Wait until Marc Maron gets to the bottom of this and understands the big picture. His mind is going to be blown. He will have discovered a treasure trove of comedy material as well the pile of shite that is the CO$. When he learns of the human tragedies, murders, and human rights abuses he’ll get it out there and talk about it and give it more exposure.

I’ve actually read almost 6 of the Mission Earth books. Yes, they are pretty bad, but sometimes they are so bad they are kind of good. There is some truly weird stuff in those books. In the 6th book there is actually a necrophiliac (yes, it actually goes there). The whole series, well it’s actually a 1.2m word novel, is just so hugely against psychiatry it’s hilarious. It’s supposed to be a satire, and in ways it is. Anyways, it’s the only LRH I’ve read. Actually I did read A Typewriter in the Sky, but I really lost interest in it halfway through but it’s not very long. I have a copy of Battlefield Earth that I haven’t read, I might try it. I guess I’m a bit of a glutton for punishment.

Thank you – I always get the Mission/Battlefield titles muddled.

Most historians of SF usually mention two three of his short, early works as his best (e.g. “Final Blackout”, Typewriter in the Sky and “Slaves of Sleep”). They are all strictly speaking, fantasies rather than SF – he was a lazy writer who didn’t do research.

While they are not great, editors did choose to publish them and he made a living. to be fair, his reputation as a fiction writer should rest on those.

His later works were vanity publications (printed by Scientology) and truly awful. There is no science in the fiction – just tired old space opera clichés. I cannot imagine how people can overlook their obvious faults, let alone actually like them.

That review was actually for Mission Earth, his 10 volume series. Battlefield Earth is generally considered his best work, whether that is saying much or not, but some people (including non-scientologists) genuinely really like it.

YES and your point is ?!?!?!
This is just to refresh everyone except you ( I suppose ) since you might be part of the sinister cult named CO$ OR ?????

Thanks Mighty Korgo. Ironic that you blew to go to a Sci-Fi convention!

I first darkened their doors in 1970. Several members of my family were involved in Scientology, one it would turn out, for 23 years. Another has been a freezoner/scientologist now for about 43 years. Blowing also meant separating myself from family. It was not an easy decision.

OK, lets go back to the summer of 1970. I was an SF fan and went to my first Science Fiction convention which opened my eyes and changed my life. Soon after that Toronto won the bid for the World SF Convention in late August of 1973. I bought a ticket and had been awaiting the convention with a Tone 40 sort of enthusiasm.

Jump to the summer of 1973. I was taking the HQS course and I was going through it at a good pace. I was living with Mom and Dad and cycling to and from the cult office each day. I would see at least two members of my larger family each day. Each day my Mom would pack a lunch for me and for my cousin and we would eat together and talk about the wonder that was the Church of Scientology.

I was meeting new people. There was even a young woman down there that had romantic interest in me. HQS started with fairly acceptable activities and at the end the soul was to leave the body (which would prove the Scientology worked). Also, you couldn’t finish the course until the soul left the body, which, I suppose, was the opposite of Catch 22. Either you decided the soul would leave or you decided to stay on picking up the book and the bottle until the cows came home.

The course supervisor was a physically beautiful woman, about a year my junior who was far more worldly than I. She lived in a basement room which she shared with a female room mate who was also on course. The rooommate joined staff soon after. Me, I was sharing an even smaller room with my younger brother.

OK. I set the stage. Here is what happened.

I was near the end of the course. For many of the activities I needed a partner. I often had one (and I still remember his name– later he joined staff and six months after that blew for good and did not want to discuss it). He was a nice fellow. Something else was going on in his life and he did not attend class every day. As I recall I spent about a week but no more without a “twin”. I cooled my heals. I read Hubbard books. I sorted mail and otherwise helped out. Then one day my course supervisor told me that she had found me a twin. She said that with the twin I should finish the course, oh, in about three days. I replied, “Good. Because in three days I will be going off the the World SF convention and then I am going back to school!” This was said in complete innocence. I had no idea that i was crossing a line.

She sent me down to meet Earl Smith, who was an ethics officer. I was about 19. He was about 23. He seemed old and not wise but knowledgeable. He was cut and dried. In essence, I was a child being sent to the Vice Principal for a reason I could not understand.

Then, I waited. I waited for Earl for 2 and a half days. When he finally got around to me he decided that I was PTS to a friend of mine and told me just how to handle it. He gave me the phone. I phoned a friend and asked him to, “Grant me beingness as a Scientologist”. My friend was flabbergasted at the time. He remains my dear friend today. I was even the best man at his wediding. Earl Smith is still a Scientologist but an older, uglier one. I am certain that he can be found on line with a bit of work.

I returned to the course room, tail between my legs. I had half a day before the SF Convention was to begin. The course supervisor told me to get back to my studies. I told her that I only had a half day at that point to complete what she had described as 3 days of work. She then told me that, “If was Tone 40 on getting it done I still could, even in a half day”. I left. I enjoyed the convention. I went back to school. I got two degrees. I got a job I cared about. I had hobbies. I married. I had kids.

I set foot in there eight years later to sell my Hubbard books but that’s another ugly story. At that point I swore never to set foot again in a Scientology cult office and I haven’t.

Finding out Ribisi was a clam made it difficult to watch him and enjoy his role in saving private ryan. (Likewise I simply refuse to spend money on a project that Tom Cruise is involved with, and I find it irksome that his films appear in my Netflix queue – money I spend on other things is going in to his pocket, and thus, into David Miscavige’s pocket).