Started reading (again): Be Here Now by Ram Dass đ
For years, my parents had a note on the fridge on paper from the law offices of "Grote, Seltzer, and Perkle." Those are real people's names, but in combination, they produce visions of tub scum.
Just got my zines from Julia Evans. Very excited to dig in.
I do not say this lightly: the Supreme Court's decision on presidential immunity paves the way for a conservative dictatorship. This was deliberate. Do not pre-agree to fascism.
Citizens should not obey in advance. Much of fascism is a bluff â look at our loyal cult, listen to our outrageous language, heed our threats of violence, we are inevitable!
The crucial thing is the individual decision to act, along with others, for four months, a little something each day, regardless of the atmospherics and the polls and the media and the moods.
Resist. đșđž
Sleep Writing
Sleep. Everybody needs it, but these days, who has the time? I certainly donât, what with class, homework, a social life, and writing this column every week. I routinely find myself tired and sleepy from too many nights spent away from my pillow, the effects of which almost always crop up at the least opportune moments. Take for example, right now. While writing these very words I dozed off twice, bringing my writing speed up to a blistering three words a minute. See? Iâm so tired I canât even make a decent joke out of that.
You all know how it goes. You spring out of bed early Monday morning, brush your teeth, comb your hair, throw on a mask and cape, dash out the door and into class just in time to wrestle your philosophy professor because you disagree with his interpretation of Hobbes.
Then you wake up.
Groggily you check the time, firmly decide, âNo way.â and promptly fall back asleep. Several hours later you wake up again and move blearily throughout the rest of the day. You promise yourself an early night, but somehow something incredibly interesting is always going on. Whether that interesting thing is IMDBing that entire cast of Family Matters or sitting in a lounge and counting how many people use the word âlikeâ in a sentence, is not the point. The point is that now itâs 2am and you have to wake up early the next morning.
This process repeats until Thursday, when you realize youâve been far too busy not sleeping to do any of your homework. Terrified, you throw your tired bones at your work. Only youâre still extremely tired and your homework starts getting jumbled together with all the other things you havenât been doing. Next thing you know youâre quoting Steve Urkle for a paper on the French and Indian War (Did I do that?), citing that the brain functions on a network of bad valley girl grammar for psyche, and vehemently stating that the only sensibly counter argument to Hobbes is a headlock. Ultimately, this does not garner good grades, even among professors who like Family Matters and or Calvin.
Still tired and newly despondent about red marks accompanied by strange looks and warnings about the dangers of LSD, you hit the weekend ready to let loose and enjoy yourself. Obviously you get no sleep. By Sunday you shake off a hang over and to scramble to write your humor column, but halfway through you realize you donât write the humor column. Now you donât even get the satisfaction of publication.
Crumpling up your column, you vow to get even with that snot faced, dirty trick pulling Silence Doless if itâs the last thing you do. Unfortunately, Silence Doless does not appear on Facebook, nor is sdoles1@pride.hofstra.edu a valid email address, yet you swear to track him down regardless, even if it means resorting to the use of the extremely realistic drawing included in this column. But am I really to blame? The easy answer is yes, but the complex, subtle answer is no, which is my personal favorite.
That answer has a lot to do with being an overworked American, resorting priorities away from blind capitalism, and living better, more productive, and ultimately happier lives based around generous amounts of sleep for all.
I would explain all of that, but Iâm way too tired.
The content isn't too cringy on this one, so that's good. There's some structure and callbacks, so that's nice. I never watched Family Matters, so I must have been latching on to that as a cultural reference everyone else would know. Is it funny? I certainly can't say, which probably points to "no".
How Cool is Scientology?
I was in NYC just a couple of days ago, wandering around midtown with two friends. To protect their identities, these two friends shale be here forth referred to as âCherylâ and âSteveâ. So we were hanging out and heading into Toys âR Us, when a man handed us a pamphlet for the church of Scientology. The text was as follows:
ORIENTATION, a ScientologyÂź information film. Written by L. Ron Hubbard.
Find out for yourself, see the film. Come Today! Free admittance with this ticket.
We all liked movies, and things that are free, so we decided to go. Soon we found ourselves at 227 West 46th street, staring at a stylish brownstone with gold lettering proclaiming it's nature; The church of Scientology. We milled around outside a little, debating whether or not to actually go in, but we somehow decided that it was, and we went through the revolving doors.
My first thought upon entering this holy site was, âAh, air conditioning.â
The interior was tasteful, with something to the effect of marble floors and polished gold banisters. Also, on the walls in large letters were excerpts of their scripture. I didnât read any of it.
A woman motioned us down a short flight of wide, tasteful steps upon seeing our âorientation ticketsâ. Once we had descended, we were again standing in front of a desk. A tastefully dressed woman greeted us in a tastefully sweet voice. She took us down a well lit passage, making small talk tastefully. It wasnât much small talk, however, since the passage was short. She peaked in a door, then turned to us and apologized. The movie was playing in all their theaters, we would have to wait about fifteen minutes for the next showing. Apparently the fliers were working. Fifteen minutes, not a long time, but I was still waiting that period to see a Scientology movie. I needed things to do with my time. Either that, or I could call it an âexperienceâ and write about it later.
Anyway, the woman told us to watch a flat panel on the wall, and left to perform her specific breed of science. The flat panels on the wall were really nice, the kind the museum of natural history uses to show pretty computer graphics of how dinosaurs evolved. Maybe Scientology would give us the same treatment? No, the screen pictured a young Indian girl running through an unnaturally bright field. The narrator asked if we had questions, then stated that we do.
âYou are desperately searching for answers. Scientology has those answers.â
The narrator went on to talk about some shape (triangle?) associated with states of being, or walks of life, or sections of existence. Then he started talking about how emotional states of people can be directly represented by a number from one to four. For instance, âangerâ might be a 2.3, but a âhappyâ might be a 3.5. We compared our GPAâs to the chart. Now I realize why parents really push their kids to get good grades; with a GPA of .005 not only are you expelled, you also experience âBody Deathâ, which is a fate worse than âregularâ death for college kids.
In the interest of investigative journalism, I took this test. This consisted of following prompts on a video screen, and holding metal rods for half a minute. It felt just like those "shocking" carnival games, where they vibrate the handles you hold faster and faster until you can't take it, and then it gives you a score. Only here, the rods didn't vibrate. My score was just above "Soul Death".
After the fifteen minutes where up, the woman behind the second desk told us the movie was ready, and motioned us back up the stairs, where the woman behind the first desk took over and brought us to the theater. The movie was still playing, however. She said it was almost done though. She waited with us.
âThis is a great film. Written by L. Ron Hubbard himself. It changed my life for the better, a lot of better changes. I can still remember the first time I saw the movie many, many years ago. Many, many years ago.â
âHow long ago was that?â
âOh wowâŠâ She thinks, mumbling softly, counting back.
âThree yearsâ she said.
âAh.â
The movie was ready. We walked in with an older man who didnât talk and sat in the back. The movie started. The picture quality sucked, but there was surround sound.
The first shot, we are in space. Space rocks whiz past us with a roar. After a minute of this, we break free of the rocks and earth centers in our view. Triumphant music blares as the word âOrientationâ materializes roughly around the equator. Apparently, this will be a very thorough orientation, starting with familiarizing the viewer with which planet they live on.
A man walks out of an archway of light and starts talking about Scientology, let's call him, "The Man", repeating how it has the answers to lifeâs persisting questions. Realizing we are all new to this Scientology thing, and figuring we would probably like to jump right into the meat of the faith, The Man narrates a series of pictures depicting the many Scientology headquarters.
âThis is our building in LA. And the one in Oakland. Hereâs our location in Vegas. This is our building in the deep south. This is our main building (ooh! Ahh!), and this is our cruise ship retreat, because L. Ron Hubbard sailed.â
After that, The Man told us we probably were asking ourselves if Scientology was a bona fide religion.
âLet me assure you, that Scientology is extremely bona fide, in fact it is more bona fide than any other religion.â
Different voice actors then proceeded to read various court rulings deciding that Scientology was a religion over an image of a waving American flag. The segment went on for at least five minutes. I seem to recall there was a shot of a gavel as well.
After the segment was over, The Man said, âA ton of courts said Scientology is a religion, including the supreme court. No other religion has won so many court cases, all of them in fact. So now that you're convinced, let's move on.â
He conveniently forgot to mention that no other religion had ever been called into question that many times, but let's not hold that against him; as if I needed to remind you, the place had AC.
The Man takes us on a tour of different branches of the Scientology organization. First stop, an explanation of L. Ron Hubbardâs life. His first great accomplishment? He wrote dime novels in the thirties.
The Man proudly describes all the genres that Hubbard wrote in, ending with, âeven romance,â chuckling falsely. Also, he sailed and wrote tons of Scientology books.
Then they mentioned Dianetics. Apparently, this practice frees your mind. It was also very threatening to the government. The government knew Dianetics worked, and they knew it would also counter their famous brainwashing program.
After this, The Man leads us to the L. Ron Hubbard book store. A perky woman is having an unheard conversation with a customer. The Man walks in and says âhiâ to her. Immediately she turns, ignoring her previous customer, and addresses The Man.
âHello!â She says with pep. âTell me about all these booksâ
The Man motions to the vast library.
âAll these where written by L. Ron Hubbardâ
âAll of them?â
âYes, he did write a lot of books!â
Her laugh would give Gandhi diabetes. They jabber for a while.
Then, The Man says, âAll this might seem a little daunting, so would you tell these good people,â he motions towards us, âwhich books to start with?â
âOf course!â She smiles like she's selling toothpaste, and lists about ten book.
âThese are good to start with, but you can also buy whatever you want, because eventually youâll want to own them allâ
There are over 200 books in total.
The Man went on to talk about some reincarnation stuff, maybe a hint of ancient aliens, and our obligations to the universe. The film was wrapping up. The Man made his final pitch.
You are at the threshold of your next trillion years. You will live it in shivering, agonizing darkness or you will live it triumphantly in the light. The choice is yours. If you wish to leave the room after seeing this film, walk out and never mention Scientology again, you are free to do so. It would be stupid, but you are free to do it. You can also dive off a bridge, or blow your brains out; that is your choice. It is your future.
As we were let out of the theater, I considered my options. My next trillion years sounded cold, what with all that shivering. Right now, however, the outside was sweltering.
I felt the cool AC on the back of my neck.