaction over the years from assaulting people. Ironically he had once beaten me and my three brothers with a block of wood as well.  Mum`s letter went on to explain that the thugs had gotten away with a crap TV, a set of wonky golf balls and, less than $100 cash and dad`s shit car, which broke down less than a mile away from his home. The police found it empty and abandoned  early the next morning.

One of my fathers arms was now pretty well paralyzed.

Within two weeks the exact same M.O.was committed on my fathers best friend.
Despite that, the New Zealand police force were never able to solve the crimes.
The incidents were even re enacted for a local TV show called crime watch.
They mentioned Dad`s athletic history, but nothing about his two convictions for assaulting children.  And nothing was mentioned on "Country Calender" about his achievements in sheep wrestling.

Surely this was a textbook case of the overt motivator sequence. Or Karma...

Well. I`m afraid they are both pure bullshit.
They are just the mind`s attempt to hide truth from you and exposing itself as the instigator of all this drama.

Have you ever seen a victim of a crime being interviewed on TV. They regularly end with the comment. "What goes around comes around."
As if to infer the the evil committed by the perpetrator of their suffering will be re visited by their act and fall victim to bad luck themselves.

Isn`t that an admission that they themselves have committed an evil act which
has just now re visited them.???

Well...Not to the mind. To the mind, this act of victimization is "day one" of the whole cycle.  Ever heard people say... "What did I do to deserve this ?"
Notice... No answer is forthcoming !
Do you see it is a loaded question ?  The mind has based the question on the premise that there is no answer. And once again the mind has deflected responsibility from itself.  Remember what I told you before. Every physical manifestation is the result of a prior thought.

Of course you say... "But I never would have thought about receiving a bad manifestation."

Are you telling me that you have total control of your mind ?

I`m glad to hear it.  Sit down and think of nothing for twenty minutes.

What about five minutes ?

Go on ..... Do it.  Convince yourself that you have total control of your mind.

I`ll wait....

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 20, 2011, 09:46:12 AM
                                SENSE OF DOUBT

                                   Part 125

                                  Love and Mercy

I hope you took a few minutes to experience how busy your mind is.
More importantly I hope you got a good sense of how "out of control" it is.

While it is tuned into happy, non threatening fantasies, there is no reason to want to
address this reality. However if your mind has been focused on unpleasant, disturbing things, then you are in a bit of trouble.
That`s when you realize that the mind is not your friend. It will take you to some cold, dark, lonely place and then abandon you.

This all comes about because you identified with the mind. You thought it was you.  The mind was something you created to live in to cushion your fear of just being.

I want you to spend a few minutes seeing what can be achieved by disassociating yourself from the mind.

You`d think that what you just saw would be of enormous interest to those who are paid well to ease suffering and eliminate pain.

It becomes clear why it hasn`t been, when you transcend the mind.
The mind`s job is to perpetuate form. Keep the game going.
No mind will do research and challenge the status quot in pursuit of its own destruction.  And thus the greatest minds on the planet are the exact worst placed individuals to resolve the problems caused by the mind.

When I finally get out of this mind fuck cult I`ll spend some time showing you some things which you have to be out of your mind to see. From there you will have the freedom of choice whether you want to continue to identify with your mind, or go and have some mindless fun instead.

                               The audit task force.

One evening clip board guy came and told all us losers that we were no longer on the decks. An urgent project had come up and we were now going to work on a project to guarantee that Scientology would be granted its tax exempt status.

Scientology had been ordered to hand over all the accounting for the Flag service org for the financial year of 1986.

A team of about five professional accountants had been hired and we were to work in liaison with them.

The unit I was in had the sub name "The `86 bills paid project."
Our job was to get all the staff purchase orders to be accounted for.

The reference we were using was called "Standard staff accounting." By Hubtard.

How it was supposed to work was like this...
A staff member needed some work related products or services that required expenditure outside of the org.

That staff member would submit a C.S.W. "Completed staff work) and a P.O. (purchase Order) to "financial planning.  If the P.O. was approved the staff member would get the funds from treasury and then go ahead with the transaction. Once it was done all the money spent would be accounted for with receipts, attached to the P.O. and this paper work would be handed in to treasury.

It made sense. And probably would have worked quite well if anyone knew about it !!!!!

I`m guessing none of the staff at Flag knew about it. I`m also guessing that the treasury department never told the staff member this when the funds were distributed.

Why else would I be given a stack of P.O.s, that had been okay`d three feet high and yet no receipts had been turned in.

So that was our job. We had to locate the guys who got the money and demand they turn over the receipts from two years ago. Some staff were no longer locatable.
Some were now working in other locations around the world. Some were blown.

Often times these staff had multiple P.O.s to account for. And some were for many thousands of dollars.

So I`d track down the guys who had received unaccounted for funds.

I`d go through the P.O`s with them.  These were not happy times for the staff member. They just had nothing. Never knew they were supposed to have gotten receipts. 

Now as well as working from dawn to midnight every day they had to track down companies and tradesmen from two years back and get receipts from them.

Sometimes the companies were gone.

One poor guy had hired an orchestra. When he tried to locate that orchestra he found out it had disbanded.

Another guy, Bobby Meader, the transport In Charge, was amazing to work with.
He not only drove the bus, he also maintained Scios fleet of vehicles.

His P.O.s were about two inches deep. Thousands and thousands of dollars at stake.  Bobby came back in to see me a few days later. He brought with him three plastic bags full of receipts. I`d start with the first P.O.
Say...I had one for six hundred dollars and eighty cents.

Bobby would rummage through the bags and pull out random receipts.
$9.60   , $230.00,  $76.20,.

He`d call them out and i`d put them into the calculator.
When we got down to the last hundred dollars he`d try to find some that added up to the exact amount needed.

These receipts were just plain old receipts like you`d find in a dumpster behind a shopping Mall. Which I suspect is where he got them.

But he got the accounting done with hundreds of receipts to spare.

We got about half the money accounted for, one way or another.
Now came the part I wasn`t expecting. 

For those who failed to come up with receipts what was I supposed to do ?

The French woman in charge of us didn`t know either. So I went to see the big honcho over the whole project.
I asked him what to do.

He came back to me a day later after he`d consulted over his head,..." Bill them for it!" 

So now we had to start billing Sea org members for money they had spent on behalf of Scientology. Which in effect meant that the cult would be getting all
the benefits of what these staff members had organized for the enrichment of the cult...

It was to be deducted from their pay weekly till it was repaid in full.

Some of these Sea Org members were going to be in debt to the cult for twenty years, while trying to exist on a meager amount of pay that was now even smaller.

And I want to point out that whoever was doing this inspection of Scios accounting at the IRS was also fine with that.
Just pure bullshit !!!

I decided I`d had enough. I phoned Air New Zealand. The ticket I`d arrived on must have had a return ticket with it.
They checked their records and told me that it had expired three months after I arrived in the U.S.

What the fuck was Mark Harris thinking when he got me a visa for a year and a return ticket for three months into that ???

I was able to talk the Air New Zealand operator into seeing what we could work out. She came back to me after some tense waiting and told me that they would
half honor my expired ticket. If I could come up with half of its value they would get me on a plane.

But even then...I still had to get to L.A.

The French woman in charge of our section started to fall to pieces. She really couldn`t handle pressure. She was fired by the big boss. he escorted her out of the office, came back and in a loud voice explained that Lisette was no longer our boss.  He then asked of the room ..."Who do you guys want to be boss ?"

My name rang through out the room. It was unanimous.
The guy who had been sent to slave labor as a fuck up turned out to be the popular choice as leader.

By the way there is no honor in being head of anything in Scio.
All it means is you are the guy they come for when things go wrong.
No extra pay. No privileges. It`s like being put on death row.

A few days later it became apparent that someone in our department needed to
track down some receipts in L.A.

I got the air tickets approved with "Standard staff accounting"
and set about selecting two candidates to take the trip.

On the night before the flight I delegated my job to the guy there I liked least and
grabbed Annie Broeker`s hot little sister and said to her. "Want to come to L.A. with me ?

The next morning we took the FLAG transport van out to the Airport.
It broke my heart to leave my two suitcases of sheet music behind. But I couldn`t arouse any suspicion.

As that plane left the ground...So did I.
But I wasn`t out of the woods yet.

Still it felt fucking brilliant.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 24, 2011, 10:56:03 AM
Just had to post this.

 See a tumor de manifest in under three minutes.

Emotional desire creates a mind. The mind creates the manifestation.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 28, 2011, 08:04:02 AM
LIBERTY Magazine
Summer 1952

Sigmund Freud,originator of psychoanalytic technique, would turn over in his grave at distortions of his theories by promoters of Dianetics

DIANETICS made its debut as an article in Astounding Science-Fiction, a pulp magazine de. voted to weird tales of time ships and moon men.


In the center of a semi-darkrened room, a woman lay limply on a couch. Around her in the shadowy light a group of people sat, silently, listening to the monotonous voice of a dark man bent close to the couch. "When I count to five," he said, "your somatic strip will go down the time track, down, down to the earliest moment of pain before birth." .

The woman on the couch stirred. The room grew completely quiet. "Where are you now on the time track?" he asked softly,.

For a moment the woman did not answer. "I am born," she said hesitantly. "I am just being born. All around me I see red arid white, lots of white. My father is standing at the door asking to come in but the nurse says, "Don't come in now, don't come in now, don't come in now... ."

The dramatic scene just described was witnessed by me. It too], place in the Hub- bard Dianetic Research Foundation at 55 East 82nd Street, New York City. Its purpose was to demonstrate the therapeutic, process to students studying Dianetics.

For anyone who hasn't heard about Di- anetics, it is a brand new "we cure every- thing" cult. A crude take-off on Freudian psychoanalysis, Dianetics purports to re; lieve all mental and physical ailments by helping the patient re-experience painful episodes. Unlike psychoanalysis, however, it has more practitioners than patients. .

THE reason for this is that anyone with enough interest in the subject, and $500, can become a professional "auditor" (Dianetics for practitioner) by enrolling in the Hubbard Dianetics Training School for a quick four weeks course. Upon graduation, the, auditor can claim $25 an hour for his services. But still another way to become an auditor is open to the average man. L. Ron Hubbard says that after reading his book "Dianetics; the Modern Science of Mental Health" (Hermitage House, $4.00) you can practice auditing on your friends and when you feel confident, hang out your brass shingle!

A week before witnessing the demonstration by the Hubbard group, I saw a similar scene take place in a New York apartment. The woman in this case was a highly disturbed person. (I knew because her doctor, worried about this venture into Dianetics, had briefed me beforehand on the case.)

Bothered by her constant anxiety and her seemingly overwhelming problems, she came here to seek help. She is a sick woman and needs treatment for a serious mental illness. Psychoanalysis might help her, a stay in a mental hospital or psycho-therapy could be the answer. What she must have, and quickly, if she is to regain her health, is immediate diagnosis and care by a competent, trained and experienced doctor. Instead, she has put herself into the hands of Dianetics, and her auditor three months ago was driving a bus in Long Island.

A highly imaginative person, the bus driver was an avid reader of the weird stories published by a pulp magazine which, using some scattered scientific facts, creates fantastic tales of wars on the moon, time ships which travel to the pastor future and horrible monstrosities who will someday rule the earth.

While glancing through a copy of "As- tounding Science-Fiction" he noticed an article by one of his favorite "Astounding" writers, L. Ron Hubbard. The subject was Dianetics, a method of treating all mental illness! He was immediately fascinated. And even more so, when he read that anyone could become a "practitioner" after read- ing the book.

The bus driver bought the book. He pored over it carefully. Uneducated, ignorant, he had no previous knowledge of psychiatry ,and was unable to recognize the handy ap- plication of Freudian terms, twisted around to fit this pseudo-science, Dianetics sounded easy to him. All you had to do was repeat' a few phrases to the patient, listen to him recount his painful experiences, convince him he could remember what happened to him before lie was born, and collect a nice ' tat $25 an hour If others could do it, why not he? -

The bus driver quit his job. lie began practicing what he had learned in the book on his friends. And soon he was teaching others, giving demonstrations in his small apartment and treating patients at $25 an hour. Some time later the woman whose case was described to me by this physician came to him for help.

Not a doctor, or even someone experi- enced in recognizing serious emotional dis- turbances, he had no idea that this woman was suffering from a severe mental illness. ' That she needed immediate confinement in a mental hospital and was a real danger to herself and others.

All he knew was what he learned in Dia- netics. When the patient rambled incoher- ently for hours, he would refer to the book. "Now who was it that used to talk like that?" he'd plead. "We gotta get rid of that ' 'engram'." But the woman kept right on rambling. She kept right on hearing voices and many of her insane delusions were deeply encour- aged.Dianetics is a serious danger to this woman's life. If she continues tier treatment, she may become hopelessly, incurably insane.

The medical doctor who related the case to me knows the woman's family. They are ashamed of the stigma of insanity and refuse to put her in, the hands of a reputable psychiatrist. They don't believe Dianetics will help her but feel at a loss to face the problem. So, their sister, wracked by her illness, is desperately trying to get help in the only way she knows. r

SUPPOSEDLY, Dianetics is a cure-all. Hubbard, the inventor of the theory, claims to cure with it any mental ill: psychoses, neuroses, compulsions, repression s, as well as the whole list of psychosomatic ills including asthma, ulcers, bursitis and diabetes: And a spokesman for Hubbard confidentially told me; "We think even' cancer is caused by engrams ... we're working on it right now."

The theory behind Dianetics is that the human mind is divided into two parts. Stealing more than a little from Freud, Hubbard explains them as the analytical mind and the reactive (subconscious) mind. But the reactive mind, he says, is constantly recording. It is especially active when its, owner is unconscious. When an individual is drugged, knocked out-or unborn-the reactive mind is busily recording (just like, a phonograph) pain, or unpleasant experiences. Similar to traumas, these experiences (called engrams by Hubbard) are busiest before birth. According to the theory, every harsh word that parents say,' or physical shock, makes a cellular impres- sion on the foetus and forms the basis for all emotional difficulties encountered in life,

"As a matter of fact," one top auditor said blithely, "we consider birth a late life experience. By that time most of the engram damage has been done!" .

The solution to this, Hubbard claims, is to get the engrams out of the reactive mind into the "memory bank" (conscious mind) making them harmless memories. When all the engrams have been released (by repetition largely of prenatal "memories") the patient reaches the Dianetic optimum and is henceforth known as a "clear." A "clear" is a super-man type person supposedly far superior to normal. He has no problems, no psychosomatic illness, has high intelligence, increased hearing and vision, creative imagination and is utterly incapable of error.

This comes about, says Dianetics, after getting rid of your first engram (called "basic" which took place some time before you were born). Only then can you try to find the "basic-basic" engram that you received the the instant of conception, or earlier. Fantastic as it sounds, Dianetics claims that the "time track" (where memory slides back automatically) divides into a Y, one side going back into your mother's ovum, the other side retreating into father's sperm! Dianetic auditors claim that you can repeat your parents' exact words up to 112 hours before the sperm met the ovum,

Is Dianetics a fraud? In seeking an answer to this question I personally investigated the facts of Dianetics.

First, I discovered, Dianetics is sweeping the country. Originally written as an article in "Astounding-Science Fiction" in May, 1950, the book, "Dianetics," was published in June, 1950. In July its author, L. Ron Hubbard, opened the Hubbard Dianetic Research Foundation Elizabeth, New Jersey, and immediately started training auditors, who in turn trained more auditors who set up practices both in New York and New Jersey. During the summer, the book climbed near the top of the New York Times best-seller list and by the end of the summer more than 75,000 copies had been sold. The book's publisher, Hermitage House, said, "At least 500,000 people are talking Dianetics and we predict this figure will hit the million mark in, six rnonths."

In my search for the truth about Dianetics, the first person I was able to interview was the editor of Astounding-Science Fiction. I had been told he was one of the sponsors of Dianetics and had published Hubbard's article describing it. Furthermore, he was a personal friend of Hubbard, had bought his fiction previously for the magazine and had collaborated with him on many "Astounding" stories. He is also the Treasurer of the Hubbard Dianetics foundation.

Coincidentally, Astounding Science-Fiction is also located in Elizabeth, New Jersey, blocks away from the Hubbard Foundation. Its editor, John W. Campbell Jr. talked at me for three hours, repeating over and over again that Dianetics is the outstanding discovery of the ages, He quoted Hubbard's "modest" foreword to his book, where he says, "The creation of Dianetics is a milestone for Man comparable to his discovery of fire and supe- rior to his inventions of the wheel and arch."

He convinced me of his genuine interest in Dianetics. He also convinced ne of hls fanaticism. A tall man with thinning sandy hair and eyes which seemed wavering because of his heavy-lensed glasses, Campbell leaned back in his swivel chair and told me about Dianetics, in answer, to my repeated question as to the scientific proof of Dianetics, the hours of clinical research on patients and the case histories experimentally evaluated, he answered impatiently.

"The trouble is, everyone wants proof, in engineering, you can take an old breadboard, rig up a rough circuit and fiddle around with it. So it doesn't work. So you try some more. You've got this idea, and you keep trying until it works. You don't have any proof, but you know that it works. That's the way it is with Hubbard and Dianetics. He doesn't have any proof but he knows it works"

Is this the modern, scientific method of mental healing? Ex- perimenting with millions of lives on the basis "he knows it works"?

Campbell talked on and on, "Take a manic-depressive," he said. "In a half hour he could walk out of here -- after I give him a little treatment-and he'll be on top of the world."

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on February 28, 2011, 08:04:51 AM
Continued from above...

According to Campbell, Dianetics is the positive remedy for all psychosomatic ailments, and the causes are simple commands or actions which happened before birth. Multiple sclerosis, for example, which is the disintegration of the nerves and a fatal disease, is caused, says Campbell, by "Mamma" using a corrosive douche in order to get rid of the baby. The surface layer of the cells becomes scalded and years and years later the patient develops the disease. Stuttering comes from a command engram which says "Don't talk" and disturbed thyroid generally stems from an accident where the gland was injured and patient is told "Don't move." Therefore the thyroid gland, hearing this, does not move back and repair Itself.

While he talked Campbell got out of his chair and reached into a case. He took out a nose syringe, tilted his head back and sprayed some medicine into his nose. "Don't think I couldn't cure this sinusitis," he said, "I'm just not interested in that particular engram."

How sure is the dianetic cure? "Wa-a-al", he drawled, "Ron is so sure of it that he could offer a money-back guarantee. I wouldn't like this to get around, but we had a saying, around here, 'Give me $600 and your neurosis and I'll take away both of them!'

"But Ron run into a little trouble once. He tried to cure a man of stuttering but wasn't getting very far. Then he discovered that the patient had a money engram and hated to pay for anything. When the $600 if cured, the engram wouldn't let him. So now we collect by the hour. It works better that way. Besides that's what all those analysts do over in New York"

Dianetics also claims a quick cure for homosexuality. The dianaticists pooh-pooh the Oedipus theory of psychology or sex identification or any real life, emotional disturbances as causing this problem. It all comes from a prenatal command, they say.

Campbell gave an example, Mamma and Papa are to blame for homosexuality in 100 per cent of the cases by their conversations before birth. (One thing I noted Is the way Dianetic disciples speak of parents. They call them Mamma and Papa and in a singularly calloused tone. Especially Mamma. They seem to have very little use for her.)

"You see, chances are Mamma has been playing around;" said Campbell, "Papa knows it, gives Mamma a punch in the stomach. This knocks the kid unconscious. Mamma cries and screams, swears the baby is his, but he gives her another punch in the stomach and says 'It better be mine, It better be exactly like me, or by God, I'll wring its neck' Then the kid turns out to be a girl and what happens? She goes through life trying to be just like Papa and ends up a lesbian."

As for male homosexuals, they are usually caused, according to this theory, when a tearful mother shouts to the father, "You do every thing wrong. You're always doing things upside down. You never do anything right" So, little Johnny grows up and hates girls because girls are the 'right' thing.

By this time, my head was spinning. Surrounded in this small dust-cluttered office by thousands of fantastic storied magazines and a man leaning over his desk at me with an intense gleam in his eye. I felt the over-powering implications of such a theory and the effect it could have on millions of lives. As I left for my appointment at the Hubbard Dianetics Foundation, Campbell "confidentially" told me about his personal life, "I have two children," he said, "and I use Dianetics on them all the time. You ought to use it on yours."

"Is your wife interested in Dia- netics?" I asked. His face clouded. "She's so full of engrams that she wouldn't even let herself be audited. I had to divorce her for that reason;" he said bitterly. "One of her worst engrams kept screaming 'I've got to get out of here. I'll go mad, mad!' "

I thanked Mr. Campbell for the interview and left quickly. Over at the Hubbard Research Dianetic Foundation, several blocks from Science-Fiction, I met the other representatives of Dianetics. Housed in a sixteen room floor of an aged building, the offices were complete with army cots (as couch substitutes) and diplomas issued by the Foundation hung on every wall.

I met the top auditors and teaching staff at the Foundation. Although it is called a Research Foundation, according to Campbell, no research is being done there. The Dianetics Foundation is run as a training school for auditors. It is open to anyone with the time and money and interest to enroll. The course is four weeks long and the fee is $500. It is not necessary to be audited yourself beforehand nor are you "cleared" before you go to work on other patients.

As a matter of fact I could not discover a "clear" in Hubbard's, organization. I asked over and over, again to meet someone who was considered "clear" so that I could see for myself what such a remarkable specimen looks like. One of the officers laughed. "It's the funniest thing in the world," he said. "Everyone wants to see a clear. But we hide them away. After all, this isn't a side show. You might just as well ask me for a two-headed man to gape at!"

A two-headed man?

Of the top people in Hubbard's organization I did not personally meet anyone with a previous knowledge of psychology. Most of them, including Hubbard, Campbell and all the top auditors, were electrical and radio engineers who were loyal readers of Astounding Science Fiction, None of them had a background in mental healing, and all had started their own training just a few months before, One dark-haired young man, who told a long story of how his eyes bothered him since his mother fell when eight months pregnant caus- ing his foot to jam in one eye, had been a radio engineer with Western Electric for nine years before meeting Hubbard. Another had taught television engineering at a trade school, And the head of their New York branch, sister of the doctor who wrote the book's foreword, a lady who had previously been forelady in a factory which made sweaters for Brooks Brothers and Abercrombie and Fitch..

Before I met Hubbard himself, his aides told me a little of his background. To my query as to the serious scientific associations to which he belonged, they an- swered, "The Explorers Club."

Thirty-nine-year-old ex-engineer and science-fiction writer, L. Ron Hubbard studied at George Wash- ington University and spent most of his time in Asiatic travel, he claims a completely original discovery and dismisses accusations that he has borrowed from psychoanalysis, shifted terms and thrown in a few ideas for good measure.

After. some time, Hubbard himself came out to meet me. A big burly man with startling orange hair, he was full of hearty charm and buoyancy. He carried a gray western hat, wore a bright colored tie, and did not, as so many of the others, look like a fanatic, He could have passed for a Hollywood director. Hubbard smiled engag- ingly and field out his hand, "You know," he said, "before I wrote the book my friends advised me it would cause a lot of trouble for me. But the nice thing about it is that nobody's mad at me,"

Shortly after this visit I learned that two of Hubbard's top people had resigned from the organization. One was Mrs. Nancy Roodenburg of the New York branch, and Dr, Joseph Winter, who had written the introduction to Dianetics, I contacted Mrs. Roodenburg at her home. She had never seen a "clear" she told me and didn't believe one could exist. Further more, she didn't see eye to eye with Hubbard on many things. But she planned to continue practicing Dianetics. Dr. Winter declined to say why he decided to go on his own way. However, he plans to write a book on DianetIcs present- ing it to the medical profession. So, the split-up in the Dianetics association does not mean a disintegration in its power. It may even be a branching out-and spreading of the organization, giving it more power than ever

But the seriousness of the Dianetics question is not entirely concerned with the money that frantic people are investing in it. There are real dangers in Dianetics.

Dr. Clarence Oberndorf, active member of the Psychoanalytic Society and Association, said in reference to DianetIcs. "The earliest record of memory previously acquired is one and one half years of age. Fantasies, of course, can be built up in human minds that explain earlier supposed memory. However, the fantasy of prenatal experience is a dangerous one. In persons with severe mental disturbances, the encouragement of such interuterine fantasies may aggravate already dangerous tendencies and cause insanity." Patients with any. number of diseases, such as diabetes, tuber- culosis, cancer or leukemia, (Foun- dation claim's to be treating such a patient) may die while they are' trying to rid themselves of en- grams, Such ` people, led in by promises of overnight cures and painless treatments, may be de- prived of the medical care 'they need in order to survive.

No one knows quite how damaging Dianetics can be to emotionally disturbed patients. Already there are cases on record of manics touched off by the clumsy, unschooled treatment. These people were predisposed to insanity and possibly it could have come about some other way. But they might have gone the rest of their lives without a breakdown.

There is no way of telling what effect Dianetics could have on you. If you have faith, it might help in much the same way as Christian Science, snake cults, or Yogi. But it could stir up enough emotional upheaval to send you to an insane asylum for the rest of your life. Dianetics has caught on only because many people are troubled and sick. It sounds like the quick, easy way to cure everything. Much simpler than three years of analysis, much easier than facing reality, and much easier than taking an insulin shot dally for diabetes,

But Dianetics is fraught with danger. Death or insanity can be its grisly accompaniments. Delay in the treatment of tuberculosis, arterior sclerosis, diabetes, pernicious anemia or other Illnesses, . may lead to irreversible changes. At the very least, money spent on Dianetics could pay for compe- tent medical treatment that might save your life.


"DIANETICS has no respect for and no understanding of the complexities of personality ... a symptom of a danger- - ous trend . . . a crude biologism for : which ethical values ore subordinated to the urge for survival ... mixture of oversimplified truths, half truths and . plain absurdities."

-Dr. Erich From, in N. Y, Times

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 02, 2011, 08:51:53 AM
                                    SENSE OF DOUBT

                                         Part 126

                                     Don`t look down

Our plane touched down in L.A. While making our way through the labyrinth of passages in anticipation of being outside, I spied a woman, fellow traveler carrying a silver mark seven e meter case. As my junior and I were in full S.O. uniform there was an immediate recognition of each other.
The woman asked if we were headed for the complex. To our delight her husband was collecting her outside the terminal and we were able to hitch a ride.

My first priority upon arrival was to organize our meal tickets.
We must have gotten lucky with our timing as I don`t recall going without any meals.

As far as our berthing went I just headed back to my old room and found my old bed vacant. I climbed up and threw my tatty old suitcase at the foot of it and made my way down to the dining area for a cuppa.

Pretty soon I was joined there by my second who had also staked her claim on a bed somewhere.

I really didn`t feel up to hunting through dingy financial accounts rooms for old receipts just yet, so I escorted my second with me up to Hollywood Boulevard to see what free people were doing.

As we walked past a shop up there I spied a pair of bright red boots.
I guess you`d call it impulse buying. Pretty soon I was wearing them and my tatty old hand me down Sea Org issue shoes were dropped in a rubbish bin.

We made it back to the complex just in time for dinner.
When we entered the dining area there was a phenomenon I was to become all too familiar with.

The volume of chatter and the clatter of cutlery would suddenly drop to half volume.
Two seconds later that too would half again.

It seems all the male religious workers forgot their calling as they couldn`t resist eying up my second. And two seconds later the females who accompanied them would pause to see what had distracted their 2D`s from their food.

This happened every time we entered that hall, three times a day, for weeks.

It confirmed for me that Hubbard`s desire to control people`s sexual urges was doomed.
No male with a pulse was going to resist ogling the little hour glass package of ecstasy that accompanied me everywhere I went except to bed.

Last time I`d been in L.A. I`d bumped into an old friend outside Paramount studios while on one of my many unauthorized jaunts. He had been a Disc Jockey at 1ZM back in Auckland.

He took me on a tour of Paramount a few days after that. And had told me we could do it again any time I liked. So I called him up and got him to leave two gate passes for my second and myself.

When I told her that we were going on a mission to Paramount studios she could barely contain her excitement.

 Upon arrival there the security guy buzzed my buddy and he came out to collect us.  He was working doing research for "Entertainment this week", which at the time was being hosted by Leeza Gibbons and John Tesh.

Just by luck they were about to tape a show. So Greg snuck us in there and we watched them tape the show.
Just me and my second and the crew.

John Tesh was away, so we were entertained by Leeza and a guy who looked like Arsineo Hall.  Despite how vivacious Leeza is...every male in the room was preoccupied taking sneaky peaks at the girl with me.

You`ll notice I haven`t mentioned her name.
I asked for it as I wrote this and got the answer... You weren`t meant to know it.  I recall back then putting her name out of my mind.

She wrote to me a few times once I escaped, begging me to come back.
I never replied. Having a letter I`d written to a sixteen year old girl being read by a security Guard was not something that appealed to me.

I was also busy racking my brains for a plan to get back to New Zealand and freedom.

I managed to get my younger sister who was also a Scientologist back in NZ, on the phone.

I explained my predicament to her.  What she told me was music to my ears.

She and her husband had recently returned from the Advanced Org in Sydney, Australia.  They were being audited into bankruptcy and soon ran out of funds.

The registrar had authorized busting into the money I had on account there since
the Fiji mission. 

My sister and her husband were now obligated to replace those funds to the A.O.
My reaction... "Fuck that! Just pay the balance on my expired airline ticket and get me the fuck out of here.

It was done. I had a ticket to freedom. There were about two weeks to wait till my flight left.

The mission I was on was to dig out and photo copy any financial transactions between FLAG and and any of the various front groups who were head quartered at PAC.

In every case except one, the records were a complete mess.
It turns out the guy from ABLE or IHELP, Can`t recall which, had come onto post with a background in accounting from the wog world. His records were a dream to look through. Everything was where it was supposed to be , neatly filed.

All those who had studied the Hubbard method where in complete disarray.
It was exhausting looking for what I needed.

What made things worse was the list of receipts I was trying to locate where in no particular order either.
So often times I had to re visit certain orgs over and over again.

I was aware I was running out of time. Then it dawned on me. Why was I hunting through someone elses bad accounting.
I started ordering the treasury secretaries to get their 1986 accounts in order and find the receipts they had lost.

That worked great. I had time to explore Hollywood.
Most of old Hollywood has been bulldozed down. Often times I`d find the location
where, eg. Sammy Davis Junior used to date Kim Novak, only to be staring at a carpark.  One thing that blew me away was locating Rudolf Valentino`s crypt.

Bowie had been there with Iggy Pop  and had said something which
is very touching to see with ones own eyes.

The shoulder height headstone is covered in decades worth of lipstick kisses.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 03, 2011, 08:13:28 AM
                               SENSE OF DOUBT

                                     Part 127

                             Stranger in a strange land

AS my departure date crept closer and closer the intensity of what I was about to do started to dawn on me. For anyone about to escape from a cult it is a really traumatic experience. All that mental programming kicks in to keep you hooked on the cult fix.

You see... What I wasn`t telling anyone was that I was "blowing."
By this stage you totally believe that you are committing suicide by doing such a treasonous thing.

There is an emotional desire to get away and yet your mind is on their side.
So there is nothing for it but to lose your mind.

Losing ones mind is equivalent to losing your identity.

I`ve been asked, and seen others ask, when talking about cults... "But why didn`t you just leave ?"

I have found the perfect answer to this question. 

" Stand up right now. Don`t grab anything. Now walk straight out of the building you are in and never look back. You are to never make contact with anything that has occurred before today.  Your old life is erased."

Till someone does this, they will never truly understand what it means to leave a cult. 

Now add to that the fact that you have been programmed to believe that the
outside world is a slippery slope to hell.
You have also passed exams by saying that the overt motivator sequence is real.

You walk out of a cult fully expecting to die horribly within days.

To talk about it is easy. To live it is the stuff of loneliness and insanity.

I got a ride to LAX organized for us the day of the flight.
Once there, I handed the folders containing everything to do with our mission over to my second and handed her her plane ticket.  She soon caught on that I wasn`t going back to Flag with her.

I explained to her that my visa was about to expire and for my own protection I needed to leave the States immediately.

I watched her go through the boarding gate and then high tailed it over to where my flight would be leaving from.

Had I timed it all right ?  By the time my Junior could report that I was AWOL I should be high above the Pacific.  My paranoia was completely justified.
Later I`ll tell you about Scientology preventing an international flight from departing because on board was a Scio public who hadn`t completed his "routing out of the org" routing form. Unbelievable ...but true.

Finally aboard, I waited anxiously to hear those jet engines spring to life.
Okay ...Good.  Now let`s get moving.  Each time I heard the public address system come on I was expecting to hear an announcement that we were returning to the terminal due to an "unforeseen problem."

Eventually we were sat at the end of the runway while the captain got a final clearance for take off.

Okay here we go. . I sat back as the acceleration pushed me into my seat.
The terminal rushed past my window. Off into the evening sky.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: The_Fixer on March 03, 2011, 09:05:38 PM
My departure was nowhere as dramatic as yours, but I totally get where you're coming from.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 04, 2011, 10:45:10 AM
                                     SENSE OF DOUBT

                                        Part 128

                                    Deja vu all over again

I arrived back in Auckland and took a cab to my mothers house.
For the next week I did a lot of sleeping but was plagued by stomach aches after each meal. I had been eating plastic tasting food for so long that my gut had a hard time dealing with real food again.

One of the problems faced by someone exiting scientology is that your non scio friends and relatives don`t want you coming near them. Then your scio friends and relatives don`t want you coming near them either because they  don`t want to be seen to be supporting a blown staff member.

Still I was able to find a variety of sofas and spare rooms to sleep in.
I scanned the jobs section of the papers. But after "saving the world" it`s not easy to get enthused about plastic molding or working on an assembly line in some nondescript factory in Nowheresville.

I ended up applying for the Unemployment benefit.
The woman who interviewed me, quite rightly asked, "But won`t the "church," you say you have been working for, help you in any way?"

It was all too obvious that trying to explain my predicament was futile.
I was staying with my brother for a time when the phone rang. It was this complete Nazi bitch I`d dealt with a few times at Flag.
"You get your fucken arse back here to Flag right now. Or you will be "Declared."

I told her that I had no way of purchasing a plane ticket and that if they would provide the ticket I`d comply with the order.

The ticket never arrived.

My wife had joined staff by now and a bunch of other Scio staff members had moved in with her. One of whom she was having a relationship with.

I ended up there sleeping on the sofa and babysitting our three year old son while she was on post during the day. That saved her a bunch of money that,  up till my arrival, was going to a daycare.
Plus it meant she could stay in the org and work late. Which is the rule rather than the exception when contracted on staff.

I`d also go into Celebrity center and help out. Then one evening Monique Collins (Gifford) arrived there on Mission from the Sea Org.  When she saw me there...She informed me that I was a blown Sea Org member and ordered me off the property.

I went across the street to a gas station to get some smokes.
While I was there, just by pure coincidence ,the Ex E.D. of Auckland Foundation, Sue Plaister... now Martin, arrived for the same reason.

Sue invited me back to her place which was just a few minutes away.

Sue had blown from Scientology some time back. She told me that she blew when Scientology had ordered her to divorce her husband who was in some sort of trouble with the org.

She and her husband had moved in with Sue`s mother. However it all went pear shaped when it was discovered that Sue`s  underage sister was being molested by Sue`s "Clear" husband.

Sue had moved back to Auckland alone and had been in a relationship with another blown staff member. It turned out that he had some serious psychological problems and now Sue was on her own again.

I made it back to C.C. in time for my ride home.

When asked what I`d been up to ?... I realized that a straight answer. ( I was just having sex with the ex E.D. of Auckland Foundation.) would be too much of a conversation stopper.

So here I was sleeping on a sofa directly below where my wife was sleeping with her boyfriend. You want to try that sometime. A real morale booster.

But as it turned out... it was harder on her than it was on me.
Before long she insisted that her new boyfriend and I swap beds.

One night she came home and told me that she had been ordered by the then E.D. of Auckland Day, Maggie Willis, to kick me out.
Maggie told her my SP declare was imminent and that she was to disconnect from me.

A few days later I got a phone call from Social Welfare.
They had received an "anonymous" tip off that I was living with my wife who was also drawing a benefit. I was told I needed to move out immediately.

I now had absolutely no where to go.

I was effectively a homeless bum.

On the property where the flat was, there was also a garage. It was not part of the rental agreement. When I got the flat, through a third party, I was told that the elderly woman who owned the property had left some possessions in there and it was locked and off limits.

It had no windows. Just a garage door and a little side door.
Years ago my brother in law had shown me how to pick locks.

I thought I`d give it a go. I had it open in a few seconds.
I looked around inside. Just a rusty old bicycle with a sheet thrown over it
and a dusty concrete floor. Sure it wasn`t the Ritz...But it would keep me out of the weather.  So each morning I`d awaken early, and pretend I`d just arrived to babysit my son. When the Scios got home, I`d have their dinner cooked and then wander the streets till everyone had gone to bed.

Then I`d quietly sneak down the driveway and pick the lock on the garage and
catch some sleep on the cold, dusty concrete floor.

This went on for some weeks till my older brother caught up with me one day and told me that our Dad was going off on a world tour for a month or so and was looking for someone to house sit for him. But what could be worse than where I was living now ?

As much as the idea of staying in that house disgusted me. I reluctantly called my Dad and told him I was willing to stay there while he was away.

I found out the date he was scheduled to fly out and told him I`d be there the day before that to get grooved in on what would be expected of me.

I arrived on the appointed day and moved back into the bedroom I`d slept in as a kid. The memories came flooding back. All bad.

It was like going back to Auschwitz.  I couldn`t  have felt any worse...
How far off the mark was I on that one.

The next morning Dad woke me to inform me that his flight arrangements had  unexpectedly been delayed indefinitely. He didn`t explain why. That was talk for adults.  I was escorted down to the glasshouses and put to work.

I wanted to scream at him.
"You stupid fucking piece of shit. How dare you expect me to slave in hot glasshouses for no pay. I am a guy who is now cause over life. I have an IQ higher than you can count. I have been a essential part of a group that is salvaging the planet. I have an ethics presence that makes women moist.
I could be running General motors. I can free people from deep psychological problems. I am a super being. How dare you even think you can tell me what to do. I could come back here as a millionaire, buy you out, and force you to work for me as my fucken slave.  You psycho sick fuck !!!!"

Instead I picked up a hoe and started weeding.

I got a legal letter from some dipshit telling me to appear in the family court in town as my wife had requested a divorce.

For some reason I had my son with me that morning. I dressed and was about to drop my now four year old boy at a daycare when my father told me he could look after him while I was away.

That was the only time in my whole life my father actually heard what I said.

I was completely fucked up. I had nothing. I was so demoralized that if someone had pointed a gun at my head and said " Your money or you life!" I would have told them to help themselves to both.

I looked at my four year old son.  I looked at my father and I said.....

" NO !!!!"

No words can describe my anguish.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 05, 2011, 10:12:24 AM
                                    SENSE OF DOUBT

                                        Part 129

                                 Nothing from nothing

It ended up being two weeks before my father took off on his trip.
I dropped him off at the airport where he was met by his girlfriend and her daughter.
Dad was amazingly generous to all sorts of people who weren`t his family.

He`d even gone so far as to let some of his friends know I was available to mow their lawns while he was away. All they had to do was phone me up.
How generous is that ?

None did.

I had to face the fact that all of the spiritual enlightenment I`d experienced over the last twelve years was rendered null and void in a few minutes by a Neanderthal.

I really must have gotten something horribly wrong.

The old piano I`d learned on as a kid was still in the front room. So I started to play through some of the old sheet music in the piano stool.
It reminded me that I still had my collection sitting in Florida.
I made a few inquiries about the cost of getting   them freighted back to New Zealand.  Then I phoned a guy I`d gotten friendly with at Flag and asked him if he would take my suitcase in to his office and hold it there till a freight company came and collected it.

It worked.
A week later I had all my music back. Thanks to Pat Breche. Hope you`re out.

One evening the phone rang. It was Mike Ferriss, the Director of Special Affairs from Scientology. His casual , laid back manner always belied what he was really up to.

Turned out there had been quite a large exodus from the org while I had been overseas. These ex scios had formed a group still practicing Scientology outside of the  control of the official "Church"
Mike was wondering if I could get in touch with them and infiltrate the group.
He needed to know who was there and what they were up to.

Mike gave me the names of some of them. One name was a guy who`d audited me a bit and was someone I found interesting.
Colin Brown. So I figured why not ?
I`ll hook up with Colin and see for my own sake what was going down in this
"Squirrel" group.

They were meeting nightly at the home of Bruce Lawson. Mike gave me the phone number and address. I`m certain that the gossip about being blown from Flag would have reached even the squirrel group and I guess that would have provided a good cover for me to get in there.

I phoned Bruce. He told me he`d clear it with the others before allowing me to visit them.

He called back the next day and gave me a time to be there.
Then I started to pull back. I assured him I was only interested in talking to Colin. Otherwise forget it.

He called back a few hours later and it was on.

Mike kept in daily contact with me.

It was Wednesday evening when I climbed into my father`s piece of shit old Holden and set off to pretend that Scientology had fucked me over.
It was an easy role to play. Too easy.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 06, 2011, 09:51:48 AM
                                      SENSE OF DOUBT

                                         Part 130

                        From the edge of the world to your town

One thing I came to know through surveying thousands of people on the street
was by far the most popular answer to the question "If you could be anything, what would you most like to be ?"

What do you think they said over 90 % of the time ?


This a goal I`ve never had. It gives me a rather rare perspective.

As you can see from what I`ve been going through in my story. I was in a position where my circumstances were the perfect ingredients to be completely unhappy.

But I want to point out something quite insightful.

As I`d never had the goal to be happy...I was never in the position where I felt I was being deprived of something.

This, I believe, is what made surviving these hardships relatively effortless.

Let`s see if I can make some sense of this for you.

It could help you to ride out the bad times.

The weather is a great example. It is common knowledge that sunny days make people happy, whilst rainy days are a cause for deflated morale.

It`s common knowledge. Even the weather segment on TV reassures us of the validity of this fact.

But weather is weather. There is no such thing as bad weather.
All there is, is inappropriate clothing.

Your whole life can change by just grasping this one perspective.

It opens up a whole new world. 

From here we start to see the source of over 90% of the suffering mankind has endured since the first person laughed at someone else`s misfortune.

Knowing what I am about to tell you is the cause and cure for depression.

Not knowing what I`m about to say has put you at effect of circumstances.

You see happiness can only come about due to favorable circumstances.
If circumstances are good...Happiness can poke it`s head out. If circumstances are bad... Happiness evaporates.

Now remember earlier I spoke of there being no right or wrong. It`s the same with good and bad.  Nothing is good or bad until you judge it so.

And people are obsessive about it. Listen in on some conversations now that I`ve pointed this out.

" Johnny has passed his exam."  "Oh that`s good."

" But he wants to drop out and go off with that floozy from the other side of the tracks."  "That`s terrible."

" She`s recently won a lot of money ."  "Oh that`s good."

"Did you see in the news that there is a new strain of flu coming ?"
"Yes. One more thing we don`t need."

"Hasn`t the weather been atrocious lately ?"
"I know. Isn`t it so depressing."

90% of people are going around as part time magistrates.
Proclaiming circumstances good or bad.

Circumstances are circumstances. Till you judge them, they remain as just that.

If you have judged rain as bad. Don`t be surprised when rain puts you in a depression. You made it bad. It didn`t. It was only and forever will be simply rain.

This habit of judging and blaming circumstances for your well being is how you create your own depression. 

Let`s go even deeper into this.  Happiness is the most addictive substance known to man.

Why have no breakthroughs been made on the subject of addiction ?
Because the mind has been given the task of resolving it.

So the mind tells us that there is no cure. It`s a case of just accepting the fact that we are an addict and then trying to manage it. Which means avoiding certain circumstances.

The mind separates addictions into its many manifestations.

It tells us that there is addictions to many different things. Each with a separate
way of managing it. 

I`m sorry to tell all these guys that they have been wasting their time. But they have. 
There is only one addiction. There has only ever been one addiction.

And that addiction is to Happiness.

Why can`t  addicts just cease to indulge in their addiction of choice ?
Because it makes them sad.
Why do they keep using their substance or habit of choice ?
Because it makes them HAPPY.

Why are you addicted to one thing and not another ?
Because the thing you are addicted to makes you happy !!!

Lose your addiction to happiness and you are free to drink, smoke, fuck. gamble,
fight, inject, argue, believe bullshit philosophies, or eat, because it`s appropriate at the time. Not because it creates circumstances where Happiness can raise it`s ugly head.

If reading this has caused you to feel a little depressed...
Or if you are generally depressed anyway, I want you to find me the reference that you have a God given right to be happy.

Where is it ?

I`ll come back at this at a higher level soon.
For now.... Discard your addiction to "happiness". Stop polluting circumstances that "are what they are", with baseless judgments like a High Court Judge with the power to terminate life.

If you do you will find nothing that displeases you.

I just hope and pray that none of what I`ve just told you has caused you to feel Happy.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 07, 2011, 09:18:25 AM
                                         SENSE OF DOUBT

                                              Part 131


I pulled up outside the "squirrel nest" and made my way to the front door.

Bruce Lawson, a guy who looked remarkably like Abraham Lincoln, welcomed me inside and led me through to a small room where Colin was waiting for me.

Mike had briefed me on everything Colin wouldn`t have wanted me to know about him. As in everything he`d ever confessed in his sec check confessionals
that he would have been led to believe would never see the light of day.

Colin was genuinely happy to see me. We exchanged pleasantries and then we got down to it.

Colin ..." I`m well aware that you have been sent here by Mike Ferris."
He didn`t put me through the embarrassment of denying it.

I asked Colin what had been the catalyst for all these guys leaving Scientology.
He assured me that they hadn`t left Scientology. In fact they were actually applying Scientology as Hubbard had intended. Something that was no longer possible inside the "church."

I asked for clarification.

Colin said "well here is an example... Are you familiar with Paul Norris ?"
I told Colin that I was, and inquired about his well being."

Colin drew a deep breath and told me what had happened to Paul since I last saw him.

" Well.... John Rich offered to help Paul to get to OT 3. remember John Rich ?"
Of course I did. He`d helped me without my knowledge and when I found out that I owed him Eight hundred dollars he refused to put why down in writing."
" Yeah that`s the guy."
I said.."But he`s now a declared SP."
Colin said... "So am I."

"So what happened to Paul ? I prompted.

" Well John Rich borrowed money against Paul`s new house. Paul had gone so far into debt that the only way he`d ever recover was to turn into superman.. Which is exactly what OT 3 is supposed to deliver.

So Paul set off to the Advanced Org in Sydney, leaving his non Scientology wife to pay the crippling loan repayments on the house while taking care of their two pre school age children.

Paul was gone for months.  His wife was alerted that he was flying back and had completed his objective of attaining the case level of Operating Thetan Three.
(Freedom from overwhelm)

When he came through the arrivals gate, his wife noticed something odd. He didn`t seem to recognize her and was highly agitated.

She got him home and called his parents.

When Paul`s parents arrived they were freaked out. What had happened to their loving, effervescent son ?

They called a doctor. He arrived, accessed Paul and then booked him into a psychiatric Hospital.  Paul had been sent back from the Advanced Org clinically insane.

Now it just so happened that I knew a woman who was friends of Paul`s parents.
I bumped into her on the street one day and she pleaded with me to get the church to do something to help Paul and his wife. His parents are worried sick and
don`t know what to do. He`s strapped down on a bed in a psych ward and raving about some guys called Xenu and Terl.  He thinks it`s the year 3000 and we are being invaded by Psychlo`s."

Colin continued.  "Ferris and his crew have been intimidating Paul`s family and have washed their hands of him.

We tried to help. But this guy is completely fucked.

His house has been sold out from under his wife and kids.

All Ferris cares about is keeping it quiet.Organized Scientology has washed their hands of him... and his family  !  Is that why you got into Scientology ???

I assured Colin that it wasn`t. But it just sounds so unbelievable.
Surely there is something about this I don`t know. I felt there must be more to the story.

I asked Colin who else was out here with him.

He told me pretty much the same names as Ferris had.
The thing that struck me was that if all these auditors were here...Who the heck was left in the org ?

The one set of names I didn`t already know was out here, was Dick and Amy Povall, who happened to be the parents of the Executive Director of Auckland Day.  Oops !!! That was potentially embarrassing.

Colin looked at his watch then thanked me warmly for having the guts to come and see them," even though Ferris sent you."
He then informed me that the Wrestling was about to start on TV and he never missed it.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: useful_anon on March 11, 2011, 09:38:27 PM
Just thought id let everyone know, "Ididntcomeback" is sick and in the hospital at the moment. Nothing serious and will be returning soon. There is no need to contact him directly and updates will be posted here as they happen.

Just so people dont think this thread has been abandoned.

cheers guys.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Sharone Stainforth on March 11, 2011, 10:17:50 PM
Send my love and hope for a speady recovery.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 13, 2011, 06:45:26 PM
I`m out of hospital.
Need a few days to get back on my feet.
TV3 news had an item about the vulture ministers in Christchurch this evening
(Sunday 13 th March 2011. Will get link up soon.

Rest for now.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: NED on March 13, 2011, 07:30:31 PM
Welcome back.  :o)

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: NED on March 14, 2011, 07:42:04 AM
It's up!

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 20, 2011, 12:39:06 PM
                                       SENSE OF DOUBT

                                             Part 132

                                           Self murder

Okay... I`m back.  That was quite an experience.... Being in hospital, surrounded by people who were all victims of their bodies, myself included. I experienced nothing that contradicted my knowingness that all physical manifestations are the direct result of prior thought.

Unfortunately at this stage in our evolution that thought process includes the destruction of the physical manifestation of the individuation that we call ourselves.

Which brings me to a fellow Scientologist I`d known for years. Lloyd Speedy.
Lloyd was a bit of an intense guy. He`d partake in Scientology in spurts of enthusiasm and then disappear off lines again for months at a time.

I happened to be at my old flat in Otahuhu one day when Lloyd arrived.
He was moving in. His recent marriage, that lasted less than a day, had folded and he needed a new residence.  I helped Lloyd to move a car load of his possessions into the spare room and then we had a cuppa and a chat.

Lloyd was spooked by something. It was as if he`d had a hit put out on him by the mob. You couldn`t help but get the idea he was on the run. Something bad was pursuing him. He was freaked out. I just knew what ever it was wasn`t going to end well.

The next day when I visited the flat I was surprised to learn that Lloyd had already moved out.

A few months later I got a phone call from, of all people, Paul Redfern. He had been mimeo I/c for years and always reminded me of a cobbler.
Paul told me that Lloyd was in really bad shape and would it be possible for me to take him in and keep him out of harms way. I`d said I`d be happy to help except I don`t actually live anywhere.

I didn`t hear any more for another few months.
Then I was told that Lloyd had been sent to the Advanced Org in Sydney where his case was getting sorted out. Lloyd was a Clear so that meant the Advanced Org was where his particular case phenomenon could be dealt with.
Oh...And it wasn`t cheap. It was common knowledge that one came back from the A.O. broke and in debt.

Soon after his arrival back in New Zealand, Lloyd was staying at the home of a Scientology public family. One day when they were all out, Lloyd went to the bathroom, got out a razor and sank it into the side of his neck. Then he dragged it across his throat.  He was found laying there lifeless, in a  massive pool of his own blood.

Lloyd had murdered the entity who was tormenting his life beyond description.

With this act he had declared that nothing is better than everything I am.

Lloyd was a Scientologist. He was a Clear.
And that is who he murdered.

I`m sure that when he dreamed about the super human abilities that Hubbard promised he would experience, if he followed Ron`s well marked path, he
wasn`t picturing himself laying in a pool of his own blood in a strangers home.

Which to me makes the suicide of a Scientologist even more tragic than other suicides.  Lloyd had invested time and money and his trust in the certainty that  he`d not end up like he did.
He`d made an effort. He`d done what he was assured would enrich his life and the lives of those he interacted with.

Lloyd`s name never came up in Scientology again. It`s as if he never existed.

I guess someone snapped up his LRH library and never gave a thought to the fact that these were the ideas Lloyd had absorbed which helped create the identity that he had murdered.

Every time you believe untruths about who you are, you are unwittingly creating,
within yourself, the dual roles of murderer and murdered.

Nothing accelerates this process as quickly as Scientology.

It promises you everything but leaves you a severely compromised nothing.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on March 27, 2011, 10:46:10 AM
                                    SENSE OF DOUBT

                                            Part 133

                                     I think I`m turning Japanese

I got a phone call in early 1990 from the Executive Director of Auckland Day,
Maggie Willis.  Maggie never liked me. But then again no one in authority at Auckland org ever did either.  It was actually beyond rude. None of these people had ever actually sat down and gotten to know me.

I just came up on their radar as someone to dislike.
It always stuck me as insane that the one guy who could fill the org with new people was considered an enemy by its leaders. To add insult to injury I was always treated in a very unprofessional manner. Every time !!!

Let me give an example. Years earlier Maggie had called me into her office to discuss something with me.  I was a TTC member at the time. (Full time study to be an auditor) Maggie needed something from me so was pretending to be nice.
She told me that a problem had come up in the org and she wanted to run a few ideas by me in an effort to resolve the problem.

I told Maggie that that would be fine...So long as she didn`t raise her voice and start screaming at me. (I`d heard Maggie discussing things with people in the past)  Anyway with that, the charade was over. Maggie`s face reddened and she began her tirade of abuse and threats to me. I got up and left her office.

Was it wrong of me to request that our discussion take place in a civilized manner?
Apparently !!!

Anyhow Maggie was now on the phone telling me that there was a big push from up lines to get Tokyo Org up to Saint Hill size.  St. Hill was the org run personally by Hubbard in England in the 60`s. The key thing about his production levels was that St Hill made a profit.

So that org`s statistics became the benchmark for all Scio Orgs.

Maggie explained that to push Tokyo over the top required a massive influx of "raw meat" (Hubbard`s words for new people. 
I was needed there because of my expertise in dealing with new people.

I reminded Maggie that I was classed as a blown Sea Org member and a "freeloader."  Another Hubbard term, to take away an ex staff members dignity.
If you left staff before your contract was up, you were to repay the full cost of
any Scientology training or processing that you received while on staff.

This practice is unique to Scientology. 

Maggie told me that my presence in Japan was so important that it over rode any
other considerations.  And just to sweeten the deal she assured me I would be getting Y 9,000 payment per week. That was equivalent to US $90 p.w.

My travel arrangements would be made for me. All I had to do was arrive at the airport.

I checked my calender. It was blank. Actually it was always blank.
Still is.

I`d been hanging out with a girl I`d recently gotten reacquainted with.
The day before I was due to fly out she informed me that she was pregnant.

My visa for Japan was only for three months, so I knew I`d be back in plenty of time to readjust to all this.

Once again I was jetting my way to a foreign land with no idea what to expect.

Upon arrival in Tokyo I climbed aboard a bus destined for a well known Tokyo hotel
that was apparently near the org. Once there I hailed a cab and showed him the address I had scribbled on a piece of paper. The driver looked at it. Exited the car and went to the Hotel`s reception desk presumably for a translation.

When he got back he said to me..."This area not famous."

From memory the area was called Nishi Gotanda.

It was evening when we finally pulled up outside the org.
Whoever it was that dealt with me decided to book me in to a nearby hotel for the night. The Toko Hotel.  I recall being given Y 10,000 to cover me for the night.

The room was so small that I`d describe it as a bed with walls around it.
There was nothing to do but lay on the bed and watch TV.

Naturally there was nothing on that made any sense to me. Including the porn channels. Japanese porn is a great way of tuning into the culture at a raw level.

The theme of these movies was the torture and degradation of women.
What a fucked up culture. Just ridiculous. But how insane is this. They will show a woman being pack raped by a bunch of lecherous mental patients... They`ll show women being restrained by ropes and chains as she is being tortured and humiliated. But all genitalia are censored by a fuzzy mosaic.

Thank God for decency !!!

During my stay in Japan I couldn`t help but notice just how fucked up they were sexually. It was just so bizarre. Insane actually.
The men read phone book size comics while commuting on public transport.
The comics are peppered with candid photos of Japanese schoolgirls in uniform waiting at bus stops or just walking down the street.

So you see these Japanese businessmen ogling over a photo of something that
is actually right there in front of them for real. 
I felt like tapping one of these morons on the shoulder and pointing out that there
were actually live schoolgirls all around him. Sometimes only inches away.

Just want to point out the powerful brainwashing these morons were the effect of.  Totally engrossed in a photo of something apparently very desirable. Yet totally blind to the actual manifestation that was all around them.

Being in Japan to me was like being on another planet.

At the train stops there were wanted posters of the four or five criminals who had evaded police capture. I say for or five and I mean it.
Crime is so rare in Japan. Not because people want to be good. It is because the
idea of being singled out is unthinkable to their culture.

There was a briefcase abandoned directly across the road from the orgs front door. It stayed there for the entire time I was in Japan.  No one wanted to be seen stopping and looking at or inside it.

Try leaving a briefcase out on the sidewalk anywhere  else in the world.
Gone in sixty seconds. But not in Japan.  You get it ?
Japan is it`s own universe.

Saving face is everything !!!

At 8:00am every morning a community siren goes off to let all know that it`s time for work. Millions of identically dressed men in business suits file out onto the streets and march onto train platforms ready for a day of not being different.

I watched these guys sit at their desks from the discomfort of my hotel room.
Their purpose was to be at that desk. Any incidental work they handled was secondary to that. It struck me that if one of them was to disappear he`d be
replaced within hours by an identical looking guy with the same interests and hobbies and the same family photo on his desk. It could take weeks before he realized it was someone else`s family photo he had on his desk.

At 6:00 PM they`d all hit the local bars. And by 11:00 pm it was Zombieland on the streets of Tokyo. All these identical drunk businessmen arms wrapped around each other singing at the top of their lungs.

Thousands of them.
Meanwhile the women shuffled around in their traditional clothes during the daylight hours , covering their mouths and giggling if you spoke to them.

Why am I raving on about this ? Am I a racist ? Can`t I let people enjoy their thousands of years of cultural traditions without criticizing them ?

After all didn`t the Japanese give us the Kamikaze pilot ?
((during world War II) a member of a special corps in the Japanese air force charged with the suicidal mission of crashing an aircraft laden with explosives into an enemy target, especially a warship. )
Weren`t the Japanese renowned for their uncaring cruelty in World War 2 ?
Weren`t Japanese soldiers prepared to die rather than be captured. ?
"Death before dishonor !!!"

Are these characteristics we need to take with us into an enlightened age. ?

My experiences in Japan helped me to absorb the suffocation of mass mind control.  It`s a well known fact that Japanese educators have as their primary responsibility to hammer all the "square pegs" through the round hole.

And the spooky thing is ...You can`t see it happening to you.
We are so preoccupied with not being singled out and held up to ridicule by our peers that we go along with the stupidest traditions ,.... to our own peril.

But Japan doesn`t hold a candle to what Scientology has in store for the world.

Here I am right in the middle of the most brainwashed culture on the planet and yet I couldn`t see that the culture I was promoting was even more oppressive.
Couldn`t see it for looking.

Once again... "You can`t see what you are looking through. !!!"

This is why it is essential that one carefully inspects what one takes on board.
One basic incorrect thought can manifest itself in ways that will leave you wondering how you could have been so stupid and blind.

Tradition and culture are why the world is running over with insane manifestations.

People instinctively know that there is something drastically wrong with the world.

People know that the scope for life improvement is vast.

The world is manifested as it is because of the thoughts that proceeded it.

Those thoughts are always from the past. They are inspired by fear and superstition. 

Every time someone performs a traditional ritual they are perpetuating exactly that. Fear and superstition.

If you actually trace the roots of these traditional rituals (Some of which are just plainly insane) you will discover uniformly that the originator of the tradition had an IQ of a child.

Sure put on your fancy clothes and do your dances. But any time your ritual isn`t something you yourself are willing to be the target of.... just leave it in the pile with every other stupid idea you`ve ever heard.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 04, 2011, 01:17:25 PM
                                         SENSE OF DOUBT

                                            part 134

                                          The model

The feeling one got when entering the Tokyo org was one of "Panic Stations."

There was a major push to get Tokyo org over the hump to Saint Hill size.
Many Sea Org members from all over the planet were there bossing the local staff around in a manner that could only be described as Nazi.

As well as S.O. there were other non contracted scios there as well pitching in.
Including two leggy Australian chicks who turned out to be my workmates.

The local Japanese refused to do any sort of public contact. Like I said they had a cultural thing about standing out from the crowd.

So these two Aussie girls and I spent the bulk of our time hanging out outside the
local train station handing out free O.C.A.`s (personality tests.)
The maintenance guy from inside the station came to loath us.

No sooner had these thousands of Japanese businessmen entered the station
when they just dropped our handouts on the ground.

The couple of times I went into the station it was actually hard to see the concrete floor due to the thousands of our O.C.A`s that littered the place.
In some places several deep.

The guy on the broom would become exasperated at times and venture out to
give us a death stare.  When it was time to eat there was only one place to go.
It was an imitation Mc Donald`s called "The Sun Diner."

Trying anywhere else was just too risky. The food was expensive and it was all strange to us Westerners. One lady at the org helpfully suggested that I use a method she`d found successful. She told me when I`d had enough of burgers and chips for breakfast lunch and dinner, that if I went to another food outlet and just went with what looked good.

I tried that. Bought a bun that looked good. I bit into it and spat the mouthful of
disgustingly flavored content into the nearest bin along with the rest of it.

After about ten days of this I finally got brave enough to try a restaurant.
They all had plastic replicas of their menus in the front window.

I looked hungrily at a steak that had been cooked barbecue style.
It was US $25.00. Basically two days pay.

I waited by the window till a Modernish Japanese woman entered the restaurant doorway. I was able to bail her up and point at the steak meal in the window
and did a charade of her telling the waitress that I wanted to order it.

That worked a treat. A few minutes later my steak meal was delivered to our table as I had a kind of conversation with my new friend.

As I cut the steak with my knife I realized it was actually a sculptured hamburger patty with BBQ lines painted on it. Not only that it was served with fries and a small salad. With a slice of bread and butter.

Essentially I was having the same meal I`d had three times a day for the last ten days except it was costing five times as much.

Meanwhile the execs back at the org were complaining that what we were doing to contact new public wasn`t resulting in "bodies in the shop."
From now on we were to actually body route people into the org.

The girls had no problem with that. All they had to do was talk to a Japanese businessman and they`d draw a crowd. For these  guys to be the focus of attention of an attractive looking white girl would send them into a sexual frenzy.

They would have followed these girls anywhere.

I`d seen this method used back in the early 70`s by a cult called "The children of God." It was run by a guy named David Moses who had semi successfully predicted the end of the world. His prediction that was widely promoted by his followers was that the world would end with the arrival of Comet Kohoutek.

In 1973, David Berg, founder of the Children of God, predicted that Comet Kohoutek foretold a colossal doomsday event in the United States in January 1974. Children of God members distributed Berg's messages, which warned of impending doom, across the country. The majority of U.S.-based members then fled in anticipation to existing group communes (or formed new ones) around the world.

Along with telling young men on the streets of major cities that the world was about to end, there was copious hints of free sex if one was to follow these young female disciples back to their cult.

So when Kohoutek failed to meet David Bergs graphic images that illustrated his handouts, his world kind of ended.

The girls and sexy flows was called "flirty fishing."

And now much to my embarrassment I was involved in a group that condoned flirty fishing.

The girls were having to fight off these Japanese businessmen.
But as faithfully as they followed the girls accentuated hip movements into the Tokyo org, they would follow them straight back out again as soon as the girls tried to get their butts back out on the streets.

A senior exec came and told me off. The two Aussie girls were bringing in hundreds of new people. I had failed to get one.

I asked this woman if she was stupid.  Couldn`t she see that these girls were
 simply exploiting Japanese men`s fantasies about white pussy.

Never one to be pessimistic this Senior exec suggested I shake my booty and lure in Japanese women.
Yes this is true. I was ordered to flirt with Japanese women to seduce them into becoming Scientologists.

Not only was this ridiculous in the extreme. It was also totally unworkable.
Japanese women are chattels. They don`t have desires and fantasies.
They just lay down , grimace and squeal. I saw it on TV in the hotel.

Eventually it was realized that flirty fishing wasn`t resulting in gross income,
the girls started to date the guys who put "business owner" down as their occupation.

They`d go out on a date with them and come back with 100 books sold.
They`d flirt with these suckers and seduce them into buying books for all their staff.

I`d noticed this gorgeous Japanese girl walk past where I was standing each day.
She was on the other side of the street, but she still made eye contact with me and would smile. Finally, I decided to wait across the street for her to come by.

She was delighted that I stopped her and as expected her knowledge of English was really just two words. "A little."
You ask Japanese if they speak English ..always the same response "a little."
Then when you launch into a sentence they just stare blankly at you.

I took this girl back to the org and introduced her to the small Japanese guy who slept at reception. His name was Sato and he was going to translate for me.

Trouble was Sato was as equally stunned by her beauty as I was and soon
she tired of his advances and blew.

She could easily have been a model. Or a movie star.
Men are suckers for attractive women.
I guess it makes the world go round...

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 05, 2011, 04:10:47 PM
                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                      Part 135


Due to the full on schedule I was keeping, I was running out of clean clothing.
The idea of using, let alone finding, a laundromat was more than I had time to deal with. I was being billeted at Sato`s home with about four other Japanese staff.
There was an outside deck that you couldn`t even stand up in and there was
the clothes line. It measured twelve inches across.

I did have a few old Sea org shirts in my suit case, so ended up wearing them into the org.
It was then that my old assailant, Gary Judge made an appearance. He was married to a Japanese girl and was living in Japan.
Although his wife was on staff, Gary was not. I believe he was making a killing as a teacher of English.

Upon seeing me, the two times he`d physically assaulted me, were as if they had never happened. Gary had obviously gotten over it. Good for him.
He treated me like a compatriot Kiwi and wanted all the latest gossip from back at Auckland org.

I`m probably the worst person in the world for that. I genuinely don`t give a toss about who is now married to whom. Or who has gone OT.

Anyway Gary asked how I liked Japan. When I told him I`d eaten burgers and chips three times a day since I arrived he offered to take me to a pizza restaurant.
We could catch up there.

So that evening Gary led me through the back streets of Nishi Gotanda till we
had ourselves a seat at this one of a kind pizza place.

For some reason pizza has always been used as a luxury item in Scientology.
It was reward for a good week of production.

When I was in the S.O. in L.A. my fellow workers would be whispering about the stats as Thursday 2:00 PM approached.
" We are going to be up stat this week. That means Pizza and a video."

And that`s how we were rewarded any Friday evening if your org had been up stat that week.
These suckers would be euphoric about it.  It was just pathetic.
You could have knocked on any door in any crime ridden street in the poorest suburb in L.A. and have a 50/50 chance of finding them eating pizza and watching a video.

It reminded me of a book I`d read by Victor Frankel about his experiences in Nazi concentration camps, including Auschwitz. He talked about the sense of Euphoria the inmates experienced when they found a dead body that was wearing better shoes or clothes than you. By the time everyone had finished with them, the dead were always the worst dressed people in the camp.

And this explains why Scientologists can appear so excited over small pleasures.
It`s actually the result of deprivation. Nothing more.

For a Scientologist to go to a movie or get a root, it`s like Ron has smiled on them. The Scientologist finds that he can even be up tone merely because no one is yelling at them.

There are too many examples of this phenomenon to list.

I recall speaking to a sea org member one day who was on leave.
She insisted on telling me about this great movie she`d seen.
When I asked her what other movies she`d seen recently. She came up blank.
I often see the movie she recommended in the video store. I`ve never felt that deprived as to want to endure it.

Gary and I chatted. He was up tone and bristling with enthusiasm.
" So how is old so and so ?
What`s whatshisname up to ?"

"Blown. Declared. Routed off staff. Blew." Gary was not liking my answers.
Too fucken bad. You want happy fairy stories ? Then go word clear "Alice in Wonderland."

I was far too down tone for Gary. We ended our diner date amicably. But I sensed
that Gary left the table at a loss as to why his earlier attempts to get me in line had failed. 

I hear Gary is now an OT Eight. Good fucken job.
Hope he is having fun with his OT powers making pizza, video and shoes, materialize.

As we stood up I noticed that the Executive Director of Tokyo org was dining alone in the booth directly next to ours.  She had been eaves dropping on the whole conversation. I had no doubt by the dirty look she gave me.

The reason she was dining alone bares mentioning. She was an American woman in her late 50`s. Maybe early 50`s . It`s deceiving aging Scios as they tend to look so haggard.  Anyhow she had been ordered over to Tokyo to get it Saint Hill size , abandoning her husband who was at that very moment dying of cancer back in the States.

I`m wondering now what condition she was assigning herself each week.

Treason comes to mind.

To me, this is a very clear example of why Scientology is so dangerous.
It would appear that any humane instinct can be totally over ruled by ones
loyalty to the cult.

The very next day I was to become Mr Nobody.
The staff refused to talk to me. Anyone seeing me would look away.
It was left up to Del Morris`s son, (was his name Colin ?) to inform me that
I was now a non person.  Because I had worn a Sea org shirt, and yet I was a blown Sea org member I had disgraced myself.  I was the lowest of the low.

I was forbidden the right to talk to anyone and not to expect any help from Scientology. 

Fucken brilliant. Here I am abandoned in a foreign country, unable to speak the language with no money.... hang on what about the pay I was owed ?

I went to treasury asking for my pay.
Much to my surprise I was informed that the pay I was owed had been taken
to reimburse the org for the night I spent in the Toko Hotel at their request.

I was a blown Sea org member. That was worse than never having gotten into Scientology at all.

I still had one secret weapon up my sleeve.

"I didn`t give a shit."

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 06, 2011, 09:41:50 AM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                     Part 136

                                  The astronaut

Being a non person was supposed to evoke primitive survival instincts in one.
Maybe restimulate the dire consequences of being cast out of the tribe back in primitive times.  I`ve seen it put scientologists in a state of high anxiety and fear.

For me it was heaven. I still had a few bucks on me and decided to see the sights.
Tokyo has this massive railway system. It`s composed of loops that intersect each other.  Despite my inability to read a word of Japanese, I could still make sense of the visual maps of the system and could tell which station to get off at
so I could ride another loop.

So that`s what I did all day. I was getting to see more of Tokyo than any expensive tourist company could give. And all for a couple of dollars.
I was able to see virtually the whole of Tokyo so long as I stayed within the railway system of loops.

Man this city was crowded. I did get a bit bewildered at one point.
The only station I knew by name was Nishi Gotanda, which was the one nearest the org.  I needed to confirm which one of the loops it was accessible on at the junction I was at.

I made my way into the passage between the loops. Literally thousands of identically dressed businessmen were also using the passage.

I realized I was now in a sped up version Fritz Langs 1927 movie Metropolis.

I can only hope that Japan has moved out from the claustrophobic mind
control imposed on it`s populations.

If it has it will be due to the effects of western rock music.

There was a town a few stops away from Nishi Gotanda called Harijuku.
Once a week at precisely of 2:00 PM a street there would be closed off by the humorless  Japanese Police force and within minutes hundreds of vans would line the street and Japanese kids would climb up on top of their roofs and start belting out western rock music. That`s right a whole band performing on a utility van roof. Drummer and all. Hundreds of them lined each side of the street.

The street would be populated by thousands of teenagers wearing all the latest
rock fashions and dancing to the music.
The officials tolerated it as it was just fun for the kids.

But it was deeper than that. These kids were experiencing something their parents never got to do. They were letting their hair down in an orgy of free expression and defiance of the "don`t stand out from the crowd" conditioning that had been  rampant in Japanese culture for generations.

One of the few bands that  I recognized as having talent was TM Network

I ran into the Aussie girls there with their little Dianetics banner and book stand.
They didn`t know I was a non person and were happy to see me.
Interesting that Scientologists need to be told who to hate.
It`s something that can`t be recognized by just interacting with the non person.

Anyway at 4:00 PM precisely the music stopped. There was a gap of approximately five minutes and the street returned to normal, as if the rock shows had never happened.
It was that quick. All the vans were gone and normal traffic flowed through the street again.

I could feel the effect that this new rock music was having on the kids.
Some of them started to dye their hair and wear clothing that showed a
desire to be different. 

Now the reason I know that it was the catalyst for change was that it effected these kids emotionally. The mind and body are sure to follow.
Every change is precipitated by a shift of emotion. No exceptions.

When I got back to the org. Colin looked at me as if I was scum.
Fuck you to !
Anyway he told me I was being sent to Australia to be disciplined.

To my way of thinking... being sent to Australia was discipline enough.

Ethics hearings and committees of evidence and all that shit to me were
all a vacation.
Colin was eager to put the fear of Ron into me.
Little did he know my mind was somewhere else.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 09, 2011, 10:17:22 AM
                                      SENSE OF DOUBT

                                           Part 137

                                           Free choice

Upon arriving in Sydney I was once again sent out to 3 George Street, Redfern,
to find a bed and put my suitcase somewhere. That house was like living in a public toilet. It was clammy, and it stank. It was also crowded.

I spent the days sorting out sizes for a shipment of New Sea Org uniforms that
had arrived to replace the garbage that was currently being worn by the crew.
It seems no one had the time to sort out what to do with me.

That all changed the day Alistair Bennett, spotted me.
Alastair had been assigned the task of getting the post of "Flag Service Consultant" filled.

Here`s why.

The previous FSC post had been held by a husband and wife team.
Wayne Baumgarten, a kiwi, and his Italian wife.
She was a stunner. In fact if you ever get to see the cult horror movie, "Suspiria", you`ll catch a glimpse of her as one of four witches standing over a
steaming cauldron.

The Flag service consultant office had the job of getting the OT5`s up to Flag for their OT 6 and 7, and 8.  A task that put one in direct competition with the Sydney advanced org.

You see the A.O. would try to keep selling stuff locally to these OT 5`s even though their next step on the bridge could only be delivered at Flag.
For example the "Key to Life " and "Life Orientation courses were being heavily pushed.

If one of the OT 5`s got roped into doing that it meant that money they could have put towards Flag was gone and also that they would be stuck in Sydney for months doing those courses.

So it was essential for the FSC to go out and see their prospects, rather than
bring them into the A.O. where they would be pounced on by stat hungry staff.
Mrs Baumgarten had been out spending time with an OT 7 named Trevor Eade.

It seems that Trevor and Mrs Baumgarten had gone out 2D.
This had resulted in the breakup of the Baumgarten`s marriage and the collapse
of the FSC office. None of the parties involved would even come into the A.O.

It didn`t take Alastair long to set his sights on me as the new FSC.

Alaistair made a list of all of my objections to taking over the post.
Then he methodically set about handling them.

First on the list was the fact that I had a gotten a girl pregnant back in New Zealand.  She was actually now on lines at Auckland org. So Alaistair had
Lauren Ferriss take her aside and see if she was going to be a problem.

Alastair came back to me with the assurance that the  girl concerned was not going to create a PR flap and she would just go away.

My next concern was that I didn`t want to be in the Sea Org and I didn`t want to be on staff.

Alaistair explained that I could buy myself out of the contract for US $60,000.
Obviously I didn`t have the money.

The last thing my auditor at Flag had said to me was. "You are out Int. Do
not sit in any auditing chair for any reason unless that is the subject of your auditing."

This news fired Alaistair`s mind into action.
He had me scheduled for auditing with an OT 8  auditor for the following day.

You see with out int, the afflicted has the compulsion to leave.
Obviously handling my "Out Int" would remedy my desire to route out of the Sea org.

Once that was done Alastair, who was treating me as if I was the most special person who had ever walked into an org, began implementing a mind control
policy that Hubbard had written.

It`s title is "Handling the public individual."

I`d become expert at applying it myself over the years.

But do you see. The fact that you have used it makes you even more vulnerable
to it yourself. Maybe you`ve heard the line that the easiest people to sell to are sales people.

It`s like you are compelled to fall victim of the very techniques you have used yourself as you have built your existence on knowing that they work.
To not let them work is to destroy yourself.

I know it`s a weird head space.

Anyway... here is how it works.

People simply do not like to be bossed around. They have a need to make their own decisions.
So by using "handling the public individual" you can manipulate a person into choosing to do what you want them to do.
It`s quite ingenious.

Just a warning... If you use this... you will fall victim to it yourself.

Hubbard teaches you to use this thus.

You dangle a Scientology service in front of a prospect.
Now the obvious choice the prospect has to consider is..."Shall I do the service or not ?"

It`s a difficult decision. Their minds are trying to make a judgment that is bereft of relevant  information.  The mind is destabilized and feels stressed.
You come to the rescue by removing a difficult decision from the table and replacing it with an easy decision.

" Do you want to pay by cash or cheque.?"

The prospect will often give a nervous laugh and protest that you`ve skipped a step. That`s acknowledged mischievously and the cheque or cash option comes to the rescue again.  The mind wants to move on from this socially awkward development. The prospect wants to be seen to be making a choice of his own free will. And he does. It`s just his choice is now on "how" not "if."

Now the prospect is evaluating which way to pay. It`s going to be his decision.
He`s not going to be pushed around.

He has now made the decision on how to pay. The decision on whether or not to pay at all has been removed from the equation.

Here are a few example of how to use this.

"I need you to get some milk from the shop. Would you rather walk or ride your bike ?"

"Should I buy ribbed or plain condoms on the way over ?"

"Would you rather be stuck wondering what to get me for my birthday, or simply get me this thing that I really want, right now ?"

"Would you prefer to have a religion based on faith...? Or one based on provable fact ?"

"Do you think the "Communication Course" or the "Personal efficiency course" would be more suited to your current needs ?"

" Would you rather be the new FSC .... Or spend eternity on your own, disintegrating as a being ?"

"Cash or cheque ?"

My out Int was going to be handled permanently by an OT 8.
My US $60,000 was about to be wiped.
My problems with solving basic survival problems were going to be eliminated.
My pregnant girlfriend was going to disappear.

Alaistair had even gotten me to sign up with Telecom for a new phone line that was in my name.

He helped me get everything I needed so my new office was ready to deliver.

I was suddenly aware that I was now the new Flag Service Consultant for ANZO.
Yet I don`t recall ever making that decision.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 27, 2011, 02:24:00 PM
                                     SENSE OF DOUBT

                                          Part 138

                                      Makes no sense at all.

It`s been about two weeks since I last added to my story. So I`ll explain a bit about what`s been going on. 

I have a health problem which is baffling the medical profession.
It is potentially life threatening. But the thing is the medical experts admit that they don`t know what is happening. It doesn`t make sense.

Which is what I could have told them for free months ago.

I had an emotional desire to understand death. Not a passing thought.
But a deep desire to know what the fuck this thing called life is all about.

So I`m going to report back with some of what I`ve come to know... as it may be of use to you.

This is such a tricky subject. And it will go against everything you have ever been taught.

I can boldly state that the amassed knowledge of  "life and death" in the great halls of learning have amounted to nothing.
You could collect everything ever written on the subject of philosophy and throw it out. Maybe a few books have some value but the truth in them is almost always misinterpreted and molded into a communicative  context that actually renders them null and void.

One of the false assumptions that have set philosophers off on the wrong foot is that all this should all make sense.

If you are looking for "Eureka" moments. you are already in the wrong ballpark.

From our perspective, here in physical, we have a need to have things make sense and appear just.

So let`s rattle a few cages.  The reason we are stuck here is because we are here. The reason why we don`t know why we are stuck here is because we know we are here.

That is your belief. And what  you believe, as it turns out, is EVERYTHING.

To be able to view ultimate reality you must be in tune with ultimate reality.

Enter my medical condition.

How else could I gain the perspective needed to view ultimate reality other than by having the door on physical reality threaten to closed behind me ?

So do you see ? It`s as if I have a foot tentatively in both camps.

Physical and non physical.

And the view is not what anyone expected.

This will rock your world a bit.  If you find it disturbing I can assure you there is no need to be frightened. Everything works out fine.

Everything I speak of is stuff you have witnessed yourself . The trouble was you
will have inevitably focused on the aspects of it with which you could relate to. The parts that made sense.

Thereby totally missing the perspective needed to transcend physical.

By being here in physical it is part of the deal that you don`t peak behind the curtain.  This is why the mystery of life has not been solved in thousands, millions, of years. 
The function of physical is to perpetuate in time.

Do to otherwise is to achieve nothing.
The whole physical universe is moving clockwise.
The resolution of the physical universe requires one go anti clockwise.
You cannot turn back the clock while  in this physical universe. And equally true,
you cannot resolve the physical universe while you believe you are a part of it.

I hope this isn`t sounding like something complicated. It is as simple as a baby.
And if you look into a baby`s eyes, you`ll see they know this.

A baby has entered physical with a desire for experience.
An old man on his death bed has had too much experience.

Birth and death are the doors between the two worlds.

Both of these states offer a viewpoint or a perspective that is obscured during
an industrious life.

The baby is reaching into physical. The near dead are withdrawing from physical.

Now here is the doozey !!!

Where do people go when they die ?
I mean this one has created hell on earth.
The amount of suffering that has been endured because of wrong answers to this question defies belief.

If this one question could finally be answered...It would change the course of history. But how would we know it was the right answer ?
What if it`s just more bullshit ?
What if the answer doesn`t feel right to me ?
What if it just doesn`t make sense?

I`ll end soon with that answer and continue to explain this in my next post.

But I need you to grasp how profound what I`m about to tell you is.
I`m sure you have experienced the deep sad pit of despair over losing a loved one. This is serious shit. I mean the finality of it.
The person was here one second and gone the next.

Gone !!!!  For eternity. Dead !!!

What do you say to a mother who is burying her child ?
What do you say to a grieving widow ?

Do you carry on the party line that they are now with God in Heaven ?

If you tell them that you have also opened the door to the possibility that
they could well be burning in Hell.

You can`t have a God without a Devil in this physical plain.
The only reason anything can exist at all in physical is because it`s opposite
has manifested in the same instant.

But let`s get back to death.
As one looks down on death there is nothing missing.
The brain is still there. The eyes. The whole physical form minus a few grams of energy is all there.
Yet your loved one isn`t. The warmth of their smile. The sense of humor...
All gone. 

Yet you look at the physical form and it is lifeless. Yet it`s all there.
Nothing has gone.

So here it is.

They were never here in the first place.

And while you`re reeling from that....

Neither are you.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on April 28, 2011, 01:43:11 PM
                                 SENSE OF DOUBT

                                       Part 139

                                   Who are you ?

I guess telling you that you aren`t here is a bit of a controversial statement to make.  After all. You are reading this. You have felt joy and sorrow... Was it all just a weird dream ?  Okay let`s clarify this...

Maybe take the view that you are here.
Well .... Where ?

Doctors with microscopes have never found you.

Likewise... You can search any book thoroughly and not locate the author.
All you find is traces of where he/she has been.

Actually what you are witnessing, is where the author has previously focused.
And it`s the same thing when looking for you. All you ever find is traces of where you have previously focused.

Death is a withdrawal of that focus.

Now the reason this is hard to grasp is because of your current focus.
By looking through your mind and your physical eyes you have eliminated 99%
of what there is to be observed.

The process of death restores you to 100%. never feel as alive as when you are dead.

Now you see that you have been asleep.
Nothing in physical has any importance whatsoever. All that ever mattered was the love and hate and interaction with who you were not.

Your physical eyes have blinded you to the fact that you are surrounded by them
eternally.  Losing your physical perspective and created identity, is the most liberating thing you can ever experience.

You finally know who you are. And it turns out you are pretty God damned cool !!
The exhilaration of finding yourself is never experienced by those who were never lost.

Are you starting to get it ?

That is why you came here into physical. You came here to lose yourself.
Nothing can be learned that is already known. Nothing can be remembered unless it has been forgotten. A journey cannot begin from the destination.

Joy cannot be experienced in the absence of sorrow.
Perfection cannot exist in the absence of imperfection.

This world is not broken. It is perfectly imperfect.
When you see this, you will laugh and cry simultaneously.

Time will disappear. 

Welcome home.


Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 02, 2011, 04:29:34 PM
I will be resuming  "My Story" starting on Friday November the 4th 2011.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: NED on November 03, 2011, 06:15:06 AM
'Bout bloody time~!  :o)

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 05, 2011, 12:24:32 AM
                                       Sense of Doubt

                                            Part 140

                                       Another day at the orifice

One thing that was becoming clear to me as I settled in to my new post as the Flag Service Consultant in Sydney was the fact that there was no shortage of bad news.

It came in as regular as clockwork. All I had to do was sit at my desk and it would arrive as soon as I sat down.

A chubby guy who introduced himself to me as the Captain presented himself
at my desk and promptly tried to stare me down.  His name was David Paul and this was the beginning of a tradition that happened daily.  He would take a position in the open planned office space and either sit or stand and stare at me.

I`d get a creepy feeling and sure enough when I raised my head there he`d be
somewhere in the vicinity starring at me. The day Alistair Bennet organized my
phone was when the Captain came over and confided something to me which I`m
sure very few Sydney Scientologists were aware of.

David forcefully insisted that I pay my phone bill on time.
He then explained that Scientology in Sydney had been so remiss in paying their phone bill and had had the phones disconnected so many times that Telecom Australia had made Scientology deposit a ten thousand dollar bond to have the phones reconnected.  The bond would be forfeited by any non payment of any Scientology phone line in Sydney... Possibly in New South Wales.

I called Telecom immediately after David Paul waddled off.
My explanation that I was not a part of Scientology Australia, but rather was working for a branch of Scientology in Florida didn`t wash.

I grabbed Alastair and told him to take back the phone. I wasn`t in any position to take on a potential $ 10,000 liability.  Alastair helpfully pointed out that there would be huge financial penalties for having the phones put in and then taken out again...all in my name.  Anyway as it turns out one was charged per call.
So the solution was simple... I`d accrue some money and then set it aside for any calls I made.  Plus there were enough OT 5`s in Sydney to contact without making any long distance calls.

Then the next bit of bad news arrived. Natalie.
Alastair introduced me to this chick who had been assigned to be my new Junior.

I very quickly realized that she would go through the motions of being a normal
human being but below that shallow facade lay an evil psychopath.

When I discussed our objectives for the day with Natalie she would sit there motionless with this goofy smile. Being cross eyed didn`t help her to win me over one bit.
After our meeting where we had agreed on a course of action Natalie would wander off in a daze and forget everything we just spoke of.

I got a call from my boss in Florida. I knew the guy from my time working at Flag.
His name was Bo Weinberg and his wife Barbro was the one who ran the Ethics section at Flag.  Anyhow. Bo couldn`t remember me at all. But he seemed amused to hear what things he`d done and said a year and a half ago.

Bo informed me that I was expected to join in with the other Flag Service Consultants around the world on a daily conference call.
It would be at 5:00 am my time.

I slept at the AO that night and staggered to my office by 5:00 as requested.
The phone rang promptly at 5:00 and I was hooked up to a global lunatic asylum.  You know how you sometimes get delays and echos on overseas calls.
Try multiplying that by eight.

A girl in Italy would say she`s going for $12,000 today. Bo would encourage her to go for 14.  next on to Europe.  Then West US till it got to my turn....

"Are you there ANZO   .................................?

Can you hear me Anzo ................?

"...............He must have got disconnected."

That was the last conference call I ever participated in.

I went back to the basement and slept on a musty old mattress that had been thrown out so many times it finally arrived at the AO.

I went to a morning muster up at the AO. I didn`t like it.
People being all that military early in the morning... Fuck that.

So I tried a morning muster at the CLO the next day... Even worse.
That was the last muster I ever went to.
The idiots at the CLO assumed I was arriving for roll call at the AO.
Meanwhile the execs at the AO assumed I was attending musters at the CLO.

This meant I could actually wake up when I wanted to and have a leisurely shower each morning.

I was on to a good thing. Well that`s what I thought, till the day I wandered onto post sometime near midday only to discover that Natalie had been
on the phone all morning ...long distance.

That fucken crazy bitch. I`d expressly forbidden her from using the phone.
If she ever wanted to earn a living. She could sell transcripts of her telephone conversations to an Australian soap opera.  They were completely pointless.

When I demanded to know what the fuck she thought she was doing...
She told me Alastair had told her to make the calls, which she`d been doing every time I was out of the office and then gave me her goofy smile.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: The_Fixer on November 05, 2011, 10:38:48 AM
Welcome back IDCB! Have been awaiting your next installment.

No prizes I would guess for figuring out what happens next over those phone calls...

Australian Soap Operas? Don't get me started about those. I would ALMOST get back into Scn rather than watch one of those. Scn is bad enough, but some things can be worse. LOL.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 06, 2011, 06:58:06 PM
                                   SENSE OF DOUBT

                                        Part 141

                                    The definition of a team....

I was feeling quite exasperated. I couldn`t trust Natalie to do anything right,
In fact I could 100% rely on her to do things wrong.
When I complained about her to Alastair he told me I needed to be gentle with her as she had just been recovered back from Adelaide after blowing from the Sea Org.

But to my mind all she was good for was sitting on the couch, eating potato chips, watching Australian soap operas, and singing along with the ads.

I managed to track down Wayne Baumgarten who had held the FSC post with his now ex wife before they went "out 2D" and I got roped into it.

Years later Wayne hooked up with Debbie Cook the then Captain of the Flag Service Org.  They married and eventually blew or eloped, depending on which language you speak.

So Wayne drags his sorry arse up to see me and wants to do some amends.
We figured out that he had cycles lined up before he blew and we could pick up on those. I managed to get a completions list from Flag and showed it to Wayne.

Well blow me down...There were about five of Wayne`s cycles listed there directly as a result of the FSC office in ANZO.

I got in touch with Bo at FLAG. 
"How come you haven`t been answering your phone for the conference calls ?" he asked.

I had to think quickly... "I have to remain session-able. ......... I`m being audited
each day." Then I changed the subject skillfully to the commissions the FSC Office in ANZO were due.  I read out the names and Bo promised he`d look into it.

A day or two later the Treasury Secretary phoned me from the CLO in Sydney to tell me that money from Flag had been received and credited to my account there.
"How much ?"I asked

"Well that`s the thing...... You see when Wayne and his wife blew we had to cover all of their outstanding bills. So I`ve put your account back to zero."

I couldn`t believe it. 

" Oh for fucks sake ....Leave me something. I`m dying here."

"Sorry . It`s a done deal. Click........."

That, and other daily occurrences, made it clear to me that the local staff saw my
existence as a threat to their stats.

Anyone I managed to talk into coming into the AO to see me was pounced on by
a parade of local staff and 8c`d away from me.
I`ll never forget Peter Shed crying at my desk because of the financial mess his life was.  It had taken me days to get him to come in and see me. He was OT 5.
He was Flag public.

Two days later he was routed by someone at the AO onto the newly released
"Key to life course."  I just shook my head in disbelief. Someone had sold him "The key to the poor house."
"What planet are these people from ?

Next I made a strategic move.  I wrote an official letter to the Senior Case Supervisor ANZO.... Shane Brockdolf.

In it I pleasantly but firmly requested to be advised which public had completed OT 5 and were therefore, per policy now Flag public.

His response would be a shield I could use to keep the local staff off my guys.

For someone who was an expert in communication it seems a bit sad that to this day I have never had a response from him.

That was the last of five times I had communicated to Shane Brockdolf.
Every single time, without provocation he had been rude and offensive to me.

The very first time we met, I had been back in Auckland and was called in because he wanted to see me. I was escorted into his office by Coln O`Leary.
I was introduced to Shane . He stood up shook my hand and walked out of the room. Col`n was as puzzled as I was but at least he made an effort to talk to me about my eternity.

Maybe this was an ARC Break. Something I should bring up with Joan, the OT 8 auditor assigned to get my out/Int in....

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 07, 2011, 08:26:12 PM
                                         SENSE OF DOUBT

                                           Part 142

                                        Have mercy on the criminal

Having a woman old enough to be my grandmother as my auditor created a clash of the generations.
I`m sure after flying my rudiments a few times Joan assumed I was a fugitive on the run from the law.

For her generation, courting would have involved a gentleman caller with his hair moistened by running his comb under a tap and a semi successful attempt at a straight parting.  The biggest overt back then for an aspiring Casanova would have been to show up at his love interest`s parents home without a gift tied with a bow. And the evening would have almost certainly included a visit to the local milk bar for refreshments. And a gay time had by all.

By the time Joan had heard about a few of the unthinkable acts I had perpetrated on women, (Always consensual.......eventually.) I`m sure Joan was dreaming about the good old days when animals of my sort would have been put in jail by the town constabulary, or for recidivist offenders, the local lunatic asylum.

My auditing was not going well.  I`d compare it to a Mormon Missionary evangelizing to Charlie Manson.

I also had developed a physical problem that I rolled up my trouser leg and showed to Joan, causing her to shriek in horror. 

Before I had left New Zealand I`d been putting OCA`s in peoples letterboxes on the quiet for Tony Bell, the E.D. of Celebrity Center Auckland.

I found out why Tony wanted it done on the quiet when he told me I had misheard him when he offered to pay me for doing it all day for weeks.

On one of those days a small "Oh isn`t he sooooo cute" dog had come out barking at me and the little fucker took a nip at my leg.

The puncture wound still hadn`t healed all these months later.
Now it had gone all spacko and the resulting infection was taking over my leg.

Unable to afford a doctor I had found some old bandages and was sellotaping them to my leg. Now my skin had developed an allergic reaction to the sellotape.

To compound the situation I was being berthed at the notorious Redfern again.

I noticed two other people who had also developed leg infections. We were all using the same grotty disgusting shower every day.

I wrote a large Knowledge report to the H.A.S. Lynley Duffel detailing the unsanitary condition the shower was in. I found her basket in the comm centre and placed my KR on the one foot high stack of other urgent communications for Lynley`s considered attention.

I was walking back to Redfern one night after midnight.  I looked up in the trees
that peppered the large park we`d cut through.  I`d never seen such massive leaves.  The next morning they were all gone. I mentioned it to an Aussie guy I was getting friendly with, Charlie Couchie. 

He laughed...... "They were bats."

Hey ! My favorite one of all God`s wonderful creatures. Rats with wings.

Despite the bats, I had made up my mind to make that park my new home.
I went back to Redfern that night with no doubt in my mind that I would be grabbing my suitcase and sleeping in the park.

Much to my surprise, when I got there I discovered everyone else was packing to.
Scientology was moving out of Redfern.

Didn`t take me long to hitch a ride with some other scios to our new address.
I think it was Oxford Street.  It was just as bad as Redfern , but it hadn`t had sweaty bodies crammed into it like sardines for years like Redfern had.

I heard some EPFers talking late the next afternoon.
They had been assigned the job of emptying out Redfern.
They were having a laugh about how, a large crash had caused them to race into the downstairs kitchen, only to discover the crumpled wreck of the shower box laying there after having fallen through the second story floor.
It had apparently suicided.

 I knew how it felt.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 10, 2011, 09:01:37 AM
                                        SENSE OF DOUBT

                                           Part 143

                                          The mirror cracked

My residing at the sea org berthing space at Oxford street always felt temporary.
I was told to always keep my suitcase packed and ready for removal.
Apparently some Australian Governmental Welfare organization had it in for Scientology and had threatened inspections of their residences.

They were suspicious that the most ethical group on the planet were housing their staff in sub human conditions.

So if one of these inspections were expected, over half of the people staying
at Oxford street would have to disappear.  I kind of got the feeling that Scientology was really struggling to maintain its high ethical standards image and get them to a point where they wouldn`t be exposed for violating basic human rights. 

It was fascinating for me to observe the bizarre solutions that Scientology management implemented. Their ability to observe a problem, trace it to its cause and eliminate the suppressive element at the root of the problem was so avante guard it belonged in a gallery for modern art.

The one thing those trying to make Scientology`s berthing spaces appear like a little slice of Martha Stewart couldn`t hide, was the stink.

A welfare inspector would have to have been hard of smelling not to notice that
Marsha Bradey`s room smelt like twenty sweaty men had just left it in a hurry.

Late one night our room was visited by the Scientology gestapo. A woman from O.S.A. and her entourage ordered myself and my twenty room mates out of bed
and on parade beside our beds.  Next we were ordered to dive into our suitcases and extract any personal hygiene products we owned.

So we stood there half awake, half dressed, holding our bottles of shampoo, shaving cream, and deodorants wondering what the fuck was going on.

The O.S.A. woman was quick to silence any challenge or threat to her authority.
When one guy tried to point out the absurdity of what was happening she deflated the protest with the comment..." Tell me Paul. Are you passing through 1.1 on your way up or down the tone scale ?"

Next she approached each guy and went item by item through their stash, removing the lid and sniffing the product. 

After a quick whiff of some guys underarm deodorant she would declare it "perfumed !" and drop it into the black plastic rubbish sack that was being helpfully held open by one of her storm troopers. So each guy was effectively losing one weeks worth of pay.

I was put through the same treatment.
My stuff ended up in the rubbish bag as well.  I`d actually held off deliberately just to milk this situation for all it was worth.
As she tried to move on to the next guy I said... "Hold on a minute."
She came back to me ready to put me in my place......I just love these moments.


"What the fuck is your problem ?"

Those products of mine that you just threw away are not perfumed."

"Yes they were. I could smell it."

"No they aren`t... Have another look."

My products were extracted from the bag and placed back in her make wrong hands.

As she tried to read the labels she can`t have helped struggling to avoid the "Flag" logo stamped onto the products that I`d purchased while I was there.

Yes these were the official "Flag" non perfumed personal hygiene products that
Scientology`s top dog in Australia had just thrown out as rubbish.

I got my products returned to me and actually tried to throw them back in the rubbish sack but the inspectors decided to wind up rapidly and conquer other smells in other parts of the galaxy.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 13, 2011, 11:22:39 AM
                            SENSE OF DOUBT

                             Part 144

                            Food for thought.

It was a bright sunny morning as I strolled leisurely to the org on Castlereagh Street.
 By my side was my new buddy, Charlie Couchy. He was relatively new to Scientology. One of the problems Scientology has with new recruits is interference by friends and family members. Those who haven`t spent time learning what Scientology actually is can get needlessly worried about their loved one`s involvement.

So inevitably new recruits wind up getting handled by the Scientology ethics department. The purpose of ethics is to remove counter intention from the environment.  The new recruit has to either handle the antagonistic source or disconnect from them.  Charlie had been in the handle stage. Charlie`s mother wasn`t buying any of it.

What she ended up doing out of frustration was presenting herself at the Sydney Class 4 org and demanding that her son be released.

When she was told that Charlie was actually in session at that moment and could not be disturbed, she started to scream out his name and barge through every closed door she encountered.

It became obvious to her where he was by the Scientology staff members trying to prevent her from going in that direction.  The blockade led her straight to the Ladies toilet. She busted in there and saw an "In session" sign on one of the cubicles.

She hammered on the door while the staff tried to insist she leave.
However the toilet door opened to reveal Charlies auditor baffled by what was going on
and Charlie sitting as the pre clear on the toilet.

I couldn`t make this stuff up.

Apparently all the auditing rooms were otherwise occupied and Charlie and his auditor had been assigned a cubicle in the ladies bog.

For any ex scientologists reading this, I want you to imagine all this from Charlies perspective.
Imagine being in session and having one of your parents bust in to liberate you.
And on top of that you are sitting on the toilet in the "Ladies."

Poor Charlie. He was pretty messed up over all this.
Secretly I was having quite a chuckle as he told me about it.

To compound the situation Charlie`s mum had used pure LRH policy.
She had decided to stop listening to what Scientology was and LOOK for herself.

A black day for Scientology P. R. for sure.

Charlie and I had taken the long way round getting to the CLO so that we could buy some proper food on the way.

The food presented to the staff in Sydney is some of the most disgusting rubbish I`ve ever seen.

The cook at the time was Steve Mc Mahan. When you tried to talk to him it always felt as if 5 % of him was there and the other 95% of his attention was running through a dewy meadow in Switzerland. Yodeling.

I`m sure you`ve heard about downstat staff being forced to eat rice and beans
three times a day.  Well I would arrive at the mess area with my radar out for anyone on rice and beans. I`d go straight up to them before they started to eat and offer to swap meals.

They were always delighted. So I`d grab the rice and beans and happily munch away. Meanwhile the sucker I swapped with would line up and get served what the upstats were having.

One time I distinctly remember that being a bowl of dirty water with a baby potato and a pea in it.

If Steve ever showed up in Gordon Ramsey`s kitchen.... He would be beaten mercilessly. It would be an episode that was never screened.
Actually when Scientology topples, Steve would be well advised to make a run for it with Miscavige and his entourage because there are many ex Sea org from Sydney who would make his 30 minutes with Gordon Ramsey seem like running through a dewy meadow in Switzerland.

"Yodelay he ho !!!"

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 16, 2011, 09:36:57 AM
                           SENSE OF DOUBT

                                Part 145

                               The System.

I realized I was taking a battering as the Flag Service Consultant.  I was living and working inside the enemies camp. I learned first hand how demoralizing it is.

What it comes down to is systems. So here begins an example of how Hubbard actually trapped beings.  It`s an example of how the Scientology experience can open the door on true knowledge. The knowledge that Hubbard , the great philosopher, never saw because he was using it to view through.

So it`s a mind. 

I read other people`s philosophy and they try to sound all clever but even they missed this.

I`m going to try to be as straight forward as I can. My objective is to get this across to you... Not to create a fan club.

It`s all about systems.
The Scientology bridge is a system.   A system is an inevitable consequence of someone implementing an objective. Their objective.

The idea is for you to become a particle in a system.
And because people are so fucken clueless and insecure they fall prey to systems.

In all my years I have never seen a system designed for the user`s benefit.
All systems were designed to fulfill someone else`s objective. So by entering a system, you are becoming part of someone else`s mind. Remember the mind is not physical. It is not a brain.

And remember the mind`s job is to perpetuate form. The physical universe game.

Due to the fact that the FSC office was not part of the Advanced org in Sydney`s
system, my whole existence there was in conflict with the system.

A unique perspective. The scientology system dictates that one destroy opposition by any means possible.

You may remember how in the sixties the kids were all fighting the system.
A good lesson on how not to go about it. The Wall Street protesters didn`t learn from history. You don`t fight the system !!!
You out create it.

The only reason you are stuck here in a body on a marble floating around in space with no clue why, is because you have become addicted to systems.

You are even stuck in a "Solar system."

Why not start to examine the systems you are stuck in.
A great way to do that is to start examining what arrives in your letter box.

If you start withdrawing from those systems you`ll possibly end up like me.
I get a letter about once every two weeks. And it`s almost always something I want.

So you see from my experience in Scientology I have maintained a life free of others systems. 

A few examples:  When I pass my library card over to the librarian for her to scan,
a screen comes up and the librarian, regardless of the library, looks at the screen and goes cross eyed. When I did ask once, what seemed to be the problem, the librarian said "No problem . But you exist twice."
I told her that the other me must be an imposter and she should delete him.
But she said she didn`t have the authority to.

Just then an old guy set off the door alarm as he tried to exit.
I offered to frisk him. Just to show that this was the good me.

When I phoned the police the first time I got burgled.
They phoned me back and said I don`t exist.
I told them to send out a car anyway. Got no help from the criminal justice system.

When I got involved in the health system because of my recent near death experience I was told by many experts that none of my test results made any sense.  I didn`t fit into their system.

So they gave me a bunch of drugs and don`t bother me anymore.

So here we are with today's lesson.
It is a choice you face several times per day. And probably you have, out of a need to be normal,  chosen the effect version of systems.

What I`m suggesting you do is just take a step back.
Decide on an objective and create your own systems.
You can unmock your own creations much easier than unmocking others.

Once you have done that you have become cause over systems.
The banking system is now used from a causative perspective. The education system. The health system. The transport system etc.

If you stay part of "the system" due to naivety, or laziness... Or if you want to play the part of Joe Citizen, don`t kid yourself that someone is staying up late at night trying to figure out how to set you free.

If you think that the education system is going  to produce geniuses that solve all the problems facing us as a species, think again.

If you think a religious system is anything other than self serving ...think again.

Or if this is too wild could always go and listen to your sound system.

Thanks for reading this.
Feels good to get it out of my system.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 16, 2011, 04:31:27 PM
                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                      PART 146

                                  a System failure.

If an attempt is ever made to salvage mankind...
If the consequences of minds as they exist are to be averted, I can tell you right now.... I`d round up the ex Scientologists for the job.
These are the beings who could have made it happen. Never has a more dedicated
bunch of individuals assembled on this planet with that purpose.

Had they not been bogged down in Hubbard`s psychotic systems they would have pulled it off. It brings tears to my eyes thinking about it.
Just the waste. 

I make fun of all these Scientologists. But not really. What lays beneath all their incompetence and incomprehensible actions was a bad system.
A dishonest system. A system ripe for ridicule.

And when a Scientologist has personal shortcomings it must be remembered that they have spent good money and put their faith in Hubbard`s system to remedy their eccentricities. Hubbard and his systems failed them. One for one.

A case in point.

Due to being surrounded on post by a confusion of counter intention to me, I developed my own system.  It was simple. It was exactly what could have expanded Scientology out the roof.
Ultimately it was sabotaged by Hubbard`s non system.

I have no fear of mentioning it. As Scientology is incapable of implementing it.

To think that Scientology already has this system but have just failed to employ it is pure fantasy.

I managed to get a bunch of surveys that a Flag world tour had had filled in.
I took all of the OT 5s, and above, out (My public) and put them in a filing cabinet in my office.

Soon after that I got a computer printout of all the OT 5`s in Anzo.

I created a card for each individual which paired up couples and families.

From that point on, no contact was made with anyone without their file being on hand.  I would log every contact with a date and a few notes about stuff relevant to my hats function.

I was blowing these guys away.
"Hey you were going to bring in a grand towards your OT six and seven yesterday...   What happened.? "

"Your yearly IAS membership is expiring on Saturday."

There were no holes for anyone to slip through.

And every contact was sane and purposeful.
My public felt as though they were dealing with someone who gave a shit about them personally.  It was foreign to them.

Scientology has, ever since it began, chased people away with annoying duplicate calls, that rather than achieve some imagined short term gain ended up being a advertizement for how uncaring and incompetent Hubbard`s system really is.

And thus for me Scientology became a magnified microcosm of what is wrong with society.

Bad systems based on lies and greed.

If lies and greed are removed no systems need to be 'Designed."
They evolve !!!!!!!!!!!!!

Next chance you get to step back from all systems........ and just be.
Try to feel all the insane systems that surround and threaten to enslave you.
Think of the tragic consequences of these systems on your children.

Or look at earths history. All the bloodshed. All the tears.
Every ounce of suffering has been the bastard child of "created" bad systems. Political and otherwise.

Scientology has a system for delivering written communication....The comm center.  My Junior , Natalie, ( A Hubbard communication course graduate) couldn`t keep her sticky beak out of my basket in the comm center.

So I told her to stop delivering the contents of my comm basket to me as of NOW !
What she was really doing was just being nosey. Her walk from the comm center back to our office was ample time for her to browse through any mail I had.

I had been expecting a cash amount to arrive via the orgs internal mail system which was going to solve the massive phone bill that I was expecting due to Natalie`s unauthorized use of the phone, which she constantly failed to log.

The money still hadn`t arrived. I was getting worried. I contacted the sender.
Yep they had definitely sent it.

It got to a point where I was checking the comm center every fifteen minutes.
Natalie was aware that we were in deep shit. She could see the anguish on my face. 

With little else to do I decided to catch up on a bit of admin and riffled through my desk draws.

"What the fuck is this ?"

To my shock and horror there was a pile of communications I had never received or seen.

"What the fuck are these doing in here ?"
Natalie gave me her goofy smile and said " I put them there days ago."

"Holy shit  ! There was the money I`d been climbing up the wall over. !!!!

I drew a deep breathe. 

What follows is a speech I gave to Natalie pretty much word for word.

".........     ............. Okay. I want you to pack up your stuff and get your fucken sorry treacherous psycho arse the fuck out of my office. Don`t you ever come back in here again. You stupid, circus freak reject, cunt , bitch slut fuck !!!

You are fired !!!

I thought I handled it with quite a lot of restraint.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 21, 2011, 11:09:30 AM
                              SENSE OF DOUBT

                                  Part 147

                                The Money Hunter.

There was one guy who I`d like to have fired. Actually I`d love to have had the authority to hire a "squad" to fire him.

His name was Christian Forman. He was a European guy.
For my readers who remember him.... Doesn`t he remind you of someone else you have seen more recently?

Christian had been up at Gold when I was there. But he always sat at the adults table and I was in steerage with all the rest of the shark food.

Christian was "the money hunter."
He could sniff money out from the other side of the building.
He could even sniff out money that was no longer there.
Anytime I managed to get one of my public to try to sneak in and see me, it would only take seconds and Christian would sniff them out and sidle on up to them.
I`d see their faces drop as soon as they became aware of his presence.

Christian Forman had amassed a fortune for Scientology.
It was a tribute to how much people would pay to have him leave their vicinity.

I watched him work people. He was like a shark in a feeding frenzy. ..... money.   If someone was silly enough to reach for their wallet in his presence he would snatch it from their hands and riffle through it for any leads.  Absolutely no mercy. No conscience.

If he was busy somewhere else, taking the shirt off someone`s back, Rhonda Walker and Sue Mc Clintock (Bloomberg) would barge into one of my interviews and pick the bones clean of anyone Christian couldn`t get to in time.

I was witnessing first hand how the regges had Gross income as their target
and spiritual enlightenment was merely the bait.

This was clearly demonstrated when Rhonda`s husband, the chief reg, had gone out of town to get some G.I. at another org. Rob had been appointed a mission second, a pretty young girl who was just new to the Sea org.

No sooner had Rob had the chance to stretch his wings when he also stretched this young recruits legs wide open and got his stat up.

When they returned to the AO, whispered arguments flared up all around the org.
By the end of the day Rob was back on post and this girl was done away with, quietly and without sorrow.

I bumped into her a few days later out on the street wearing civies.
I guess she experienced in a few days what often takes years for some Scientologists to cognite on.

Rob had been guilty of the same crime I had committed on my mission for Gold.
I got three months hard labor and rehabilitation. Rob got three hours.

I guess Scientology works faster on some people and slower on people who bring in less money for the org.

David Paul,the Captain of the Advanced org, was still spying on me.
I really couldn`t tune in to him. What the fuck was it with this guy ?
He must have had so many important things on his mind. Maybe I was just such a minor player that his whole OT world didn`t make sense to me.

His wife, Marion Paul was a dominatrix. Don`t know her actual post. She had the uniform, the cap, the leather boots and the riding crop. I always thought of her as insane but strict.
Some men would have payed hundreds of dollars to spend an hour with her.
How lucky was I ? For me it would have been free. If only I wasn`t so fucked up I could have been "a very, very naughty boy."

One afternoon as David sat starring at me, a bunch of young boys came playfully up to him. I figured at least one of them must have been his kid. Anyway it seems they had been on the way back from school and had managed to purchase some paraphernalia from the latest kid craze.

David was fascinated by this stuff. He was more excited than the kids.
He pawed, wide eyed, over each precious item.
It was interesting to have observed someone who dealt day and night with
freeing beings to finally get genuinely excited  about something.

It just happened to be cartoon turtles.
As the kids ran off I saw David`s heart sink. I felt his desire to pick up his school
bag and call out "Hey you guys...wait up."

He sat down and began the process of committing the name of this new team of action heroes to memory by repeatedly mouthing the words.... "teenage......   teenage .......mutant....

Kowa bunga dudes .

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 23, 2011, 09:26:39 AM
                                  SENSE OF DOUBT

                                    Part 148

                                   One night in Bangkok

My phone rang. It was Marion Whitta from the CLO.
" What the fuck do you think you are doing ?"

I had to ask her what specific area of my thinking she was talking about.

" Natalie. She`s just arrived here claiming you fired her.
You can`t do that. I`m sending her back over. You fucken handle her."

I told Marion that I was not a psychiatrist.

Marion gave me an ear full. Within a few hours the blonde European woman who was in charge of the CLO appeared at my desk.
I don`t have a clue what her name was. But she looked like a holocaust survivor.
She was pale and gaunt and was so out of breath she had to pause mid sentence.

All I recall her saying was that I was going to have an Ethics Hearing.
After she left I calmed myself by drawing pornographic sketches.

It just felt like the world was going mad.

Afraid that my leg was going to be amputated soon if I didn`t do something, I made a trip to the local hospital.

The doctor who saw me took one look at my leg and winced.
I was given a prescription of anti biotics and was told to stay off it.

Fat chance of that.

On the second day of taking the pills I started to have difficulty breathing.
I tried to just pass it off as one of those things. But it kept happening.
I was now forced to go and see another doctor, who told me I must be allergic to the anti biotics. He changed my prescription to another brand.

I was still seeing my OT 8 auditor every day and amazing her about all the weird places a male penis can wind up. But I was just getting worse and worse.

I`d gotten friendly with an OT eight couple. They were millionaire Jewelers from Hawaii, here in Sydney doing lord knows what.

They`d come in and visit with me but refused to stop and talk to any of the regges. So Sue Mc Clintock and Rhonda Walker persuaded me to fake a conversation with them that the Howorth`s, Ron and Brenda, would get drawn into. 

Once the Howarth`s were comfortably sat in my office Rhonda was supposed to burst in to tell me something, and Sue would come in to add to the excitement.

Here is the whole play as put on by Rhonda Walker.

"Oh my God you won`t believe this....  The L.A. Times have managed to get a copy of OT 3 and they are about to publish it. Can you imagine how serious this is.  OT 3 on the front page of "The L.A. Times........"

Hubbard of course had warned that hearing the OT3 data before one was ready would cause a person to get really sick and probably die.

"Anyone who allowed this to happen would be responsible for millions of deaths and a whole city going into chaos....."

"Scientology management will be able to stop it if they can afford to pay enough lawyers to prevent this atrocity."

What was even worse is that Scientology had been heavily involved in literacy programs in L.A. Which meant that far more people would now be able to read this death causing breaking news.

Oh my.......  Oh lord.........   It felt like we only had minutes to live before the whole world collapsed. There would be crime on the streets, massive drug use and Government corruption. Women would stop breast feeding babies.
It would be "Planet of the Apes." Thankfully Ronald Regan, the sitting President, had had experience interacting with chimps in the film "Bedtime for Bonzo."

The Howarth`s stood up, looked at me disappointingly, and walked out without saying a word.

I went up for my session.  Joan wasn`t there. I`d been assigned a new auditor.
Di Dearring. She sat me down, started the session and ten minutes into it
I felt my mind break.

I put the cans down and said to her. This session is fucken over.

Di ended the session, and escorted me to the examiner.
I sat there while he, as usual fucked up the procedure for doing an exam,
announced that my needle was floating, and then smiled at me.

I got up and walked out of the building into the urban night.

Trouble is........    I was in the wrong city.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 24, 2011, 10:12:45 AM
                            SENSE OF DOUBT

                                 Part 149

                           Do robots dream of electric sheep ?

I had been teleported onto the set of Blade Runner.
My body was completely numb. It felt as though I was driving it via remote control from somewhere else.

The sound was all coming to me via a transistor radio, yet it had that hollow echo sound that you hear in a large hall or museum.

Large chunks of the buildings around me would just disappear randomly. 
Then I was somewhere else. I realized I`d turned off for sometime and although
I didn`t doubt that I`d walked there. I couldn`t recall doing so.

The people I saw were mostly Asian , except they had no souls.
Then it struck me. I didn`t know anyone.  I didn`t even know myself.

A pressure in my head let me know that I was a worthless piece of shit.
Better to be nothing than that.

I was walking along the top off this giant wall, like the Great Wall of China. The raging sea crashed against it.
But it just went on forever in both directions. It was dark. Not even any stars in the sky. Man this is weird. I was indoors. I`ve never heard of anything so stupid.
An indoor ocean.

Anytime I tried to collect my senses I started to feel so worthless that I had no choice but to stay numb.

Someone was throwing apples at me from the cover of darkness.  I couldn`t see who it was.
I walked on quicker till I arrived in the red light district.

A lying Zombie barker invited me into a strip joint.
I followed him up the stairs where a guy in a booth took my money
and I went in to see the show.

I can`t remember the first couple of acts I saw. But the next girl came out and stripped to  "In dreams" by Roy Orbison.

Somehow I`d forgotten that I was the Flag Service Consultant for ANZO.

A few days later I was telling the ex Flag Service Consultant, Wayne Baumgarten, about my trip to the red light district. He told me he used to do the exact same thing.

Before long  it was closing time. I made my way back to Oxford Street as the sun rose and climbed into bed.

I was a broken man. Luckily I had Scientology there to put the pieces back together.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 27, 2011, 12:25:58 PM
                             SENSE OF DOUBT

                                  Part 150

                             The trial.

Some time back I told you I was going to have the trial of the eternity.
That time is now. 

Trials have existed since Eve tempted Adam with her apples.
They have always been instigated by someone who held the moral high ground.
Someone who had not fallen. Someone who portrayed an aura of great wisdom.  Someone with the authority to condemn.

But what of me ?  Once again possibly the most unqualified being ever to preside over a trial. I have a long and successful history of being unsuccessful.

Yet what is to blame for all the misery suffered in this world has to this day never been revealed.  Who is the guilty party ?  Is it God ? Is it the devil ?
Is it gravity ? Is it chemicals ? Is it Hubbard ? Is it me ?  Is it you ?

Ponder it for a moment ?

Ponder it a little more ?

Okay. Let`s line up the usual suspects.

"Let the trial begin."

"Case closed."  I abdicated as Judge.

If you want to you can pick up the gavel and your trials will perpetuate into eternity. 

For behind all of your trials and tribulations is your compulsion to hold trials and pass judgement.

According to The Bible, God started it all after creating the world in seven days and then deciding that it was "good." 
How could it have been ?

Compared to what was it good ? 

Let me put this in perspective for you.  What about all the beings he never created?  What about the brother or sister you never had. They couldn`t give a flying fuck if God created the world or not. God has zero power over them.

God could be a figment of peoples imagination for all they care. But they don`t exist, so they don`t care. God doesn`t exist for them.

For God to exist, you must exist.   Is that clear ? Does it make sense ?

Now we come to the age old question...Which came first the chicken or the egg ?

Did you create God ? Or did God create you.?

And what has this got to do with Judgement ?

Well before judgement is passed, all there is, is potential. And what is potential ?
Limitless possibilities.

After Judgement is passed we have "expressed potential". Expressed potential captures and defines potential. 

Pre judgement.... This could have occurred. Or possibly that...
After judgement ...This is what occurred. It becomes something quantifiable.

And that`s the real story of the creation of the physical universe.

If you substitute the word God for potential, you`ll understand how you are a part of God.   Get this clearly...... God is unlimited potential.
Now get this clearly...... So are you.  You are unlimited potential.

Find me one thing you couldn`t achieve with unlimited time and unlimited resources !!!

Now let`s go back and visit our friends who don`t exist.
But they could exist. They have the potential to.

Presently they are pure unlimited potential.
If you were curious to know how they were doing.... You could ask them.
Maybe ask "are you happy ?"
The answer would be ..."Compared to what ?"
You could ask ..."are you in good health ?
The answer.... "Compared to what ?"

You could ask... " Is it boring where you are ?"
........ "Compared to what ?"

Nothing can exist in the absence of its opposite.

Wealth only exists because of the potential to be poor.
Happiness can only exist in the presence of sadness.
Knowledge can only exist in the presence of ignorance.
Life can only exist in the presence of death.
Good can only exist in the presence of bad.
Warmth can only exist in the presence of cold.
Soft can only exist in the presence of hard.

Everything has an opposite except for potential.

Potential is all there is. Everything else is an illusion. ...Created by potential.
Just the fact it exists at all demonstrates that it had the "potential" to.

Passing judgment on the illusion is why you suffer.  I`m not saying that that is a bad thing. And I`m not saying that is a good thing. What I`m saying is that if you keep your potential to judge as unexpressed, the inevitable manifestation will cease to achieve its full potential. The illusion will be transparent for you.

You just got a "Get out of Jail free" card.

You might need a bit of time with all that.
I`ll come back after the break.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 27, 2011, 07:04:19 PM
                                   SENSE OF DOUBT

                                        Part 151

                                     Damn you

So let`s see how what I`ve been talking about works on a practical level.

The first part of our lives are spent in school. Here we are taught that life exists on other planets.

Well !!!  ???

Just talk to a modern school system graduate. They have been taught how to
interact with life somewhere... Certainly not planet earth.

For fucks sake. You`d be hard pressed to find a teenager that knows how to do the dishes. Let alone, keep his cool, let alone make a comfortable life for himself and his family. But worst of all they graduate with an aversion to learning.

The modern school system is there to teach your kids that they are a worthless piece of shit, who should trample on anyone to satisfy their desires.

The whole education system is a dramatization of the compulsion to judge.
Don`t believe me ? Just look at any school report.

Those who pass the exam are a success. The rest can go and get fucked.

The majority of kids come out of the modern school system judged as failures.
And those who are judged successes are taught to ignore the others.
"Let them sort themselves out. They should have worked harder."

The result of this is that you have kids coming out of the modern school system
who are self obsessed.  Even sadistic.
The world has all sorts of problems which are going to be solved by kids who have been taught to ignore the suffering of others and only intervene if it effects them personally.   Yeah right !

You think I exaggerate.  Imagine what would happen if during the next exam your kid got up and walked around insisting he help his class mates to pass the exam.

Unthinkable !!!!

If he persisted, he would be expelled. But if he wasn`t your kid... you wouldn`t give a shit. After all, you to are a product of the modern school system.

Need more proof. Why don`t politicians seek council from graduates of the modern school system.  ????  By rights that should be the best source of useful information. These kids have just spent ten to fifteen years learning about how to solve problems in the world. The reason politicians don`t seek advice from graduates of the modern school system is self evident. 1.) It`s hard to find one who is sober. And 2,) They don`t know shit !!!!

The education system is for kids. The judicial system is there for adults.
Both are there to teach you a lesson.  Thank God no one has thought of putting the education system on trial.

Maybe it`s about time someone did.

Title: Re: MY STORY
Post by: Ididntcomeback on November 28, 2011, 09:41:38 PM
                                   SENSE OF DOUBT

                                        Part 152

                     "And may God have mercy on your soul."

Hey it`s real good you`ve stuck with me thus far. As I have mentioned, I decided
that I wanted to ease suffering.  I`ve become aware of the fact that I see things that other people tend to miss.   As you read this information from the comfort of your home, or whatever it can be hard to grasp the implications of what i`m telling you.  It can seem like an "interesting theory" or "thought provoking", possibly even the self indulgences of a giant ego.

However if you are ever confronted by one of life`s  harsh realities, I`m sure
you will come to appreciate what I`m telling you here.

If you`ve ever been really scared and completely fucked up...I think you`ll already see the value of my observations.  Believe me I hope that never happens.  However if it does, you will find that 90 % of your suffering will come from experiencing the fact that your surroundings are propped up by bullshit.

Doors will be shut and blinds will be drawn when people see you coming.
Unless you have money of course. Then you`ll be at the mercy of someone`s ego.
After that you`ll end up a christian. Then you can live a life with amazing serenity
up until someone challenges your faith. Then you have chills of terror exploding all over your body, followed by fits of rage and anger.

The whole concept of the wrathful God of the Old Testament has set in motion a campaign to control people with fear. Yet fear is the exact opposite of what God is purported to be.
And fear is the emotion behind every evil act ever perpetrated.

Not only that...Every single evil, act was the exact right thing for the perpetrator to do..... Given his model of the world.  How often have you heard of a multimillionaire faced with two tempting investments, instead deciding to hold up a liquor store ?

How often have you heard of a bum faced with the choice of the homeless shelter or under the bridge, instead reserving a cabin on an ocean liner to the South of France.???

People currently being held at "Her Majesty`s pleasure" would all fit under the umbrella of Lotto losers.  Their only crime...Getting caught. Their only lesson...
"Don`t get caught next time."

The Criminal Justice Industry/ system is the major cause of crime in the modern society. It is the bastard child of organized religion. "And may God have mercy on your soul."

Is it just me ? Or have you noticed that no matter how many criminals are "put away" new ones , in larger numbers, keep popping up ? Man we could play this game forever.

I hate to be the one to point it out.... But the criminal justice system is guilty of doing to people exactly the same thing that they arrest people for.

"Judging people then exacting vengeance."