Lez’hur Ledger: Please don’t sue us, Scientologists

I need to work on my mind thrusts. Yesterday, I learned that the negativity in my life is the result of my weak dynamic thrusts, which are the product of my overly dominant reactive mind storing engrams. Fortunately, all of these problems can be overcome through Dianetics, the therapeutic procedure practiced by Scientologists across Los Angeles county.

I’ll back up. I am not, nor do I intend to become, a Scientologist. I am, however, a fan of absurd cultural phenomenon and secretive organizations, so Scientology intrigues me. I guess celebrities attending cultish ceremonies on private cruise ships strike a chord within me. When I discovered a personality test on the Scientology website, I knew what I had to do.

The test, as expected, was unusual. It consisted of two hundred questions ranging from “Do you often sing or whistle just for the fun of it?” to “If we were invading another country, would you feel sympathetic towards conscientious objectors in this country?” I’m the kind of guy who likes to whistle while invading other countries, so I was at a loss for what my results would say. Luckily, the Church of Scientology near Dupont Circle offers free analysis.

I arrived quiz in hand, and was introduced to Betina. She was a lovely young thetan who showed me a display explaining the Dianetic principles. The display was one of about ten brightly colored screens based around enormous flat screen televisions. Each TV showed glossy, soft focus featurettes about Scientology. They were all incredibly vague. The Dianetics panel, for example, seemed to focus on young, happy minorities moving in slow motion. There was also something about a volcano, and then it tried to sell me books.

The display on Scientology’s founder, L. Ron Hubbard, was particularly absorbing. A video described his exploits at length, many of which were quite remarkable. Did you know that at age thirteen Hubbard became the youngest Eagle Scout in history? I certainly didn’t, and neither do the Boy Scouts of America, who keep no records of the sort.

A few minutes later, I met Sheila, the woman who scored my test. Her face was grave—apparently my survival dynamics were not in sync, and it was seriously affecting my life. Who knew?

My mistake came when, in an attempt to be agreeable, I admitted to having briefly seen a psychiatrist years ago. Psychiatrists, with their drugs and degrees, are the sworn enemies of the Scientology lot; Sheila told me how lucky I was to have overcome the trauma. My life force must be very strong, she assured me, but misguided. Luckily, Dianetics held the cure in the form of more videos and some strong-arm salesmanship. Though the $100 introductory seminar did sound delightful, I ultimately declined. I’ll take a full wallet over hearty, dynamic thrusts any day.