Pretty sure no-one makes changes to the IAS fundraising operation without the blessing of the Blessed Miscavige.

When we set the original prices ($300 Annual, $2000) we thought that was crazy.

When Bertie Hoecke suggested to me that we should have special “statuses” we came up with two, one was that you could only get as an award for good work done I cannot remember what it was called but we wanted a status that you could not buy. That did not go down well with Yager and Miscavige. So we decided to pick what we thought was so outrageous that maybe, just maybe, 5 dumb rich asses would pay

And thus – “Patron” was born.

Jeez we got that wrong.

Moose I was laughing a lot because I took the Webster dict and checked well the meaning of loosing and I fully got what you meant saying that it looks like I am turning my religion on people like attack dogs. I can’t stop laughing. I am Italian and sometime I fight with english.

My Televangelist Story.

When I was 6 years old I was watching TV on a Sunday afternoon. Oral Roberts had his own show. My mother was in the kitchen cooking; my father was outside in the yard doing something. Oral Roberts was a televangelist. I’d never watched him before. That day he was talking about a group of people somewhere who were in bad shape. They needed God; they needed Jesus, they needed Oral Roberts. They were poor – shoeless, as I recall. Hungry. These people had a lot of problems. Oral Roberts wanted to help them, feed them, save them. To my 6 year old sensibilities he was a magnificent speaker. Very eloquent. I was very moved. From memory I will paraphrase:

“GIVE!”, he cried. “Give, from your hearts, good people! Send a dollar! Just ONE dollar from each of you can do so much! ONE dollar can and will LIFT them not only out of their wretched poverty but into the arms of the Lord and Eternal Salvation…GIVE! Give now! Don’t delay! Do it RIGHT NOW! Place that dollar that you give from your heart into an envelope! Send it to me Oral Roberts…” An address flashed on the screen. I grabbed a nearby pencil and wrote it down on top of TV Guide. “…don’t delay! From your hearts! From your HEARTS! Just ONE dollar, good people! Thank you! God thanks you! Jesus thanks you…” Ok, you get the idea.

As I said I was very moved. There was no doubt in my mind that I was going to send a Reverend Roberts a dollar right away! And getting it was no problem because my father would give it to me. He always gave me whatever I asked him. Always. I ran out into the yard.

He was digging a hole to plant some sort of very large shrub. It was mid summer; hot work; he was sweating.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

“What?

“Can I have a dollar?”

“Yeah.”

I waited. He kept digging.

” I mean right now?”

“As soon as I get this (whatever it was) in the ground, yes. My wallet’s in the house.”

“How long will it take?”

Panting, digging, “An hour maybe.”

Me, channelling Oral Roberts: But this cannot wait! There can be no delay! I need a dollar right away! Right now!”

He stopped digging, looked at me. “What’s the matter with you? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s WRONG. I just need it, that’s all!”

An ice cream truck was jingling a block away. “You know you can’t have ice cream before dinner. Your mother will have a fit.”

“I – I don’t want it for ice cream.” For some reason, I didn’t want to tell him what I was going to do with it.

“Then why do you need this dollar right away?”

“I just need it, that’s all!”

He continued to look at me, steadily.

“I asked you a question”.

Cornered, I said, “I have to send it to Reverend Oral Roberts”

“Who the devil is that?”

“A man on television, Daddy! He needs a dollar from EVERYONE – right away! Its very important!”

My father put down the shovel. “Come with me”, he said.

“Are you going to give me a dollar?”, I asked.

He, the most generous of men, looked at me and frowned. “I don’t know”, he said. “Let’s go in the house. I want to talk to your mother.”

I was frantic now. “I have to have it, Daddy!”

“OK. Let me talk to your mother for a bit. Go into your room.”

With my bedroom door almost closed I listened while my mother briefed him on who Oral Roberts was. The next thing I remember hearing was:

“The NERVE of that God-damned son-of-a-bitch!”

“Shh, don’t curse, she can hear you”, my mother said.

“The NERVE!”

Then the kitchen door slammed.

My mother called my name. “You can come out now”.

I ran out of my room. My mother in the kitchen putting something in the oven. My father was back in the yard, digging. I ran out to him.

“Can I have my dollar now?”

“No”.

“Wha?…but you said -”

“You’re not getting one red cent to send to that -”

“But I have to have it! I have to send it to him! He NEEDS it! He – ”

“No.”

“Please! Please please please please – ”

His voice was gentle but firm. “Stop it. Stop this nonsense now. Go inside”. He was digging at a furious pace.

He hardly ever said no, but when he did, that was it. Crying, I turned and trudged toward the house. Before going in I heard him swearing to himself, “The NERVE of that son-of-a-bitch!”

Begging is out PR ,,, Moving up in status is far more impressive and pro-survival ,,, lol.

Lol. He did and keep doing a great job. The IAS became the heart of Scn and orgs and public are there to feed it. No to clear a planet. The new motto can be “let’s clear the wallet!”

scientology – it’s so much fun, it WILL ruin your life!

You are right. The out exchange perpetrated is massive. Just financial irregularities.

And that’s further proof that Miscavige is an idiot. Parasites who want a long term future do not kill their hosts. Mormons figured that out a long time ago. Had Scientology stuck to “only” 10 percent, or even 20, they’d probably be substantially larger today. Combine that with scaling service prices to income, and they might have managed to approach mainstream status in terms of active members.