However, it might prove educational for those who have never picketed, giving them some idea of what to expect if they ever decide to. Also, it might have some entertainment value.

On the first shift, before we all took a break, Arel Lucas, Peach and I picketed the San Francisco org on McAllister. For about half this time, I was accompanied by a guy named Mark, who walked beside me and engaged me in "conversation." I think he was about my age, maybe a bit younger.

He seemed relatively sincere, and not too much of a drone, but the degree to which he is steeped in Hubbard-thought was a bit disconcerting, and rather annoying at times. Make that, most of the time.

But at least he seems capable of independent thought, and can create sentences which are more than just mindless chanting.

After he had tried to annoy Arel, who was listening to her portable CD player, and oblivious to what he was saying, he went over an annoyed Peach for a bit. She stopped picketing and called the cops on her cell phone (I think -- as I mentioned, she needed to notify them of the fact that we were picketing).

Mark took this opportunity to join me. I was happy to allow this.

I don't see a whole lot of point in talking to "handlers" at pickets, but it helps the time pass. And I think they have a right to know why somebody is protesting their org.

However, the main reason I allowed it to continue, even encouraged it for a bit, was that it took the heat off Peach and Arel, who seem far less tolerant of bull-baiting than I am. I really don't mind it all that much. It's unpleasant, it's annoying, but it's so stupid and childish that it's difficult for me to react to it in any way except laughing occasionally.

I wonder what policy lays out "Playground Taunt Tech," as practiced by just about every picket "handler" I've ever witnessed.

"I've never seen you here before."

"I've never been here before."

"Soooooo, what's your story?"

"None of your business."

As can be seen, Mark and I were already deep in A-R-C.

"What's your name?"
"My name is Prignillius."
"Does it mean anything?"
"Nope."
"Did your parents give you that name?"
Silence.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
"What you're doing here is very self-serving."

"So is what you're doing."

"What I mean by self-serving is ..." [Something about twisting the truth to suit ones own ends or something.] "Self-serving merely means doing something that benefits you. Maybe you need to get a bigger dictionary."

The guy was a regular Humpty-Dumpty. He felt quite comfortable redefining any and all terms in such a way that they would automatically rule out any alternative. Sort of along the same lines of logic that leads to "everyone who criticizes the Church of Scientology is a criminal."

"I only come here once a month when you guys..."

"What? You only come to the org once a month? And when you do come, it's only to hassle picketers? What kind of Scientologist are you?"

"Well, what I meant was..."

"Your problem is that you're a bigot. Your mind is made up. You don't want to hear the other side of the story. You're not open- minded at all."

"What did Hubbard say about being open-minded?"

"Well, what he meant by that was, ..." Something that seemed vaguely in the direction of the Church.

"Are you open-minded about Scientology?"

I think he realized at that point what a dead-end this was going to be.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ "You guys just spread hate. Peaches, over there, for example, is so full of hate that ..."

I couldn't help but laugh out loud at this.

I don't know Peaches well, I've only met her once, and at that time, I had had less than five minutes total personal contact with her outside of email.

Yet it was evident to me that if there's one thing Peach is not, it's hate-filled. "Nice" or "gentle" would be two adjectives that would have popped into my mind.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ "You're not interested in the facts."

"I am very interested in the facts. I'm not spouting second-hand opinions. It is a documented fact that Scientology lies."

"Give me specific examples."

I either remained silent or changed the subject. I refused to allow the conversation to degenerate into haggling over the specifics of past incidents.

Later, he said, " You've just been listening to a bunch of liars on the Internet. I asked you tell me specific incidents and you couldn't."

"It's not that I couldn't. It's that I chose not to."

This seemed to really take him by surprise -- the idea that I would not answer one of his questions by choice.

He didn't say anything to this effect, but there was the distinct air about his actions before this point, and to some extent afterwards, too, that for some reason I would automatically be compelled to answer his questions. It was like it never even occurred to him that I might refuse to do so.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
"If someone was attacking your mother, coming out here in public and saying bad things about her, telling lies about her, you'd be out here trying to do something about it."

While I thought the comparison was a bit hyperbolic, I told him I had no problem with him feeling this way. I told him I could understand why he would have an emotional attachment to his church, and why he would feel like defending it from things he perceived as lies.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ "Do you hate Scientologists?"

"No. I don't hate anybody. It's the destructive policies of the Church of Scientology I'm protesting."

"Do you want to see it destroyed?"

"No."

I didn't mention that I was quite willing to watch it fall on its own, however, and maybe even nudge it along a bit.

;->

"... all these guys spreading hate on the Internet. I'm not saying you're one of 'em. You seem like a fairly reasonable guy."

Oh!

The A-R-C is flowing deep and heavy now!

I refrained from mentioning what Hubbard said about being reasonable.

"But what you've been doing is listening to a bunch of kooks, a bunch of whackos on the Internet. You have no direct experience of blah, blah, blah."

I refused throughout our conversation to tell him anything about what my personal involvement with Scientology had or had not been.

I know he found it frustrating that he was unable to sink a hook into this area.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ At one point, he started in about Stacy Brooks.

"Dead-agenting other critics won't work with me. Better try another tack."

That actually stopped him dead.

At another point later, he started in on her again. I reminded him of what I'd said earlier (actually I repeated it). Again it stopped him dead.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ "Scientology has helped [some number of] people for [some period of time]."

"Yes, Scientology has helped a lot of people. And it has also hurt those same people. Scientology hurts everyone it touches, members, ex-members and non-members alike."

"Name one person Scientology has hurt."

"Well, Stacy Brooks, for one, since you mentioned her."

"Oh, I'm not talking about her. I'm not talking about a bunch of whackos on the Internet. I'm talking about *real people!* "What??? Now who's the bigot."

"[???]"

"You look at critics as a lower class of people. You don't even think they're human beings."

"Well, what I meant was..."

"You just *said* they're not real people."

"But what I meant was--"

"Look, all I have to go on is what you say to me. I don't have OT powers. I can't read your mind."

I gave him a very piercing look at this point.

I think my reference to OT powers both surprised him and made him uncomfortable. Especially since I think my attitude towards them showed through all my ostensible politeness.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ "You have no confront. I can have Scientology helping people and I can have Scientology hurting people. You can only have Scientology helping people. You can't have Scientology hurting people."

I actually think I scored a point on this one. He may actually think about this.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ "Look, Mark, you see me as uninformed about Scientology. And I see you the same way. I see you as uninformed about Scientology."

"So, what's your point?"

"Nothing, really. Just an observation. I think it's interesting that we both see each other the same way."

I looked at him with an expression that said, "Get it?" as loudly as body language would allow.

But I still think he missed the point.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ "...so you come out here, spreading hate about my church, spreading lies, and so I come out here and defend it --"

"How does what you're doing right now defend your church?"

"Shut up!" he suddenly yelled at me.

"Hey!" I shouted, turning to glare at him, indicating quite strongly that I don't allow myself to be talked to that way. This was the only time I raised my voice during the entire picket, and the only time I was non-conversational in tone and manner.

Apparently, for Mark, this made me Fair Game, though. He started shouting at me.

"Shut up! Shut up and listen to me when I'm talking to you."

And on and on in this vein for a bit.

So I did shut up.

He continued lecturing me for about five minutes, surprised, I'm sure, by my seeming attentiveness. Actually, once my decision was made to give him his way, I had already begun to tune him out, as I considered the "conversation" to be over.

After he had asked five questions or so, with increasing frustration at my complete silence, I turned to him and said coldly, "You asked me to shut up, Mark. So I did."

That got him howling mad, especially realizing he had brought it on himself, and got exactly what he'd asked for.

But, of course, not at all what he had wanted.

"But-- but-- what I meant was..."

He started bull-baiting me about being "petulant" and "mad at him."

"Come on. You know what I meant. Grow up. My teenager acts like this when he..."

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ I have to hand it to him, though. It didn't take him too long to realize that he had "completely shut down my comm line." He quit walking alongside me and went and got a large "Psychiatry Kills"

sign and started standing on the curb and showing it to passing traffic.

Another Scientologist was already holding one. I don't know this guy's name, but he should be commended. He ought to be held up as a model of how to "handle" a picket of Scientology. He just stood there with his sign. I never heard a word out of him, and spoke no word to him. He peacefully ignored me and I peacefully ignored him.

We both got our messages to the passing public (me more effectively than him, I believe, but then, I'm biased! ;) Anyway, Mark and this other guy stood there (not walking, which I believe is a requirement to participate in a public picket, but I let it pass) holding their signs while Peach, Arel and I continued to make our rounds. I thought that was basically a good thing, as Mark was now leaving all three of us alone.

It was also kind of funny, in that occasionally Mark tried to block my sign. However, as his sign was about four feet long and three feet high, and had no handles on it, it was difficult for him to hold it more than chest-high. It was always easy for me to overtop him with my sign.

Then suddenly he started using Tone 40 on us.

"Get the *fuck* out of here!" he shouted at me at the top of his voice as I passed. "Get out of here! You're not wanted here.

You're not welcome."

On the next pass:

"Hey! I told you to leave! Get the fuck out of here! Now!"

He also tried this on Arel, who I'm not sure even heard him, being absorbed in her CD headphones.

He also tried it on Peach, who managed to ignore him, as far as I could tell.

"Hey! I told you to leave! Get the fuck out of here! You don't listen too good, do you? What's the matter? You deaf? Come on, Fat Boy, get the fuck out of here!"

I wanted to say, "Why isn't it working, Mark? Didn't Hubbard say The Tech always works? Why doesn't The Tech work?" But I refrained. After all, he had requested that I shut up.

They also tried hard to push buttons about my weight. All of them referred to it at least once. I can't remember whether it was Mark or Craig who said, "Yeah. Go spread hate. Go walk off some calories."

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Towards the beginning of the picket, for a brief (but exciting) time, there was a handler who identified himself as "Bob."

"Ecstacy and LSD are illegal."

"Yeah? So?"

"I know you're high on some kind of hallucinogenic drug right now.

That's the only way you could ever get up the confront to come here."

Implying, I guess that the Mighty Org is so cosmically powerful that SPs can't approach it because of the Theta Force Field it emanates, or something.

At least, not if they're in their right minds, I guess.

"Yeah, right."

"And I can prove it! I can prove you're high on hallucinogenic drugs right now!"

"Go ahead."

"Don't think I won't!"

He stalked away at this, never to be seen by me again.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Craig was the "handler" with the video camera. Everything he said to me during the picket was nasty.

As we started picketing, they were of course very interested in me, as they'd never seen me (or probably anything like me ;) before.

"Zoom in and get this guy's face."

Apparently they still weren't satisfied, so I stopped, posed for them, and waved at the camera.

For some reason, this just seemed to put them even more out of sorts.

Craig kept harping on how we were spreading hate.

"You come out here... spreading hate... to people you don't even know."

This was too much to pass up.

"The only person I see spreading hate here, *to people you don't even know,* is you!"

I didn't get the feeling I accomplished much by this.

On one of my many passes in front of the org, I had to go around a streetlight pole, and had to move my sign around it to avoid hitting it. The wind caught my sign and moved it to the left a bit more than I had intended.

"Did you see that?" Craig shouted, to nobody I could see. "He tried to hit me with that sign!"

[An example of why you should never picket alone!] I turned to him with a sour expression.

"Give me a break!" I said in a disgusted tone.

"Is that a threat? Are you threatening me?" he yelled.

"No! I never threaten anybody," I said in a voice loud enough to match his, and kept on walking.
I really don't remember anything else Craig said. I ignored it all.

It was all nasty.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Well, there you have it. As I said, I consider it fairly standard fare. Far from the worst bullbaiting I've ever endured, yet far also from the blue-tarp hiding with no contact at all.

As I mentioned in my previous report, I also consider being spied on in the cafe afterwards (which didn't happen), getting my license number written down (which did), and being followed leaving the picket (which didn't) to be standard things any picketer can expect.

I'll close with my favorite exchange of the day.

"You're out here trying to make Scientology look bad!"

"Mark, nobody has to try to make Scientology look bad."

Prignillius

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