Ali's Smile: Naked Scientology

Human. He himself is not from this planet, but he assures us he is here with the best intentions.) Now, some Wogs have suggested that there might be financial considerations involved here...but he just doesn't want to make people sick. Why, if a Wog were to catch even a glimpse of the confidentials he could come down with galloping appendicitis.

We will see how many Wogs come down with anything as a result of reading the material now published in this book. And I am sure Hubbard himself will be delighted to see that no ill effects result, so he can publish his materials as widely as possible and get on with the great task of Clearing the planet. And how can this ever be done except by getting the Clearing and O.T. course out to millions? Demonstrate it on TV, publish it in The News of the World. The road to total dissemination is now open.

Hubbard says that Scientology works. Well, it does produce certain effects, as this book bears witness...Here is what can happen while running an Engram:

'You can almost break a pre-clear's spine by asking him to contact his own tractor around his body and yet withhold the pressor against his spine.'

'I was in a prison cell. A noose was being placed around my neck. I got down on the floor still holding the cans and started choking. My head jerked in spasms until I thought it would rip itself from my neck.'

Any procedure that produces such drastic effects merits serious study. But the whole subject of Scientology has been made virtually inaccessible by the conditions to which one must submit in order to study it. To give you an idea as to what life at St. Hill was like, I shared a cottage with seven Scientologists and the young female members at breakfast come on with cognitions and thinly disguised sexual dreams about L. RON HUBBARD like young nuns dreaming about Christ, and this one girl who always held us up and one car to pile seven Scientologists into it, five minutes to make St. Hill five miles away or we will be late for our classes and you know what that means, if it happens twice children a dirty gray rag around a tidy little arm - barreling down a narrow road 65

miles per hour they are too stupid to be scared. RON will take care of us they think just made it on time the rack with coats stacked four deep keeps falling down shabby rooms with charts and bulletins and pictures of RON on the wall like some dreary public school. My 'twin' as they call them the one who works with you on the E-Meter drills is a nice middle-aged woman from California, I would judge she's buried three husbands $250,000 per coffin. She's got a high tone arm and I can't get it down can't get reads on the Dating Drill. Fear stirs in my stomach. This could mean Review and some horrible Condition. The supervisor paces around. He stops behind a young girl.

'I am putting you in a Condition of Liability for Out Tech,' he tells her.

She goes out weeping to Ethics.

Now he is standing behind my chair.

'You're in a Condition of Danger', he tells me.

' That's it! ' barks a sulky Sea Org lieutenant standing in the doorway with the Public Ethics Officer.

The one I call the Pig Woman.

'Everybody line up for a See Check.'

When my turn comes I pick up the cans.

'Do you consider St. Hill a safe environment?'

'Yes, of course I do.'

'There's a read here. What do you consider this could mean?'

'Well we are surrounded by suppressives. It frightens me to think of those devils all around us.'

I was learning.

I remember someone named Polly Stathis who, with eight other high criminals, showed the clearing course to a psychiatrist. RON put out a Fair Game order on them in The Auditor newspaper.

No amnesty may ever cover them.

Any Sea Org member contacting them is to run R-2-45.

If they ever appear in any Org they are to be run on reverse processes. (Reverse processes according to RON can drive someone insane.)

They may be tricked, lied to or destroyed.

They are fair game.

I remember a young Zen Hippie thrown out of the cottage in the middle of the night for saying he preferred Zen to Scientology.

I remember a bulletin that anybody who is discovered through auditing to be smoking pot will be turned over to the authorities...('What kind of fink outfit is this?'... I hastily suppressed the thought.) I remember one weekend atter a few drinks confiding certain doubts about Scientology to a supposed friend.

'They'll wring it out of me on the next See Check,' he sobbed...'Why don't you go straight to Ethics and make a clean breast of it?'

I remember some grim old biddy dragging me into a broom closet (all the auditing rooms were full, as usual) and asking me on the E-Meter: 'Do you have any unkind thoughts about L. RON

HUBBARD...That reads...What do you consider this could mean?'

'He's so beautiful he dazzles me. I can't help resenting it sometimes...'

In the words of Celine... 'All this time I felt my self-respect slipping away from me and finally completely gone. As it were, officially removed...' Like an anthropologist who has, after unspeakable indignities, penetrated a savage tribe I was determined to hang on and get the big medicine if I had to fuck the sacred crocodile. I was lining up what allies I could muster and even had mv boy in Ethics. I had, as they say, unmocked the Pig Woman. But I was ordered for a Joberg because I rockslammed on the question, 'What would have to happen before Scientology worked on everybody?' (I could not confront it.)