Paul Krassner, editor and founder of The Realist magazine in 1958, sent a letter to the FDA concerning scientology.
It was just a short little thing, more of a note really, but it piqued my curiosity.
I found it in one of the files from the recently declassified FDA records – courtesy of a FOIA request by R.M. Seibert – it was in CD #2, Vol 7 of 18 PDF, on p. 189.
After he caught wind of all the hullballoo about the FDA raid on the Church in D.C. (January 4, 1963) Krassner had decided he wanted to do a piece on Hubbard and scientology in The Realist. So, he wrote to the FDA on January 29 asking for ‘their side’ of the e-meters seizure issue.
Krassner had a rare ascerbic wit, and he put it to typical use in the June 1963 issue, vol 41: Two sides of The Food and Drug Administration vs. Scientology.
There’s a wonderful archive of all issues of The Realist now on the web. I found the relevant issue and put the now OCR’d page images into a PDF to make it more easily usable by other scientology-related researchers.
Here it is:
Krassner starts out simply lining up the scientology view of things, as expressed by Clear #2715, Thomas F. Pinch (Director of Administration of the founding church of scientology) – and the FDA side of things, as expressed by Kenneth L. Milstead (D/Director of FDA Bureau of Enforcement).
It’s pretty straightforward, running along in a side-by-side column format. But, at the end, Krassner chooses to highlight a document seized in the FDA raid, and does a great little sidebar about it titled: How to Lure Customers.
I love his breakdown titles of the three methods – Talking, Hooking and Exploiting. So accurate.
There is a perfect quote from Hubbard, where he literally positions his luring techniques as being a spider trying to attract a fly!
Now that’s really appropriate.
…although the psychoanalytic contact where one sits in an office with a sign outside the door and waits for the flies to walk into the spider web is definitely in use in scientology….
– L. Ron Hubbard, Professional Auditors Bulletin (PAB) 73; Operational Bulletin #14; January 24, 1956 – can be read in full here, starting on p. 380 of pdf, 348 of the Technical Volume (three methods starts on p. 383)
Also included in this issue of The Realist, was a little piece by G. Legman from 1950 (right after Dianetics was released) called Epizootics.
Neurotica was a short-lived magazine, only 9 issues I believe, but Legman’s parody is pretty hard-hitting.
For those that don’t know, by choosing epizootics as his parody word for dianetics, he’s playing off an actual medical term of epizootic, which means: An epidemic outbreak of disease in an animal population, often with the implication that it may extend to humans.
A fact which makes his piece even funnier when you know that.
This is so great, I went to the trouble of hand-typing the text to make it easier for others to access this comedy gold.
Plain Text –
It is with a certain diffidence that I announce to the world at this time my discovery of the Science of Epizootics, which I conceived and brought to birth, myself personally, wholly without the assistance of any woman. Women are always banging things around terribly in their wombs and spoiling them.
I therefore did without. I, in this tremendous delivery, available solely of my own penile possibilities (as will be explained later) in over forty-one years of research (I admit to being only thirty-one just now, but will explain all that later) and now present the results to suffering humanity at a very reasonable price: $4 for the hard-cover job, 25c for the semi-pulp digest version published two weeks earlier, in the April Fool issue of Incredible Science Frauds, and courses available for the degrees of Epizook, First and Second Sucker-Circuit, at from $175 to $500, complete with a special three-page book of directions, as will also be explained later. (This will be explained later.)
You will observe, in the Incredible SF publication, that I state on page gimmel (toward the bottom) that the $4 book is made purposely hard to understand and is really strictly the crap. Please do not pay any attention to this if you have already bought the $4 book, as it was maliciously inserted by an evil “enzyme” (NzCffU235) after the page-proofs were already corrected and out of my hands. All this will be explained later, when we have finished decorating our six beautiful branches in New York (two blocks from the Psycho-ptooey!-Analytic Institute), Paris, Honolulu, and West Metuchem, New Jersey.
I would like to say here, before going any further, that Epizootics, on which I have been working for the last fifty-one years with a staff of seven other unemployed Engineers, wholly under water (in an old garage donated to use by the editor of Incredible SF, who is getting his cut), is without a doubt-and is absolutely and unconditionally guaranteed to be-the finest, the most modern, the most widely advertised, and the glossiest-finished 25-cent psycho-fakeological-religion anywhere on the market today. Please do not patronize our cheap cruddy competitors.
Certain persons (whose identity is known to me) have been spreading it around that I am not sufficiently trained for the job of discovering Epizootics. However, as any fool can plainly see, inasmuch as I discovered the goddamn thing myself, I am really the only person competent to decide whether I am the right person to discover it or not. This is called the Scientific Method. No? Yes. Heil Hitler!
Furthermore, I really am sufficiently trained. My famiy is one which has always been interested in things Scientific. We are an old Engineering family from away back, my great-grandfather on my mother’s side (womb:ptooey) being the well-known L. “Casey” Jones of the Santa Fe line. Look at my record. From 1917 B.E. (Before Epizootics), when I was born, through 1922-think of it, until the age of five-I spent a great deal of time studying these matters. Not, I must admit, in a very expert way, considering how young I was (though a Supermind even then), but with endless enthusiasm and, of course, the great untapped Biological Heritage that we Engineers (Heil!) are famous for.
From 1925 through 1930, during my public school years-including one year (1931) at the Yeshivas Rabbenu Yankov Yosef on Henry Street, where I specialized in Meatball Engineering (with ketchup) – I studied further I delved. I threw myself into the part. I’m curing people. I’m curing them of stuff they never would of known they had if I hadn’t told them. “Enzymes!” It’s my own invention. And I never had a lesson in my life. I made it all up myself. And boy oh boy oh boy oh boy, lookit that money roll in. (This will be explained later.)
Then I graduated. (“Was graduated is more correcter, I know, but I have learned to play dumb when chiselling off the rabble-“to sleep with pigs, nor lose the common touch, as Shakespeare puts it. Heil!) I went to work for the old Lobscouse Magazine, a semi-pulp, and turned out 100,000 words a month, regular, using my own name, L. Alexander Gershon (call me Al) as well as six other pseudonyms, and selling 97.9%. One month I wrote the whole issue of Lobscouse, plus a Broadway play, ten novels, a slick serial, two ghost jobs-one on The Personality Gland and Where to Put It, and another which I am not at liberty to divulge-meanwhile, of course, not stopping for an instant doing my research on Epizootics. Don’t forget that. I never stopped. I believe I am the only man living who can write 100,000 words a month, plus other commitments-that’s 3,333 words a day, or about 300 words an hour (five a minute) working only ten hours a day so as not to strain my brain-and yet spend the other fourteen hours a day every single day for sixty-one years discovering Epizootics. I never slept. The wonder, to me, is that I didn’t discover the damn thing long ago, so I could stop fugging around writing pulp.
Please do not imagine that the non-Epizootic materials I was turning out was bad. It was terrific. It had “enzymes.” It was as full of enzymes s a mule’s hind end is full of —-(Later. With the case-histories.) There was, for instance, my terrific story, “Ultimate Brown-off” where I explain how the civilians are rabble and the high muckety-mucks in the Amy are muck, and how us Junior Engineers (Heil!) should run the world for its own goddam good or give it a bayonet up the old pazooka. People complained about this. They said it was fascistic. But they were rats. Red rats. I would never let them take the course in Epizootics and become Zooks. There are, incidentally, only twenty Zooks in the world: myself-I count for 1.98765433333. but call it two-and eighteen others, including three who still have their Nazi uniforms left over from Techmockcracy, and only we deserve citizenship (Heil!) But, of this, more later.
And now-now-it is later. I mean to say, this, this right here and now, is Later. This is when all truths are unveiled.
First I will give you a little lesson in Scientific Method. In this I am like Kinsey. in fact, I am better than Kinsey. Kinsey gives you a short course in statistics and then fobs you off with a lousy 5,300 college kids &c. to work u figures from for the whole “human” race. (United States only. Foreigners are not human. Negroes are not human. They get a special supplementary out-house volume. Only white Nordic engineers like me and Kinsey are human.) But I will do better than Kinsey. I will give you a refresher course in Scientific Method and then make u all the goddamn figures out of my own head. Case-histories too. Why not? Look at all the practice I got working as an Engineer (hack writer) for Unbelievable Science Phonies Magazine.
Axiom 1. The fundamental rule of life is-MAKE DOUGH!
Axiom 2. With the dough, make bread. Feed the bread to your kids. It is the staff of life. Don’t give your wife any. She has a womb. Wombs are bad. (That was Axiom 3).
Axiom 4. Make up a lot of junk, and then when anybody asks you how you know, say in a loud voice: “It works. If it works it must be so. Theory can come later.” This is the heart of the Scientific Method.
Axiom 5. Go back to Axiom 1 and begin all over, but on a higher Epizootic plane. In this way you spiral instead of circling, and the “enzymes get a chance to do their work.
There you are. You now know as much as I do about Scientific Method. There is just one other thing. Let us call it Axiom 5 1/2.
Axiom 5 1/2. Get an honest publisher for your junk. Do not go to any of the old, crooked firms. Go to somebody new in the business, with a name just like somebody lse that it is easy to confuse him with. This makes it simpler to get credit. Like if there is a big compay namd Macmillan specialising in Science, about how the moon hit Mars in the beezer, and Forever Amber, and stuff like that: then you go to somebody called McMillan. You get ti? No a. That will fool the jerks. And the big M keeps your publisher out of court. Do not go to any crooked old opportunists. That is axiomatic.
Now another thing. This is not absolutely essential, but it can’t hurt. Get some dentist or drug-store clerk from the Midwest that nobody ever heard of to write an introduction for you. Refer to him all the time as “Dr. also as “the well-known atom-bomb scientist.” That scares people and they listen. Or you can even get a real doctor. They don’t cost much more. Also, stick in a glossary of whatever phony gobbledegook you use (norks and anableps in the magazine; enzymes and zooks in the book) plus a one-page quote-dressed up as an Appendix-from some old nickel Blue Book on the history of history of the Science of Science, and dedicate your book to the author. That flatters the ass off him and he lets you use his name in the ads. Or you can always cut him in on the take, along with all the other Introducers, Illustrators, &c. It goes over big with the jerks.
This schematic (Fig. 1) was drawn for the Epizootic Institute of West Metuchen, New Jersey, by L. Claude Dooglers of Western Union (2nd Assistant Engineer in charge of smashing busted bikes). It expresses succinctly the very soul (zoot) of Epizootics, and will also build one hell of an FM tuner if you can get the tubes. Men, Dooglers lost his job for drawing this schematic. They said to him, “dooglers, any Engineer who’d put his name to a drawing like that ain’t fit to carry guts to a bear. turn in your key to the executives toilet.” They canned him. A martyr to Epizootics. The first…but there will be others. I have spoken. Heil! See Plans B, C, and 4Q2 (the one where we all smoke opium).
All right, now for some red-hot case-histories. Don’t worry, you can get away with anything if it’s case-histories. Krafft-Ebing (or however you spell it) proved that long ago. And look at Havelock Ellis, when he gets into that bathtub with the Florrie dame. Wow. Besides, you can always make up the conversation: “thus when Oscar Wilde extols the Greeks…all he seems to mean is: ‘I should like a world…with plenty of sunshine and lots of yummy scantily-clad teenagers who can’t say No.” Oh brother! This is not from Epizootics, but from a Mr. W.H. Auden in Partisan Review, April Ap50, page 392; but the idea is the same.
Patient repeated name “zeke” several times, the Epizook (therapist) asking him cautiously what incident in his pre-fetal life this reminded him of. High sonic-pismo of “garbage” with optimum vizio-schizio. This experiment can be rpeated by anyon, anywhere, and is my reply to those critics and “psychiatrists” who say I am either crazy or a crook. After repetition of the “demonic” word several times, with no result, the patient was at 3.2 and coming on fast with the come-on. The peter-meter was applied-Epizootically-to his Dear Old Dad who’d been dead for twenty years, and five negative enzymes of crud (basic-basic-basic) were removed through the usual hole. The patient began to moan.
Epizook: All right. You’re at 3.0. Shall we give with the garbage?
Patient: Here it comes; an’ lemme tell you, its basic-basic-basic!
Mother: (speaking through patient): Why you lousy, no good, chippy-chasin’, cork-soaking son of a bitch. Wher in the fuggin hell do you get off calling me your little sweetheart”?! (Intensified epizootic as she snips off 1/8 of an inch of the father’s foreskin wth a scissors named Delilah. Note sonic-pismo connection with the contact-word “Zeke.) Contacting the patient’s epizootic two inches further down in the penile apparatus, just beyond the point to which he had risen in semine in his father’s left testicle, the Epizook determined beyond a shadow of a doubt that this trauma had occurred halfway between his poor masochistic father’s last monthly nose-bled and his next-to-last not counting Odd-John-Thursdays. I here repeat my challenge to “skeptics” to test these results by any method known to Science, and I might point out that Freud (ptooey!) and Rank and Tristram Shandy may have discovered the birth-trauma, but none of them ever went as far with it as the father’s left teste, did they?
EPIZOOK: Continue, you bastard. Recount the enzyme.
PATIENT: The pressure is terrific. I feel something going in and out. What in the name of goodness can it be?
MOTHER (grinding her knee into father’s groin and menacing him with the scissors again): I ought to punish you. I ought to make you for to bleed profusely. I ought to stick it in and break it off, you bum. (Great intensification of enzyme Ralph 124c41 + known as Beelzebub, Shadrack, Meshack, and Abednego, in the old religious form of Epizootics-as the mother grabs father by bth ears with an ear-twiste named Kiss-me-Billy The Outlaw.) I’m gonna twist ’em off and make you eat ’em, you lousy scumbag. I’m gonna drag ’em back and let ’em snap. You hear me?-snap! (Snap-snap epizootic as patient reels to sink and vomits. Coitus-syndrom now begins. Epizook hears a squishing sound” which he recognizes as Sonny Jim floating out the window in a silk handkerchief. My God, it’s a misfire. This patient has never been born!)
By special request of the publisher, the rest off this case history is not printed here, but has been mimeo-graphed on asbestos blotters and will gladly be sent to any adult reader above the age of ten who will return the enclosed post-card for what we call our “Sucker List,” enclosing $20 (for handling and feeling) and the torn-out womb of his mother.
KEYING-IN THE ZOOK
We have here a beautiful demonstration of the entire “psychology” (as we call it) of Epizootics. The patient, in the pre-fetal seminal stage, has risen to a point just past the third inch of his father’s subphallic apparatus, and is locked somewhere in the seminal vesicle by the “Time Clock” psychosis of that lousy bitch, his mother. Although simple phallic worship rites, such as we used to have in the Navy (and vice versa) could allay this situation, it is preferable for the Epizook to “kid the patient along” (or “work through,” as the new terminology has it) from the ampulla to the vas deferens, and so to bed.
The part of the mother in all this is of course entirely passive, as befits the Epizootic theory of-as I have so well phrased it-Kirche, Kuche, und Kinder (English translation: Epizoot, kid, your swastika is showing). If this principle is borne in mind we can unconditionally guarantee to cure-withut the slightest possibility of a relapse-all psycho-somatic, somatico-psychic, psychic, and somatic, and all other ailments from Autoeroticism through Zooerastia. Also cancer. No other Science can make this claim.
All that the patient has to do is to remain 1. Calm, 2. Unconscious, 3. Irrational 4. Solvent (or we’ll kick him the hell out of our Institute, whatever them cheap imitators of ours styling themselves ‘psychiatrists’ may do), and 5. Hysterical. He is then well on the way to an Epizootic cure. After 500 hours off this crap, at $15 an hour or whatever you can take him for, he is a pre-Zook. After 1000 hours he, and you, and every one of the 40,000 customers (at the latest cunt) for this nauseating glob of religio-psychiatric pus at $4 a throw, can be considered a 100% keyed-in Zook, or scared little jerk.
Omigod it’s Epizootics!
By Virginia McClaughry