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Message-ID: <39578ED1.DFA899D0@pacbell.net> Date: Mon, 26 Jun 2000 10:11:45 -0700 From: barb <bwarr@pacbell.net> Subject: picket, Gold Base, 6/25/00 Picket Report, Gold Base, 6-25-00 Shy David and I arrived at Gold Base at approximately 10:00 a.m. Happily, there was a high overcast cloud cover thanks to the tropical storm off Baja; the temp was in the 80s. We paused to place prayer feathers at the little Ashlee shrine by the side of the road. David got attacked by ants. David was using one of Keith's signs, mine said 'Scientology Kills' on one side and, 'Ron is Gone But the Con Lives On' on the other. We started picketing from the shrine and began working our way south, David acting as tour guide. The wheelbarrow of dried cement is still there! The parrot is still there too, because it's a pet, not a loose bird. I didn't hear it say Xenu, but it squawked a lot. It didn't take too long for our first handler to emerge from the base. This nattily dressed OT feller's name was Ken. He was wearing a dark suit dispite the heat, lots of gold buttons, gold Scientology ring. His shoes would have passed inspection, and the ants did not attack him. He was superficially friendly, and asked the usual questions, who, why, and so forth. David wouldn't give him his name, as he suspects they already know it. But Ken played dumb. (We heard "I'm out of the loop" a lot of times that day!) So, "Grayhat" and Barb were our handles for the day. We were about to an underpass on 79, when Ken started talking about breakfast. He thought it would be good for us to all go eat out together and chat about how our differences could be resolved. He said he'd buy. Anyone who knows me is aware that I seldom turn down a free meal! But I got this weird sense that, for some reason, Ken was trying to get us away from Gold. We gracefully declined the invitation. I suggested we make a date for some future meeting, but he didn't respond. Ken kept asking if we could "stop and talk." Well, being it was a picket and all, we told him we had to keep moving and if he wished, he could accompany us. Ken informed us that the mysterious 'ritual post' mentioned by Keith was just an intercom. We did stop for a smoke break, at which point I bummed a smoke off Ken, having left mine in the car. (Shades of Jacques in London, I sniveled his next to last smoke!) Thanks Ken! I appreciated the smoke. Next time, the smokes are on me. At one point, Ken asked us if we'd ever broken the law. "Anyone who says otherwise, would be lying," I replied. I asked him where he was going with this. Nowhere, apparently. He segued into some other topic. Discussing the tech with Ken, I inquired of him why the San Diego org was so downstat that it couldn't even get the Sunday services listed in the paper correctly. "People make mistakes," he said. I pointed out that this has been an ongoing thing, and that it wasted the org's resources. I outlined for him how simple it is to get an ad in the paper every week, and suggested he pass on my comments to San Diego. Before we parted, he asked for my phone number so he could call and chat. I offered him my email addy instead, said offer was ignored. It didn't occur to me at the time that Ken may not be online. Finally, Ken's beeper muttered at him, and a woman handler emerged from the clambed. He left us in her hands. I don't recall her name offhand, but she was perhaps 5'6 max, ash brown pageboy, dark glasses, and a bad knee, so I'll call her Gimpy. That was the first thing she said to us, that she had a bad knee, and could we stop to talk? We invited her to keep up with us, as we were picketing and had to keep moving by law. Then, she started asking us the same questions as Ken. We told her she could ask him, as we'd already covered that ground. She then morphed into a tour guide, pointing out the new blue trimmed residences they're building. There's one beautiful stone building to the east of 79, partway up the ridge overlooking Gold. I asked her what it was. "Office buildings," she replied. (Ida says it's Davey's house.) We discussed architecture. I told her that the lumpy brown pseudocastle did not say Scotland to me. It said Southern California Disney, and ugly to boot. I did compliment Davey's house and the new structures though. They are quite nice looking. Perhaps I'll buy one when that property becomes available following some court case. Then, she tried bullbaiting me. Me! Ex-punk rocker don't give a shit me! She suggested I could benefit from Prozac. (drug endorsement from an OT? Wow!) I laughed, and said I was not only not depressed, I am downright chucklelicious! "You seem a bit unstable," she said. I laughed again. "I'm an artist. You name me one artist who isn't a little whacky!" She terminated that program and we changed the subject. She started talking about how we should sit down and have breakfast. "Can't you smell the food in the mess hall? It smells great!" Look, I can smell food miles away, and I am here to tell you, there wasn't anything cooking! She seemed to be inviting us into Gold Base to break bread with her! Again, we declined the invitation. As we went by the entrance again, another fellow came out. This one's name was Robert. He also was being nice. I must say, this guy was incredibly uninformed about current events. I had to tell him who General Colin Powell is! He didn't know anything about anything, it was kind of startling to me. No computer, no tv, no newspapers...reminds me of the first two weeks of basic military training! We all stood around through introductions, then she started chatting up Robert so David and I continued on. We left the two of them way behind. Oddly, Gimpy hustled to catch up with us. Her knee was apparently better! David and I continued north, trailed by our gaggle of OT handlers. A vehicle pulled up across the street, and a guy with a big camcorder got out. "Quick!" I said to Gimp. "Hold this!" and extended my sign to her. Her hand moved to take it before she caught herself, and Robert and I cracked up. I made our handlers burst out laughing several times. I am a Joker, all right. David got the sense that they were trying to keep us from the south. We walked all the way down several times, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Thinking about it later, I believe I know why they were doing this. I bet they were under orders to keep picketers away from Davey's house. David brought up many topics to our handlers about which they claimed ignorance. "I'm out of the loop," was said repeatedly. They all denied having access to KRs and so forth. I hope David will post, I don't remember them all. Mark Bunker's hammerfest was one. We didn't have any fliers, but there was a steady stream of traffic, with accompanying honks, waves, and thumbs up, which our handlers ignored. You have to wonder what they think when someone drives by yelling, "Yeah!" and giving us thumbs up. We left Gold around 1:00, and stopped by Ida's for lunch and a visit. Thanks to Ida for the hospitality! Let's do lunch again soon! I guess the OTs did get me though. On the way home, the train ran out of fuel and we had to wait for a freight locomotive to come and push us into the San Diego train station! We got in just after 2400. As far as I know, there was no revenge picket at my place but then, if there had been, I'm sure the fliers would have been gone by midnight.
Submitted for your approval and so forth, "Every week, every month, every year, every decade and now every century, Scientology does wierd and stupid things to damage its own reputation." - Steve Zadarnowski
http://www.xenu.net
Message-ID: <3957923D.5E44BB21@pacbell.net> [...] Finally, Ken's beeper muttered at him, and a woman handler emerged from the clambed. He left us in her hands. I don't recall her name offhand, but she was perhaps 5'6 max, ash brown pageboy, dark glasses, and a bad knee, so I'll call her Gimpy. That was the first thing she said to us, that she had a bad knee, and could we stop to talk? We invited her to keep up with us, as we were picketing and had to keep moving by law. Then, she started asking us the same questions as Ken. We told her she could ask him, as we'd already covered that ground. David asked her what her job was. "I'm in PR," she told him.
"So you're OSA then," he says. She then morphed into a tour guide, pointing out the new blue trimmed residences they're building. There's one beautiful stone building to the east of 79, partway up the ridge overlooking Gold. I asked her what it was. "Office buildings," she replied. (Ida says it's Davey's house.) We discussed architecture. I told her that the lumpy brown pseudocastle did not say Scotland to me. It said Southern California Disney, and ugly to boot. I did compliment Davey's house and the new structures though. They are quite nice looking. Perhaps I'll buy one when that property becomes available following some court case. [....] |