Picket Report, Gold Base, 22 August 2000 The plan began on IRC. Shydavid had to deal with some incredibly stupid user computer problems in El Centro, which is about a three hour drive from San Diego. For a good laugh, ask him what they were!

He wanted to picket Gold this week, so I invited him over. We were given the name and phone number of a San Francisco SP who is in Orange County visiting relatives. Murdoch (Howlin' Mad?) pickets San Francisco regularly.

When David arrived in the evening, I made a couple of phone calls, one to Murdoch, and one to Ida, our anchor in the Hemet shitstorm. On the off-chance that Ida's house is still bugged, I requested a six-pack of OSA in advance, to give Murdoch the whole dog-and-clam show.

We picked Murdoch up at TGI Friday's in Dana Point; he came complete with picket sign and fliers. We entertained each other on the 90 minute drive out to Hemet with creative ideas for the web, plays on words, and plans. Evil plans!

Murdoch wasn't really prepared for his first look at Gold, and I enjoyed his utter delight in the castle like monstrosity that houses Golden Era Studios! We pulled over for a bit to let him wallow in the scientological ambience of the place before picking up signs at Ida's.

I understand his enthusiasm, Gold Base is the Mount Everest of pickets.

It is the Land of the Dwarf, and the Home of the Slave. A shining example of what this world would be if Scientology ever managed to succeed in its stated goals of Taking Over the World!

While we were admiring the base, two people were noticed walking towards us. They were carrying an industrial-sized weed whacker. As they approached, they inquired if we were having engine problems, to which we responded, "No! We have a problem with THAT!" pointing at Gold. As they passed, I noted that the male was wearing a "Year of the OT" Tee shirt.

This brought up the interesting question, why are they using wog-tech weedwhackers? Couldn't a team of OTs simply fry those weeds with a thought? At night? When no one's looking?

On the way to Ida's, we noticed two other weed whackers walking along the roadway carrying their heavy wog-tech tools.

Ida and Murdoch were delighted to meet each other! It's grand the way Scientology brings the generations together, between the four of us, we spanned three, with an approximate total of 198 years!

The day wasn't as hot as it could have been, I don't think the temp was much more than 90 degrees. I had my mister bottle, and we brought plenty of water. David's trip meter tells us that it's about a hair over a half mile from Ashlee's memorial to Davey's house. We parked at the memorial and started walking. We hadn't gotten very far when a car pulled up. The driver had a Christian fish sticker, and was in full Air Force uniform.

He wanted to know if we were Christians, and I told him about Scientology/Hubbard views on the existence of Christ. Murdoch had left his fliers in the car, so we had him pull over behind it and walked back to give him some info. We decided it was worth it to carry some along, although we usually don't hand out that many on this lonely stretch of road. We chatted with the Zoomie for a bit, and started out again.

By now it was obvious that we weren't to be handled. I had made a bet with Shydavid that we would not get the treatment, as we're not important enough to bother with. It appeared that I was right, usually they're on us in a heartbeat, but the compound simmered quietly in the heat. There were a few people working on the lawns by Golden Era, but they were far away and ignored us. A lot of the plantings by the roadway have died, but there's a good crop of tumbleweed, or Russian Thistle, taking their place. These are the imported menace you see in Western movies that symbolize the loneliness and neglect in old towns as they roll down the street dispersing their seeds on the way. These tumbleweeds are still green, eventually they will dry to crispy brown, lose their grip on mother earth, to catch the Santa Ana winds and go travelling. They can be a terrible fire hazard at this stage; the groundskeepers would do well to harvest them beforehand, when the branches are still green. They have horribly annoying stickers after they dry out!

As we approached the gate on Davey's side of the road, a car pulled over. As we walked past, the driver was talking on a cell phone. I had thought they were going to pull into the drive, but after we passed, they continued on toward the memorial, the opposite direction we were travelling. We met them again later.

As we hiked along, we got lots of thumbs up and honks from passing motorists, including two big rigs in a row. The sound of their mighty air horns was quite exhilarating, even if they did blow my cap off in the wind displaced by their passing!

A woman in a convertible pulled up next to us, curious as to what we were doing out there in the middle of nowhere. She was utterly uninformed about the cult when she pulled over, we fixed that immediately with fliers and information. After a brief chat, she continued on her way, as did we.

As we drew even with Davey's house, I noticed a woman with a camera there. She wasn't up on the balcony, but below it on a retaining wall.

Oddly, she seemed to be filming us for some reason. We waved to her and yelled "Helllooooo!" hoisting our signs so she could see them more clearly. When she noticed she'd been spotted, she hefted her camera gear and left immediately.

Having reached the half mile mark at Davey's, we crossed the highway and began the trek back. As we approached the guard house, another car pulled over, and the driver got out, saying something about taking his picture. "We're not taking your picture," I said as we passed.

"No," he said, "I meant, what about them taking my picture here?" He was not a Scientologist, but a biology teacher in town. Apparently he has had students run out of the riverbed that marks the south-western boundary of Scientology property. We pointed out some of the mounted cameras along the highway, which made him nervous. He wanted to know if there was any organized effort in Hemet to counter the cult in their midst, which unfortunately there is not. He told us that Scientology has purchased all these little houses at the south end of the base, the last hold-out just caved in and sold. Moreover, he said that Scientology also bought most of the houses in the new "lakefront luxury" development just south of the houses! So it seems that, in Hemet, Scientology Is Expanding. Murdoch gave him a flier and pointed out the URLs on the back. He had been to Xenu.net, and appreciated the further information.

Finally, his paranoia overcame his curiosity, and he left, after thanking us for our efforts.

Since we were right there by the front gate, we decided to take advantage of the photo op by getting our pictures taken in front of the Golden Era Studios sign. Trophies of the hunt! After passing the guard shack, we noticed that the camera there rotates, and had some fun dodging around making it track us. Murdoch and I split up from David, and the camera followed David. It seems the clams like him best! Murdoch and I were quite insulted by this. But then, David was the one who provided the GPS co-ordinates to Gold Base, it's understandable that they would love him more.

As we were near the truck, the car we had spotted earlier pulled up. It was an older couple who wanted to know if there was any organized resistance in Hemet. The lady was very active in the community, primarily concerned with the proposed rerouting of highway 79 through the base.

Dejected that we had not been important enough to warrant handlers, we headed back to Ida's house for lunch. Embraced by the cool air at Ida's place, I flopped out on the floor while David and Murdoch slaved over Ida's recalcitrant computer. I went out for a smoke break, and noticed a Hemet patrol car parked across the street on the corner. A man paced up and down on the sidewalk kitty-corner to Ida's, and I wondered if it was related to our recent suppressive activities. Ida said it was possible that Hemet's wonderful neighbors, that "peaceful religious group" had called them to warn of a riot, such violence follows us SPs everywhere, according to them. This time, the cop was there to investigate a car that had been pushed there, wasn't related to us.

After a splendid lunch and visit, we had to head out back to reality, as Murdoch was on a schedule. We were supposed to get him back by six thirty, but...

First, we pulled in to the Golden Era golf pro shop for souvenirs. Due to my suppressive attire, I stayed in the truck. It's probably not the place one wants to be wearing a Scientology Kills tee shirt. They were back in no time, as the shop didn't have any caps or other cunning little items for sale. We decided to stop at the Ashlee memorial one more time to troll for handlers. This time we were not disappointed!

Murdoch and I posed for pictures around the camera that monitors that turn out, then we pulled out a picket sign for a bit of a tailgate picket. Suddenly a black SUV rushed up and deposited a large fellow with a camera, who started snapping almost before his feet touched the ground! The SUV left him there. Murdoch danced a jig for him, then rushed the camera with his sign for that zoom effect!

Our handler turned out to be Frank Petty, one of Henson's goon squad.

Unfortunately for poor Frank, he lacked the bank of "knowledge" he has on Keith, so he had very little to say. We whirled around him like dust devils, taunting the poor man who, after all, was trying to do his job.

At first he was silent, just grinning this stupid grin and trying to snap some photos of our suppressive hilarity! Finally he asked Murdoch if he was a minor. "Yep," I replied. "We're gonna get married soon as he turns 16!" Then he made some comment about Shydavid being his uncle.

"Why do you think he's my uncle?" asked Murdoch. "You have the same nose," he replied. Actually, he does not, Shydavid has a much bigger honker than Murdoch! But David does in fact have a 17 year old nephew, he, Fred and David had a family picket at Gold a while back. Frank blew copious quantities of film on Shydavid's truck. He seemed particularly interested in taking photos of the cab, which is still stuffed with camping gear from David's recent trip to Colorado. He seemed particularly interested in getting numerous shots of Shy's Universal Life Church minister's card which is clipped to the visor on the driver's side. It has important intelligence to reveal, such as Shydavid's old address from a few years ago! Wow!

Finally, we taunted old Frank enough, and he started walking back to base with his phone stuck to his ear. We really had to get going, so we headed back to the real world after a parting benediction of "Burn in Hell, you OSA scum!" from Murdoch.

No picket of Gold Base would be complete without the obligatory car chase, so the Scientologists provided that as well. We were followed by a red van that picked us up on 79. It looked like the driver was the same guy who followed David from my house in a gold van. The same guy, you'll recall, whom David lost at the San Onofre checkpoint! I have to say here that Murdoch was somewhat less than stealthy. The back camper flap of David's truck is tinted, you can't see in. Murdoch flipped that open and stared at our tail, who twigged to the fact that we'd made him.

Now useless, he passed us, shielding his face with his hand so Murdoch couldn't take his picture. He got one shot, we'll see how it turns out.

Of course we were looking for operator number two to pick us up, but apparently we didn't rate that kind of executive treatment. Apparently.

We tried a few diversionary tactics with no results from anyone.

However, as we delivered Murdoch back to the loving embrace of his family, a black VW drove by the house.

"Ohhh, shit!" said he. We discounted it. Curiously, the VW drove by and turned around out of sight. It drove by again, and the driver waved.

Make of that what you will.

Since we pulled up across the street from his family's house, the neighbors might be puzzled if they receive a flier informing them that their nephew has been hanging out with known pagans, and supporters of a terrorist who advocates using weapons of mass destruction against a peaceful religious group (Henson) This is true, --
barb
"Car salesmen are after your money, Christians are after your soul, but the Church of Scientology wants both." -- Hartley Patterson "Every week, every month, every year, every decade and now every century, Scientology does weird and stupid things to damage its own reputation." - Steve Zadarnowski http://www.xenu.net
http://www.xenutv.com (see live Scientologists in their natural state!)

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