Australian Critics of Scientology
This page maintained by David Gerard.

Fifty SubGeniuses walk into a Scientologist bar ...

by David Gerard

To explain this tale, I have to explain just WHY SubGeniuses hate the Crutch of Scientology so bloody much. I mean, all that insistence on wearing your SubG affiliation on your sleeve didn't just come out of space. Hell, no.

It has to do with the deal by which "Bob" purchased control of the Church of Scientology back in the early eighties. (See Dateline For Dominance in The Book Of The SubGenius.) See, there were quite a few lost SubGenius souls ending up in the worst of all possible places ... Ron's House. So "Bob" did a swap deal whereby the SubG souls would be stored at the MegaFisTempleFortress in Dallas and the Scientologists got a few of the most pathetic "Bobbie" souls from the SubGenii. The SubGenii got to rescue their brethren, and the Scientologists got to make up the numbers. A Big Win-Big Win for both. Just the way it should be in a decent religious free-market economy.

But then David - 'Miss Cabbage' - tried to forge "Bob"'s signature on a new version of the deal, cutting us out. Well. JHVH-1 didn't put up with that for a second - he sent a bolt of Anti-Orgasm PAIN Lightning (tm) down upon the Cabbage and wiped him out in a millisecond. Tho', of course, it felt like several centuries from the Cabbage's point of view. And all this just as Wollersheim was about to serve him, too. A pity.

And from then on, the Scientology organisation and the SubGenii have been sworn enemies. And the Church of Scientology are only just waking up to this fact.

It was a hell of an afternoon. The SubGeniuses were getting restless. They wanted to see a goddamn MOVIE, for Christsakes. So out on the road they went.

All was quiet at the local org. The movie house was set up, the Bar of Scientology was empty. In fact, they'd just closed down for the day.

Then they heard the howling off in the distance.

"BEER! BEER! SLACK! BEER! BEER! BEER! SLACK! BEER!" yelled the horde of SubGenii. "Fuck you!" half of them yelled at the rest. "No, fuck you!" the other half yelled back. It was a typical SubGenius gathering - party wildly, get laid, scream abuse at your nearest and dearest, party wildly, the odd spot of fratricide; you know the drill. These things happen all the time.

They burst into the ElRonners' bar. The clams enturbulated.

"BEER! BEER! BEER!" they yelled. Even the ones who didn't like beer, though they alternated with "Not!". "GIVE US ALL THE BEER YOU HAVE OR WE'LL KILL YOU! TAKE THIS JOKE OR WE'LL FUCK YOU! NOT! HAHAHAHAHA!"

The Pinks were appropriately unnerved. Although Mike, the dumbo clam Bar Mangler, had the good sense (from 'TR-GS' by L. Ron Hubbard) to start up the beer taps once more.

The beer flowed. It was magical expanding Nuclear Beer, too - fill a glass with it half-way, then it fills itself the rest of the way. The SubGeniuses were impressed with this.

Of course, the Scientologists(tm) had more or less stolen the formula for the secret Atomic Bubbles(tm) of Nuclear Beer(tm) from the Most Secret, Hideous Codex Of [NOT TO BE REVEALED HERE]; they didn't do that good a job of making the stuff (a bit much Hubbard Management-Tech), but the results were considered satisfactory by a bar full of thirsty SubGenii.

Then the tomfoolery started. I mean, we didn't have to go this far. You know how it is - you're the vicious, disruptive biker horde, you ride into the small town scene and kick more butt than those poor fools knew they ever had. Charm the womenfolk, drink the beer, smash a chair or two. Good clean SubGenius fun. But you don't break the place up completely. Hell, no.

But then Robbie started playing his SubGenius Body-Popping(tm) tricks.

[Note: 'SubGenius Body-Popping' is a trademark of the SubGenius Foundation, Inc. Both the term itself and details of its usage are for registered dues-paying SubGenii only, and all others violating this rule shall suffer the SMITING of the STARK FIST of JEHOVAH.]

"Two beers, please," I said to the barmaid.

"Eck! (retch) What IS that person DOING?" she screeched. Then she ducked behind the bar and puked.

Robbie was pulling a face, except over his entire body. His head was on backwards, and he was grimacing his body female. And, being a young smartarse, he wasn't even bothering to go, "Hey, look at ME!" but just 'playing it straight'. Damnfool young 'un.

Of course, then everyone looked at him. He realised he'd better act like a proper, grown-up Yetinsyn. "Hey, uh ... lookit ME!" he yelled. Then he did the trick where you pull the skin all the way from the crotch over the head, but he left it half-way so there was a face on either side of his head - one male, one female. One drunk a beer while the other spat it back into a glass. Then, he sent the beer back through again.

"HA HA HA HA HA!" went the SubGenii, watching the Scientologists puking. And puking some more when Robbie's male front half and female back half started fucking. I dunno, these kids.

Half the beer was gone. The Scientologist bar-staff broke out another coupla kegs.

"MOVIES!" shouted the Subs. "MOVIES! We want a PITCHUR SHOW! DAMMIT!"

Mike the bar-manager got on the 'phone to the org's movie-house (just across the crumbling grey badly-laid concrete driveway) and had a few quick words.

The SubGeniuses were getting rowdy. I mean, people were doing the SubGenius Secret Handshake(tm) out in PUBLIC, fur"Bob"sake. (That's the special Yeti handshake involving at least one set of genitals and a few other hands or bodily orifices.)

Then they started doing card-tricks with their genitalia. I know, I know: showing off your secret OverHuman abilities in front of the Pinks. But, y'know, it's FUNNY. Doing the six-foot penis trick, with the end of it all swoled up like it's a purple goddamn helium balloon. Doing the six-foot CLITORIS trick, which is even funnier; particularly when you tie it into the shape of a poodle, complete with fur and odour.

And the stench of Yeti bodily fluids! The humans were revulsed and orgasming at the smell simultaneously. The SubGenii didn't put their novelty reproductive organs away until three of the bar staff had vapourised on reaching out and touching the organs in question, unable to resist any longer.

Finally, they started beating up on the Scieno's. It was pretty gruesome.

"That's for DENNIS, you piece of pus! FUCK YO' MAMA with a HUMAN!" (thump)

"THAT's for TARLA, you piece of shit!" shouted Tarla. (thunk)


"Hey, what'ya call ninety humans in a BUS, PLUMMETING over a GORGE to A HORRIBLE AND BLOODY DEATH? A WASTE - they shoulda been ground up as HAMBURGER and ET! Snicker, snicker." (thud)

People queued up to put coins into the 'Koos-O-Matic' machine in the corner. I was publicly squicking the Robert Marcus Meat Puppet(tm) in return for peanuts and pretzels. Others were running Reverse Processes on each other just for KICKS. The Apollo Stars were on the video machine. Pope Charles and Nenslo contented themselves to staying in the background and smashing half-pint glasses over each others' heads. (Just the way it should be, as I said before. The Church has always encouraged a bit of violent sibling rivalry between fellow Yetis.)

Mike the Scieno bar-manager made the fatal mistake at that point. He thought he had the sure-fire method of calming down gangs of rowdy SubGenii. He had this CD, you see. From Toronto.

He slipped Bob's Media Ecology into the player and hit 'play'. Bad move.

"AAAAAAH! PINCANUCK ATTACK! KIIIILLLLLLLL!" all shouted. Troutman got out the golf-club and

[This segment, concerning the sacred SubGenius 'Launching Ceremony', has been deleted. Exposure to this segment before you are properly ready could be harmful to your health. And mention it, and we'll sue you to dribbling pus. You have been warned.]

[Just make sure that, if you see a SubGenius carrying a golf club for no apparent reason ... KEEP THE HELL AWAY.]

Mike's head went skidding across the way and rolled past the horrified Scientologist ticket attendant.

"PIITCHUUUUUURS!!" yelled the horde of SubGenii with great joy. They flooded the movie-house. Thankfully, the surviving staff's lives were saved by that earlier call from Mike, the bar attendant, tellin' 'em to load those reels NOW. And that they were actually bright enough to take heed.

Choc-bombs and popcorn and mixed sweeties were distributed. The lights went down. The screen lit up. A few opening claymation shorts by some guy called Doug, then the main feature ...

History Of Man by L. Ron Hubbard. As directed by multiple Academy Award winning SubGenius auteur, Edward D. Wood Jr.

And it was a great afternoon.

[Entertainment for Clambakers: Scientology humour]