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The following first appeared in the private email list IVy-subscribers,
which is available to all those who subscribe to the
printed magazine, International Viewpoints.
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Is This the Truth, or a Factoid?
6 May 1999
by Phil Spickler

     I have decided to collect all lost true selves and am in the process of
distributing these back to their rightful owners at
www.wherehaveyoubeenallmylife.com at no charge.

        Now that that's taken care of, I should like to re-suppose a theory
that may or may not be worth the computer screen it's printed upon.  The
following is a relief from my previous essay concerning apparent happenings
on the surface of our favorite little dirtball.

       Actually, calling Earth a dirtball or a mudball, I have found, hurts
the feelings of the great Earth mother/father spirit, and I humbly withdraw
that expression as a wrong indication, and by making query of what the great
Earth mother/father spirit and its physical body would like to be called, I
have come up with what might be the true (or at least the name that
indicates) to said great souls.  Please refrain from laughing out loud, but
the Earth likes to be called "Dolly."  Which validates a pre-supposition that
was held back in the early days of Scientology, when we were first getting
used to the shift from Dianetics to the idea of being spiritual beings or
thetans, and at one Congress I attended in those early days, most folks
agreed after looking at the tremendous capabilities and possibilities of
theta and thetans, that thetans are basically Jewish.  Please don't take this
seriously or allow it to be a wrong indication for you, since as we know
there are Christian thetans and Buddhist thetans and Holy Roller thetans and
thetans who follow the god Throgmagog, and Muslim thetans and Irish Catholic
thetans and French Protestant thetans, and thetans who worship the sky and
the water and so on and so forth -- the list is almost without end.

     But anyway, when Earth is referred to as "Dolly," in my poor perception
I see a big smile crease her gigantic face, and it runs right through the
Marianas Trench and across the Himalayas, and it's fortunate for us
earthlings that this smile, like the Cheshire cat's, has no mass.  And now to
the point at hand.

       As you will recall from earlier and far more disagreeable
transmissions, I have said that it is my practice, upon retiring my physical
form in the evening, to get down on my knees next to my bed of 10,000 nails
and say the following prayer, which goes something like this: "Please,
please, please, dearest 8th dynamic, please don't ever let the people of
Earth wake up to or get even close to finding out who and what they really
are, since if they ever do (and I must say it's unfortunate that a few have
who are now foolishly bent on bringing this dubious result to the rest of
earthlings) it would be the biggest spoiler of everything that makes Earth an
interesting, exciting, dangerous, adventure-filled amusement park."  It would
be something like having the actors in a great production of "Hamlet" just as
they're carrying his body out and Horatio is saying "Goodnight, sweet prince;
may flights of angels carry thee to thy rest" -- now at this point in time in
this wonderful play by Shakespeare, if the actors have done a good job, there
isn't a dry eye in the house, and everyone in the audience has been magically
transported to that bleak Danish castle (please forgive me, Ant) where this
is all happening -- now just imagine, folks, if at that point the actors and
actresses all stopped what they were doing and came up to the footlights and
said, "Oh please don't be upset; this is just a play; Hamlet really isn't
dead; the King is just a regular guy, he's not a villain; the Queen is a
sweetheart, she makes excellent ravioli, and the gal playing Ophelia is one
of the happiest people in town."  Now if you can imagine that happening in
this play, you can see it would wreck the whole thing, even though it is the
truth.  It would destroy the aesthetic distance, it would crush the amazing
illusion, it would cause the audience to probably hold the actors and
actresses in extreme disfavor.

        So then, to complete the analogy, if by some terrible chance the
people of Earth, who may have spent eons achieving the degree of
forgetfulness of their immortality, were to be caused to wake up to it, at
least two things would happen pretty much at once: one, there'd be jillions
of really pissed-off superheterodyne immortals who will have formed one grand
posse to find and deal with the perpetrators of this awful crime, and two,
this beautiful Earth of ours called Dolly would most likely cease to exist.

        So that's why I make this prayer every night, and do everything I can
to discourage any potentially successful effort in the direction of
restoration of everybody to their most native self, and  as a P.S. prayer, I
pray that this is the right track to be on, and that the real thing that I'd
like for all the people of Earth is to come as close as they can to accepting
or fully having things exactly the way they are (suchness).  But even in
this, I pray that the achievement of such states is limited, most correctly,
to a few.  In other words, let sleeping immortals lie -- you ain't going to
like what they are, once you succeed in awakening them.

      Thank you for listening -- as I end this communique, I'm punching a
button that puts into place my 360-degree sector forcefields and defensive
units in anticipation of any real or imagined flashback on this one.  With
highest co-existence of static all the way down to close proximity but
mystery -- Phil

P.S.  The command for the above process is: "Try not to be a clear OT...
(long pause)...
Thank you."

P.P.S.  My sincere, if somewhat phony, apologies in advance for any wrong
indications, for any half-truths or lies, as well as for any truths -- and
all kidding aside, sincere apologies to anyone or anything that may find any
or all of the above offensive.   P.