L. Ron Hubbard –pulp writer and general cultural menace– sends Seasonal Greetings from Beyond the Grave.
When my friend M. gave me a tour of Hollywood, he pointed out that most of the area’s downtown was owned by the Church, and that making “Free Keith Henson” wisecracks would bring on the security bulls faster than taking snapshots of security cameras at LAX.
Note well that the source of the photo, the Reverse Cowgirl Weblog, is work-safe in the way that hauling weapons grade plutonium in a 1976 Pinto is best-practice.
I worked for a Scientologist in High School. He owned a pizzaria across the street from North. Mr. Jim warned us all away from Scientology, even though we sold copies of Dianetics at the counter. He also risked extreme sanction by bringing by an E-Meter one evening after we closed, and let everyone play with it. My schoolmates, all good evangelical Baptists, warned me that I was going to Hell for working for a Scientologist. I had to laugh, since I thought I was already condemned for being an agnostic.
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