December 5, 1998 - AndroidCat

Frankly, weather wise it was a crummy day. Overcast, cold, damp. (Florida, warm, mmm!) But the Toronto org received yet another picket from ARSCC(wdne) under the leadership of Wulfen this time. (Artimis *finally* missed a Toronto picket, but I guess he's got an excuse :^)

In attendance were Wulfen, Shawnster, and myself, later joined by Slippery Jim, and a first time appearance by .. The Bearded Guy .. in the afternoon. (We're *expanding*!)

Once again, Scientolgy paid for our police protection, *ka-ching*! And once again the officer mainly told them not to do things. (Most able people [with a brain] don't have to pay police $400 to tell them not to do things, I dunno...)

The tactic for today was handle handle handle.

In the morning it was the *friendly* handle.

Actually it was nice to chat with them. For the most part, they're okay people, far removed from management, and if they want to be Scientologists, that's not a problem with me--just so long as they know what they're getting into.

It'd be nice if future pickets were like that. (No--it wouldn't stop us, but everyone would have a better time. I could bring home baked shortbread!)

A photographer from Now Magazine (a weekly semi-demi-alternative newspaper [Well, suits playing goth really]) came round and shot some pictures. *shrug* Maybe they'll use them. It's not like they interviewed anyone. (Sorry, I don't have much respect for the press's ability to report accurate news since I was added to the non-existent hacker group Top 40 in Montreal in 1984.)

And much to my astonishment, Co$ actually stole some Suppressive Technology: Candy Tech! They were passing out candy canes, a Merry Christmas, and a red poop sheet. (Heh, isn't Christmas just part of R6?)

"A civilization without insanity,
without criminals, and without war,
where the able can proper and honest beings
can have rights, and where man is free to rise
to greater heights, and the aims of Scientology"
-- Elron.
(And what happens to the not able...enk?)
(Followed by lots and lots and lots of bloody fine print that I'm not about to type.)

Then we broke for lunch. (Actually the handlers kept bugging us "when are you going for lunch?" for at least an hour before hand.)

Very nice black bean soup at the Artful Dodger, with a dollop of sour cream in the middle. Guiness, of course.

REAKING of ALCHOHOL, I staggered back. The afternoon handle mode was *confront*. Phhprt! They should have stuck to friendly. For the most part they ganged up on Wulfen, who did point the whole day. He usually outnumbered them one to three.

One lady seemed to have her button stuck on Christmas. "You don't believe in Christmas do you?" Hmm, nice pagan ritiual, but it was L. Ron Hubbard who said "The man on the cross, there was no Christ." She didn't seem to have cognition when I told her it was "just a piece of R6". Humbug!

Andy Hill dragged his smarmy ass in by 2pm. So I guess he'll be posting his usual picket report from his perspective. (Somewhere on Venus near the locomotive switching yards is my guess.)

After Slippery Jim left, I faded back to the car to drop off the sign. Coming back, I met Andy at the entrance to the parking lot. He was "just wondering where I went" Yah Andy, sure. I'll give him points (not many), he did try to seem nice on the walk back. I did have a bit of fun with him by describing the second floor ops room of the org. He wanted to know if I'd seen it inside or outside, equipment, camera or what? (Yes Andy, the Marcabs let me in to look around one night, bwahaha!)

For Xenu's sake Andy, you know where we go after the picket. Get a window seat and take a look for yourself! (Today I forgot to bring my pocket telescope, and we didn't even get window seats.) I'd mention those lists on the cork board but they're probably copyrighted or something. There's this suppressive tech called drapes or blinds or something...

About an hour later Andy seemed to have a "clear cognition" and disappeared back in the direction of the parking lot. ("Gosh, if .. he was .. in the parking lot, maybe .. maybe .. he owns a car!" Good boy, pat-pat-pat!) Nothing tampered with on the car, this is Canada after all.

So assuming Andy found the right car and copied down the right plates (big assumption! bigOT!), and you put a little of that PI money to work, maybe you now know who I really am, and where I live. (Took long enough assholes! I've only been driving to the picket for the last four months.)(Oh, and if Andy didn't think of it, I hope you won't hold it against him too much.)

You want to out me? Do you feel lucky cult?

(Andy needed a bit of coaching to tell the difference between Deep Wog and me. I don't think he reads much ARS.)

Anyway...

The afternoon dragged on. (Ow, I hurt!) After whining about lunch time, they soon started wondering when we were going to be done. (100% standard suppressive tech. We do post a schedule, you know.) I think the way we kept going and going throughout the cold and such started to freak them a little. ("They're nuts!" No mamma, just pissed off. Come back in January, Febuary, March...)(I've got a Montreal tech parka and down-filled mitts. I can picket in a blizzard.)

Finally it was time. We went back to the car, nothing wrong. Then retired to the usual place--but no window seat--no telescope--for hot chocolate, and Guinness.

This picket was definitely for the memory of Lisa McPherson.

But we tried not to think about that too much because we would have been too angry.