Fun With Scientologists

I’ve been playing through Dead Space Extraction on the Wii game console.  It’s a survival-horror game in which you must survive an onslaught of reanimated creatures called necromorphs by escaping from a mining planet to an orbiting ship, only to have to survive yet another wave of necromorphs there.  The majority of your weaponry is mining equipment and the only way to dispatch the necromorphs is to dismember them.  Yeah, that’s a far cry from Wii Sports bowling.  It’s like watching a horror movie that you participate in.  It’s gruesome, gory and full of what my daughter calls “F-bams.  It’s also a whole lot of glorious fun!

The plot centers around the extraction of an artifact called “The Marker” that is of interest to a religious group called The Church of Unitology.  I did a little research and there seem to be some similarities between Unitology and the Church of Scientology.  The most obvious correlation is that both find their genesis in science fiction.  Isn’t that interesting?  My first association between the two was the fact they sound alike!   As I played through each level dispatching necromorphs, the story line developed to the point that it was obvious Scientology influenced the plot. 

I tell you all of that to tell you about my day of fun with the Scientologists.  Playing the game made me think of it.  It happened while I still lived in Southern California with my new bride at the foot of Saddleback Mountain.  It was a Sunday afternoon when we received a knock at the door.  A couple of pleasant, smiling faces asked my wife and I if we would like to take a “personality inventory.”  It seemed pretty innocuous, and maybe a little fun, so we went for it.  They left it with us to complete, and returned early evening to collect our finished work.  They presented a small caveat on their return; our inventories could only be interpreted by a Church of Scientology auditor.  Without hesitation I set up an appointment for the two of us.  I thought it could be an adventure, and my wife thought I was nuts.  She’s usually right.

I arrived on the day of the reading high with anticipation.  My bride arrived with trepidation.  Being male, I hardly noticed and walked in with her trailing behind. 

We both were introduced to our auditors and led to different partitions within what looked like a book store.  L. Ron Hubbard books were everywhere.  I had to push Hubbard’s books to the side of the desk I sat at for some elbow room. 

My auditor examined my personality inventory results and said I seemed to be pretty well adjusted, but there were a couple of areas he’d like to discuss.  He showed me a printout, in graph form, of my results, pointing out a couple of dips that he was concerned about. I asked him how those dips might indicate problems and he assured me their system of evaluation was reliable.  The dips seemed to indicate some past trauma in my life that was adversely affecting me.  He went through a litany of potential problems; abuse, divorce, drugs, maybe illness.  None were in my past.  He asked if there was a traumatic experience that I think of that might have caused the dips in my reading.  None.  He did pull out of me that I had lost a dearly loved family pet a year earlier and that it was his opinion that perhaps I hadn’t dealt with it properly.  No, I assured him I was fully aware of the circle of life.  No trauma.  That’s when I started challenging the whole program.  The conversation went something like this:

“I’m starting to think this is kinda hokey.”

“Mr. Muller, I can assure you this is a well researched and effective program.  And it’s my religion.”

“Yeah, but I feel like I’m in a book store.”

Mr. Muller, we’re here to help, not to try to sell you books.”

“Well, could I buy one of these books?”

“Of course.”

“Then this is a book store!”

“I can see you’re beyond our ability to help.”

“OK, thanks anyway!”

I got up and went looking for my wife.  I found her red faced and in a heated debate with her auditor.  I don’t think she used any expletives, but I’m not so sure about the auditor.  She finally shot up from her seat and rushed past me to the exit.  When I caught up to her she was crying at the car.  She’d also called their religion hokey and her auditor didn’t take that without a fight.  Her auditor also told my wife she was one dip away from the loony bin and she didn’t take that without a fight.  I went back in to the book store and thanked my wife’s auditor for all the help.  Some help.

You know, my day of fun with the Scientologists is still causing me marital strife.  In fact, I’ll hear about it after posting this.  Yet, it was a really fun day!

This is not a picture of Tom Cruise or John Travolta.  Nor is it a picture of the great dictator of the Galactic Confederacy, Xenu.  He’s up above.  This is a necromorph.  Dismembering necromorphs with the wave your Wii-mote is fun.  Arguing with Scientologists can also be fun.  Just make sure you’re properly armed for the encounter. Armed with facts, that is.  A Wii-mote won’t do a thing to a Scientologist.  Well, I guess you could throw it at them, but I don’t advise it…from what I hear, they’re lawyered up…