BodyThetan Show - February 28 2004

from Dave Bird Our first 2004 demo was in Manchester, Jon Atack (and Neil Clarke)'s old Org. It is a bit far NorthWest for many of our London people, and Birmingham is about as far north as our SouthWest people go. But they had just been suffering a few weeks of a Sea Org "mission"\\\\ infestation, and we thought a visit from us would really put the cap and bells on it for the rapidly disillusioning Org staff.

Six UKSPs turned up at our rendezvous near Manchester Piccadilly rail station; Hartley is indisposed, and Woodnoodle called in sick with a cold. No boombox, either, as Jens drove up by car. But Dave, Jens, John, Mark, Neil, plus guest picketer Thomas J Best made up for their small numbers with a great show. We had placards, we had Xemu leaflets, and we had ourselves. John Ritson and I chorused alternately, sometimes simultaneously, in a constant stream of slogans. I did the occasional spot with a song like the Xemu Rap, Little Ghosties, do The ElRon-Ron, and so forth, or longer rants about suicides, Lisa MacPherson, and Operation Snow White. These were for the benefit of anyone like staff, police, etc, who stayed at the location longer- term, and Cd be made curious to look stuff up on the Net. The location is Deansgate.

It is about a mile from the main rail station, by Deansgate local rail and G-Mex metro stops. It forms the outer ring road, and has somewhat less foot traffic than Tottenham Court Road. Still there were a fair number of people, all of them convinced CofS were mad, divided between those who were sympathetic & those who wanted nothing with either side.

There was one camera clam to snap us, after about an hour. A couple of cops turned up slightly after 14:00, had a chat with both sides, and took up station on the far side of the street... presumably as the events office had planned when we booked the demo. Little Billy eventually turned up, an older public who acts as a Sea Org volunteer. It was a bright, cloudless day with slightly warm winter sunshine, but cold once you were in the shade. We gave out over 200 Xemu leaflets, and some Cult With Clipboards ones. We did a straight two hours and went to the outdoor cafe round the corner, though we chickened out and went indoors. The place was being run by two or three Sea Ogres in (?) Clear Body Clear Mind sweatshirts. In our opinion they may not even have the talent there for anyone to act as the ED + DSA pair running the place. It may actually be propped up by sending in outside talent from the Sea Org to fill in, as is London Org occasionally. They have a number dedicated old hard-shell clams, but these may include nobody free to give up other commitments enough to do a full working week as organiser or may not have the talents to be a leader rather than follower. Certainly London Org has at various times been run by shipped in international types such as "Spanish Fly", though she seems to have dropped out and its not clear who the ED is now. We think the cracks are beginning to show. Saint Hill props up London, Birmingham and Manchester Orgs as the first, second and third cities of the nation, but no outer org is in itself viable any more.

From Thomas J Best It was a bright, brisk, day in Manchester and the local church steeple was striking past thirteen, as five UK SPs, and a guest from Australia, prepared to descend upon an unsuspecting org.

Intelligence reports were that the Manchester org has had a Sea Org Mission 'fired in'. We speculated on what their reactions might be. The UK Picket Committee of the ARSCC(wdne) had formally notified the police of the forthcoming peaceful picket. We'd passed a fully-armed Harrier jump-jet on display in a square nearby. I wondered whether we'd need to borrow a couple of Tom Cruise missiles, but my fellow SPs merely laughed at such an absurd idea. Armed with the knowledge that we were about to exercise our democratic rights, 250 of Roland's 'Xenu' flier, several hundred of the 'Danger! Cult with a Clipboard! flier, a selection of enturbulating placards, digital camera and mobile 'phones, we began.

The event opened with a piece of luck. The large store next to the org was closed, so we were able to use their doorway as a sheltering depository for our goods and chattels (and the occasional lurk out of the wind.) Xenu smiled upon us.

The org is situated on Deansgate, which runs east-west some blocks south of the City Centre and prime retail areas. Foot traffic was moderate to heavy. Vehicle traffic on the org side of the street was nose-to-tail most of the time, as a result of the peculiarities of Manchester's one-way street systems, the traffic lights, and the fact that it was Saturday. Everybody was either going into town to shop, or coming out of town after shopping, or heading across town to get to the soccer match.

We didn't get a lot of honks. I did notice at least three episodes of drivers or passengers waving encouragement. We did get asked for flyers by drivers or passengers a number of times. One of us, at one point, was asked by a passing 'bus driver for a whole bunch of flyers! It's only fair to point out that one vehicle passenger took the trouble to wind down his window and yell: "Why don't you get a life?"

Although this episode took place well after the expected 'reinforcements' had been called in. So, setting up, I grabbed the 'Co$ Threat to your wallet' placard and, armed with a bunch of 'Xenu' flyers, began by displaying the placard to the obviously startled two superbeings who were occupying the shopfront. Then I took up position at the east corner on St John Street. I was immediately rewarded with the appearance from around the corner of a couple of 20-something males, in shorts and t-shirts (in this weather?). My Tone-40 address of (and I paraphrase): 'Gentlemen! Learn about $cientology! Take a pamphlet! Find out about the fraud!' resulted in one of them almost involuntarily taking a pamphlet and looking at it. There was a frozen instant. I somehow knew that I'd trapped a superior being into a situation which he was going to regret.

The two of them pushed past, and went directly into the org. 'Purif Rundown' victims, for certain. Best of all, the one who'd actually taken the pamphlet was still clutching it as he entered. What would transpire? Surely, he'd have to submit a 'KR', at the least. Well, for the next 35 or so minutes, nothing other than a continual public display of entheta happened. A collection of UK SPs positioned themselves, two at the west edge of the property, two at the east side, and one traversing the shop-front, keeping up a continual litany of the evidenced crimes of the fraudulent 'church'. Your Australian reporter shuttled back and forth. The foot traffic seemed to come in surges. At least one out of five passers-by paused to collect a leaflet, or to share an observation such as: 'Yeah... those f****in' loonies. Nah, I don't need a pamphlet, thanks."

I was particularly taken with a couple of young ladies in (shall we say?) 'fashionably distressed' attire, who accepted a flier from me and kept on heading East. They re-appeared some time later, asking the way to one of the main shopping malls. I was pleased to be able to tell them at least the general direction. One of them stopped. She asked: "Is that true about them?" I replied: "In the flier? Yes." "Oh", she said, "we'd sometimes thought about going in there." "You don't want to do that", I said. "Believe me, it's much worse than you think. Check out the website. Tell all your friends." "Sure", she replied, took another pamphlet from another SP, and she and her friend went off giggling. It REALLY IS WORTHWHILE.

It became apparent, fairly quickly, that the public passing by often mistook us for persons spruiking $cientology. I rapidly adapted my original approach of: 'Sir! Madam! Take a leaflet!' This usually elicited a look of withering contempt. I began adding the line: 'Find out about the fraud and deceit!' This usually prompted a double-take, a closer look at the placard, and a hand reaching out for a flier. At that point, I'd flick the flier over and say: 'Visit the website. It's amazing what these people get away with. You'll spend hours there. Tell your friends and family!' The website, of course, is:

It was 1410 by my watch when the first of the emergency response team on behalf of the org arrived. He(?) was dressed in full multi-colour-patch leathers, mounted on a large YamaHonKi rice- burner, with flourescent decals all over. He hardly slowed down as he came tearing off the street, onto the pavement, and, narrowly missing several SPs, came to a stop right in front of the shop. Hmmm.... wonder what traffic rules were violated? Without taking off his(?) helmet, he(?) barged into the shop.

Shortly thereafter, a couple of police officers emerged from the shop (I missed seeing them arrive). One of them asked one of the UK SPs whether we were going to try to enter the org premises. The negative response seemed to satisfy them. They withdrew across the road and took up observation with a colleague.

Shortly thereafter, one of the suspected 'Purif' victims appeared from around the St John St corner, very close to me. I was momentarily surprised to be confronted by a mobile phone/camera held up directly before my face. Recognising the person, I asked: " must be OSA, right?" This elicited no response, other than continued efforts to focus the 'phone upon me (I was following standard picket 'tech', strolling back and forth). Then I stoppped, formed up with the placard, faced the camera, and inquired: "If you're not OSA, perhaps you've been ordered out here to take pictures? Would you like my name to go with your picture?"

The last got a sort of half-grudging nod, so I said: "My name is Thomas James Best, I'm from Australia, and I'm here to help my friends and colleagues protest against the fraud and deceit of $cientology."

This caused him to stop with the mobile pics. He stepped in *real* close, fixed me with the infamous stare, and muttered: "What do you know about $cientology? Have you ever done any $cientology?" I kept the eye contact. I said: "I have never been involved with $cientology. I know that $cientology and it's predecessor, Dianetic$ are utterly baseless.

In Dianetic$, which is the usual introduction to $cientology, one is told that all one's problems derive from things called 'engrams', located in a thing called the 'Reactive Mind', which is said to be just one of three parts of the human mind. The others being: the 'Analytic Mind', supposedly a perfect calculator; and, the 'Somatic Mind'. Unfortunately, the self-proclaimed discoverer of these didn't tell us a lot about the 'Somatic Mind'. It doesn't matter. None of these things exist. They are simply inventions of a severely deluded individual. No evidence has ever been adduced, or exists, confirming anything that Hubbard wrote about any of these things.

$cientology is a further development of the paranoid delusions encouraged by Dianetic$. This time, it's not only your mind that's a composite entity, but you yourself. Your very limbs, your entire being is composed of things called 'Body Thetans'. There's no more evidence for these than there is for anything else Hubbard wrote. So everyone who pays the self-styled 'Church' of $cientology for the privilege of ridding themselves of these non-existent things is being defrauded and abused." (I'd prepared this little spiel some time ago for just such an opportunity.)

All this time (at least a minute), we'd maintained unwavering eye contact. I then said: "Your buddy on the 'Purif' took one of my pamphlets about Xenu. What do you know about Xenu?" The glassy stare got liquid. He broke direct eye contact. "What?", he muttered, looking very unhappy. His eyes slid from side to side, and he sidled off to take mobile pics of the other SPs.

Around about this time, a gaggle of other publics turned up, some with children in tow. I wondered briefly whether we were going to be subjected to the 'Put the Kids Out Front and Make the SPs Look Like Monsters tech'. I was distracted then by more passers-by to whom I offered leaflets. I noticed that my fellow SPs didn't seem to be worried by the mobile 'phone pic 'tech', though one, at least, was careful to keep most of his face obscured behind his placard, which read: 'You CAN'T trust $cientology'.

The mobile phone picture OT seemed to fade off across the street. We, the SPs, had a few moments of conversation and badinage. Two of us disappeared mysteriously down St Johns Rd..... they can tell you about the exploration of the Manchester canal basins......:-)

I loaded up with more leaflets, and changed the placard to one reading: 'Stop the Co$. The cult of death. Suicides induced amongst its members'. In the meantime, I'd noticed a young man, early-mid twenties, who'd engaged the watching police across the street in what seemed, at times, agitated conversation. He gave up with them and spent a few minutes observing us. Eventually, he began to make his way across the road, obliquely, and finally ended up on the kerb near me. I offered him a flier, he took it and sidled up real *close*, and asked me under his breath: "Are you people going to be doing this every week?"

I stepped back. We made eye contact. There it was - the glassy stare. Gadzooks, if I hadn't seen it for myself! I'd always been somewhat sceptical about reports of this phenomenon. The interesting thing about it, to me, was that while there was *seeming* eye contact, there was *nothing* behind this person's eyes. I *consciously* varied my expression from 'inquiring', to 'sceptical', to 'disbelieving', and finally, 'mocking' through what followed. We held eye contact. "Oh", I said, "I don't know. That depends on who's available and how we feel. Why? Would you like to help? I'm sure that we could use another Manchester resident." The glassy stare got liquid, just like the previous guy's. He appeared to be holding my gaze, but I could *see* the slithering going on. "No. No. I was just curious...." he trailed off towards the St John St corner. I strolled over to the UK SP who'd taken up post there, and nodded towards the departing. I said I suspected that he'd disappear into the lane leading to the back street entrance to the org. My colleague kept a weather eye out and reported that he'd gone off down St Johns texting on a mobile at a furious rate. He hadn't gone down the lane to the back door. In the meantime, the mobile 'phone snapper had reappeared from across the road, carrying a couple of take-out coffees. I called out: "Excuse me, sir. I gave you my name. What's yours?" No answer, was the stern reply. He disappeared into the store. There were a couple of other appearances by victims. One genial old gent turned up, who seemed to be well acquainted with one of our number, and attempted to engage various individuals in earnest dialogue. It wasn't hard to pass him around so as to ensure that no opportunity was missed to spread entheta.

I saw at one stage a short dark-haired female of middle age burst out of the front door of the shop, clutching what looked like a sheaf of fliers, who began frantically waving them across the road to the young man who'd accosted me before and who was again engaged in deep conversation with the observing officers of the constabulary. I don't know that anything came of that. I was too busy handing out fliers;-> The 'Purif' victim who'd taken the first 'Xenu' flier burst out of the shop, flipped me the bird covertly, and hastened off East down Deansgate. All good things come to an end. Somehow, six persons had materialised out of nowhere and spent two hours enturbulating a selection of 'the most ethical beings on the planet'. We formed up in front of the org, holding our placards, while the SP on digital camera took a parting shot of us. We crossed the road, to where the three members of the constabulary had been replaced (on the hour) by a divvy van with two officers, seated in comfort. We thanked them for their looking out for us. They were very gracious in their replies. We might bring them cakes and ale, next time. In case the SPCC makes an appearance in Manchester;->

As the ARSCC(wdne) 'Picketing and General Enturbulation Tech' PL 1#00.01 demands, the guilty parties strode to the nearest hostelry to absorb refreshments. There is no hardship we will not endure.

(So long as the price is right - I can't remember the last time I got to do a frivolous ECT, never mind a lobotomy. Can I do the ice-picks next time? In the eyeballs? Well, at least up through the septum? Awwww... come on!) Statistics: There were 250 'Xenu' fliers at the start of the Mission. 42 were in my possession at the end. I saw one get canned in a garbage bin. One I saw tossed from a car. One I picked up in pieces in front of the shop. I can't account for any others.

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