Just My Luck

Hey thanks for your interest guys!

Here's one that made me wince and laugh at the same time.

In 2002, I was out of the Sea Org, living at home. There was a really nice girl named Amy who I occasioned to call on...

What I really mean is: I wanted to bang her like a tweaker playing a drum solo at a rock concert. She had been in the Sea Org at around the same I had. We had stayed in touch since leaving, and were always making plans to see each other that fell through.

Unfortunately, she lived in Las Vegas, and I was in the Bay Area, sans transportation. Fortunately, I was friends with a rather lonely guy who owned a truck! One promise to hook him up with Amy's hot roommate later, we were on our way to Vegas!

It went very well - for me. Lonely Guy was lonely for a reason, and while I spent the weekend...um...playing checkers with Amy, Lonely Guy tried and failed to hook up with Amy's Roommate, and therefore spent the weekend alone.

Ah well, I was happy (and tired)!

We drove back, happy to be out of Las Vegas (I hate that city). I made some commiserating noises as he expounded upon his lack of "game".

A month later, I learned that he had joined the Sea Org. While not surprised, I was nevertheless a little leery, recalling all "frank" discussions I had with him about the SO.
about 3 months after that, the Ethics Goon of the local org forwarded me a letter.

In said letter was a KR! I will type it out here, bad grammar included (minus my name of course)!

"When I was still living in Sacramento, I noticed that Wirestripper had some out-ethics on the 2D. I remember him saying that he doesn't like to be with just one girl, and he just likes to go out with many girls. At the time I didn't think much of it, but since I joined the SO some things have come to light. That made me realize what he was doing was out-2D. I remember one time when we went to Las Vegas to visit a friend of his. The only reason for this trip was to have sex. He wanted to have sex with her. I went with him because I wanted to sex from her other roommate. I didn't. He later told me that he had sex with her saveral times. It was just for pleasure and not anything else. I realize it was wrong he needs to fix his 2D. This is True, xxx xxxx-xxxxx."

Of course, we all know what this means. Lonely Guy had gotten his first liability condition for reining-in the baloney pony. I wonder if the KR was an effective enough blow to the enemies of the In-2D group - me!

It was 1995(?) and I was in trouble. As punishment, I was told to help the EPF and Renos do HVAC work in the ceilings of AOLA. Up into the dark space in the ceiling I went. I was only about 130 pounds at the time, so I could clamber along the heating ducts instead of climbing up and down a ladder every time I needed to move.

It was actually one of the most peaceful times I had in the Sea Org. I was pretty much given a bucket of grey sealant goop, a paint brush and roll of metal tape - as an aside - that metal tape kicks fuckin ass! I stole like 4 rolls for use in my dorm! Cabinet repair you know... Oh, and that grey stuff? we called it Smegma and if you got it on you, it never ever came out. Heaven help you if you got it somewhere you had hair!

Anyway, I was given that stuff and let loose. I spent more than a week up there, only coming down to eat, sleep and muster. It was awesome!

Until....

Oh crap I forgot his name: late-forties, pot-belly, long greasy reddish-blond hair, nasty tobacco-stained teeth, and one of those back-support girdles. Probably from southern Texas. Renos. Anyway, this guy really enjoyed needling me with gay jokes. Creepy and scary to say the least.

<shudder> Back to the dramatic tension.

Until....

One night, most everyone had already left. It was about midnight. I was wedged up above the central heat exchanger (A big metal box where all the ducts connect up to the main heater). It was dark as hell, and I had wedged my front half in between the pipes so I was upside down taping the underside of the aforementioned tangle of pipes...

I hear a noise above and behind me, "Hey, Wirestripper...how you plannin' on gettin' outta there?" It was Creepy Renos Guy. I twisted my neck around so I was looking up my right side and saw him veritably looming over me. I started to try and wedge myself further down behind the exchanger.

He crawled closer. "You know what I'm gonna do to you boy? I'm gonna flip you over, shave your ass, plant some boobs on yer back...and you can be mah bitch"

I freaked. I manged to weasel my way through to the bottom of the tangle...unfortunately, the only thing below me was the ceiling....and below that...the floor.

I remembered this fact about halfway through those cheapo pressed cardboard ceiling tiles...taking the express-elevator called gravity.

Remember though, I am a lucky fellow, and landed juuuust off-center in one of those ugly-ass green AOLA couches....not a scratch!

All I can hear is Creepy Renos Guy laughing his ass off in the ceiling above me. Bastard!

Sorry for the long post break, been rather busy!

This is a Tragedy taking place in the magical land of Home, in 1990.

My mother and father were in the process of getting a divorce. My dad had us for the weekend.

My brother - 2 years younger than I - had been in a spot of trouble at school. I had been in more than a spot, but was larger of frame.

One morning, I woke to hear my dad screaming bloody murder at my brother. He had just taken his Pro TRs course, and made himself up a punishment.

Squirrel TRs tech.

I fail to recall the exact commands of the original, (but no doubt similar) commands, but it involved my father grabbing my brother's head and using it as a shot-put to hurl him to the opposite wall of the room.

Crying of course was a dramatization, and therefore a flunk, which resulted in yet more "body-handling" to the result of...

You guessed it...more crying.

Being the tender age of 10 or so, I freaked out when I saw my brothers convulsing body being hurled across the room to twisted Scientology TRs commands, and the end result of my brother's crumpled, tear-stained face lying on the floor just about broke me, I am not ashamed to admit.

This went on for about thirty minutes, until I realized in my childlike way that only another adult could stop him.

Thus, I called my mother, and only then did the "ethics gradient", (his words) stop, mainly due to a threat of child abuse, however unfounded, ( remember, Scilons can't sue other Scilons for fear of an SP declare).

To this day, my brother has blocked it out of his memory.

Here is something more humorous!

I was a student back in Los Gatos Academy at the time.

Being the shortest person in class, I - of course - was picked on by the older and/or larger folk in Addie's class.

One day, I was pants'd in front of the High School basketball team, (then operating under that one black guy who got fired for hiring a prostitute in Las Vegas) by a horrible bastard named Kyle LeClaire.

Vowing revenge, and being a cruel and totally unempathetic person in general...(still am to this day I daresay): I decided to pay him back. It wasn't the first time Kyle had screwed with me...

I went home, took few gallons of diesel fuel, and poured it in a metal bucket, containing about the same weight in Styrofoam (yes, lots of styrofoam).

As hopefully some of you know, this turned into a rather large amount of - I won't say the name for search engines, but it starts with "neigh",and ends with "palm" - horribly flammable material that wont go out for water, sand, dirt, or any other conventional fire-putter-outer.

I then went back to school and waited.

Kyle cornered me on the blacktop the next day. He punched me a couple of times.....

I poured out my special potion, and flung a match at him.

He almost went home on an ambulance, and I laughed my ass off for the next three days until he came back....at which point I was properly contrite (he didn't want to get in to trouble for kicking the shit out of me, so of course he couldn't report who it was that lit him on fire) .

Fun stuff.

PS - The author does not condone the creation of illegal substances in any way or form, and advises all those bullied to seek the guidance of a school counselor or other therapist.

Ah yes TR's. The things Scientologists only practice. When they are truely needed, Scientologists tend to stick to anger.

Bullies suck!

Wirestripper, I just read your posts here and wow, have you had some experiences. I am very glad you got out of the SO and away from the CoS.

I hope you do write an autobiography.

WS,

I like how your stories reek of details and gives the sense of being there. Don't call me a douche, but I like those kind of stories best, such as Pignotti's who tell the emotion, the feeling behind it rather than just the cold, hard mechanics, compared to say The Complex, which although great, and we need every book on the market detailing each person's story, different people prefer different ways of hearing those stories, some are purely facts others are experiences. I like Jeff Hawkins blog but again, and though emotional in parts... it's more documentary style than block buster film. Although his part about putting CoS on the map w/his broad strokes of creative genius wrt marketing, and the early excitement... and all of his and J. D's travel (The Complex)... I like the miniscule details of the stories you provide, and hope you DO write a book. I am the first to by! Lastly, I read some post by you referring to your detachment, wasn't it? Does the cult have anything to do with it, or did they nurture this trait?