One Hand Jerking (38 page)

In 1972, Paulette Cooper, author of
The Scandal of Scientology
, put me in touch with Lee Cole, a former Scientologist who was now working with the Process Church. I contacted him and flew to Chicago. Cole met me at the airport with a couple of huge men whose demeanor was somewhat frightening. They drove me to a motel, where I checked in, paying cash in advance.

Cole arranged for a meeting with Sherman Skolnick, a local conspiracy researcher. He was in a wheelchair. Two men, one with a metal hook in place of his hand, carried him up the back stairway to my motel room. Cole kept peeking out the window for suspicious-looking cars. The scene was becoming more surrealistic every moment.

Early the next morning, the phone rang. It was Skolnick: “Paul, I'm sorry to wake you, but you're in extreme danger.” I was naked, but with my free hand I immediately started putting my socks on. “That fellow from last night, Lee Cole, he's CIA.” My heart was pounding. I got dressed faster than I had ever gotten dressed in my life, packed my stuff and ran down the back steps of the motel without even checking out. At another motel, I called Cole. He denied being with the CIA. We made an appointment to visit the Process headqarters.

“And this time,” I said, giving my best imitation of Clint Eastwood bravado, “you can leave those
goons
of yours at home.”

The Process men were dressed all in black, with large silver crosses hanging from their necks. They called each other “Brother” and they had German shepherds that seemed to be menacing. The Brothers tried to convince me that Scientology, not the Process, was responsible for creating Charles Manson. But what else could I have expected?

Lee Cole's role was to provide information on Scientology to the Process. To prove that he wasn't with the CIA, he told
me
stuff about Scientology. For example,
he described their plan to kidnap former boxing champion Joe Louis from a mental hospital, so that Scientology could get the credit for curing him. Back in San Francisco, I asked journalist Roland Jacopetti to check that one out, and he discovered that Scientology actually
did
have such a plan, although it had been aborted.

Not that belonging to the CIA and Scientology were mutually exclusive—infiltration is often a two-way street—but I called up Sherman Skolnick in Chicago, and he apologized for scaring me the way he did.

“You know us conspiracy researchers,” he chuckled. “We're paranoid.”

In January 2003, Sirhan Sirhan lost a Supreme Court appeal, part of his effort to get a new trial in the 1968 assassination of Senator Robert Kennedy. The justices refused without comment to consider whether Sirhan's case could be impartially reviewed by some California courts. Sirhan claims that his lawyer at the trial in Los Angeles was working with the government to win his conviction.

On that same day, Attorney General John Ashcroft endorsed giving religious organizations government money for social services, which many critics contend would be a blatant violation of the constitutional principle of separation of church and state. Of course, the Church of Scientology, which has high hopes for inclusion in this ripoff of taxpayer funds, is trying very hard to act normal.

Starring in the role of governor of California, Arnold Schwarzenegger called the legislators who weren't going to vote for his proposed budget “girlie men.” Although he was attempting to rabble-rouse the crowd, he unthinkingly insulted women, gays and metrosexuals alike. On
Larry King Live
, Bill Maher referred to accusations of sexism and homophobia as “fake outrage.”

There had been a sort of precedent.

Two days after the terrorist attacks on 9/11, Ann Coulter—former Justice
Department attorney and Senate aide, now a professional reactionary and Step-ford pundit—wrote in
National Review Online
, “We should invade their countries, kill their leaders and convert them to Christianity.” The Web site refused to run her syndicated follow-up column, because it included a reference to “suspicious-looking swarthy males.”

Coulter publicly dissed
National Review
, which had received “a lot of complaints” from sponsors and readers, so her column was dropped, and the magazine dumped her as a contributing editor. After she was fired, she went on
Politically Incorrect with Bill Maher
, accusing
National Review
of censorship and calling the editors “just girlie boys.”

Incidentally, in October 2001, Coulter and I both played pundit on the same TV panel (about the assassination of Robert Kennedy, on the short-lived series,
The Conspiracy Zone
). During a commercial break, I suggested that the labels “conservative” and “liberal” have become obsolescent, and I asked what she thought might be appropriate substitutes. A lightning bolt shattered the bulb hovering above her head.

“Americans and cowards,” she said.

“Yikes,” I said.

But the question remains, how do you separate the girlie boys from the girlie men?

And the answer is: With a shoehorn.

Fox News has a weekly program called
Newswatch
, which presents a group of journalists discussing various controversies in the media. On Saturday, panelist Jane Hall revealed her growing skepticism of Martha Stewart because “she compared herself to Nelson Mandela.” Actually, Stewart had
contrasted
herself to him, indicating that a measly five months was a pittance as opposed to the twenty-seven years that Mandela was imprisoned. Hall's false statement was not contradicted by fellow panelists James Pinkerton, Cal Thomas and Neal Gabler, nor by moderator Eric Burns.

When Stewart revealed to Barbara Walters on
20/20
that she was going to research Danbury, which might be her involuntary home for five months, I contacted my own source within the penal system. This is how he responded:

“Boy o'boy, Martha Stewart sure fucked up getting the judge to recommend to the B.O.P. [Bureau of Prisons] that she be sent to FCI [Federal Correctional Institution]
Danbury. FCI's are medium security facilities. There are two mediums for women in the U.S., no maximums. Danbury is where they send the bad girls. All the scooter tramps, Latina gang-bangers and otherwise crazy, whacked-out broads too vicious to place in camps. Danbury will be a particularly nasty experience for her. I wonder if she's ever contemplated being raped by a woman.”

Although the possibility of prison rape isn't intrinsically funny, the late-night TV talk-show hosts—desensitized by their own need to be topical—will undoubtedly include such cheap shots in their monologues. But the mere possibility of prison rape deserves
real
outrage.

My name is Rumpleforeskin, and I approve this message. I defy conventions for a living, and last week I defied the Democrats' convention. Here are some highlights:

Teresa Heinz Kerry began by saying, “Onjay and I avehay iftyfay-eight ositionspay.” She paused in her speech several times to walk out into the audience and pull delegates' thumbs out of their mouths.

A 12-year-old girl, who was outsourced from Bombay, representing Kids For Curry, stated, “When the vice president publicly said the F-word to a senator, I realized
that's
why we have the First Amendment in this great nation.”

In the press tent, a fistfight broke out between Tom Brokaw and Ted Koppel over whether the word “media” was singular or plural. “Is too,” Brokaw shouted. “Are not,” intoned Koppel. Fox network presented a montage of Al Sharpton saying “Slap my donkey” over and over. And CNN experts critiqued Dennis Kuchinich while he was speaking but with the sound turned off.

A scandal developed when it was revealed that Elizabeth Edwards inisisted on being paid $100,000 in cash as a reward for product placement if she would mention Wendy's fast-food chain in the context of family values.

John Edwards displayed signs of Tourette's Syndrome as he frequently interrupted his own speech with uncontrollable outbursts: “Bush!” “Cheney!” “Ashcroft!” He seemed to waiting for someone named Hope to arrive, but she was delayed somewhere in Boston gridlock. Edwards kept reassuring the crowd, and explained that if Hope never arrived, then for the 2008 convention, he would be sure to invite Help to be on the way.

A psychic was on hand to predict how many manipulative applause lines each speaker would indulge in. As for entertainment, Michael Moore sang a reggae
version of “Won't Get Fooled Again,” followed by a trio—Whoopi Goldberg, Linda Ronstadt and Ann Coulter—who performed a stunning rendition of “You Can't Always Get What You Want.”

In the streets, a sequel to the infamous Stanford experiments was taking place in a makeshift concentration camp. About a dozen protesters played the part of prisoners being tested by actual guards to determine the precise point at which abuse becomes torture. This study concluded that such a determination is totally subjective, depending on whether you are a prisoner or a guard.

The real heroes of this convention were those plain folks from across the country—walking back and forth behind TV correspondents reporting from the convention floor—smiling at the cameras and saying into their cell phones, “Can you see me now? God bless America. Can you see me now?”

Oh, yes, John Kerry's speech was brief and to the point: “I have decided to decline your generous nomination,” he roared above a standing ovation, “because I want to spend more time with my family.”

Backstage, Teresa was absolutely furious.

“Oveshay it!” she shouted at Kerry. “Oveshay it!”

I was in Boulder, Colorado for a few days, and on the plane coming back, I was reading in the
The Onion
an answer by humorist Andy Borowitz to the question, “What is funny?” Excerpt: “Even one word can be funny. I remember the first time I saw a McDonald's Express. I thought, now there's a concept: a McDonald's, only faster. Obviously, the McDonald's Corporation believes that there are people out there saying, ‘Gosh, I'd love to go to McDonald's, but who has the time?'”

I was reminded of another single-funny-word observation by satirist Harry Shearer. Commenting on George Bush's “linguistic oddity,” he said, “When Bush is reassuring us that the good news outweighs the bad, he only says, ‘We're making good progress.' Now, me, I'm of the cast of mind that I immediately wonder, ‘What's
bad
progress?' What would that be? I thought progress is good. I was raised an American; progress is good.”

Well, not only can one word be funny, a single
letter
can make a difference. The previous week, I had written in the
New York Press
: “[John] Edwards kept reassuring the crowd [at the Democrats' convention], and explained that if Hope ever arrived, then for the 2008 convention he would be sure to invite Help to be on the way.”

While I was in Boulder,
Press
research editor Lionel Beehner sent an e-mail, checking to make sure that I had intended to write “ever” rather than “never.” Since I was away and couldn't respond, he used his judgment and decided to begin the word with an “n.” I thought that made my point funnier and stronger, inasmuch as when Edwards kept repeating, “Hope is on the way,” he was starting from less than zero.

But something
between
letters can also alter your perception, such as the distinct design of an arrow between the E and the X in the FedEx logo. Even the way people respond to humor can shift your focus. When Jon Stewart laughs, he covers his mouth; when Dennis Miller laughs, he covers his eye.

A concept—in this case, the concept of security—can be tragic on one side of a coin and absurd on the other. In Boulder, I was invited to a gathering where a delegate for John Kerry was describing his experience at the convention. He had to have his credentials checked every morning, because there had been attempted counterfeiting.

His bottle of water would have to be confiscated. He indicated that the cap was still sealed, but that made no difference. He asked, “How about if I drink from it?” The guard said, “Go ahead.” The delegate drank some water from the bottle. Nevertheless, the guard then tossed it into a bin filled to the brim with bottles of water. Inside the convention, they were selling water for nearly $3 a bottle. Just like at a rock festival.

“Same thing happened to me,” says Harry Shearer. “I drank the whole thing. The only difference is, my bottle was spring water, what they were selling inside the Fleet Center was Aquafina—Pepsi's mineralized tap water.”

On this 35th anniversary of Woodstock, everyone who was there has their own specific memories and associations. The '60s were over. Negroes had become blacks. Girls had become women. Hippies had become freaks. Richard Alpert would become Ram Dass. Hugh Romney would become Wavy Gravy.