nozeno
Gold Meritorious Patron
Did you do your homework bitch?
FCDC circa 1970
- Thread starter nozeno
- Start date
- Status
Did you do your homework bitch?
Dark Phoenix
Patron Meritorious
Mystic
Crusader
nozeno
Gold Meritorious Patron
A former FCDCite and one time poster to this Board just sent me this link. Enjoy!
http://t-shirts.cafepress.com/scientology
Oh, I forgot, it was GoButton.
http://t-shirts.cafepress.com/scientology
Oh, I forgot, it was GoButton.
Last edited:
Dark Phoenix
Patron Meritorious
Cool Nozzy 
I think the 'Scientology is gay' one is so me.
I think the 'Scientology is gay' one is so me.
nozeno
Gold Meritorious Patron
Cool Nozzy
I like this one for the gurl thetans.
Winston Smith
Flunked Scientology
Dark Phoenix
Patron Meritorious
Winston Smith
Flunked Scientology
I remember Guy Castle...everyone was asking everyone fer $5 back then.
Winston Smith
Flunked Scientology
Here we are preparing to celebrate and I just saw on the news that a US Marine from the 1st LAR became the 1000th death in the war. 4th LAR turned over their LAVs to 1st LAR less than two weeks ago.
I think I will disappear for a long time. It hurts. Bad.
I think I will disappear for a long time. It hurts. Bad.
Carmel
Crusader
No wuckers, Noz! I know that if ya didn't love me ya wouldn't call me "bitch".......Ya silly ole bastard!
Carmel
Crusader
Me too.
Commander Birdsong
Crusader
the tomb of the unknown auditor
Sorry Zinjifart, my connection for old Orkles was the legendary Allen Cohen himself, it’s founder creator and editor in chief and the goddam son of a bitch went and croaked on all of us. In point of fact the HALJ is it’s antecedent successor legatee and resurrection. We published the best poem he ever wrote and also a passably readable “In Memoriam” Park Brunch Library has the complete collection of Oracles in a bound folio edition.
Shame you won’t be here, I got a groovy Memorial Day story you might favor. It happened back in 1985. The mid-80’s were an incredibly intense magickal time and I have many stories far more wild and much more unbelievable but this one should land on your G-spot.
Solar Power Ken was thrilled The Indy 500 was to be televised for the first time so he invited Tarman and myself to go to Monterrey and rent a motel room to watch it. Tarman was an original hippie from way back and, like Ron, a magus from Nebraska. He had picked up a sax at sixteen and in six months was in Chicago during the old “Oceans of Methedrine” days sidemanning Gene Aamons and Philly Joe Jones, hanging out with Lenny Bruce and Ed Balchowsky, coming home to find John Coltrane playing hide the salami with his girlfriend, the usual. As it was on the drums a gathering to save the planet was called in San Francisco he went west in ‘62 and after it all blew apart in ‘69 he turned into an ascetic weirdo camping in the park and walking the streets thin as a wraith muttering to himself, studying the arcane and pronouncing jeremiads upon the dross and the mundane.
Almost nobody could stand him but being a pariah and his fellow christian with good TRO and solid Code he was to me a delight and a treasure. Besides, we are both Republicans. He was an uncanny adept with the Tarot and did several reading for me. It seems pertinent The Seven of Swords always appeared. He used the Waite deck which depicts a moonlit night with a robed figured sneaking from a desert tent with seven swords in his arms. The card means “Courage” and here it is rendered as the courage to steal your enemies weapons for use against him. In a reading just before our jaunt the card was so arrayed and accented Tarman declared the spread to be the cards of a knight preparing for battle.
We had a gorgeous day for the trip and arrived in good order rented the room and held a lively dialogue about music women politics and the good old days until race time when we fell into passionate silence before the tube.
The competitors paraded before the camera adorned with their plugs for a litany of automotive products when HUNH? Here comes a car with “Scientology” and “Dianetics” written all over it.
And I thought “Jesus! I guess I’m supposed to root for them aren’t I?” Well, Zinj, as I’ve said, I am an AUDITOR. But I got crapped on as a staff member, I saw The Creed abused and most especially there’s a story I have written in pen and ink and soon I will have my technician type it up and post it on this thread which involves the Qual Sec trying to rake Hell with my Bill of Rights. I’m a vet. “Don’t Tread On Me.” And, sugarplums, at the Brickyard they fly Old Glory and before the race everybody stands for the playing of “The Star Spangled Banner”. And. It’s f____n Memorial Day f’crissakes.
The day we remember the guy who laid down their lives that Liberty might live. The Constitution gives CoS the right to establish and maintain their own bylaws in their own shop but at this goddam venue those are MY goddam anchor points defining the goddam Reality. Under God. God Who Is God The Living God. Don’t talk to me about “raw meat”, I’m a vet, I already know more about raw meat than I ever wanted to learn. I looked at that fine looking racing machine moving with slow grace before the camera and I could “see” the “OT postulates” on it. Not with the eyes, the eyes saw it’s clear undistorted image but as a being I could apprehend a sort of grayish quivering opalescent mass/unmass behind the cockpit like some cosmic supercharger cum PR hack. And it rankled my butt. I thought “Ya wanna race mutha fakkah? Let’s RACE!”
Well as I say it was an intense period of time for me, very high consciousness. I didn’t then stumble around a slumbering jackass as I too often do now but at that point I was really jacked up, wide awake and in a martial stance. The cars lined up in their grid and the announcer went into his litany of names and numbers. When he got to the last car in the fifth rank something went “Bingo”. I broke the silence in the room saying “Crawford is my man. That’s the one I’m rooting for.”
The starter waved the checkered flag and off they went. Crawford started picking his way through the pack and I cheered with each car he passed. I said nothing to my companions of my personal vendetta but that didn’t turn out to be much of a contest. I was playing for my man to lap the son of a bitch. More than once. A game within a game. But he never got the chance. The Elron entry was the first car out of the race. And when the engine blew a wonderful thing occurred.
It was a thing akin to the moment in the first “Star Wars” when the Death Star took out Princess Leia’s home planet of Alderan and the scene shifts to the Millenium Falcon. Obi Wan winces and says “There’s been a disturbance in The Force like a billion souls screaming in agony.” A window opened for me. Of course simultaneous with the three amigos in Monterrey tens of millions of others were absorbed with the same flashing images and for a few seconds we shared awareness. After only seventy miles the Scientology car’s power pack exploded just beyond the finish line. The camera on the first turn caught a beautiful picture of it approaching in a graceful swoop it’s logos legible pouring out huge gouts of smoke and as I watched I “heard” just about exactly a half a million souls raise a humongous raucous joyful cheer. Second loudest silence I ever heard. Then as the ecstatic thunder faded an overhead camera caught the dying quail drifting into the infield still smoldering and my theatan nose caught a whiff of it’s “OT” backers fuming and fulminating. Hee hee!
Hey!
Scientology Works!
But in the hands of a christian patriot in Amurrica on Memorial Day it might not necessarily work exactly the way Command Intention wants it to work.
Crawford ran a damn fine race picking up lap money taking the lead in Lap 98 and holding it at the halfway point. My perspicacity really turned Solar Power Ken on and my horse’s success marked me as a Hot Shit in his book. My enthusiasm was contagious and we all cheered him on as he continued to contend. At the end he and Rick Mears were beyond the pack in a sprint to the finish. Crawford slowly closed the gap but, alas, too slowly and he chased the winner home. Both he and Rick were interviewed on camera afterward and Crawford proved a handsome gentle spirit.
Then a weird thing happened. The announcer was on camera and was handed a note which put a puzzled look on his face. Then he said the computer had moved Crawford back to Fifth. ??????? So if you google the race I don’t know if you’ll find him Second of Fifth. But the material manifestation down here in the Fizz U was Crawford carving a distinctly christian image of a shepherd chasing home a sheep.
Of course this fable on Memorial Day 2010 is dedicated to my buddies. You are not forgotten. The Flag still flies. And, as always anyone who wants to take it down gonna have to take us down first.
Happy Memorial Day Zinj.
Sorry Zinjifart, my connection for old Orkles was the legendary Allen Cohen himself, it’s founder creator and editor in chief and the goddam son of a bitch went and croaked on all of us. In point of fact the HALJ is it’s antecedent successor legatee and resurrection. We published the best poem he ever wrote and also a passably readable “In Memoriam” Park Brunch Library has the complete collection of Oracles in a bound folio edition.
Shame you won’t be here, I got a groovy Memorial Day story you might favor. It happened back in 1985. The mid-80’s were an incredibly intense magickal time and I have many stories far more wild and much more unbelievable but this one should land on your G-spot.
Solar Power Ken was thrilled The Indy 500 was to be televised for the first time so he invited Tarman and myself to go to Monterrey and rent a motel room to watch it. Tarman was an original hippie from way back and, like Ron, a magus from Nebraska. He had picked up a sax at sixteen and in six months was in Chicago during the old “Oceans of Methedrine” days sidemanning Gene Aamons and Philly Joe Jones, hanging out with Lenny Bruce and Ed Balchowsky, coming home to find John Coltrane playing hide the salami with his girlfriend, the usual. As it was on the drums a gathering to save the planet was called in San Francisco he went west in ‘62 and after it all blew apart in ‘69 he turned into an ascetic weirdo camping in the park and walking the streets thin as a wraith muttering to himself, studying the arcane and pronouncing jeremiads upon the dross and the mundane.
Almost nobody could stand him but being a pariah and his fellow christian with good TRO and solid Code he was to me a delight and a treasure. Besides, we are both Republicans. He was an uncanny adept with the Tarot and did several reading for me. It seems pertinent The Seven of Swords always appeared. He used the Waite deck which depicts a moonlit night with a robed figured sneaking from a desert tent with seven swords in his arms. The card means “Courage” and here it is rendered as the courage to steal your enemies weapons for use against him. In a reading just before our jaunt the card was so arrayed and accented Tarman declared the spread to be the cards of a knight preparing for battle.
We had a gorgeous day for the trip and arrived in good order rented the room and held a lively dialogue about music women politics and the good old days until race time when we fell into passionate silence before the tube.
The competitors paraded before the camera adorned with their plugs for a litany of automotive products when HUNH? Here comes a car with “Scientology” and “Dianetics” written all over it.
And I thought “Jesus! I guess I’m supposed to root for them aren’t I?” Well, Zinj, as I’ve said, I am an AUDITOR. But I got crapped on as a staff member, I saw The Creed abused and most especially there’s a story I have written in pen and ink and soon I will have my technician type it up and post it on this thread which involves the Qual Sec trying to rake Hell with my Bill of Rights. I’m a vet. “Don’t Tread On Me.” And, sugarplums, at the Brickyard they fly Old Glory and before the race everybody stands for the playing of “The Star Spangled Banner”. And. It’s f____n Memorial Day f’crissakes.
The day we remember the guy who laid down their lives that Liberty might live. The Constitution gives CoS the right to establish and maintain their own bylaws in their own shop but at this goddam venue those are MY goddam anchor points defining the goddam Reality. Under God. God Who Is God The Living God. Don’t talk to me about “raw meat”, I’m a vet, I already know more about raw meat than I ever wanted to learn. I looked at that fine looking racing machine moving with slow grace before the camera and I could “see” the “OT postulates” on it. Not with the eyes, the eyes saw it’s clear undistorted image but as a being I could apprehend a sort of grayish quivering opalescent mass/unmass behind the cockpit like some cosmic supercharger cum PR hack. And it rankled my butt. I thought “Ya wanna race mutha fakkah? Let’s RACE!”
Well as I say it was an intense period of time for me, very high consciousness. I didn’t then stumble around a slumbering jackass as I too often do now but at that point I was really jacked up, wide awake and in a martial stance. The cars lined up in their grid and the announcer went into his litany of names and numbers. When he got to the last car in the fifth rank something went “Bingo”. I broke the silence in the room saying “Crawford is my man. That’s the one I’m rooting for.”
The starter waved the checkered flag and off they went. Crawford started picking his way through the pack and I cheered with each car he passed. I said nothing to my companions of my personal vendetta but that didn’t turn out to be much of a contest. I was playing for my man to lap the son of a bitch. More than once. A game within a game. But he never got the chance. The Elron entry was the first car out of the race. And when the engine blew a wonderful thing occurred.
It was a thing akin to the moment in the first “Star Wars” when the Death Star took out Princess Leia’s home planet of Alderan and the scene shifts to the Millenium Falcon. Obi Wan winces and says “There’s been a disturbance in The Force like a billion souls screaming in agony.” A window opened for me. Of course simultaneous with the three amigos in Monterrey tens of millions of others were absorbed with the same flashing images and for a few seconds we shared awareness. After only seventy miles the Scientology car’s power pack exploded just beyond the finish line. The camera on the first turn caught a beautiful picture of it approaching in a graceful swoop it’s logos legible pouring out huge gouts of smoke and as I watched I “heard” just about exactly a half a million souls raise a humongous raucous joyful cheer. Second loudest silence I ever heard. Then as the ecstatic thunder faded an overhead camera caught the dying quail drifting into the infield still smoldering and my theatan nose caught a whiff of it’s “OT” backers fuming and fulminating. Hee hee!
Hey!
Scientology Works!
But in the hands of a christian patriot in Amurrica on Memorial Day it might not necessarily work exactly the way Command Intention wants it to work.
Crawford ran a damn fine race picking up lap money taking the lead in Lap 98 and holding it at the halfway point. My perspicacity really turned Solar Power Ken on and my horse’s success marked me as a Hot Shit in his book. My enthusiasm was contagious and we all cheered him on as he continued to contend. At the end he and Rick Mears were beyond the pack in a sprint to the finish. Crawford slowly closed the gap but, alas, too slowly and he chased the winner home. Both he and Rick were interviewed on camera afterward and Crawford proved a handsome gentle spirit.
Then a weird thing happened. The announcer was on camera and was handed a note which put a puzzled look on his face. Then he said the computer had moved Crawford back to Fifth. ??????? So if you google the race I don’t know if you’ll find him Second of Fifth. But the material manifestation down here in the Fizz U was Crawford carving a distinctly christian image of a shepherd chasing home a sheep.
Of course this fable on Memorial Day 2010 is dedicated to my buddies. You are not forgotten. The Flag still flies. And, as always anyone who wants to take it down gonna have to take us down first.
Happy Memorial Day Zinj.
Div6
Crusader
uncle sam
Silver Meritorious Patron
Except me !
I was the one - if not on the road-regging hotties- who would just give these folks the $5.00. I never figured out why everyone wasn't a reg-we got lots of money to tell people they could become "gawds" as long as they gave us enough $$$$--actually it was a pretty easy sale. The question is --do do regges go to hell?
I was the one - if not on the road-regging hotties- who would just give these folks the $5.00. I never figured out why everyone wasn't a reg-we got lots of money to tell people they could become "gawds" as long as they gave us enough $$$$--actually it was a pretty easy sale. The question is --do do regges go to hell?
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