website tracker

Bravo Stephen, Bravo

September 11th, 2009

As promised, here is Stephens response.

Finally, someone who wants to have a sensible argument. I like that. I have spent countless hours arguing with toothless rednecks who only read half a story. They typically end the argument in a contradictory or downright infuriatingly uninformed manner. However, I also like to direct a hate filled rant towards people who show that kind of ignorance, such as that demented Englishman on your website. Just because a Scotsman (Gordon Brown) is in charge of England and the rest of the UK, doesn’t mean I care about his opinion. My rant was a direct result of the title of your post ‘Fuck Scotland’ and the comments of that bottom feeder.

Having read your response (and admittedly not reading your initial story), I was pleasantly surprised and totally prepared to have a civilized discussion with yourself and discuss the rights and wrongs of this situation. Sadly, your last paragraph changed my mind completely - ‘As to agreeing with John about bombing Scotland back into the Stone Age, well, maybe that was over the top’. Maybe? To any civilized person, there is no maybe about it. Stupid and childish comment. Complete waste of pixels. Also, seeing that Scotland has the majority of Britain’s nuclear arsenal, I don’t see England doing a bombing run over Edinburgh any time soon.

As for the cluster bomb over First Minister Salmonds office? As sure as I am that you were being humorous, Salmond played a miniscule part in the release of Al-Megrahi, he stated that he left the decision to the safest pair of hands in Scotland with regards to justice, Kenny MacAskill. Here’s the simple fact. Yes he was convicted, and as I believe the Scottish justice system to be one of the best in the world, I believe Megrahi is guilty. However, if I choose to trust the Scottish legal systems conviction of the man, I must trust the Scottish legal systems right to release the man, as long as it’s lawful.

This whole argument ‘He showed them no compassion so we show him none’ is poor and sets a rotten example. We should never lower our standards to that of a barbaric people. His release was legal, therefore, there is no argument to be had here. If you want to argue about something, maybe we should be debating the law itself. Being 21 years old, I don’t remember the USA releasing a prominent Nazi on compassionate grounds, but according to the history books it happened. It was a US issue and a US decision. Fine by me. This was a Scottish issue and a Scottish decision.

To me, this Megrahi issue has no basis for an argument and that is what I would like people to realize. And all this boycott Scotland stuff? Childish. I know the majority of US citizens are well educated and well(ish) informed, so it must infuriate you (Angry Jew) as a seemingly well educated American, that only the brain-dead variety of your people seem to be making themselves heard.

As a side note, seeing as it’s the anniversary of Sept 11th, I wish to extend my sincerest condolences and best wishes. We may have our differences and may not agree on everything, but we are both respectful and civilised nations fighting for the same cause. We are stronger together than apart.

Stephen, you make some very valid points and I applaud you for making them so well, however, I am afraid we are going to have to agree to disagree on this matter.

Yes, history teaches us that most nations are willing to trade their integrity when it comes to their own security and economic interests.  The United States has a long history of this.  Nazi scientists played a key role in the development of our space program.  We have routinely supported despots of all flavors when it was top our benefit.

Marcos in the Philippines, Noreiga in Panama, The Shah in Iran and even Sadam Hussien had all enjoyed the generosity of the United States Government.  With so many examples, my cynical mind finds it hard to accept that the decision to release Megrahi was based solely on compassionate grounds.  Some one benefited from this decision.

Just because something is legal does not make it the right thing to do.

That is part in parcel of what this website is about.  You must remember, it is often those who write the laws who have the most to gain by their implementation.  It is a sad and sorry state of affairs when murders go free, but again, we need only look to the case of OJ Simpson to know that our nation, and perhaps the world, live by the golden rule, which is simply, he who has the gold, makes the rules.

I thank you for your input.  The fact that you are 21 and able to make such a well thought out argument gives me hope.  Most 21 year olds here in America are lucky enough to be able to string together a conscious thought in the characters provided by Twitter.

Your rants and thoughts are always welcome here and I hope to hear more from you in the future.

The Great Oregon BBQ Tour Part 3

March 6th, 2008

…Or Three Guys In Search Of a Protein High.

RUSSELL STREET BBQ

neon pig

We headed back across town to Russell Street BBQ, another place that came to us highly recommended.   It was certainly the largest and most mainstream appearing returaunts of our tour so far.  The thing I love most about BBQ is the smoke smell that hits you when you walk in the boor.  You almost have to pause and take a deep breath.

We were seated immediately and started to peruse the menu.  We decided on the Meatapaloza platter, Pulled Pork, BBQ Pork Ribs, and Brisket.  We added some of their Louisiana smoked sausage as well as sides of mac and cheese, greens and cornbread all around.

Now, before I have to go any further, I have to praise Russell Street for one item on the menu that we did not encounter anywhere else that day.  Sweet Tea.  WHAT?  OH come on, you expect me to believe you have never heard of sweet tea.  It is simply iced tea pre- sweetened with a simple sugar syrup.  It allows you to enjoy your tea sweet without the half inch of sugar in the bottom of your glass.  I almost always have a jug of it in my fridge during the summer and it  goes perfectly with BBQ.

While we were waiting for our order, we decided to sample the different sauces that graced our table.  First I grabbed the Mustard Vinegar sauce, after multiple warnings to not point it at anyone, and found it to be more robust and substantial then other similar sauces I had tried.  Brandon was sniffing away at their Killer Sauce, smiled and told us he smelled Scotch Bonnet chillies.  When you put a drop of this sauce on your tongue, it starts out sweet and then the heat begins to slowly build.  It never gets outrageously hot and you can detect layer after layer of flavor.

When our food arrived, we dug right in.  The pulled park was simply the best I had ever tasted.  It was substantial and had smoke flavor and spice through and through.  I could not even begin to imagine how they did that.  The sausage was divided up and had just enough spice to make my mouth a very happy place.  I am going to go back and pick up a few pounds for the next time I make jambalaya.  The ribs were incredible.  Nice smoke ring, excellent bark and they just fell off the bone.  The only disappointment was the brisket, which we all felt was too dry.  The sides were good and Brandon hoarded the greens, he amazed Dave and I by telling us it was the first time he had ever had them.  Poor sheltered Brandon.

Our meal concluded, I asked to speak with the owner.  I have to find a better way to do this as every time I do, a look of gloom and doom comes over the servers face.

We were joined by Sharon, co owner of Russell Street.  Sharon is the business end of the place, her partner handles all the cooking.  They opened the restaurant 4 years ago after making a BBQ road trip from Kansas City all the way to Virginia.  You have to love these women.  They have taken the best of what they found in BBQ and added their own personal twist to it.  The result is incredible.

I had to ask about the Pulled Pork.  Sharon explained they butterflied it before seasoning and smoking allowing more surface area to come in contact with the smoke and spices.  Brandon begged for the greens recipe, but what he got back was geared more to a restaurant kitchen then his own.  If I know Brandon, about ten seconds after hearing how Sharon did it, he was working on his own version.  I then had to ask about the brisket.  She explained it was a nose end cut and did not have as much fat as a normal flat cut.  It’s not the cut I would have chosen, but it is her place and the universally excellent service and the quality of the other dishes more then made up for it.

As we left it was standing room only, we had timed our visit perfectly to beat the dinner rush.  I guess that in itself speaks more eloquently about Russell Street BBQ then anything I can say.

THE CHEERFUL PIT STOP

I have to tell you friends, as we waddled out of Russell Street, I was done.  I felt like I had meat coming out of my ears and Dave appeared to be in the same shape.  Brandon, however, was still raring to go.  “One more place, guys.”  Dave and I groaned, but agreed.

The Cheerful Pit Stop is part of the Cheerful chain here in Portland and has a custom wood smoker out front.  Brandon ordered the house sample platter of Brisket, Smoked Turkey, Pulled Pork and Pork Ribs.  Dave ordered a beer and me, well, I ordered a salad.  I needed to get some roughage in me before my digestive tract shut down for good.

Friends, I wish I could find something good to say about the food we were brought, but alas, that is not the case.  I have said I will never write a bad review, so all I can say is I wont be going back.

The three of us tossed back a shot of tequila and toasted our first adventure into the world of BBQ.  While we are all three accomplished cookers, there is always so much more to learn, and while the BBQ “I” make is always going to be the best, it is always fun to see what the other guy is doing.

To Be Continued?

The Great Oregon BBQ Tour Part 2

March 4th, 2008

Wildfire Wood Fired Pizza and BBQ

When Brandon told me this was our next destination, my first thought was that he was suffering from a protein high.  Pizza and BBQ?  I mean, how good could it be?

We ventured onto Martin Luther King Blvd in NE Portland in search of this elusive combination.  Brandon’s GPS kept saying we had arrived but there was no plume of smoke, no scent of BBQ and no Wildfire to be seen.  As we cruised the block a second time, I caught sight of Carbonis Wood Fired Pizza on a sign across the street.  Brandon made a screeching turn into the parking lot and we bailed out in search of BBQ.

Alas, there was no BBQ to be found.  Several unused smokers sat out in front of the establishment.  There was on open hearth brick pizza oven and a lone gentleman behind the counter.  His name was Kevin and he had quit a story to tell.

He was the owner of the late Wildfire now turned Carbonis.  He had to drop the name Wildfire after being served by a company in Chicago that had national copyright to the name back in January.  He also had to make a decision.

He told us that his Q was popular in the neighborhood, so much so that he still had people dropping in and asking for it every day.  He told us one story about a preacher, well known in the neighborhood for his own Q, came in to try “The 2nd Best BBQ in town.”  After their meal, the preachers wife, much to the chagrin of the preacher, announced Kevin was “#1″.

Kevin had to decide to either devote himself to his love of BBQ, he is a competitive cooker who travels at least 12 times a year to match his meat against the best of the best, or to his love of Pizza.  Kevin told us he had six years invested in his yeast free dough.  He knew he could not do both, as one would suffer.  So he decided to go with the pizza and open a BBQ joint down the street in about six months or so.

We decided to have a beer and talk with Kevin.  I was tempted to try a slice of his Pizza, it smelled that good, but I steeled myself.  We still had a lot of BBQ to eat.  Kevin shared with us some tips for rubs, like how to make smoked salt, and his pizza specialty when he was doing the BBQ, a pulled pork and pineapple pizza.  Then he asked, “Do you guys like sweet sauces?”  Three heads bobbed in unison.

Brandon sniffin the Sauce

He brought out a small bowl and by the time he started to hand us spoons, three fingers were already knuckle deep.  It was superb.  Truly one of the best sweet sauces I had ever tasted.  Brandon reached for his wallet and asked Kevin if he would sell him some.  Kevin just smiled and went back into the kitchen and emerged a few seconds later with at least three quarts of sauce in a plastic jug.  “No charge” he said.  At that moment I felt like we had joined the brotherhood of the smoke.  It was an awesome moment.

He asked us where we were headed and then told us that if we were looking for great BBQ, we had to try Lou’s up in Camus.  OK, when two different BBQ owners tell you that you have to try something, then you know it is something worth trying.  Sadly, after tracking down the number, we found out they are closed on Sunday.

We finished our beers and headed out for our next stop.  I know I will be back to try that pizza.

Penzeys Spice Market

Brandon and I have both harped on the fact that the best BBQ rub can be ruined by bad spices.  I bet if you go right now and look in your spice cabinet, you will find little bottles that are at least a year old.  You might as well toss them.  By this time they will only have one tenth the flavor. Now Brandon is a little more fanatical then I am.  He will buy whole spices and grind them himself.  Now, that is fine if you don’t mind giving yourself carpal tunnel syndrome trying to crack enough peppercorns to make a peppered brisket.  Me, I tend to take the easy way out.  I will go to the local market and bulk buy just enough to make the rub I am going to be working with.  Or at least I used to.

When we walked into Penzys Spice Market, we just stopped in the doorway and breathed.  Spicy, earthy, peppery smells went up my nose, grabbed my brain and gave it a little shake.   Our Spice maven, she asked that I not use her name, greeted us and asked us if she could help.  We figured we would go it alone and spent ten minutes wandering the aisles of fresh spices, sniffing jars and calling to each other to try this or that.  Dave, a dammed fine cook in his own right and the proud owner of a yet to be assembled smoker, seemed dazed by the possibilities.  Brandon had already corralled our Spice maven and had her helping him find this spice and that.  Apparently Brandon’s excitement over rode his common sense.  As Dave would tell me later, he had over a hundred dollars worth of spices in his basket.  So, as Dave and Brandon attempted to lighten Brandon’s load, The Spice maven and I chatted between customers.

It turned out we were both from the same town and our high schools had been cross town rivals.  I explained to her what we were doing and where we had been. Then we started talking deli food.  She told me that a new deli had opened up in Oregon City.  A deli?  A REAL deli?  In Oregon City?  She confirmed it was a real Jewish deli, down to the crock of half sour pickles on the table.  She told me they made a great BBQ Brisket sandwich.  Hmmm, maybe I could sell this to the boys.  We talked about it and it was decided that we would take a small detour to sample some Jewish Style Brisket.

BRODSKI’S NEW YORK DELI

It was about 15 minutes out of our way, but it was worth it to me.  I was a little hesitant about a Jewish Deli in Oregon City, but a sister wouldn’t steer me wrong.  On the way over, we talked about what we might try.  Brandon wanted to try the brisket naked, no sauce, Dave was agreeable to anything and me, I was dreaming of a Hot Tongue sandwich.  Yes, I said Tongue, Beef Tongue.  Simmered, sliced thin, and piled high on rye bread with some good spicy mustard.  Brandon looked at me in disbelief.  I had tried to get Dave to try it some months back, but the deli we were at was sold out that night.  He had since tried it at another place, and joined me in singing it’s praises.

There were only a few other customers when we walked into the place.  I ordered a hot tongue sandwich, Brandon ordered the brisket and Dave was content to nosh on the pickles.  A few minutes later, our waiter returned and told me they were out of tongue.  I tell you folks, it is a conspiracy.  I fought the temptation to order a corned beef sandwich and joined Dave in emptying the pickle crock.  When Brandon’s sandwich arrived, he divvied it up and we all had a little nosh.

The Brisket was moist, tender and tasty.  Oven roasted.  We agreed it would have probably been better with the sauce, but hey, they all can’t be winners.  We paid our check and headed out for a pre-drive smoke.  It was then that I saw perhaps the oddest thing of the entire day.

Now, I don’t know many officers the Oregon City Police Department has on watch on a Sunday afternoon, but six of them were gathered at the Meglocoffee across the parking lot.  We joked that now would be the perfect time to pull a bank job.  We lost it when one of the officers pulled out of the parking lot in his cruiser, with what appeared to be his girlfriend in the front seat.  I know I felt safer.

The Great Oregon BBQ Tour Part 1

March 3rd, 2008

I have waxed poetic about my love of good BBQ before on this site. You can even find some of my BBQ tips and tricks in the “My Legacy” section of this blog, and yes, I am a Jew who knows and loves swine flesh. There, I said it.

Now, my buddy Brandon is a fellow fanatic, but he has taken it to the next level by creating his own web site, bbqPDX.com, a site devoted to outdoor cooking in all its many wondrous incarnations. I am good with a smoker, but he is a master. So when Brandon said to me, “You want to go try some BBQ?”, I was all for it.

Now normally, I would want to review the places we visited for my blog, but this time, I just wanted to chronicle the adventure, and leave the reviewing to Brandon. I left it to him to decide where were going, as a matter of fact, when I tried to interject a few ideas, he told me to”Shut up, nod your head and smile. This is going to be great.”

So, that exactly was what I did. He had the intensity of a General planning a major invasion and the excitement of a child who still believes in Santa, counting the days till Christmas. When he finally asked if there were any places I wanted to hit, I found one, but just as quickly found out it had closed in January.

When Sunday dawned foggy and chilled in Portland, my cell phone started ringing at 9am. “Are you up? Are you ready to go?”. Yes Brandon, calm down, I will make it at 10 sharp.

At 955 am I arrived at Brandon’s townhouse in Beaverton. Contractor Dave, the third Amigo for our adventure, had beaten me there by minutes. We exchanged some gossip and were joined a few minutes later by Baron Von BBQ himself, Brandon. He was positively vibrating with excitement. He announced he had the whole day planned out on his TomTom GPS unit, but we would have to wait until 1030 or so to get started, because our first stop would not have BBQ available until 1100. Why did he tell us to show up at 10? He said he didn’t expect us to actually show up until 1030, the bastard. We killed the time by running across the street to hit up the ATM and just generally bullshitting and sniping at each other.

The appointed hour arrived and we set off on our BBQ Adventure.

Podnah’s Pit BBQ

Podnah’s Pit BBQ

This was to be our first stop. Brandon’s TomTom led us right to the place, well almost. It took my cell phone GPS to guide us to the right corner. We opened the door and were greeted by that wonderful wood smell. We grabbed a table nearest to the kitchen and looked over the menu on the table. Breakfast, they were still serving breakfast. All eyes swiveled to Brandon, who shrunk back in his chair. A cheerful waitress advised us that they wouldn’t be serving BBQ for an hour.

Great.

Well, we headed down the block to a coffee shop we had passed, Bean,Bean and had a cup of joe and a bagel. Very good on both accounts by the way. We still had a half hour to go by the time we finished, so we took over a small outside table. As we were talking, we heard the screech of locked brakes followed by that loud bang of two cars colliding.crash I was on feet before thinking, the sound having put me in First Responder mode. A vehicle had run the red and t boned a vehicle entering the intersection. We rendered assistance until the police arrived. I felt kind of bad for Tim, the driver who ran the red, no insurance, but hey, if you gamble, sometimes your going to lose.

We patted ourselves on the back, checked our watches, and headed off for lunch.

Once again seated at our table, we decided to order the Holy Trinity of BBQ, pulled pork, brisket and pork ribs and then pass plates around. Sides of cole slaw, cornbread and pinto beans were also ordered.

Meal

The food came within minutes and we set in to sample all of it. The pulled pork was great, with just a hint of a vinegary sauce, and none of that mushy consistency you find in a lot of attempts at it. I grabbed the squeeze bottle of the same sauce and while adding some more I had a little whoops a doodle and proceeded to marinate Brandon. I would be hearing about that one for the rest of the day.

The Brisket was incredible, juicy and flavorful with a great smoke ring, and the ribs were awesome, tender, good bark, great flavor. Despite Brandon ducking behind a napkin and yelling “Don’t sauce me bro” every time I reached for a squeeze bottle, lunch was fantastic. After the meal was consumed, it was time for me to do what what Brandon had brought me along for. See, Brandon looks up to me for one thing, my people skills. It was my job to talk to to the owners or managers and get the inside scoop on their BBQ. I really did not expect to speak to many owners, it being Sunday and all, but sometimes you get lucky.

In this case we got lucky indeed and got to spend some time with Rodney,Rodney the owner. Rodney has been a major force in the Portland BBQ scene for many years. He and a partner, who had both been laid off, founded LOW (Laid Off Worker) BBQ. Podnahs is just the latest incantation of his great BBQ. He showed us his “rig”,Smoker a huge wood smoker, that gets fired up with a mixture of mesquite and oak at 5 AM every morning. By 6AM the meat is on and the fun begins. We talked about different techniques, starting a brisket fat side down, different woods, he imports his mesquite in from Texas by the truckload, and the Oregon BBQ scene. He told us if we wanted to taste one of the greats, we had to head up to Camus, Washington to Lou’s BBQ.

We thanked him for his time and the advice and headed out to our next stop.

Gartner’s Meat Market

gart.jpg

Great BBQ starts with great meat. There is just no way around it. The best sauce and the most tantalizing rub are not going to do much for a bad cut of meat. When I started out, I was getting my meat from either Costco or from Supermarkets. Now don’t get me wrong, I got good results, and if that is all you have to work from, you can usually ask your supermarket butcher to leave some fat on a brisket, the ones you see in the meat case are going to be trimmed way too much to make decent BBQ.

Your next choice is to go to a restaurant supply market, I live right near one and it is open to the public. Restaurant quality meat, bulk prices, just trim it your self and save a buck or two per pound.

Now if you are in Portland, and want honest to god, hand trimmed, high quality meat, the only place to go is Gartner’s. Be warned, the place is almost always packed, but the meat you get there is going to be first rate every time. When we got there, we just wandered the L shaped cases, drooling over hard to find items. Beef bacon, huge smoked hamhocks, not this little baby ones you see in the grocery stores, fresh looking chicken, smoked meats and sausages, all done right on the premises. Even after our feast, I was starting to get hungry.

Brandon had taken a number, he was saddened by the fact there was not a brisket to be found in the case. He asked one of the harried girls behind the counter and she said they were in the back. A few minutes later Brandon’s number was called and we were being served by that same harried woman, and that is how we became acquainted with Sheryl, The Meat Goddess.

Sheryl promptly fetched Brandon a beautiful six pound brisket with a perfect fat cap. She took the time to explain to him what he should look for in a brisket and how to tell a good one from a low quality one. I, of course, had some questions and asked this Goddess of all things non vegetarian is she could spare me some time.

I asked how she got into the meat business and she said she was born into it, her father was a meat cutter for 20 years and she had managed a grocery store meat department for a while before coming to Gartner’s. I asked about the beef bacon and she explained it was their brisket, cured and smoked in the same manner as their pork bacon. Now, as an Angry Jew, I had to ask about their Pastrami and Corned Beef. Beef Bottom Round, seasoned and smoked. She led the three of us over to the smoked meat counter and offered us a taste. Yummmm.

We bid Sheryl the Meat Goddess farewell and headed out with Brandon’s Brisket in search of our next adventure.

My Weekend With Scientology

February 26th, 2008

I guess I should start this with a disclaimer.

What you are about to read is based on my personal experience with The Church Of Scientology and the group that opposes them known as Anonymous.  I am reporting the facts as I observed them, and any opinions expressed are strictly my own.

The idea for this piece was born after watching the now infamous Tom Cruise Scientology video. I was particularly fascinated, or maybe concerned is a better word, by the statement he made regarding SP’s or suppressive persons. He stated wouldn’t it be great if we lived in a world where SP’s were only something that people read about in history books. You can read my prior piece on the video here, where I presented the Scientology definition of what a Suppressive Person is.

I then had to ponder how exactly to approach getting the answers to my questions.

If I went in to the Scientology center and presented my self as a journalist, I would at best get the “party” line or at worst, be labeled an SP myself. The danger of that is what the Church calls it’s fair game law. It was incorporated into Scientology’s teachings in 1965 and the original wording was;

A Suppressive Person or Group becomes fair game. By FAIR GAME is meant, may not be further protected by the codes and disciplines or the rights of a Scientologist. [1]

It was amended in December of that year to include;

The homes, property, places and abodes of persons who have been active in attempting to: suppress Scientology or Scientologists are all beyond any protection of Scientology Ethics, unless absolved by later Ethics or an amnesty … this Policy Letter extends to suppressive non-Scientology wives and husbands and parents, or other family members or hostile groups or even close friends. [2]

Now here comes the scary part. In a continuation of the policy, Hubbard issued the following in October of 1967;

ENEMY — SP Order. Fair game. May be deprived of property or injured by any means by any Scientologist without any discipline of the Scientologist. May be tricked, sued or lied to or destroyed. [4]

All righty then. You can see my problem here.

Now, before someone comes back with “The Church does not use Fair Game any more, and has issued a memorandum to this effect.” The actual memo, HCOPL 21 Oct 68 Cancellation of Fair Game reads;

“The practice of declaring people FAIR GAME will cease. FAIR GAME may not appear on any Ethics Order. It causes bad public relations. This P/L does not cancel any policy on the treatment or handling of an SP.”

I should note that all of the above information, including foot notes, comes from Wikipedia.

Now, it is not my intent to attempt to suppress Scientology. I have often said that whatever gets you through the day, well, thats your belief, and no one, myself included, has the right to denigrate those beliefs.

However, when those beliefs cause harm to others, well, the story has to be told.

SATURDAY

I would be lying if I said I was not more then a little nervous walking into the Downtown Portland Scientology center. I don’t know what I expected. Maybe crazed people with looks of hunger on their faces as they drew new members into their grasp. Whatever I expected, it was not what I observed. The place was very busy. They were having some kind of charity drive, collecting food for the flood victims in Vernonia. I was approached by an older woman who asked if she could help me.

I explained that I was looking for some information about getting  help with some mental health issues. She called down another woman who I started to explain what was going through and what I was looking for. As we were talking, a third young woman joined us. This was the woman I would be meeting with.

She found us a private office to talk. She then asked me what the problem was.

I explained to her that I had attempted suicide 8 months ago and was currently on 3 different medications and that they had still not made a complete diagnosis of my illness.

Now, as regular readers know, this is all the truth. I have spoken about it openly in this forum. I have been undergoing treatment and for the most part, am a happier and better person then I was 8 months ago. It is a long road, but one I am glad to be traveling.

I then began to deviate from the truth.

I explained to her that I was frustrated with my treatment, that I felt that I was no better off then when I started and that I hated having to take all these medications. I went on to explain that I was looking into alternatives to conventional psychiatric treatment and that I had heard that Scientology had had great success in treating problems such as mine.

To her credit, the woman I was talking to was an excellent listener and was able to draw out details of my attempted suicide and the events leading up to it.

She asked questions for about 15 minutes and gave me the impression that she was seriously considering whether or not The Church could help me.

She then told me that Dianetics could help.

She went on to lay out the broad strokes of Dianetics, how our current problems are a result of issues in our past and that by using the natural healing powers of the mind, we can, in effect, heal ourselves of mental illness. Then came the kicker, I would have to get off the medications I was taking for it to work.

She explained that the medication would interfere with my minds natural healing ability and I would not be able to experience any results from Dianetics while taking them. She made it clear that she was not a physician, and later in the conversation she did tell me to discuss it with my doctor.

I told her that I had discussed eliminating my medication with my doctor, but he was dead set against it. She told me she expected that, and proceeded to explain how the medications don’t really do anything and just make money for the drug companies and the doctors, who are paid to prescribe them.

She related to me the story of a woman who had lost her children because psychiatric medications she had been described had made her violent, and she had hit the kids. The woman had to insist for 2 months to be taken off the medication. When she finally was taken off the medications, she was able to heal herself with Dianetics and had gotten her kids back and was living a better life. Her advice to me was to demand of my Doctor that I be taken off the meds. Failing that, I could use the Scientology Handbook “Answers to Drugs” to help wean myself off the drugs.

I told her this all sounded well and good, but I had one further problem, Money. I explained to her that my finances were extremely tight due to all the work I had been missing, how much would all this cost me? Again, this wasn’t really a lie, I am pretty broke.

She explained that it would be pretty cheap. I would need the book “Dianetics”, a home study course and the “Answers to Drugs” book, all told, around $65.00. $65 dollars to be free of mental illness. It was an attractive offer, if not wholly believable. I explained to her that money was so tight I could not even afford that right now, thanked her for her time and started to leave. She stopped me, and asked me to stay a moment while she looked into something.

I thought the jig was up and that they were on to me. Would some smiling young men in dark sunglasses carry me off to some secret chamber, never to be seen again?

She returned a few minutes later and told me that I could get started with the “Answers to Drugs” handbook, $5, and then start on the Dianetics program when I had followed that program to get off the medication. She then wrote her name and cell phone number on a piece of paper and gave it to me, with instructions to call her or the center if I had any problems while getting off the medication. She said I was nice guy and that I had suffered so much, she wanted to help me get a good start on my new life.

OK, now I was starting to feel like a bit of a shit heel. This young woman seemed so earnest in her desire to help me. She truly believed what she was saying and did not mince any words, but press on I must.

I was finally able to steer the conversation to the true purpose of my visit. I explained that I had seen the Tom Cruise video on the internet (she claimed she did not know anything about it), and that I didn’t understand many of the acronyms he had used, but I was hoping she could explain one, I asked what an SP was?

There it was, the question I had come to ask. Would this be what tipped her off that I was not what I appeared to be?

She explained that SP’s were just bad people. She cited the example of a guy who would walk past the Center each day and spit on the window. She said you can either get upset at them or just go clean the window. Sounded reasonable to me. She then went on to explain that SP’s make up about 1% of the population and that Scientology just wasn’t big enough yet to deal with them.

Deal with them? How will they deal with them, I asked.

“Oh,” she replied sweetly “once there are enough us we will just be able to lock them in rooms and treat then 24/7 until they are cured.”

I honestly could not say what shocked me more, her statement or the matter of fact way she delivered it. It was as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She seemed to think that this was the answer to it all. No rancor, no malice, just a simple statement of how Scientology would “heal” The Suppressive Persons in their midst.

I can not say how I managed to maintain my composure. I just knew that what I had just heard had disturbed me greatly and wanted to get out of there.

She told me that if I wanted to see some suppressive people I should drop by the center on Sunday, that there was going to be some kind of protest. She did not seem to understand why they would want to protest them, after all, they were helping the community with their food drive, weren’t they?

I thanked her for all her help and paid the $5.00 for the book. Everyone smiled at me as I left. As I walked back to my car, I contemplated the conversation I had just had and the one question that I wanted to ask, but could not.

That question was, if I tried the plan that she had laid out and failed, thereby causing harm to myself or others, how would that make her feel?

Saturday Night

I had a long talk with The Secret Alien that night and related what I had heard and seen.

I think he was a little more concerned then I was at my having dealings with The Church. He reminded me more then once that they have an Army of lawyers who live to take down people like me. He also put quits on my idea to call this young woman back with my Caller ID blocked. I wanted to explain to her that I was a journalist, and wanted to ask her that final question. Not Smart, he cautioned.

I sought his council on what to do next.

I told him that I was thinking of attending the protest on Sunday to get the other side of the story. He was impressed and told me that I had crossed the line between Blogger and Investigative Journalist.  Look out Geraldo.

I decided to sleep on it and make my decision in the morning.

Sunday Morning

Over my morning coffee, I started a search to see if I could find some information on the protest I had been told about. As I used Google, I came across some information on a protest that had taken place in Sydney, Australia that attracted two hundred people to the local Scientology center.

As I dug deeper, I found that this was a part of a world wide campaign by a group that goes by the name Anonymous. Orchestrated on line, this day of protests at Scientology Churches was going on at 11 AM in every city across the globe. I dug deeper still and found a message board giving detailed instructions to the protesters. All involved should wear masks to prevent Scientology from identifying them. All should refrain from speaking to anyone as there could be Scientology members attempting to gather intelligence among the protesters. At the conclusion of the protest, all members should disperse immediately, speak to no one, and not to exchange personal information with anyone.

Before I go any further, I should explain that Anonymous has been engaged in a campaign against Scientology for some time. Email and fax attacks. Bringing down Scientology websites. These protests were to be the groups first face to face encounter with Scientology. They have issued communiques, which can be found on UTube, threatening those who would interfere with their campaign. One digitally distorted voice warned that people are either with them or against them and anyone else who involves themselves in this matter risks “getting caught in the crossfire.”.

As with my earlier statement, I say the same to Anonymous as I did to Scientology, this article serves to report my observations and opinions. I neither support you actions and methods nor do I decry them, that is for the reader to decide.

I do have one question for you, though. Given that you are a decentralized group, with no recognizable leadership structure, operating in the shadows, is it not possible that this entire campaign has been organized by Scientology itself, in an effort to gain sympathy and silence it’s detractors? How would you know? If I can figure out that this would be an effective tactic, so can they.

Well, despite this information, I decided to proceed and attend the protest.

As I drove over, I pondered how to approach the protesters. I had already decided that wearing a mask would be out of the question, despite my desire to not have those at The Scientology Center aware of my presence. I decided to just introduce myself as a journalist, hand out my card, ask non- specific questions and hope for the best.

There were about 100 people already their when I arrived at 1100 sharp. As before, I had parked several blocks away, just in case. There was the usual shouting and signs. Many called an end to the churches tax exempt status, others listed the names of Scientology’s alleged victims. One vocal young man at the center of the crowd yelled “Praise Lord Xenu” over and over.

For my first attempt at an interview, I struck up a conversation with a middle aged man decked out in camouflage. I asked him the question that would become the theme for the day.

Why Are You Here?

He explained that he was upset at the churches tax exempt status. They are a business, he complained. We spoke for several minutes and he seemed more then eager to talk to me. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

I worked my way farther down the street, doing my best to keep my back to the center and to the video cameras being employed by several of the churches members to monitor the demonstration. This however proved to be futile.

I next introduced myself to a man of about fifty. He was unmasked, odd for this crowd, and it led me to believe that this might be someone other then a legitimate protester, despite the sign he held. He explained that he was here to support his son, who was very involved in the movement to shut down Scientology. His son joined us a few minutes later and the three of us began to talk about Scientology and what he claimed to be the toll the church had taken on the lives of others.

Our conversation soon attracted a couple of other protesters. We were having a very pleasant conversation when an unmasked man with a video camera approached us and began to record us. I held a flier I had been given between myself and the camera, not wanted to become part of the churches records. Apparently this gentleman was dead set on having my face on tape, because he danced around trying to get a clear picture of my me. I was just starting to understand how Brittany Spears must feel when another protester interceded on my behalf. A rather large fellow placed himself between me and the camera and said “This man is here as a journalist, he is not one of us, and DOES NOT want to be photographed. I think you had better stop RIGHT NOW.” My hero.

My would be paparazzi backed off, but continued to dog my steps for the remainder of my time at the protest. I worked my way through the crowd of masked protesters, Guy Fawkes masks seemed to be the most popular, occasionally stopping to ask my question.

It began to strike me as odd that each time I asked it, the person I asked would begin to respond “We are here…”. “No, no”, I would respond, “Why are YOU here?” The responses were as varied as the masks and dress of the protesters. There almost always seemed to be a long pause, as if each was asking themselves that very same question for the first time.

I took me about three quarters of an hour to make it to the end of the block. It had spoken to so many people that I was running low on business cards and I was beginning to recognize individual protesters despite their masks. I observed a lone Portland Police Officer usher a group of protesters who had gotten too close to the front of the church back across the street. It was the only police presence I observed.

By this time the crowd had doubled, but was well behaved. I stopped to talk to couple from San Francisco that were staying at a nearby hotel and asked me what this was all about. As I explained what I knew of both Scientology and Anonymous, a masked protester, who looked a lot like Silent Bob, complete to the Batman mask from Mall Rats, stepped forward, thrust a flier into the couples hands and uttered “Don’t talk to him, He is a Scientologist.”, and began to retreat.

Now I guess I should have just shrugged it off, but I guess I snapped a little.

“Wait One Minute,” I said, my old Navy Command voice cut above the crowd, “Come back here.” He started and turned to face me. He began to remove his mask. “No, No”, I said, “leave it on and come over here and talk to me.” I explained what I had done yesterday and what I was doing here today and told him that if he wanted to accomplish his groups goal, he better take pains not to alienate anyone. He apologized and told the out of town couple that “this guy is OK.”

I talked to several more of the protesters before deciding to call it a day. I felt they made some valid points and accomplished their goal of attracting attention to the church. Overall, the people I met were young and passionate, a rare thing today in this instant gratification, me, me, me, culture. I did not encounter any “posers” or anarchists looking to stir up trouble for troubles sake. Just people who believed that The Church of Scientology poses a threat to it’s members and the public in general, decried the Churches “Salvation for profit” and wanted to make their voices heard.

The Week After

As I wrote this piece, I realized that it had taken on a life of it’s own.  It has taken me someplace I did not anticipate.  I think I set out to do a hatchet piece on The Church of Scientology, but as I wrote it evolved.

I think that both Scientology and Anonymous represent different sides of the same coin.

Extremism.

Each side has it’s point of view, and they will not be swayed to a middle ground.  It is part of what is tearing our world apart.

Does The Church of Scientology have a right to exist.  My personal impression, based on my experience is no, not in it’s present form.  If they are offering redemption at a price, they are a business, and should be treated as such in the eyes of the law.  No one is forced to go into one their centers, and if giving them selves over to the teachings of a mediocre science fiction helps them get through the day, so be it.

I find it interesting that while their followers, such as the young lady I spoke with, find it OK to make medical “suggestions” all of their printed material contains disclaimers that they are not meant to “…provide a physical handling for bodies…”.  To this I say, you can’t be a little bit pregnant guys.  You are either encouraging people to give up on accepted psychiatric methods or you are not.

Does Anonymous have the right to attack Scientology in any manner they see fit.  Again my answer has to be no.  Protesting and raising public awareness is one thing, threatening to destroy the digital lives of anyone who dares get between you and your goals, that is terrorism, no matter what your lofty goals may be or how right you feel your cause is.

I do applaud the folks I met Sunday in Portland.  You did it right.  You made people aware of what was going on in a peaceful and thought provoking manner.

© The Angry Jew , Designed by Stealth Settings
Entries (RSS) and Comments (RSS)