groups?selm=199810122230AAA029 Goddesses 6%40replay.com&oe=UTF-8&output=gplain

From: ace of clubs <aoc@blackjack.no>
Subject: A Belated Welcome to the RVY Replacement
Date: 1998/10/13
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Helll-l-l-l-l-oh, Jesse!

Although I decidely am NOT the duly eeeee-leckted Welcome Wagon fer
a.r.s.--lacking even the requisite four wheels--please allow me to add me
own humble expression of salutations and salaams to celebrate yer arrival.
I had sech a warm, close relationship with yer predecessor, RV, I feel it
is my duty, and a dis-stinking honor, to make yer stay here in a.r.s.,
ah...warm.

So, ladies and gentlemen of a.r.s., allow me to heartily endorse to you a
man whose legend and reputation arrived in this forum far, far ahead of his
own selfless, modest presence, a legend that wuz finely crafted by only the
very BEST guv'mint spin-doctors, and delivered with breathless
effervescence by that sparkling wit and kitty-kat lover, that Field-Agent
Handler soo-preme, the delightful, the delovely, the combative Ms. Stacy
Young.

To Ms. Young: a tip o' the Ace of Clubs top hat. You are doing a *fine*
job, Young lady. Of course, things went a bit south with the field agent
you were formerly handling--poor ol' busted up RV--but you are not to be
faulted for his inability to hold his own in the face of adversity. (I
didn't think y'all would punish him, though, by havin' HIM be the one to
have to start oozin' out the fact that Hubbard wuz bumped off--once it wuz
squeezed so hard by others that it had to come out of you. That's some
tough love! But his brain shampoo seems to be going *so* well; his writing
may soon rival that of Jane Austen. You may recall that, of Ms. Austen's
scribblings, Mark Twain sed: "It seems a great pity that they allowed her
to die a natural death.")

And to Mr. Prince: Welcome! As the latest government stooge and CST
smoke-screen--here to back up Ger-bil, and to replace poor ol' has-been
RV--you, too, good sir, are off to an exemplary start. Why, you have the
Lower-Than-Room-Temperature-IQ Section on their feet, doing "the wave,"
cheering, shouting out your name! It makes the blood rush and the heart
pound to see it. It gives goose bumps.

For the benefit of those who have come in late, please, Mr. Prince, indulge
yer humble host a moment, and allow me to recap briefly your performance so
far in this arena.

I recall, with pangs of pathos, yer first touching post:

"Three weeks ago I contacted Stacy Young. In talking with
her I realized I could help in the struggle to expose the
truth about Scn and get them to stop hurting people and
ruining lives of decent and innocent people."

Wring out yer hankies, kids. Very nice, Yessie-Jesse: you managed in yer
very first sentence to position yerself wif one "opinion leader," and state
yer munificent motivations. *Do* go on:

"The following Sunday after Stacy and I met, Mike Rinder
called Bob Minton to ask if I was now on his payroll. It was
obvious that they knew Stacy and I had met and were ready
to attack all of us---which is what they have been doing
ever since."

There, you immediately introduce the junior villain of the piece, Rinder
(even though he's one of yer own, too), to get the peanut gallery booin'
and hissin' (but only warmin' them up fer the REAL villain--yet to come!),
and then you IMMEDIATELY bring in the "heavy hitter" hero, the Number One
International Banker Overtly Fighting the Evil Global Empire of
Scientology, Mr. Compassion his-own-self, Bob Minton. Oh, youse guys is
*good*!

And finally, you introduce another one of yer fine crew, the former
pivot-man in D.C., Michael Meisner's handler, buddy to the FBI and to Meade
Emory during the "Snow White" Operation, everybody's favorite Esquire, and
counsel to CST (whom you never, ever, EVER, under ANY circumstances, must
even acknowledge the existence of), Mr. Kendrick Moxon:

"Scn attorney Rick Moxon has already put me on notice that I
am to be sued if I divulge any information about their
criminal activities. However, I will not be silenced by
these thugs."

Give me a minute. Ol' Ace is all choked up. All right. I'm okay now. That
wuz a *fine* introduction you gave yerself, Yessie-Jesse, and you were
smart enough to get in, and get *out*--no agenda; jest a touching hello.

Oh, but the crowd is hushed. The players are in place. The stage is set.

In yer second post, you give us yer tech bona-fides, lettin' us all know
that you had been tapped by the Old Man his-own-self as "the best
supervisor or cramming officer in all of Scientology." Wow! Ain't we jest
*blessed* to have you amongst us! And then in that same post, you
ee-e-a-a-a-se in the subject you'd been sent here to really talk about, you
tease us with jest a *hint* about the REAL villain of the piece: MISCAVIGE!
And we hear, before the curtain falls on this act, that he tol' you that
"there is no such thing as God"!

[CUE DRAMATIC MYOOSIK!]

With a sharp intake of breath from the audience, the curtain falls. End of
Act I! Now walks on yer chief endorser, Bob Minton, to let us all know that
"Jesse has done so many sec checks on Miscavige, Rathbun, Starkey,
Spurlock, Heber, Rinder etc. A lot of crimes come out in those sec checks."
OooooOOO! Ain't NOBODY goin' home early now!

Raise curtain on Act II:

Fer some unknown, cosmic reason, you take us on a surreal trip down Mem'ry
Lane, back, back, back to the late '70's. A boyish and innocent Marty
Rathbun is seen caught up in an awful drama! A husband in a rage pulls a
pistol and shoots his own wife, her blood and brains splattering a dazed
and shocked Marty Rathbun. Is he treated with compassion and helped? NO!
What happens to him? Well, now we KNOW why you took us in the time machine:
so you could tell us that "Little David Miscavige often beat Marty up (in
the presence of bigger stronger goons, of course) and all of this has an
effect on a person."

Omigod! It's the eeeee-vil, all-powerful DAVID MISCAVIGE AGAIN!
Hissssss-s-s-s-s-s-s! Booooo-o-o-o-o-o! Beating up on a poor innocent--and
with an army of goons, yet! Throw the tomaters! Throw the potaters!

Now this is all good drama. This is all damned *fine* drama! But then, the
crowd begins to grow a little restless. There ain't no MEAT with all them
'maters and 'taters. Why, some critics have the gall to start even bein'
critical of YOU, and it seems like some of them 'maters and 'taters might
even start splatting on our hero.

And so, with high tension in the air, suddenly appears:

"AFFIDAVIT OF JESSE PRINCE"

Ta-da!

Now we're gon' get the INSIDE DIRT! Hooray!!!

And what do we LEARN? What do we FIND OUT? Well, we are told:

"The power was taken over by David Miscavige..."

Huh?!

And what else?

.....nothin'....

What?

Nothin'. That's right. We get a bunch more antecdotal "evidence" about
everybody's favorite lawn ornament, dwarfish Davey-the-Dunce Miscavige,
being the gree-e-e-e-attt Potentate of all Scientologydom, and some more
stories about PC-folder culling (always a hit with the peanut gallery), and
yet MORE stories about the omnipotence of the eeeeeee-vil Davey-the-Dunce
Miscavige, and a rehash of the U.S. Guv'mint Approved Official Reason
<yawn> why there are no records of Hubbard having been the managing agent
of Scientology. (Couldn't *possibly* be because there never *were* any;
unh-unh--it wuz because the eeeee-vil Davey-the-Dunce had 'em all
destroyed. Uh-huh. And here's the evidence... Oops! <Snort!>)

Then we get the chocolate fudge fer the whole thing: we get a bunch of
jumbled-up, indecipherable, non-traceable, incomprehensible
"FactNET-possessed-originals-only" table of "copyright information," ALL of
which frantically points AWAY from the true owner of the copyrights--the
Church of Spiritual Technology (CST), doing business as the L. Ron Hubbard
Library--and pointing frantically TO Bridge Publications, Inc. (better
known as the clowns that Barnum and Bailey rejected). What a fuckin' joke.

You know, Yessie-Jessie, if ol' Ace didn't know better, I'd almost be
forced to think you wuz jest another lyin' motherfucker, like yer
predecessor, RV, and like my dear, dear, sincere fox-hole buddy,
Gerry-the-Gerbil-Ass Armstrong--who still keeps dodgin' my question about
where he got them lobotomy pictures of LRH from. I'd almost be tempted to
b'lieve you wuz dragged in here by yer Field Agent Handler,
Stacy-the-Schtup Young, to spread some more of that U.S. Guv'mint Approved
Disinformation fertilizer that you all reek of.

Jest so's I can have an opportunity to purge myself of sech wicked, sinful,
sacreligious thoughts, lemme jest review some of yer follow-ups. Like, you
come in here last month, and you sed:

"Suddenly I hear Samuel Rosen say: 'Your honor, the witness
they are bringing into this case, Jesse Prince, was second
in command of the Church of Scientology.'"

Well, shet my mouf'! I guess that jest about seals the deal, don't it!
Yessiree, Yessie-Jesse! That's means that if it comes from YOU, it's jest
GOTS to be the real thing! And so if YOU don't mention CST, then, by God,
CST don't exist! And if YOU say Miscavige is in charge, then, by God, he
must BE!

But, Yessie-Jesse, I has to tell you, I got a little burr under my saddle
here, and let me tell you why.

See, it struck me as REAL odd back a few months ago when that VERY SAME
legal whore stood up in court and put the following on the record.
Righteous Rosen gratuitously sed:

uGoddesses Expanding Wikipedia Gerry Armstrong--The CLameleon Challengeg b g Out Out Good nGoddesses Expanding Wikipedia Gerry Armstrong--The CLameleon Challengei l Goddesses Loking