A Story of Scientology and the
Mental Health System Connection

PAPERS! PAPERS EVERYWHERE...
AND NOT A* THING TO READ!

The thing I remember most about being in the Sea Organization at the Hollywood Org were all the PAPERS! Directives as I was to find. That's what they called memos. We were in a branch of L Ron Hubbard's private little army don'tcha know. Everything, therefore, had a military bent. More specifically we were in the navy. There were personnel who were labeled "bosons". And there were people with the rank of "Supercargo". And Commanding Officers. Actually, LRH would have liked us to be thought of as MARINES. Navy Seals!
He was really THAT egotistical. HIS title was COMMODORE. Yep. His overweening pride took him THAT FAR.
ANYWAY. So there was a storm of paper. Directives EVERYWHERE! Piled on desks. In inbaskets. In boxes. On filing cabinets, which were woefully insufficient for the veritable blizzard of PAPERS! I was forced to read these. DULL AS DITCHWATER. But I was given my own little pile, and a dictionary. Any words I didn't understand could be found in there. I was to look them up. And an extensive memo about the meaning of the Scientogeese which I was to learn. There was an entire LEXICON of THAT, let me tell you! More on that later on. AND we we didn't have TIME to read anything ELSE! Our day was filled with CHORES.... or reading of said PAPERS.

Then I began to notice the other "personnel" around me. NONE of whom appeared to be HAPPY. They were a grayish sort. Looked like the sun very seldom glanced their skin. Glum, yet (for all appearances), VERY dedicated. Then there were folk who seemed to be separate from the other workers. They wore filthy dark blue or black clothing, appeared to run everywhere, and address everyone as "Sir". They were called the RPF. Rehabilitation Project Force. Remember that unit and its abbreviation. For they are to loom large later in my narrative.

But there WAS one person who brought sunshine into my otherwise dreary world...

MARILYN.