A Thumb Nail Sketch of L Ron Hubbard

AnonKat

Crusader


PCS was at college in Florida, and not happy with life when introduced to Dianetics. It changed his life. The core principles of Book One have not changed in the last 60 years. ie. running (reliving) incidents, repeater technique, earlier similar, the file clerk. PCS and I still use the concepts when we audit. The damn book has longevity. I never thought that it was particularly well written, but the concepts are as true for me today as when PCS was first audited in 1950.

Reactive mind is still a crock concept, it disregards the working and development of the brain wich however is not important if you just run these psychological and selftraining practices to atain your goals some of wich can put you in a trance like state wich is not uncomon in day to day live. I do see that there is value in the personal hang ups that get councilled in the auditing process but it gets dangerous with the claims it can cure anything

Hubbard was born in 1911. To PCS, Hubbard was an adult. PCS was a college student. There was natural respect for someone older and wiser, who had, additionally saved PCS's bacon.

Anonymous wisdom: NEVER trust leaderfags or so called "authorities"

My wife held national records in the breast stroke. She swam for Dick Smith in Phoenix. She was 18. Upon her introduction, Scientology did quick miracles with her. By this time the framework of the organizations was in place, and Hubbard had a respectful following.

SHE did the miracles herself it is HER acomplishement and following a leaderfag like mindless adepts is nothing to respect.

MEW got involved with Scientology after a marriage fell apart. She was OT when I met her. She was quite in command of her life. Some of that is definitely a reflection of the workability of the auditing that she had gotten.

Do not forget the support of and the belonging to a group, OT is alsoo just a concept or label like Status. What is gained can be lost. Like "Clear" it is no absolute. It's a concept and even a construct as a word. What one time is clear can get foggy again. OT gained can get lost again. Why ? because it is a artificial thought up term.

My friend, SF, and I, for years before we heard of Scientology, would sit for hours at a time, several times a week, just looking at one another - not talking. Similar to, but better than TR 0 from Scientology. As beings, we would get huge. When we got involved with Scientology, the momentum was just really getting into gear. We were just kids.

Getting huge as a being is just your perception. It is wonderful but it is still onley in your mind. Oh and congratulations on having discovered a buddist method (TR0). Oh and congrats on the other TR's Are they still in ? Training Routines follow the same concept as training Pavlov's dog.


Both of us had our personal issues. By 1971, those issues were behind us because of Scientology auditing. My girl friend, MEW, said at the time (before she was my girl friend) that I went down to LA, "a boy," and returned "a man." The Solo Grade 6 Course and the Clearing Course are probably the most valuable things I've done for myself, that I know of. There is no way on Earth that I could have ever come up with them independently at my age then. The whole effect was most impressive.

Congratulations. I am glad they are avalable in the Freezone now at low costs

In all of these examples, LRH is older and gets our "free pass" because of our personal wins.

And this may well be the "crux"of the problem. It is understandable. Own gain often wins out over the "bad stuff that is happening wich often times is not believed.

I see us all as spiritual beings. Drugs (grass and acid, other psychedelics) had popped lots of us out of our heads.

HALLUCINATIONS , Your new drug of choiche was just called Scientology. On the spiritual beings thing, Yes I agree but get over your delussional self-hypnotizing regarding to popping out of your head

We are all connected. MEW and I could verbally agree to meet at noon at the Scientology center. We would both arrive within a minute or two of each other at 3. This was long before cell phones.


Nothing remotely special unless you ment to write non-verbally


As early as when I was in 6th grade, I could turn to the exact page in a dictionary for the word I was looking for.

You are not the onley one but that comes in real handy

My wife and I often answer phones without Caller ID, knowing exactly who is phoning.

seen and heard that before, no biggy

The Beatles sensed that they were connected to everyone. I think I read that in Playboy interview.

Many sense that before the get old, cynical and stuck in their ways

My feeling is that LRH got the right combination for Book One (DMSMH) close enough to the truth from the great ether of our connectedness. Just as SF and I got TR 0 better than right prior to Scientology, he got older knowledge, and put it into writing and practice.

At least he acknowledges his sources somewhat in the first edition that changed later. Although it obscures the real processes in the brain it must have been pretty novel for it's time

MEW, as an archaeologist, told me of groups in Attic Greece that had processes that rendered the students more able much like the power processes did for the preclears of the 1960s.

intresting do you have a link ?

I remember auditing a preclear, Larry Dahlquist, on the death of his father, the day before. The feeling I had was that of being "home" as a being. Auditing was the most natural activity for me. Much like the Beatles have been musicians for millennia, I have audited forever. it is a part of me.

Have you asked the beatles that ?

As the processes of Scientology reached their magic on a critical mass of people, the Scientology rumor line was deadly accurate. PCS's sister phoned him telling him she'd heard he was leaving one center, and going to another before he had even decided to do it.


Seems like scuttlebuck and gossiping round the waterfountain, again nothing new or magical or inherent to the scientology organization exlusively.
"

When we Scientologists across the world really connected, you could walk into any center or org and feel welcome and safe (except probably Flag).

I am sure you did but it has a too high of a treehugging factor for me. I creeps me out. But maybe that's just me

The rumor line was so good that even in 1969, as a lowly staff member, I knew lots of dirt on LRH.

Did you know he ordered an R2-45 on 12 people back than ? Or that he liked putting lil kids in chain-lockers back in 1968?

What I wanted for myself, I got, ie. Clear and auditor training. Both commodities are valuable to me today.

Clear is a concept not an absolute. And congratulations that you got what you wanted. But OT and Clear are figments of the mind.

My thinking is that the quality of connectedness was too close of an approximation to the earlier oneness that we had all shared well prior to the physical universe. Alan Walter called this universe the Heavens Universe. When that universe broke apart, it was a traumatic event. The mass exodus of tens of thousands from the Co$ in the 80-82 period is, as I see it, a harmonic of the Heavens Universe break up. Many roles were relived as new, but were rooted in an age old event. As each of us individuated from the group consciousness, we started the process of dissolving the one time harmony. It's Camelot one more time.

Wow you are pretty persistant. You could write fiction

I had seen it in the Haight Ashbury in 1968. The Summer of Love in the Haight went quickly to meth and harder drugs. My girl friend and I were at The Beatles' movie, Magical Mystery Tour. Fifteen minutes after we bought our tickets, and were seated, someone was killed (murdered) in the line we had just been in. Love had turned to hate in less than three years.

Summer of love is massively glorrified, Normal hard reality was still moving along as usuall.

The story is rooted in spiritual beings and our ability to connect and harmonize and, conversely, to individuate and attempt manipulation, domination of and / or become subjugated by others.

What I get is that you got out of it what you wanted and lard it with a lot of fuzzy wuzzy rose colloured views.

Overall the personal gains do not justify the mindfuck and abuses purpetrated.

Even today when you talk about the abuse that goes on in Scientology it goes: "But what about MY wins, MY gains that proofs it does more good than harm"
 

afaceinthecrowd

Gold Meritorious Patron
“So, what did I buy into and why?", Par Two

"Do unto others as you would have done onto you.” Jesus of Nazareth.

“The unexamined life is not worth living.” Socrates of Athens

To distill my personal What and Why re Scn to compact narrative is not easy but here’s Part One of my go at it.

As I have written earlier on the Apollo ’73 thread, I grew up country, what was then lower middle class or upper lower class. My parents were Born Again, Charismatic, Fundamentalist Christians. They were also verbally, emotionally and physically violent.

From my earliest memory, I have felt “connected” to “something and others” which to this day I cannot describe in words and won’t indulge in here.

I went to a country school and the classes were small with usually 14 to 18 students in each grade K-8. Everything from wealthy Ag families and the Doctors kids to transients and kids from a Catholic orphanage were represented there. It was no secret who or what your family was.

By the time I entered the 3rd grade, I was on my way to “mirroring” the violence and hate that I was growing up around. I was combative, self righteous, angry, often times mean and very much self loathing. I felt trapped and helpless, hopeless.

All around us in this world are truly Angels and Saints, if you will. They are not the big personas, have no shrines in their memory and seek not the riches of the world…my 3rd grade teacher was/is one of them. It was her first year at the school and she was young, probably in her late 20’s-early 30’s. I was the worst, both academically and behaviorally, child in the class. We had reading groups that we worked in and I was the worst reader in the lowest group. During the first few weeks of class it was very clear to her what she had in little Face; a smart mouthed, defiant and troubled little boy that constantly tried to create argument, trouble and pick a fight.

About 3 or 4 weeks into the school year she took me aside and forever changed my life. She told me that I was one of the brightest of children she had seen…that I had no idea of the gifts I had been given…that as long as I was in her class she was not going to allow me to waste what I had been given.

“How do you know that?” I sobbed.

“The question, Mr. Face,” she replied, “is how will you know that?”

“I don’t know how?" I wailed.

“That’s why I am here. I am here to teach you how. I am going to teach you to read.”

“But I can’t read,” I screamed.

“No, Mr. Face…you will not read and that is why you can’t read. I will teach you how and you will read and you will learn,” she answered softly, firmly. “But, the decision is yours. You must, yourself, make this decision and make it now...it is up to you and no one else.”

Ms. “Angel” went on to explain that she had spoken with my parents and told them that she was going return me to 2nd grade unless they, and I, agreed that I would; 1. Stop disrupting the class; 2. Stop fighting; 3. Stay after school for 1 hour a day, 4 days a week for as long as she determined. She went on to tell me that my parents thought I should be sent back a grade to “teach me a lesson” but that it was up me whether or not that was going to happen. I must admit here that the big “driver” for me in taking up Ms. Angel on her offer was that I was defying my parents…I honestly think she knew that from the get go.

Over the next months, Ms. Angel tutored and by Christmas break, I was the best reader in the class and her top student. She taught me so much, not just the three “R”, but about dignity, self esteem…on and on…and, she taught me humility. Every Friday, the 5 levels of reading groups would take their reading book and join Ms. Angel at a table in the room. We would take turns reading out loud and then discuss what we had read. They were children’s books, but, the concept and joy of discussing amongst others what all had read was what she was teaching. Several months into our Lyceum together, Ms. “Angel announced to the class that I was now a member of the green group—the best readers in the class. I was elated, stood up and strutted to the table, receiving my “honor” with an “I’m so cool” gait and sassy “Look at me” grin on my face. Once we were all seated, Ms. Angel sat down, sweetly smiled and looked me.

“Well, Mr. Face,” she said politely, “I can see that you are off to great start here in the Green Group.”

My heart pounded with pride, my head spun with the exhilaration of self adulation.

“Now,” she said, still ever so politely, “please go back to your desk and put your head down until the Green Group is finished.” Tears welled in my eyes and I looked at her, hurt beyond pain. “You seem to have forgotten why we are here, Mr. Face. You didn’t bring your book,” she finished.

As I sat there with my head down the old hates, loathing and angers consumed me. She had betrayed me. She had made fun of me. After some time, I smiled as the warmth and peace of her lesson washed over me—“Don’t Showboat”.

Over the next four years I read incessantly, at every opportunity… Biographies, Novels, History, Astronomy, Physics and then Encyclopedias, increasing from remedial to Adult. Often, while everyone else in the house was sleeping, I would read late into the night, under the covers, flashlight in hand. When I was in 7th grade, by the grace and providence of Ms. Angel’s gifts to me, one day in the library I found a four volume set of books titled, “The Worlds Great Thinkers” and in those books I found Plato’s Dialogue of Socrates, “Meno”.

I was…we all were…Meno’s slave!

I wept the day I read “Meno” the first time.

Up to and including this day while writing this, as a being, I weep unashamedly when I speak of Ms. Angel.

Face:)
 
Last edited:

fisherman

Patron with Honors
Face,

Do unto others as you would have done onto you.” Jesus of Nazareth.

“The unexamined life is not worth living.” Socrates of Athens

Amen!

Your writing has me captivated and like Hemingway's great metaphor, I'm not sure who has hooked who!

I have a vivid picture of young Face growing "up country!" Was that in the South? Midwest? West? I can see your classroom, Ms. Angel, and you as a member of the "green group." Like you, I confess my own tendency toward compensatory "showboating" at that age. Ms Angel's lesson and your hurt pride, pricked my conscience with memories of similar embarrassments! My "Angel" was Miss Schlegel (back when we still used Miss). I also turned to reading voraciously, as you did.

BTW: Would you like to move this narrative to the "my story" section of ESMB? Up to you, but please do continue! I'm really looking forward to more of your story! :clap:

fisherman
 
Do unto others as you would have done onto you.” Jesus of Nazareth.

“The unexamined life is not worth living.” Socrates of Athens

To distill my personal What and Why re Scn to compact narrative is not easy but here’s Part One of my go at it.

As I have written earlier on the Apollo ’73 thread, I grew up country, what was then lower middle class or upper lower class. My parents were Born Again, Charismatic, Fundamentalist Christians. They were also verbally, emotionally and physically violent.

From my earliest memory, I have felt “connected” to “something and others” which to this day I cannot describe in words and won’t indulge in here.

I went to a country school and the classes were small with usually 14 to 18 students in each grade K-8. Everything from wealthy Ag families and the Doctors kids to transients and kids from a Catholic orphanage were represented there. It was no secret who or what your family was.

By the time I entered the 3rd grade, I was on my way to “mirroring” the violence and hate that I was growing up around. I was combative, self righteous, angry, often times mean and very much self loathing. I felt trapped and helpless, hopeless.

All around us in this world are truly Angels and Saints, if you will. They are not the big personas, have no shrines in their memory and seek not the riches of the world…my 3rd grade teacher was/is one of them. It was here first year at the school and she was young, probably in her late 20’s-early 30’s. I was the worst, both academically and behaviorally, child in the class. We had reading groups that we worked in and I was the worst reader in the lowest group. During the first few weeks of class it was very clear to her what she had in little Face; a smart mouthed, defiant and troubled little boy that constantly tried to create argument, trouble and pick a fight.

About 3 or 4 weeks into the school year she took me aside and forever changed my life. She told me that I was one of the brightest of children she had seen…that I had no idea of the gifts I had been given…that as long as I was in her class she was not going to allow me to waste what I had been given.

“How do you know that?” I sobbed.

“The question, Mr. Face,” she replied, “is how will you know that?”

“I don’t know how?" I wailed.

“That’s why I am here. I am here to teach you how. I am going to teach you to read.”

“But I can’t read,” I screamed.

“No, Mr. Face…you will not read and that is why you can’t read. I will teach you how and you will read and you will learn,” she answered softly, firmly. “But, the decision is yours. You must, yourself, make this decision and make it now...it is up to you and no one else.”

Ms. “Angel” went on to explain that she had spoken with my parents and told them that she was going return me to 2nd grade unless they, and I, agreed that I would; 1. Stop disrupting the class; 2. Stop fighting; 3. Stay after school for 1 hour a day, 4 days a week for as long as she determined. She went on to tell me that my parents thought I should be sent back a grade to “teach me a lesson” but that it was up me whether or not that was going to happen. I must admit here that the big “driver” for me in taking up Ms. Angel on her offer was that I was defying my parents…I honestly think she knew that from the get go.

Over the next months, Ms. Angel tutored and by Christmas break, I was the best reader in the class and her top student. She taught me so much, not just the three “R”, but about dignity, self esteem…on and on…and, she taught me humility. Every Friday, the 5 levels of reading groups would take their reading book and join Ms. Angel at a table in the room. We would take turns reading out loud and then discuss what we had read. They were children’s books, but, the concept and joy of discussing amongst others what all had read was what she was teaching. Several months into our Lyceum together, Ms. “Angel announced to the class that I was now a member of the green group—the best readers in the class. I was elated, stood up and strutted to the table, receiving my “honor” with an “I’m so cool” gait and sassy “Look at me” grin on my face. Once we were all seated, Ms. Angel sat down, sweetly smiled and looked me.

“Well, Mr. Face,” she said politely, “I can see that you are off to great start here in the Green Group.”

My heart pounded with pride, my head spun with the exhilaration of self adulation.

“Now,” she said, still ever so politely, “please go back to your desk and put your head down until the Green Group is finished.” Tears welled in my eyes and I looked at her, hurt beyond pain. “You seem to have forgotten why we are here, Mr. Face. You didn’t bring your book,” she finished.

As I sat there with my head down the old hates, loathing and angers consumed me. She had betrayed me. She had made fun of me. After some time, I smiled as the warmth and peace of her lesson washed over me—“Don’t Showboat”.

Over the next four years I read incessantly, at every opportunity… Biographies, Novels, History, Astronomy, Physics and then Encyclopedias, increasing from remedial to Adult. Often, while everyone else in the house was sleeping, I would read late into the night, under the covers, flashlight in hand. When I was in 7th grade, by the grace and providence of Ms. Angel’s gifts to me, one day in the library I found a four volume set of books titled, “The Worlds Great Thinkers” and in those books I found Plato’s Dialogue of Socrates, “Meno”.

I was…we all were…Meno’s slave!

I wept the day I read “Meno” the first time.

Up to and including this day while writing this, as a being, I weep unashamedly when I speak of Ms. Angel.

Face:)

Here's a little home movie your brother, Wally sent us:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XNRbUqxzg28
 

fisherman

Patron with Honors
CO,

I've pondered your post for a couple of days, wanting to respond, but not quite sure how. Though I can't subscribe to various conclusions, I'm thankful for the opportunity to better understand the currents that fed your attraction to scientology.

You capture and portray the heady experimentation prevalent in the 60's very well. Personally, I recall the restless searching that permeated the air. It certainly shook the cobwebs off of society and forced us to look at things in a new way. While much good came out of that, the perch that afforded the elevated view and heightened sensitivity, always seemed precarious. Like standing on a knife, a position difficult to sustain and readily dangerous.

I felt you expressed this perilous balance in your description of Haight Asbury turning "quickly to meth and harder drugs." It was a controversial time. I'm not equipped to comment on the specifics in your post, but I certainly appreciate how well you captured the zeitgeist surrounding your interest in scientology.

Thanks, fisherman
 
CO,

I've pondered your post for a couple of days, wanting to respond, but not quite sure how. Though I can't subscribe to various conclusions, I'm thankful for the opportunity to better understand the currents that fed your attraction to scientology.

You capture and portray the heady experimentation prevalent in the 60's very well. Personally, I recall the restless searching that permeated the air. It certainly shook the cobwebs off of society and forced us to look at things in a new way. While much good came out of that, the perch that afforded the elevated view and heightened sensitivity, always seemed precarious. Like standing on a knife, a position difficult to sustain and readily dangerous.

I felt you expressed this perilous balance in your description of Haight Asbury turning "quickly to meth and harder drugs." It was a controversial time. I'm not equipped to comment on the specifics in your post, but I certainly appreciate how well you captured the zeitgeist surrounding your interest in scientology.

Thanks, fisherman

De nada Señor.

I was 14 when I was reading Sartre, A.S. Neal, Ayn Rand, H.D. Thoreau, Aldous Huxley, D.T. Suzuki, Alan Watts, Jack Kerouac.

I hated school. I would be "sick" for a week at a time missing maybe 2-3/5ths of a school year. It didn't hurt my grades. I'd spend a lot of time reading. My clique was the smart kids. Their parents taught at San Jose State (one went on to be the president of SJS), worked for GE's atomic energy research, IBM, were doctors, etc. My parents were farm and ranch culture. I got the best out of both worlds. We were close to the folk singing, pot smoking, acid dropping college world.

I subscribed to Village Voice, the Realist, and Evergreen Review on the left, and US News and World Report on the right. I read Bill Buckley's column religiously. I walked precincts for Barry Goldwater. In my group, there were only 3 conservatives, everyone else was liberal.

I saw Bob Dylan (pre electric) at San Jose Civic Auditorium when I was 14. There were no more than 600 in the audience. We sat on the floor in front of the stage.

When I was in high school, most of my best friends were in college. The Fillmore was the place to be on Friday nights. I, typically, was drenched in patchouli oil. My hair was down to my shoulders. My grades were As and Bs in honor classes. My SAT test scores (long before Kaplan and Princeton Review) got me into UC easily. I never went, but I was accepted. Honor students didn't live by the rules that governed the other kids.

I got caught sneaking into my girl friend's bedroom one morning by her father. I was supposed to be home sick. OOPS. Her father called the school. My mother and I had to talk to the vice principal about my black panel truck, all the dope that was being used in San Francisco and Santa Cruz by long haired people , who dressed like me (turtle necks, bell bottoms, Beatle boots). that was about it. No suspension, just a mild talk. My speech teacher docked me a full grade on the quarter for each unexcused day I was absent (2). My quarter grade went from B to D, but my semester grade was an A or a B.

The pill was in use by my circle of female friends. AIDS was decades away.
A kid, when I was in high school, once asked me how many times I'd fucked. I did a quick computation in my mind (3 - 4 times a day , 6 days a week) The number was in the hundreds. He didn't believe me. It was accurate enough.

The vice principal caught on to how many excused absences from sickness I had. He cornered me after my physics class, and asked me why I was sick 3/5ths of the year. I told him "School makes me sick, it's psychosomatic."

My physics teacher chimed in that it doesn't hurt my grades. I had gotten straight As in physics.

In my senior year of high school, second semester my mother refused to lie anymore about my absences. She'd write that I was going to Carmel, San Francisco, Santa Cruz. I was going to my first period philosophy class. My girl friend, Mrs. R___, was student teaching her first period art class. After first period, we'd leave together.

It was more in the line of living a bigger, more productive life than most of the average high school kid. It was in April of 1968 that my group of friends trooped into Scientology. About 20 of us.

We had pioneered drugs, and others , who followed us, got fucked up by drugs. We pioneered Scientology, and others that followed us, got fucked up by Scientology.

My Great Great Grandfather, in the early 1840s was among the first white settlers to roll into Oregon from the east. Others, before , had walked in. he wrote to people back east to come west. When the Gold Rush started, he and his family rushed to California. He ended up being the first US governor of California. His actions, like my own a hundred plus years later, brought lots of people to follow him. The people who followed him killed the Indians, their way of life, the buffalo, cut down mighty forests of redwoods, and generally despoiled the continent.

I'm not proud of him, and I'm not proud of my actions that led to tragedy for so many. The mind set that pushes the limits is what we're talking about. The collateral damage is, sometimes, quite huge.

feel free to pm me. we could talk on the phone, if you've an interest.
 
Last edited:

afaceinthecrowd

Gold Meritorious Patron
Face,



Amen!

Your writing has me captivated and like Hemingway's great metaphor, I'm not sure who has hooked who!

I have a vivid picture of young Face growing "up country!" Was that in the South? Midwest? West? I can see your classroom, Ms. Angel, and you as a member of the "green group." Like you, I confess my own tendency toward compensatory "showboating" at that age. Ms Angel's lesson and your hurt pride, pricked my conscience with memories of similar embarrassments! My "Angel" was Miss Schlegel (back when we still used Miss). I also turned to reading voraciously, as you did.

BTW: Would you like to move this narrative to the "my story" section of ESMB? Up to you, but please do continue! I'm really looking forward to more of your story! :clap:

fisherman

Very nice metaphor re: Hemingway’s, “The Old Man and the Sea”.

My favorite Hemingway joke:

What was Hemingway’s answer to the question, “Why did the chicken cross the road?’

“To die. Alone. In the rain.”

Let’s just say I grew up west of the Mississippi and a 6th Generation Agrarian “Westerner”.

If it’s alright with you, I’ll just keep things here. I’m double posting my narrative over on the Apollo ’73 thread as what I am covering is part of the “Readers Digest” treatment about me, El Ron and the So I have been working on over there for several months. I’ve actually jumped ahead in my responses to you on this thread and will go back later and fill in the stuff I skipped.

I appreciate your appreciation of my story…never thought I’d be telling it on a Board on the net.:confused2:

Glad you had a Ms. Angel, too.:yes:

Face:)
 

afaceinthecrowd

Gold Meritorious Patron
De nada Señor.

I was 14 when I was reading Sartre, A.S. Neal, Ayn Rand, H.D. Thoreau, Aldous Huxley, D.T. Suzuki, Alan Watts, Jack Kerouac.

I hated school. I would be "sick" for a week at a time missing maybe 2-3/5ths of a school year. It didn't hurt my grades. I'd spend a lot of time reading. My clique was the smart kids. Their parents taught at San Jose State (one went on to be the president of SJS), worked for GE's atomic energy research, IBM, were doctors, etc. My parents were farm and ranch culture. I got the best out of both worlds. We were close to the folk singing, pot smoking, acid dropping college world.

I subscribed to Village Voice, the Realist, and Evergreen Review on the left, and US News and World Report on the right. I read Bill Buckley's column religiously. I walked precincts for Barry Goldwater. In my group, there were only 3 conservatives, everyone else was liberal.

I saw Bob Dylan (pre electric) at San Jose Civic Auditorium when I was 14. There were no more than 600 in the audience. We sat on the floor in front of the stage.

When I was in high school, most of my best friends were in college. The Fillmore was he place to be on Friday nights. I, typically, was drenched in patchouli oil. My hair was down to my shoulders. My grades were As and Bs in honor classes. My SAT test scores (long before Kaplan and Princeton Review) got me into UC easily. I never went, but I was accepted. Honor students didn't live by the rules that governed the other kids.

I got caught sneaking into my girl friend's bedroom one morning by her father. I was supposed to be home sick. OOPS. Her father called the school. My mother and I had to talk to the vice principal about my black panel truck, all the dope that was being used in San Francisco and Santa Cruz by long haired people , who dressed like me (turtle necks, bell bottoms, Beatle boots). that was about it. No suspension, just a mild talk. My speech teacher docked me a full grade on the quarter for each unexcused day I was absent (2). My quarter grade went from B to D, but my semester grade was an A or a B.

The pill was in use by my circle of female friends. AIDS was decades away.
A kid, when I was in high school, once asked me how many times I'd fucked. I did a quick computation in my mind (3 - 4 times a day , 6 days a week) The number was in the hundreds. He didn't believe me. It was accurate enough.

The vice principal caught on to how many excused absences from sickness I had. He cornered me after my physics class, and asked me why I was sick 3/5ths of the year. I told him "School makes me sick, it's psychosomatic."

My physics teacher chimed in that it doesn't hurt my grades. I had gotten straight As in physics.

In my senior year of high school, second semester my mother refused to lie anymore about my absences. She'd write that I was going to Carmel, San Francisco, Santa Cruz. I was going to my first period philosophy class. My girl friend, Mrs. R___, was student teaching her first period art class. After first period, we'd leave together.

It was more in the line of living a bigger, more productive life than most of the average high school kid. It was in April of 1968 that my group of friends trooped into Scientology. About 20 of us.

We had pioneered drugs, and others , who followed us, got fucked up by drugs. We pioneered Scientology, and others that followed us, got fucked up by Scientology.

My Great Great Grandfather, in the early 1840s was among the first white settlers to roll into Oregon from the east. Others, before , had walked in. he wrote to people back east to come west. When the Gold Rush started, he and his family rushed to California. He ended up being the first US governor of California. His actions, like my own a hundred plus years later, brought lots of people to follow him. The people who followed him killed the Indians, their way of life, the buffalo, cut down mighty forests of redwoods, and generally despoiled the continent.

I'm not proud of him, and I'm not proud of my actions that led to tragedy for so many. The mind set that pushes the limits is what we're talking about. The collateral damage is, sometimes, quite huge.

feel free to pm me. we could talk on the phone, if you've an interest.

Wow, Carmelo.:thumbsup: Guys like you were what us farm boys dreamed about being back then!:coolwink:

Face:)
 
Wow, Carmelo.:thumbsup: Guys like you were what us farm boys dreamed about being back then!:coolwink:

Face:)

It was truly amazing how I could be too sick to go to school, but not too sick to pull an engine, tear it apart, rebuild it, and put it back in my truck. That's just how psychosomatic sickness hit me. If my friend, Susan came by, I wasn't too sick to spend hours with her. If my friend, Beth came by, I might have to go lay down in my room with the curtains pulled.
 
Last edited:
It was truly amazing how I could be too sick to go to school, but not too sick to pull an engine, tear it apart, rebuild it, and put it back in my truck. That's just how psychosomatic sickness hit me. If my friend, Susan came by, I wasn't to sick to spend hours with her. If my friend, Beth came by, I might have to go lay down in my room with the curtains pulled.

How stalwart of you to carry on in your weakened condition. :clap:


Mark A. Baker
 

fisherman

Patron with Honors
CO, Thanks for the invitation to call, you're very kind. If a question arises, I may take you up on that!

The similarities between us are kinda fascinating. I definitely sat out toward the precarious end of the "misfit" scale, with you and Face, during my school years. Like you, I was attracted to older, more worldly, friends. I won't divulge my current politics, but at one time was a rather young subscriber to National Review.

BTW: I didn't know there were any California Bob Dylan fans pounding the pavement for Barry! Learn sumpin' new every day! :coolwink:

Ol Face,

I sincerely hope you'll continue your story, in this thread or elsewhere!

I've always had a love-hate relationship with Hemingway and your joke really cracked me up!

What was Hemingway’s answer to the question, “Why did the chicken cross the road?’

“To die. Alone. In the rain.”

Hemingway wrote some superb novels, but I personally like the taut economy of "Old Man and the Sea." And, for me, the well-used metaphor of man inexorably bound to -- fish, nature, God, subconscious -- is always compelling! It was a kick that you picked up on it!

Let’s just say I grew up west of the Mississippi and a 6th Generation Agrarian “Westerner”.

Close enough! That helps "paint the picture." I'm still strapped in my fishing chair, enthusiastically hoping you'll turn and rise! :)

Best, fisherman
 
CO, Thanks for the invitation to call, you're very kind. If a question arises, I may take you up on that!

The similarities between us are kinda fascinating. I definitely sat out toward the precarious end of the "misfit" scale, with you and Face, during my school years. Like you, I was attracted to older, more worldly, friends. I won't divulge my current politics, but at one time was a rather young subscriber to National Review.

BTW: I didn't know there were any California Bob Dylan fans pounding the pavement for Barry! Learn sumpin' new every day! :coolwink:

I basically lean libertarian, and have for decades. Karl Hess, a Goldwater speech writer opened the door for me in the late 60s or early 70s along with Harry Browne's series of books.

I'm more interested in sane - ing up the planet, than trying to regiment it.

I'm liberal, but to a degree, I want everybody to be free, but if you think I like G.W. Bush, let him move in next door, or marry my daughter, you must think I'm crazy. I wouldn't do it for all the farms in Cuba.

I voted for Obama. I tend to vote for individuals who are connected to the people. Clinton (Bil) was like that too. McCain didn't even do e mail, much less text, etc. He was out of touch. I want someone in office who is alive and in touch.
 
Last edited:

VaD

Gold Meritorious Patron
Interesting post by R.Hill today:

http://leavingscientology.wordpress.com/2010/08/03/i’m-ok-you’re-ok/#comment-4500

R. Hill
August 5, 2010
I was reading an old article today, dated August 5th, 1950. I think it should be interesting for those newly out still trying to sort things out. There is a very interesting passage in this article, a critical review of Dianetics:
“The real and, to me, inexcusable danger in dianetics lies in its conception of the amoral, detached, 100 per cent efficient mechanical man — superbly free-floating, unemotional, and unrelated to anything. This is the authoritarian dream, a population of zombies, free to be manipulated by the great brains of the founder, the leader of the inner manipulative clique.” — “A cure for all ills”, The Nation, Aug. 5, 1950.

Didn’t he, right there, just predicted David Miscavige?
Somehow, he was able to see, even in such early writings as DMSMH the authoritarian nature of Hubbard’s teachings. If they were there, already noticeable, in 1950, how much deeply interwoven are they in all of Hubbard’s teachings which followed? And for Scientology to reform, one would have to untangle the whole thing. Is it even possible?
 

For me, it is a sociological phenomena that has to be unwound using earlier similar tech. Not unlike the Knowledgism Ranch going down the slippery slide quite like it's predecessor, Scientology, like its predecessor etc to basic basic before the physical universe.

To a limited extent, the power processes, 4 flows, work to bring this up to look at.
 

afaceinthecrowd

Gold Meritorious Patron
CO, Thanks for the invitation to call, you're very kind. If a question arises, I may take you up on that!

The similarities between us are kinda fascinating. I definitely sat out toward the precarious end of the "misfit" scale, with you and Face, during my school years. Like you, I was attracted to older, more worldly, friends. I won't divulge my current politics, but at one time was a rather young subscriber to National Review.



BTW: I didn't know there were any California Bob Dylan fans pounding the pavement for Barry! Learn sumpin' new every day! :coolwink:

Ol Face,

I sincerely hope you'll continue your story, in this thread or elsewhere!

I've always had a love-hate relationship with Hemingway and your joke really cracked me up!



Hemingway wrote some superb novels, but I personally like the taut economy of "Old Man and the Sea." And, for me, the well-used metaphor of man inexorably bound to -- fish, nature, God, subconscious -- is always compelling! It was a kick that you picked up on it!

Close enough! That helps "paint the picture." I'm still strapped in my fishing chair, enthusiastically hoping you'll turn and rise! :)

Best, fisherman

Fisherman,

I figured you for a misfit...you're here on ESMB.:D

I think "Papa" also had a love/hate relationship with Himingway.:melodramatic:

As an aside, I think Mariel (his grandaughter) is hot, hot, hot. I especially liked her in the film "Creator". Peter O'Toole, was perfect. Great screenplay. "Someday we'll be staring into a microscope and God will be staring back at us...and the first one that blinks looses their testicales." "Words are such wonderful things." Dr. Harry Wolper (O'Toole):yes:

A year or so ago my "Meli" found me...ain't life grand!:bigcry:

I'll be back around in a day or two here...I just got "gaffed" by some metaphysic "stuff" over on the Apollo '73 thread and need a little time to shake loose.:coolwink:

Face:)
 
Last edited:

AnonKat

Crusader
LRHDurant.jpg

Why can't that be a good book ? Who wrote that book.
 

fisherman

Patron with Honors
AnonKat,

It's not a "good book" it's a GREAT book!!!!!!!!!!!

Will Durant was a brilliant scholar with a unique talent for capsulizing complex philosophic constructs. "Outline of Philosophy" was a popular book-club selection written for a high school level, general readership.

It's not the book you'd expect on the desk of an "original" philosopher of Hubbard's self-confessed caliber. It's little like discovering Julia Child working with the "Betty Crocker Cookbook."

To me, this is a very humorous photo!

fisherman
 
Top