"Anonymous" ] wrote in message
...
On Tue, 03 Oct 2006 16:14:05 -0700, barbz wrote:

Barbara Schwarz wrote:
antisectes wrote:
How can a nazie barbie like you work for a nazi cult?

r

Calling me a Nazi, is Nazi-libel, Roger Gonnet. You must be on drugs or
p$ychiatric hypnotized. This is the only way to explain your behavior.

-- Barbara Schwarz
http://www.thunderstar.net/~schwarz/lrh/fbidocs.html

What's your excuse, Babbles?
Salt Lake City bag lady...

What's on your resume Ms. Graham?

1) Picket
2) write letters
4) $cientology kills

From: Rev Fredric L. Rice - view profile
Date: Sun, May 20 2001 10:51 pm

Here's a repost of the original protest report filed on 26/Jun/2000,
the day that Scientology killed Stacy Moxon. This is the first time
that we see reports of the Scientology organization -- which claims
to be in mortal fear of protesters and picketers -- offer to take
them out to lunch.

Only later did activists learn that the Scientologists were trying to
cover up yet another homicide; one that had taken place the very minute
that human rights protesters were out there protesting the Ashlee Shaner
homicide. It wasn't until at least a week later that we learned that
the latest homicide victim was Stacy Moxon, daughter of noted crime
figure Kendrick Moxon, named "co-conspirator" in the notorious "Snow
White" espionage case.

-=-

Picket Report, Gold Base, 6-25-00

Shy David and I arrived at Gold Base at approximately 10:00 a.m.
Happily, there was a high overcast cloud cover thanks to the tropical
storm off Baja; the temp was in the 80s. We paused to place prayer
feathers at the little Ashlee shrine by the side of the road. David got
attacked by ants.

David was using one of Keith's signs, mine said 'Scientology Kills' on
one side and, 'Ron is Gone But the Con Lives On' on the other.

We started picketing from the shrine and began working our way south,
David acting as tour guide. The wheelbarrow of dried cement is still
there! The parrot is still there too, because it's a pet, not a loose
bird. I didn't hear it say Xenu, but it squawked a lot.

It didn't take too long for our first handler to emerge from the base.
This nattily dressed OT feller's name was Ken. He was wearing a dark
suit dispite the heat, lots of gold buttons, gold Scientology ring. His
shoes would have passed inspection, and the ants did not attack him. He
was superficially friendly, and asked the usual questions, who, why, and
so forth. David wouldn't give him his name, as he suspects they already
know it. But Ken played dumb. (We heard "I'm out of the loop" a lot of
times that day!) So, "Grayhat" and Barb were our handles for the day. We
were about to an underpass on 79, when Ken started talking about
breakfast. He thought it would be good for us to all go eat out together
and chat about how our differences could be resolved. He said he'd buy.

Anyone who knows me is aware that I seldom turn down a free meal! But I
got this weird sense that, for some reason, Ken was trying to get us
away from Gold. We gracefully declined the invitation. I suggested we
make a date for some future meeting, but he didn't respond.
Ken kept asking if we could "stop and talk." Well, being it
was a picket and all, we told him we had to keep moving and if he wished,
he could accompany us. Ken informed us that the mysterious 'ritual post'
mentioned by Keith was just an intercom.

We did stop for a smoke break, at which point I bummed a smoke off Ken,
having left mine in the car. (Shades of Jacques in London, I sniveled
his next to last smoke!)

Thanks Ken! I appreciated the smoke. Next time, the smokes are on me.

At one point, Ken asked us if we'd ever broken the law.
"Anyone who says otherwise, would be lying," I replied.
I asked him where he was going with this.
Nowhere, apparently. He segued into some other topic.

Discussing the tech with Ken, I inquired of him why the San Diego org
was so downstat that it couldn't even get the Sunday services listed in
the paper correctly.

"People make mistakes," he said. I pointed out that this has been
an ongoing thing, and that it wasted the org's resources. I outlined for
him how simple it is to get an ad in the paper every week, and suggested
he pass on my comments to San Diego. Before we parted, he asked for my
phone number so he could call and chat. I offered him my email addy
instead, said offer was ignored. It didn't occur to me at the time that
Ken may not be online.

Finally, Ken's beeper muttered at him, and a woman handler emerged from
the clambed. He left us in her hands. I don't recall her name offhand,
but she was perhaps 5'6 max, ash brown pageboy, dark glasses, and a bad
knee, so I'll call her Gimpy.

That was the first thing she said to us, that she had a bad knee, and
could we stop to talk? We invited her to keep up with us, as we were
picketing and had to keep moving by law. Then, she started asking us the
same questions as Ken. We told her she could ask him, as we'd already
covered that ground.

She then morphed into a tour guide, pointing out the new blue trimmed
residences they're building. There's one beautiful stone building to the
east of 79, partway up the ridge overlooking Gold. I asked her what it
was.

"Office buildings," she replied. (Ida says it's Davey's house.) We
discussed architecture. I told her that the lumpy brown pseudocastle did
not say Scotland to me. It said Southern California Disney, and ugly to
boot. I did compliment Davey's house and the new structures though. They
are quite nice looking. Perhaps I'll buy one when that property becomes
available following some court case.

Then, she tried bullbaiting me. Me! Ex-punk rocker don't give a **** me!
She suggested I could benefit from Prozac. (drug endorsement from an OT?
Wow!) I laughed, and said I was not only not depressed, I am downright
chucklelicious! "You seem a bit unstable," she said.

I laughed again. "I'm an artist. You name me one artist who isn't a
little whacky!"

She terminated that program and we changed the subject.

She started talking about how we should sit down and have breakfast.

"Can't you smell the food in the mess hall? It smells great!" Look, I
can smell food miles away, and I am here to tell you, there wasn't
anything cooking! She seemed to be inviting us into Gold Base to break
bread with her! Again, we declined the invitation.

As we went by the entrance again, another fellow came out. This one's
name was Robert. He also was being nice. I must say, this guy was
incredibly uninformed about current events. I had to tell him who
General Colin Powell is! He didn't know anything about anything, it was
kind of startling to me. No computer, no tv, no newspapers...reminds me
of the first two weeks of basic military training! We all stood around
through introductions, then she started chatting up Robert so David and
I continued on. We left the two of them way behind. Oddly, Gimpy hustled
to catch up with us. Her knee was apparently better!

David and I continued north, trailed by our gaggle of OT handlers. A
vehicle pulled up across the street, and a guy with a big camcorder got
out.

"Quick!" I said to Gimp. "Hold this!" and extended my
sign to her. Her hand moved to take it before she caught herself, and Robert
and I cracked up. I made our handlers burst out laughing several times. I
am a Joker, all right.

David got the sense that they were trying to keep us from the south. We
walked all the way down several times, but saw nothing out of the
ordinary. Thinking about it later, I believe I know why they were doing
this. I bet they were under orders to keep picketers away from Davey's
house.

David brought up many topics to our handlers about which they claimed
ignorance. "I'm out of the loop," was said repeatedly. They all
denied having access to KRs and so forth. I hope David will post, I don't
remember them all. Mark Bunker's hammerfest was one.

We didn't have any fliers, but there was a steady stream of traffic,
with accompanying honks, waves, and thumbs up, which our handlers
ignored. You have to wonder what they think when someone drives by
yelling, "Yeah!" and giving us thumbs up.

We left Gold around 1:00, and stopped by Ida's for lunch and a visit.
Thanks to Ida for the hospitality! Let's do lunch again soon!

I guess the OTs did get me though. On the way home, the train ran out of
fuel and we had to wait for a freight locomotive to come and push us
into the San Diego train station! We got in just after 2400.

As far as I know, there was no revenge picket at my place but then, if
there had been, I'm sure the fliers would have been gone by midnight.

Submitted for your approval and so forth,
--barb


--The Voice