Adventures in LA - Part One (Flyering Big Blue
etc.)
Adventures in LA - Part Two (My very own airport
picket!)
Greetings from Los Angeles, where I, your humble correspondent, have spent the
Thanksgiving weekend playing games with OSA and friends (as well as, of
course, escaping the cold of the Canadian winter for a little southern
Californian rest and relaxation, but that's another story).
Bright-eyed and bushytailed - and only the least bit jetlagged after a
Wednesday night flight into town - we turned up outside Big Blue on Thursday
afternoon to scope out potential flyering sites for the weekend ahead. We
weren't there to cause trouble - heck, we're *never* there to cause trouble -
but we weren't on LRH Way for more than a few minutes before the bike cop on
duty spotted us moseying down the street, and radioed back to base for backup.
Within minutes, there was another bike cop on patrol, diligently following us
as we wandered leisurely, like pedestrians sometimes do, around the block for
another spin. I took two pictures of our companions, but discovered - oh
curses, my woeful woggedly unpreparedness - that I was nearly out of film, so
we decided to head back to the car where I had another roll in my purse.
This, of course, meant that rather than play tag with the kids, we actually
had to lose them long enough to make our brief getaway before returning, armed
to the teeth with a fully loaded camera. This, dear readers, was not as tricky
as you might expect it to be. Details of our copyrighted OSA Evasion Tech
shall be included liberally throughout our report. However, in the true
spirit of the Internet, all may use this glorious Tech free of charge in
perpetuity. This is humbly tendered as a gift to the 4th Dynamic in pursuit
of its noble goal of defeating, once and for all, the 3rd Dynamic. (Note to
OSA: Yes, this means you.)
The dutiful reader should examine the Tech, and apply it fully for it to work
for you (which it will. I guarantee it. Unless yer an evil squirrel. Then
you suck. So neener neener.)
Returning from an odd angle, we took the bike squad by surprise yet again. It
seems that Willing Boy 2 had been allowed to go back to turkey dinner
(assuming of course that his stats were up), or whatever it is that bike cops
do when they aren't pedalling aimlessly around the complex over and over,
because we were left with the original guard, and he was solo again - but not
for long. At this point, playing "evade the bikecop" became more of an
entertaining diversion than our original product of just checking out the
place. Some would call this dev-t, but not us, cuz hey..we're not
scientologists. We just call it good clean fun. After making a few more
trips around, losing the bike cops several times only to re-appear shortly
thereafter from an entirely different side of the complex, it was getting
dark, so we felt it was time to head home for the night. It was time to lose
the bike cop one last time in order to make the clean getaway. We rounded a
corner, bike cop being behind us pulled what's commonly known as a "slicky"
and headed us off at the pass by taking an alleyway through the block. In his
zeal, he ended up in front of us...we ducked down the alley he had just come
from, he predictably turned around at some point a few moments later only to
realize that we were gone. Thinking "ah hah! They ducked through the alley!
I'm too smart for them!" He then raced off around the block to intercept us at
the head of the street. Of course, being armed with superior intellectual
tech, we had predicted such a ploy, and instead were merely standing in the
alley engaging in a clever ruse. Shortly after, we ducked back out of the
alley, and returned to the car unmolested, unspotted, and unsullied, yet
greatly amused.
The one amusing postscript to this stage of our adventures at Big Blue was
that within minutes of our departure, our own OSA conduit Rod Fletcher (Hi,
Rod!) came on IRC #scientology and announced, "I just saw Kady in LA." How he
knew so darn quickly of my arrival in the land of the sun, and why he felt the
need to broadcast it to an IRC channel is something best left to the
imagination. But I gotta tell you that it made me feel welcome as a tourist.
Thanks, Rod.
The next morning, armed with 100 Lisa McPherson flyers -- thanks to Mirele,
who excerpted the juciest and most horrific parts of the Strope affidavit from
the indictment papers - I and my trusty unindicted co-conspirator Snefru
headed back to Big Blue - this time, with enturbulation -- or at least more
than just casual sightseeing - on our minds. Well, heck, we gave 'em a dry run
at following us on Thursday. Our consciences were clean. We started at the top
of Fountain (the street immediately perpendicular to LRH Way), and proceeded
to walk casually down the street, handing out flyers to the few people we met
on the way, including several apparently scientologist public passersby - one
armed with a deck of flyers of his own; goodness knows what they were in aid
of, he didn't think to hand one to *us* - and other sundry persons on the
street. The bike cops - usually omnipresent around the complex - were
curiously absent until we rounded LRH Way, when we caught sight of one
pedalling in a relaxed fashion around the corner, apparently blissfully
ignorant of our presence. Until right that moment, when he chanced to turn
around, and spotted our happy, smiling, innocent faces.
Click! Instantly, his walkie talkie was pressed close to his cheek as he
alerted his seniors to our presence. The return of those pesky kids. We
continued up LRH Way, handing out flyers to the few folks we passed, when, on
looking behind us, we caught sight of the selfsame bike cop taking the flyers
out of the hands of those we had passed them out to. He was stopping behind
us, and gathering up a handful of them. We hunhed in surprise, but continued
on our way. At this point, we'd seen no security presence other than our
friend on his bike, but this was about to change on our next pass by LRH Way,
when a fiery mid-thirties woman with long reddish brown hair called out to us
and asked for a copy of the flyer we were handing out - after shrugging off
the warning from bike cop, who was still faithfully shadowing our
circumnavigation of the complex.
She read about three words of the flyer (namely "Scientology Indicted:") and
started yammering about how we didn't know Lisa -- according to her, she did,
and she'd also been to Flag twelve times - I wish I'd thought to ask her how
much that had set her back, but it didn't occur to me at the time), and
basically trying to intend us right off the property. Her postulates were
falling on deaf ears when another woman - this one more demonstrably senior
than the first - came out of the main building and announced, 'You're not
welcome here."
Ah, what a charmer she was. Tall, germanic looking with what was possibly an
Austrian accent, she used that famous 'get in your face' tech as she
alternately cajoled, bullied and just plain whined in an attempt to get us off
the hallowed cobblestones of LRH Way.
She was what most people would describe as an obnoxious bitch, but I'll just
call her an "unpleasant person". Her mission seemed to be to 8-C us off the
premises by communicating such a forceful impression that our mere meatbodies
were compelled to leave the premises immediately. She seemed to be rather
non-plussed that no one ACK'ed her "You are not welcome's", and repeated them
incessantly until they were ACK'ed. We asserted our right to be there, and
informed her of our intentions to exercise that right, and that we completely
understood that the CoS didn't want people to see the dirty truth. She
somehow didn't see this as an ACK. She repeated her statement, and we
repeated ours. She was visibly flustered by this, and accused us of horrific
crimes against humanity, such as "having innocent faces". This seemed to
really annoy her, almost as much as the flyers in our hands detailing the
horrific death of Lisa McPherson. She tried to 'push back our anchor points'
(apologies for mangled tech, but hey, we're just wogs) by getting in our
personal space and flinging fingers about wildly, to no avail. Finally, we
took pity on her, gave her the ACK she so desperately needed and carried on
down LRH Way. We also gave her a flyer as a sign of good faith and to remember
us by, and asked if she would at least consider letting *other* people read
the flyer, rather than sending the bike cop to snatch it out of their hands.
She shrugged noncommitedly, but moments later, when we handed a flyer to
another passerby, stepped in front of them on the sidewalk and demanded that
they hand it over.
"Enough of this," we thought. "We could just stand here and hand flyers to
the
bike cop one by one, and it would eliminate the middleman. To a different
corner!" And we decided to make our way northwesterly, to the LRH Life Exhibit
and OSA Headquarters on Hollywood and Ivar.
As we rounded the corner of LRH Way in pursuit of this new goal, we were
greeted by a camcorder-wielding teenaged security mousketeer, who looked like
nothing so much as a freshfaced skinhead kid, who pointed his lens directly at
us from where he was planted in the middle of the sidewalk. I held up my flyer
- not to block my face, I mean, what's the point? OSA apparently knows me on
sight already, but to get the words 'Scientology Indicted' into the shot. He
did not appear to be amused. As we walked down Sunset, he followed us
diligently, from a short distance of about thirty feet, and showed no signs of
dropping back when we crossed out of the sacred theta block and back into the
wog section of Sunset Blvd.
"Hmmm," we thought. "Is he actually going to follow us all the way to the
LRH
Life Exhibit?" We considered walking the fifteen or so blocks it would have
taken to get us to Hollywood and Ivar, but decided to head back to the car and
drive to our next flyering location. This, of course, meant that, much as we
appreciated being stalked down Sunset by VideoBoy, that our new friend had to
go.
Walking probably a half a mile away from the complex, it was apparent that
VideoBoy was intent on following us for the duration. It was time to lose
him. We crossed over to the North side of the street. He chose to keep his
distance, while hiding behind palm trees on the South Side of the street.
This proved to be his fatal blunder. Whilst walking down the street, we
crossed behind a city bus that was about to leave. Now, at this point, one of
two things happened. We either got on the bus, which left nearly immediately
after, and stared bemusedly at VideoBoy scratching his head staring at the bus
as it passed, having never seen us come out on the other side ; Or we took the
opportunity presented to us by being out of his sight for a moment to dart
into a restaurant across a parking lot, order a soda, sit down, and laugh at
the confused VideoBoy standing across the street at the 7-11 radioing
desperately for help. It is unclear if he suspected persons matching our
descriptions were seen inside the restaurant, or if he just was too lazy to
walk back, and wanted a ride.
Eventually a car with no plates showed up, apparently to give him
instructions. (Either that, or he was panhandling for change while hanging
out in the parking lot, which, given the meagre wages of SO brats, is
always a possibility. "Pardon me, do you have any spare change to help me
up the Bridge?" ) The car then decided to park in the 7-11 parking lot across
the street. We decided they probably suspected our presence in the restaurant
leisurely drinking a soda. With true sekr1t agent ninja tekneek, learned from
years of secret ARSCC training deep in the Ozark Mountains, we stealthily
asked the restauranteur if we could borrow their back exit for a moment. We
snuck out of the restaurant, and doubled back to the car entirely unseen. If
we were a Calvin Klein perfume, we'd be called 'Sneak'. It was interesting
to note their far more aggressive pursuit of us than the day before, perhaps
because they were told "Don't lose those pesky kids again, or it's Beanz fer a
week!" Sorry kid. Next time you see me, I'll buy you a meal to compensate.
(Note - As it turned out, we did see him again - the very next day! But that's
getting ahead of our story.)
Off to the Life Exhibit we went, a nearly full deck of flyers in our hot
little suppressive hands. We parked a few blocks away, and began handing out
flyers as we headed towards the Exhibit itself, with most people seeming
bemused, but interested, and taking copies freely. Such a nice change, we
thought, from the crowd outside Big Blue, which cheerfully handed over the
same flyers without being asked twice by the security detail. Then again,
these were mere wogs, and not examples of the most able beings on the planet,
so they were allowed to read what they wanted to read without interference
from on high.
As we approached the Exhibit itself, we could see several perky blonde
tourguides out in front, handing out tickets to the exhibit and generally
acting as soft-sell bodyrouters for the LRH experience. This, we thought, is
going to be interesting. We handed one copy of the flyer to the tallest,
blondest and - apparently - senior tour guide, who followed us around the
block a moment or two later and offered us - not a restraining order, but
tickets to the Exhibit, "if you want to see what it's really about." What a
different experience from the forces of darkness at Big Blue, we thought, and
continued flyering down both sides of Hollywood Blvd, where we ran across a
diverse cross section of passersby, including tourists, Hollywood denizens,
joggers and workers at nearby shops. The vast majority were happy to take
flyers, and we quickly passed out our entire bundle. During the fortyfive
minutes or so that we had been engaged in flyer tech out in front of the
Exhibit - which, and this may or may not become relevant later in our story,
is right next door to the building that houses OSA HQ - a veritable pack of
steely-eyed Sea Orgers and assorted security grunts had gathered in front of
the Exhibit itself. One of the assembled masses, 'Jeff', recognized Snefru
from previous encounters at BB, but restrained himself from returning Snef's
cheery greeting with equal bonhomie. Perhaps this was because he was all
dolled up in his SO uniform, and felt it demeaned his office to be in comm
with an obvious suppressive type. Standing by the doorway to OSA HQ was a
slightly swarthy, sombre-faced middle-aged man in a suit who looked like a
meaner, more bedraggled Eugene Levy. We'll call him 'Thug B'. He was carrying
a walky talky, which is apparently required equipment for virtually anyone
involved in any aspect of building security, and stood with his hands in his
suit pockets, staring unsmilingly at us as we passed him with our remaining
flyers. I handed him one, and he looked, if possible, even less happy with us.
Oh well. I'm not here to make OSA happy, thank goodness.
After finishing up, we decided to head back to the car, a job well done and
flyers well distributed. Of course, we looked behind us to see which, if any,
security detail was in hot pursuit this time, and saw Thug B, walking briskly
half a block behind us. He continued to pursue us around several blocks as we
walked aimlessly around the area. He eventually gained on us, and called out
"Hi!". We stopped, and commed with him for approximately 15 minutes,
describing our purpose for being there. After approximately 15 minutes, two
other persons who we initially thought to be PI's flanked us, and showed up on
either side of us. They stood silently smoking massive quantities of
cigarettes for a few minutes, when one of them butted into Snefru's
conversation with Thug B, and introduced himself as "Hello, my name is Craig
Brown, and I just want you to know that all of your homes will be picketed.
There will be flyers everywhere, handed to all of your neighbors, and everyone
will know who you are." He then mentioned that he was the founder of the
front group known as FRL, or Friends of Religious Liberty. He claimed to have
500 scientologists around the country assembled for the purpose of picketing
critics houses. He was a heavy set guy wearing a beret, and a beard, and used
a cane. The other guy was sort of an artsy John Lennon look-alike also
wearing a beret and a long trench coat. Apparently these two weren't PI's as
initially suspected, but were actually our handlers. They were late, but
it's ok, they're excused.
The pair proceeded to handle us for approximately an hour, or so, changing
valences several times in the course of the handling, transitioning from "Your
homes will all be picketed" to "How about some free M/U courses, and Book One
Auditing." Snefru accepted their offer of free courses in the true spirit of
communication, and "Bridging" the gap, and suggested that since Craig Brown,
FRL Founder proclaimed to know where he lived, he should mail him an
invitation. Craig accepted. Snefru awaits his invitation eagerly, but
doesn't expect to get it.
Kady, being the cynic that she is, nixed the whole processing idea, but got on
fine with her handler after the initial awkwardness of being considered a
threat to humanity, and by the end, was chatting about the IRS agreement,
Operation Snow White, the death of Lisa McPherson and the OT levels without a
moment's hesitation. (She would like to note that she did *not* reveal *any*
of the 'secrets' of OTIII, since her handler told her that he wasn't at that
level yet. Just so y'all don't think her an unfeeling monstrous brute of a
woman. She chatted about CATS, Narconon and other things scientological, and
by the end of the conversation, her handler noted that she was 'not a bad
person', but in fact, 'a bright girl' who had just taken the wrong path.
Ditto, she said. All in all, a successful handling in one sense, since they
did manage to engage us for more than an hour - but as an attempt to thwart
street flyering, it was a failure, since we were long finished by the time
they made their approach. We parted, if not friends, at least not mortal
enemies, and headed off to our vehicle, and pints waiting in the fridge at
home. We didn't think we'd see the likes of OSA security again during the
weekend, but on that, we were wrong.
On Saturday, it was time to pay a long overdue visit to the inFormer Ministry
headed up by a.r.s.' very own Dennis Erlich. We headed off to Glendale -
World's First Clear City - for a delightful lunch and conversation about all
things scientological and otherwise, and a good time was had by all. After
dropping Dennis off, we headed off on a confidential eyes-only secret mission,
but enroute, Snefru suddenly noticed that a minivan seemed to be shadowing his
every move. "Am I paranoid, or is that van following me?" he wondered, as he
turned down a side street and pulled a U-turn. The van went one street further
and did the same thing.
"*Hmm*," he thought, meaningfully, and expressed his apprehensions aloud.
Deciding to put his theory to the test, he made several turns resulting in a
full circle around two separate city blocks, including darting back and forth
between two lanes, all of which was mirrored by the van behind us, leading us
to conclude that something was indeed amiss. Sensing his moment to make a
move and add to his repetoire of OSA Avoidance Tech, he changed lanes, hit the
brakes, and let them fly right by. Snefru must shamefully admit that his
little maneuver was ripped straight from Top Gun, but really. It works on the
ground too.
The van attempted to change lanes, and slow down behind us, but alas, were
caught unawares. They passed, and were immediately pursued by Snefru. They
dodged, they darted, they changed lanes, turned corners, all to no avail. I
suspect they were non-plussed at this point at being outsmarted yet again. In
a move characterizable only by sheer desperation, they rapidly turned into a
Lucky's parking lot ( a chain grocery store), and proceeded to do donuts
around two parked cars. Snefru followed, cackling hysterically at their
frantic attempt to flee. They were stuck.
In a classic "Deer in Headlights" move, Snefru pinned them in place by coming
up on their side, and flashing his lights at them. They stopped dead in their
tracks, and their faces were seen to be none other than!!@$!@% (drum roll)
VideoBoy, and Thug B!
VideoBoy was driving, while wearing a dark blue hooded sweatshirt trying to
look all sekretive like, and blend in with the locals. He looked kinda silly.
Realizing that a hooded sweatshirt wasn't enough to conceal his identity, and
being pretty much stuck, he attempted to meld himself into the back of his
seat. Thug B stared blankly like a bad B Movie Thug. The only thing missing
was the cigarrette dangling from his lips, and a seedy beret. He was visibly
perturbed. VideoBoy was not so much perturbed as plain ol' scared shitless.
Serves him right for stalking a law abiding, non-crime against humanity
committing citizen of these United States, not to mention a tourist! I waved,
they didn't respond. I waved again, no response. I exited my vehicle, and
approached, motioning to them that I wanted to talk. Being scared out of
their wits, they took flight by backing out of their parking space, and
fleeing like scared rabbits. They quickly made their way out of the parking
lot, and off into the night.
Feeling his job here was done, Snefru elected not to pursue them, but instead
to return to our mission for the night, which may, or may not have consisted
of picking up some dinner, and a 6-pack of diet coke for the tourist. Being a
secret mission, I can't divulge whether, or not this was the case. But rest
assured, dear readers, that full photographic evidence, including a rare
licence-plate revealing picture of an OSA spycar *from behind* (after it was
forced to pass the car it was tailing), as well as shots of VideoBoy, Thug B
and assorted other characters, will soon be available. Stay tuned.
Respectfully submitted,
the LA Stealth Flyer Crew
AKA
K & Snefru
Go to part two - my very own
airport picket!
Check out pix from our adventures
Email tallulah@storm.ca