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Letter to a Scientologist

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(Solid Currency)

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My Dear Ms.--

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Thank you for your curtsy and constant attention. But what you must understand is that our two camps are at war-- moreover, an information war when vague, glittering generalities and transhumanist gibberish can't dissuade the grumbling of the natives scowling at the castle on the hill, and where there's smoke, there's fire. . . . . your organization, though doubtlessly filled with the milling worries of earnest pilgrims, has a worse reputation than the I.R.S. and the mafia combined. The shimmering life energies of the young flesh-pressers constantly calling my home and sending me material, long after I've run out of patience, amounts to a glorping death-suck of losers wishing-- hoping-- praying to GOD, or Xenu or whatever by the brittle clam-shell of our deposited Thetan-souls that "they've found something for sure", but amounts to little more but crude pig-iron expected to build bridges and skyscrapers. From the hottest fires comes the strongest steel, and-- for the record-- these toothy, money-hungry orifices don't have any character in our struggle-free society and thusly, "go soft" with the warm, dry rot of stinking spore-shit. If you people are "so together", then why are you so fuckin' "Grade-Z" whacko like space beef from beyond the planet Jupiter? I wouldn't even feed your breed of hucksterism to "the niggers", and even they wouldn't fall for it. . . . . . they got that much "earthy commonsense". Odin says so. . . . .

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ZINE REWIND. . . . .

"Zang! Zoom!"/ "Whiz! Bang!"-- and other such appeals that would perhaps catch the attention of the off-kilter and "morbidly down-and-out" who only had the time to dwell in that sad "splorch" of dispirtedness that would look down at some far-flung science fiction/fantasy sort of "Amazing Stories" pulp rag by some dubious, fly-by-night "bullshit artist" type basically living out of a suitcase with half-eaten sandwiches on a desk in some New York City, or perhaps a Los Angeles row-house as he clacked out a feverish line of ingenius, if half-plausible, if always high-flown declaration with the snap of "build-a-better-mousetrap" hokum that sold in the age of anxiety, conformity, fear of "eggheads" and "complexes" and "psychoanalyis" in the subsonic rumble of Cold War drift between the slow, titanic tension of nuclear superpowers.

Many folks would point out L. Ron's thousands of hours of recorded lectures, if not countless TOMES of apparent wisdom "kept somewhere in a mysterious vault". But whomever had "the time" much less "wherewithall" to look at this stuff, much less "all the research" they would ever point to in order " to ever-happily chirp on about their beliefs". . . . . except "for a bit of selective salesmanship of the facts". . . . . . mostly trying to impress YOU of why you should join and commit a significant chunk of your time, money, and lifestyle toward "this evasive, glittering organization of generalities" that would yet avoid, perhaps-- many of the deeper questions? I notice oftentimes, folks "need for a messianic figure"-- A SUPERMAN-- "one who would stand far beyond the sad, drab affairs of our drudgerous lives found in a bit of morbid reflection, seeping wants, and guilty impurities".

But just because some character "calls himself ANYTHING", and back there in the early days would stand on a pile of rubbish and tin-can's and proclaim "he has the answer" to the gullible-- well, perhaps the only thing folks HAD TO GO BY was the original "think-piece" in some old issue of "Amazing Stories" and this guy's P.O. Box where they started sending in checks and money orders, earnestly "wanting to know more" as he shrugged with a Gremlin-like grin, and delivered the audience "that security blanket" they hungered after.

If you would understand how much of the world of salesmanship and "pulp publishing" in the age of the 20th century Metropolis was so much a one of moxie, seat-of-the-pants ingenuity, and the crafted love and out-sized personalities "found in little niche businesses" that oftentimes had remarkably humble origins. To say that a character like Robert Crumb whom eventually built an alternative "Comix" empire may have "started off" so simply as reading a "Bazooka Joe" comic that came with a little dusty square of gum, then stumbled across a match-book cover with a cheery chipmunk in a flower-hat that said "DRAW ME! And see if you have talent". It turned out to be "a net" for a correspondance course when not only did the boy have to pay for the lessons, but show the consistent and determined interest to keep studying and drawing and ceaselessly experimenting "with the practice of lines".

And over enough years. . . . . . because he had cultivated back there "since the very beginning" he could "keep making it up as he went along", so long as folks were happy purchasing his work and he found it "worth his while" to keep churning them out, one-after-the-other.

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Call it an unholy trinity. . . . . of Jewish "bullshit artists" who evidently have enough "verbal ability" and hidden chambers inside of their "inexplicable personalities", if that's what you want to call it-- "to keep the world guessing". However, I WOULD REMIND YOU not to pay so much attention "to what others SAY"-- but mostly "to what they DO", whether the vast majority of communication "is non-verbal" and based upon subtle cues IN GESTURE & TONE OF VOICE, in which you look at the signs there-- manifest-- RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU "and make a sound judgement call" of what you can really read into what this person either says directly, or silently represents "on an unspoken basis"-- even if they themselves "would be entirely aware" of where they would fit into this profile.

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Oftentimes, IT'S NOT ABOUT WANT YOU WANT-- or what you'd "project" onto this person, or maybe "silently keep to yourself" on some unspoken sense of mission-- when the other may know how to play on "your suspense" or their perodic appearence "like a shining emblem of hope", to cater to your fantasies AND KEEP YOU CHAINED TO THE MYTH-- which is shelling out MONEY or some other CURRENCY for "the short-con", but if it's a bit more proper "and self-deluded", for the extension and perpetuation of a system and/or institution THAT ONLY CARES ABOUT ITSELF-- and not you in particular, except "squeezing you in for a pretty photo-op" to lend to the impression "that this is some kind of caring community". This is just as true for arms of government, media, corporate businesses, and universities WITH THE BLINDNESS & INDIFFERENCE OF THE SYSTEM.

Gotta love those "ideological purges" in order to ensure those fund-raising drives.

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Speaking broadly, "I.Q." or what is known as a cognitive strength-force, G or ability to munch your way through problems with the shadow of unknowns as you make best use of the limited resources available to you CAN BE IMPROVED UPON. Speed and dexterity built with the confidence of practice as connections branch out at a faster and faster rate with the right kind of encouragement and fruitful training as one has the motivation "to give it their all". Whether to go out "and win one for The Gipper" in the ole' football movie or impress a nice girl. I know from experience, that if we're born naturally-bright and capable and perhaps, sheltered "or become more so" over time-- we may drift off in some unchecked direction where many harder facts of existence, that others know and live and experience "more vividly"-- becomes a bit "of a parlour game" as we become greedy and status-obsessed as we put our money "on the short-sold calculations" of some limited imagination, under the sniping weight of some "cafeteria politics" and the psychopathic emptiness behind any kind of pretense "of an advanced civilization", reduced to waves of dodgy baboons concealing the lowness of it all behind some cosmopolitan, postmodern veneer in the evanescent, swarming waves of some "democratic excuse".

Whatever the sweeping promises of democracy, society stratifies along certain divisions. . . . . and what I've found those to be is A) Hardness; B) Intelligence; C) Free-flowing ease; D) Style. . . . . or the ways that all four can combine to greater or lesser degrees that may determine one's ultimate station in this life, as fate takes its course "like for those poor fellows in 'The Dillema' over which the subject matter "in that context" I find about as funny as a hole in the ground, having lived some of this stuff personally; and unspoken, Winona "cheating" behind his back. Whether or not "you find yourself on the losing end of evolution", like I've certainly felt "in my time"-- when folks would send in strafing planes "to finish you off", I've chosen to use "these four gifts" and build upon that basis in order to show others how they can get around these physiological and neurological roadblocks through retraining oneself, recognizing patterns "and best knowing how to proceed" in order to build-up Hardness, Intelligence, Free-flowing ease, and Style so you won't find yourself stranded along the roadside at the mercy of the uncompassionate, whether or not they would resort to underhanded methods "in order to silence you", whether out of envy or raw embarassment "because what it says about them" in their high-handed ways of elite, enlightened opinion and what their dessicated life-course truly amounts to "all these years later" before the eyes of the watching world "and the death of the Baby-Boomer dream" above the peasantry they betrayed to the harvesting of bitter dregs, indeed-- and a battlefield "of disposable heroes", more a man the more stripes you wear in a fool's status parade.

"The Church of $cientology sits on information of an esoteric tradition, in which L. Ron Hubbard as a fast-talking "pulp-writer" who had an interest "in the power of the mind" through the creative and religious imagination would frequently barn-storm on extravagant claims with his writings, as if overselling "X-Ray Specs" and other gimmicks that depended on the rigidity and credulousness of a lot of desperate, lost "true believers" in which this stuff WOULD WORK in proportion "to a far looser attitude", disciplined practice, and not paying money for what amounts "to vanity services" for the bottomless hole of one's self-esteem, in which you gotta keep yakkin' on & on about yourself "as the meter runs" until that one day, you're mysteriously declared "Clear"; but not until you've given so much of yourself, either in time or cash, to "an organized mystery religion" that derives its power by keeping the lower tiers of its membership largely ignorant, and forever "paying through the nose"-- as many folks there are lost, impressionable Jews who have lots of questions about the nature of existence, and can find "some comfort" so long as they're huddled around the like-minded for warmth and security.

And speaking from experience, no one nervously bites and scratches more in angry defensiveness "than folks like these". Good-naturedness is always selective and self-interested "when convenient", WHICH IS WHY I KNOW YOU BETTER THAN YOU KNOW YOURSELVES. You can't beat this duck-hunter.

"THE DILEMMA" WAS A FORM OF BRUTAL, RETALIATORY RACISM PERPETUATED ON OUR OWN PEOPLE BY THIS SOCIETY UPHOLDING "THE FIERCE LIBERAL LIE".

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SUCH LIBERAL LIES OVER INEVITABLE COURSE OF JEALOUS LIFE-DENIAL HAVE LED TO THE CRUEL FATE OF THESE VICTIMS, THEIR SECRETS "THE ELITE" DEFENDS AT THE EXPENSE OF ALL.

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GOD-DAMN "THE JEW" IN NATURE-- THE TRUE CHILDREN OF LUCIFER, BASTARD-SON ACCURSED BEFORE HORNED WOTAN, GOD OF THE ARYAN FORCES OF LIGHT.

YET OUT OF A JEW'S CLAWING GROTTO MAY COME ENLIGHTENMENT, EQUAL UNDER THE SUN'S BURSTING RAY FOR HERO & FINK ALIKE AS "THE ARYAN CHRIST".

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Report: Church on Decline here.

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"Moon Cult" Gutter (Even Stranger Currencies)
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"You want a-nuther song? Well I ain't plain' one mutherfuckin' note until someone comes up here and puts sum money in my god-damned tip-jar! You know I only came here for one purpose. . . . . to take yor fuckin' cash! Why, I could make more profit puttin' out my meth-head neighbor's asshole and ringin' a bell, hollerin' 'Man for sale! Man for sale!'

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(Rheeee of Crickets)

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("I heard that, Missy!")