"There are only so many types of people that can handle this kind of work." Algier said in his thick indistinguishable accent. There was a construction area in the back of Maggiano's Little Italy in Philadelphia which was no more than a hollowed out section of the block sized building. We would often sit there and smoke during down time, and we would gab about this or that. Today the topic was why anyone would subject themselves to the life of a restaurant worker. "The first," he said, "Is people in transition. They are in college or moving, maybe waiting for something else after they get their degree. Somebody just wanting simple circumstances in between two sets of complicated ones. Divorce, jail, stuff like that. They don't know where they're going to land so they take a job they don't have to stick with." He dragged on his long cigarette and exhaled slowly. The love he treated the nicotine delivery device with made his next statement a double entendre. "The second is druggies. They always need quick cash. You can work a day on the floor after a hard night of partying, or while you're high. The third is single moms. They don't have many other choices and most of them can't do a regular work schedule, they have no one to watch their kids." He paused for a long moment and the busser next to me got up and went back into the building. "Then there's you and me. We wouldn't want to do anything else. We are the dyed in the wool professional who lives at the table." He stabbed out his cigarette and patted me on the shoulder as he went back inside the kitchen. I have considered this moment many times since and have yet to prove him wrong.
It always makes me sad to see the cherry of my cigarette burn closer to the filter. It means that my respite from the floor is almost over. I take a long puff and hold it while tossing my smoke into the sand next to us and stomping it under. Emerging from the relative calm of the storage area into the chaos of the restaurant floor is like having a bucket of cold water thrown onto you. The noise is suddenly deafening and from years of experience I instantly get my bearings and remember where I left off. Next to me is Andrea making coffee for table 21. Andrea is a pretty blond, very much a wilting flower. She recently divorced her husband, even though she has a Masters in journalism she chooses to work the floor until she knows where she is going to live. She is estranged from her family because they set her up with her husband right after college and has nowhere to go. She flits by and I pick up a tray to start coffee service for my table then ring in an order on the computer next to the coffee warmers. Ismael keeps bumping into me and apologizing in his pidgeon English. He is a busser, originally from Mexico. A strange looking fellow made all the more interesting by his habit of shaving his head. During a late night drinking session he and I bonded once and he told me he was an "Abogado," a lawyer. He has a Doctorate in Mexico and it is worth nothing here. He works with good humor during the day, doing his best to put up with the condescension. He simply waits for a better opportunity when he takes his hard earned American dollars home where they are a fortune. Drunk one night he gave me a hug and smacked me hard on the back saying, "El cobarde es incapaz de mostrar amor, porque el hacerlo esta resevado para los valientes." A coward cannot demonstrate affection, because that kind of reward is reserved for the valiant.
The order goes in and I trust the food runner Miguel to get it there on time. His father and mother, Alejandro and Maria work with us too. In Mexico city Alejandro was a waiter for many years and raised many children with Maria, all of whom moved with him to Philadelphia. Miguel is the troubled boy, who is in love with Andrea even though he knows she will break his heart. The vice that Alejandro says he purveyed secretly to his tables in Mexico was called "Cafe Blanco," or white coffee. Poetic Justice has it's place in Miguel's love of blow. He wouldn't show up a day without his forty bag and his huge Dunkin Donut's vanilla shake to calm the sore throat the "yeah-o" always gives him. He moves frenetically yet with the purpose and grace years of soccer have given him and never misses a beat. At night when the crew meets at Iron House or Moriarty's he always consumes his weight in beer just to help him sleep. The rest of the crew smoke joints at home but he doesn't like grass. It makes him stupid, he says. Table 53 in the bar requires much of my attention since the salon owner there will only be served by me. He spends a ton and tips well, but drinks a full bottle of Skyy vodka every time he comes in and smacks my ass frequently. I feel like a whore but at least I'm paid well for my shame. Coming back to the kitchen Michelle is sitting on the steps, crying. We have learned to let her cry when she has to. The track marks on her bare forearms say that she doesn't have long left at the restaurant and like soldiers in Vietnam, you don't get close to the already dead. Table 52 needs me now.
"You know, Matt, you got a good thing going,'" says Momma as I pass through the kitchen. I'm sure that she once had a name but now it's Momma and no one has ever heard any other. Six kids later she has gargantuan hind quarters and an easy smile. If she ever had a husband, or if her children had the same father noone knew. She never spoke of it and we never asked. She saunters past me on the way to smoke displaying surprising speed and agility and says "You finally took my advice and learned how to get all your tables done at the same time. Good on ya." Once she had explained to me that when you are sat many tables at once you have treat them all as one big table or you will go nuts trying to coordinate their service. It was seems like such common sense but as Robert Heinlein's four thousand year old character Lazarus Long said "There's nothing common about sense." "You know, Matt," Momma once said to me "When you work tables it's great for your family. If you little girl wants Jeans you just give her the cash, and you know you'll make more tomorrow." She was remarkably succinct. Momma had an amazingly deceptive quality of simplicity derived from a dizzying and immense wisdom. Hard lives often reward the world with amazing people. Fifteen tables and $850.00 in sales later I can finally start my side work and prepare my cash-out. I can almost taste the Guinness.
The end of every night on the floor is like a reckoning. You have experienced so many things, some emotionally edifying and others destructive. It's like at the end of every performance an actor has to answer superficially to the audience, but ultimately to the harshest critic imagineable, themselves. You finish up your side work and you consider why you put yourself through the days exertions. Every single mistake you made in service eats at your heart like an ulcer with an attitude.
I hand the restaurants cut of my nightly take to Algier.
"You're right about the who, Algier, the dyed in the wool professional. You didn't say why. Why do we keep putting ourselves through it? Is it the money? The prestige? The thrill of serving the rich and famous?" He smiles bitterly and thinks for a moment. Then he lights the famous cigarette and says,
"You think Picasso would have gotten the same credit for being a Janitor? 75% of the people here are just passing through. You and me, we're artists. This is our canvas."
Friday, February 29, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Outro
The end of every night on the floor is like a reckoning. You have experienced so many things, some emotionally edifying and others destructive. It's like at the end of every performance an actor has to answer superficially to the audience, but ultimately to the harshest critic imagineable, themselves. You finish up your side work and you consider why you put yourself through the days exertions. Every single mistake you made in service eats at your heart like an ulcer with an attitude.
I hand the restaurants cut of my nightly take to Algier.
"Your right about the who, Algier, but you didn't say why. Why do we keep putting ourselves through it? Is it the money? The prestige? The thrill of serving the rich and famous?" He smiles bitterly and thinks for a moment. Then he lights the famous cigarette and says,
"You think Picasso would have gotten the same credit for being a Janitor? 75% of the people here are just passing through. You and me, we're artists. This is our canvas."
I hand the restaurants cut of my nightly take to Algier.
"Your right about the who, Algier, but you didn't say why. Why do we keep putting ourselves through it? Is it the money? The prestige? The thrill of serving the rich and famous?" He smiles bitterly and thinks for a moment. Then he lights the famous cigarette and says,
"You think Picasso would have gotten the same credit for being a Janitor? 75% of the people here are just passing through. You and me, we're artists. This is our canvas."
Monday, February 25, 2008
Classification Intros
Number 1
"There are only so many types of people that can handle this kind of work." Algier said in his thick indistinguishable accent. There was a construction area in the back of Maggiano's Little Italy in Philadelphia which was no more than a hollowed out section of the block sized building. We would often sit there and smoke during down time, and we would gab about this or that. Today the topic was why anyone would subject themselves to the life of a restaurant worker. "The first," he said, "Is people in transition. They are in college or moving, maybe waiting for something else after they get their degree. Somebody just wanting simple circumstances in between two sets of complicated ones. Divorce, jail, stuff like that. They don't know where they're going to land so they take a job they don't have to stick with." He dragged on his long cigarette and exhaled slowly. The love he treated the nicotine delivery device with made his next statement a double entendre. "The second is druggies. They always need quick cash. You can work a day on the floor after a hard night of partying, or while your high. The third is single moms. They don't have many other choices and most of them can't do a regular workschedule, they have noone to watch their kids." He paused for a long moment and the busser next to me got up and went back into the building. "Then there's you and me. We wouldn't want to do anything else. We are the dyed in the wool professional who lives at the table." He stabbed out his cigarette and patted me on the shoulder as he went back inside the kitchen. I have considered this moment many times since and have yet to prove him wrong.
Number 2
I have almost ten years of experience in the service industry, specifically food service, and I have discovered that there are a limited number of people who can stomach it. In fact there can be discerned four seperate sub-species of Camerera Normalis or the garden variety server. The first is my favorite, I.E. me. We are the ones who get up at noon every day and work until two in the morning because we would have no other livelihood. We are the millions who serve you your breakfast, lunch and dinner every day and we truly love doing it. We are bred for it and many consider us sick and deranged. Then there are the 'heads.' These hapless guys and gals caught an addiction right between the eyes and noone but the night world of waiters and waitresses will take them. They come to work on pills or blow, maybe worse. Sometimes they are drunk before shift. Sometimes they will be before the shift is over. They have bloodshot eyes, white upper lips, and hurting souls. Species 3: the moms with little ones waiting on them to come home and tuck them in. They work in restaurants to have cash when they need it and so that if their little ones need them, they can be there. The broadest category and largest sub-species is the transitionaries. They come from all countries and all walks of life. They only want to work in the dining room to bridge the gap between two states of being. Like college and the real world or jail and the harsh reality of living alone after being inside. In many cases between two states of citizenship. They are just passing through and most of them don't care who knows it. Although seemingly diverse one would be surprised at how predictable the speciation in any given population of servers really is.
"There are only so many types of people that can handle this kind of work." Algier said in his thick indistinguishable accent. There was a construction area in the back of Maggiano's Little Italy in Philadelphia which was no more than a hollowed out section of the block sized building. We would often sit there and smoke during down time, and we would gab about this or that. Today the topic was why anyone would subject themselves to the life of a restaurant worker. "The first," he said, "Is people in transition. They are in college or moving, maybe waiting for something else after they get their degree. Somebody just wanting simple circumstances in between two sets of complicated ones. Divorce, jail, stuff like that. They don't know where they're going to land so they take a job they don't have to stick with." He dragged on his long cigarette and exhaled slowly. The love he treated the nicotine delivery device with made his next statement a double entendre. "The second is druggies. They always need quick cash. You can work a day on the floor after a hard night of partying, or while your high. The third is single moms. They don't have many other choices and most of them can't do a regular workschedule, they have noone to watch their kids." He paused for a long moment and the busser next to me got up and went back into the building. "Then there's you and me. We wouldn't want to do anything else. We are the dyed in the wool professional who lives at the table." He stabbed out his cigarette and patted me on the shoulder as he went back inside the kitchen. I have considered this moment many times since and have yet to prove him wrong.
Number 2
I have almost ten years of experience in the service industry, specifically food service, and I have discovered that there are a limited number of people who can stomach it. In fact there can be discerned four seperate sub-species of Camerera Normalis or the garden variety server. The first is my favorite, I.E. me. We are the ones who get up at noon every day and work until two in the morning because we would have no other livelihood. We are the millions who serve you your breakfast, lunch and dinner every day and we truly love doing it. We are bred for it and many consider us sick and deranged. Then there are the 'heads.' These hapless guys and gals caught an addiction right between the eyes and noone but the night world of waiters and waitresses will take them. They come to work on pills or blow, maybe worse. Sometimes they are drunk before shift. Sometimes they will be before the shift is over. They have bloodshot eyes, white upper lips, and hurting souls. Species 3: the moms with little ones waiting on them to come home and tuck them in. They work in restaurants to have cash when they need it and so that if their little ones need them, they can be there. The broadest category and largest sub-species is the transitionaries. They come from all countries and all walks of life. They only want to work in the dining room to bridge the gap between two states of being. Like college and the real world or jail and the harsh reality of living alone after being inside. In many cases between two states of citizenship. They are just passing through and most of them don't care who knows it. Although seemingly diverse one would be surprised at how predictable the speciation in any given population of servers really is.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
I-Search Worksheet Take III?
Sorry for the indecisiveness but I have read my last worksheet again and again. I really was quite ashamed. I think my last two topics were very forced. The one I finally settled on has proved a stymie. I haven't made very much progress despite a lot of wasted text and filespace. All my lines feel lame and just written for an assignment. The material is so dry I am afraid the reader may fall asleep and break their nose on their keyboard. I do not like to write disingenuously and boredom is death to me. Last night I was watching the history channel and a show called 'History of the Joke' came on. Lewis Black detailed the process involved in creating jokes, delivering jokes, and developing your own comedic style. I was SO hooked! I instantly realized what fun I could have with this topic therefore I would like your permission to do this one instead. I already have material I like on this one and I just started writing.
What do you want to write about? How do you write a truly funny joke?
What do you want to find out about your topic? Can I do it? Can I, using tried and true technique be funny?
What are your questions about the topic?
1. How do you know which jokes will work and which ones won't? What is funny? Why is it funny? Is the same joke always funny and will it work on every crowd?
2. How do you create material that is designed almost scientifically to make people laugh? What happens when they get offended?
3. What does it feel like to get on stage and tell a joke that gets a great response. What is your first flop like?
How does it connect to your life?
Although I find myself hilarious and think I have a wonderfully dry wit I cannot help but notice the sympathetic but wincing smile I get at the punchline of any joke I tell. That is if anyone actually realizes that I was joking and not making another absurdly random and morbid commentary that they completely failed to understand. I am an excellent and accomplished public speaker. I can think on my feet and love attention. I want a new skill, I want to tell jokes and see if I can make a crowd laugh! The trick is writing one joke, you start there. I want to learn how someone like George Carlin constructs his act and then pulls it of in front of thousands. How many times did he have to flop? How about Sam Kinison, Buddy Hackett, Lenny Bruce, or Bill Cosby? Let's start simple. I want to learn a method and then write one truly funny joke.
Give three reasons you like the topic
1. I have been enjoying the craft of many of the above named comedians and so many others for many years ... to an unhealthy degree at times. Funny never rubbed off though. The seven words you can't say on television only ever got me detention.
2. I have always dreamed of having an art form I could exhibit in public. Karaoke (although I have a beautiful tenor) is very unsatisfying. At least I impressed the bartender.
3. The mechanics of langauge and how it is percieved and constructed fascinate me. This offers me yet another insight into my favorite topic. George Carlin's father wrote the collected works of Shakespeare several times. I identify with him.
Give three ways your life might change if you answer your questions
1. I have always wanted to get inside the head of a professional comedian and this might give me a look that is uncomfortably close. Many of them are my personal heroes.
2. If I find I have a skill and a new talent I might then be morally obligated to use it. Caveat Audience!!!!
3. I might be a bit more likeable to more different types of people. That improves everyones life, don't you think? It would be nice to be laughed WITH for a change.
What do you want to write about? How do you write a truly funny joke?
What do you want to find out about your topic? Can I do it? Can I, using tried and true technique be funny?
What are your questions about the topic?
1. How do you know which jokes will work and which ones won't? What is funny? Why is it funny? Is the same joke always funny and will it work on every crowd?
2. How do you create material that is designed almost scientifically to make people laugh? What happens when they get offended?
3. What does it feel like to get on stage and tell a joke that gets a great response. What is your first flop like?
How does it connect to your life?
Although I find myself hilarious and think I have a wonderfully dry wit I cannot help but notice the sympathetic but wincing smile I get at the punchline of any joke I tell. That is if anyone actually realizes that I was joking and not making another absurdly random and morbid commentary that they completely failed to understand. I am an excellent and accomplished public speaker. I can think on my feet and love attention. I want a new skill, I want to tell jokes and see if I can make a crowd laugh! The trick is writing one joke, you start there. I want to learn how someone like George Carlin constructs his act and then pulls it of in front of thousands. How many times did he have to flop? How about Sam Kinison, Buddy Hackett, Lenny Bruce, or Bill Cosby? Let's start simple. I want to learn a method and then write one truly funny joke.
Give three reasons you like the topic
1. I have been enjoying the craft of many of the above named comedians and so many others for many years ... to an unhealthy degree at times. Funny never rubbed off though. The seven words you can't say on television only ever got me detention.
2. I have always dreamed of having an art form I could exhibit in public. Karaoke (although I have a beautiful tenor) is very unsatisfying. At least I impressed the bartender.
3. The mechanics of langauge and how it is percieved and constructed fascinate me. This offers me yet another insight into my favorite topic. George Carlin's father wrote the collected works of Shakespeare several times. I identify with him.
Give three ways your life might change if you answer your questions
1. I have always wanted to get inside the head of a professional comedian and this might give me a look that is uncomfortably close. Many of them are my personal heroes.
2. If I find I have a skill and a new talent I might then be morally obligated to use it. Caveat Audience!!!!
3. I might be a bit more likeable to more different types of people. That improves everyones life, don't you think? It would be nice to be laughed WITH for a change.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Meta-graph
This was a difficult essay because I chose very personal source material. I wanted to share something but at first tried to hide it in a more diplomatic veneer. The question I started with was what caused me to join the Mormons? I mean, in retrospect it was nuts, but at the time it seemed like any other Christian Church. Until they tell you there is always a Prophet in the Church with God on speed dial. The Pope is much more down to Earth than that and he HAS the message from God kind of credibility.
Anyway, I started it from an informational point of view with a deep agenda poking it's head out. I just wanted to express my frustration without insulting anyone or writing something offensive without citation of fact to lend substance. I didn't want to attack anybody but everytime I put the hands on auto-pilot a warning sheathed in a grand and informative dismissal of entire faith based communities came out in glaringly combative tones. I had to keep trying. I have that pound my head against the wall to get into the next room instead of opening the door next to me kind of stubborness. This felt like a big stretch to try and fit into the mold of the sample cause essays but I tried.
Then someone made me think about this:
Luke 6:45 A good man out of the good treasure of his heart bringeth forth that which is good; and an evil man out of the evil treasure of his heart bringeth forth that which is evil: for of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaketh.
I had to try and write the truth about what happened to me inside the confines of the assignment. I didn't want my reader to just scan past the dry and sterile information and then flush the intellectual toilet. I did it all in two or three marathon sessions of about three or four hours a piece. Some of the phrases came from scraps of paper I wrote on at work and still more of them were cobbled together lying in bed in the morning watching my son transfixed by the Wonder Pets. It is becoming obvious to me that writing is more construction than anything else. Like building a Liberty ship. You create prefabricated bits with care and attention to detail and then assemble them in the right order and hope it floats. To carry the metaphor further one also hopes the Germans don't sink it either. Too far? I don't think so, anyway. I wrote more truth into the the outro than I was really aware. My life since that horrid experience has become a tree bearing the greatest fruits a man can labor to attain, love, a healthy marriage, a rekindled relationship with my family and new family in Maine that now calls me their own. Tasty, crisp, and ripe but still not complete without peanut butter.
Anyway, I started it from an informational point of view with a deep agenda poking it's head out. I just wanted to express my frustration without insulting anyone or writing something offensive without citation of fact to lend substance. I didn't want to attack anybody but everytime I put the hands on auto-pilot a warning sheathed in a grand and informative dismissal of entire faith based communities came out in glaringly combative tones. I had to keep trying. I have that pound my head against the wall to get into the next room instead of opening the door next to me kind of stubborness. This felt like a big stretch to try and fit into the mold of the sample cause essays but I tried.
Then someone made me think about this:
Luke 6:45 A good man out of the good treasure of his heart bringeth forth that which is good; and an evil man out of the evil treasure of his heart bringeth forth that which is evil: for of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaketh.
I had to try and write the truth about what happened to me inside the confines of the assignment. I didn't want my reader to just scan past the dry and sterile information and then flush the intellectual toilet. I did it all in two or three marathon sessions of about three or four hours a piece. Some of the phrases came from scraps of paper I wrote on at work and still more of them were cobbled together lying in bed in the morning watching my son transfixed by the Wonder Pets. It is becoming obvious to me that writing is more construction than anything else. Like building a Liberty ship. You create prefabricated bits with care and attention to detail and then assemble them in the right order and hope it floats. To carry the metaphor further one also hopes the Germans don't sink it either. Too far? I don't think so, anyway. I wrote more truth into the the outro than I was really aware. My life since that horrid experience has become a tree bearing the greatest fruits a man can labor to attain, love, a healthy marriage, a rekindled relationship with my family and new family in Maine that now calls me their own. Tasty, crisp, and ripe but still not complete without peanut butter.
Essay 1
There are two essays here, one I wrote before and one after the comments on the outro. I'll explain in the meta-graph but please take whichever one you like better for the assignment. If you need something in between the two I will be happy to oblige I may just need a coupla more days. Thank you.
Number One:
What would cause one to become the willing pawn of an organization that they know means them harm? It's elemental in simplicity. When you grieve, when you worry, when life presents situations beyond your ability to cope you are vulnerable. When any organism is weak parasites are a natural eventuality. That is where [insert cult name here] comes in. They are immediately available and will seek you actively like the lioness hunts the sick and the lame of the herd. They offer salvation for the measly price of fealty. Then the loving and welcoming gestures become orders and demands. Slowly the focus of your life changes and now revolves around them and their wants and needs. It happens gradually, you at first accept the surface doctrines which seem logical and well-presented. The people you meet all have a testimonial of their success with [insert cult name here] and you are lulled into a sense of belonging. Then the threat of removal from the community in which you are now integrated becomes a very real tool of manipulation. Soon you are presented with the real belief system and it starts to get a little scary. It is very far-fetched even for a spiritual doctrine but your too far in and have to commit, hoping that you can fake-it-till-you-make-it. The worst part is that the same tactics are used in sickening similarity by almost all of them. They all have interchangeable parts that can be reassembled in any combination like Mad-Libs but must be used in the right order and measure. The unfortunate end is any one of the same sad finales we have seen in the news day in and day out. So why would we get involved?
People have sought spiritual solace for as long there has been pain. There are many different paths one can take and they all have their appeals. The Christians offer salvation through the Messiah Jesus Christ. Judaism a relationship with God based on obedience to doctrine and laws older than written langauge. Islam is simply the belief that "There is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet." One might argue any of their validity but they all have one thing in common. You can read their books without really getting involved in any organization. You can be a solo practitioner of any of the above religions. You might not reap as much reward doing it alone but you can still achieve salvation or peace on your own. When you become involved with most cults they immediately will attempt to force to enter their organization. They attract you with the offer of something as simple as a free bible but to get it you have to entertain their missionaries. Then the problems start. They show up and are friendly and non-judgemental, they want your confidence. They get you talking and find out what your problems are, then they create solutions with the Church as the sole arbiter of your newfound security and happiness. This is where you get involved. This is why you get involved. You believe that these people are acting out of altruistic kindness and are truly representatives of the living God. No matter what you've heard you put it aside and open your heart and mind to these spiritual ticks.
You are welcomed into the Church and many of the top people in the hierarchy give you quite a bit of positive attention. They talk to you about your future in the organization and how happy they have been. They tell stories of a life lived in pious contemplation of their impending eternity. It is hard to be cynical or to ask questions in an environment full of those who believe so ardently.
It is a natural to want to please your new hosts and you jump in with both feet. You came here to find peace and salvation right? That can't come easy so you persevere. Many days and even weeks can pass as their tried and true methods begin to work on your resistance. They might use Church Services followed by indoctrinational groups masked as Sunday School. They might use moving up in the ranks of Church authority, or in knowledge of their core ideologies as a reward to get more deeply involved. Other organizations less centrally based in traditional Judeo-Christian theology resort almost immediately to separating you from friends and family and immersing you in their community. They cut you off from your lines of support and the only people you have to rely on are in the church. Their methods can then range from the simple threat of excommunication to sequestering you at a 'retreat' where you are deprived of protien and sleep or brow beaten during degrading forced labor in a brainwashing ritual as old as humans. No matter what happens you are expected to keep to a strict schedule of teaching and learning and then eventually recruiting. After you are theirs, after they own your heart and mind, they go after your money. In some organizations you are expected to pay a tithe, a percentage of your gross income, not net, gross. Others ask you pay for progressively more detailed explanations of the 'truth.' The worst thing that can happen is to you in their care is to have to sign power of attorney over to them regarding your total assets. Occasionally maxing out your credit and donating it all to themselves.
So the question persists, why would we do this? The answer is simple. Because their methods work. People are attracted for the same reasons and people are snared by the same gambits. The more important question is why someone would do this to another person. Power, plain and simple. It always begins with an individual who has the 'best intentions' for your soul. They can be a modern day prophet with the revised word of God in hand given to them by the Almighty Himself or the fevered inspirations of a writer mistaken for divine intervention. The ultimate draw is the discovery that with even a pretty thin cover story you can make an awful lot of money and gain power that your state government envies. You don't have to pay taxes, and hey, you are responsible for millions of salvations right? Then the government begins poking around your records and words like racketeering and fraud, kidnapping and misappropriation are tossed around. Your flock begins to thin except for the most 'loyal' and you sequester. This is point at which most of the cult leaders become so mad with their own delusions that we end up with fatal fires, gunshots and suicides directed by your local neighborhood religious icon. Even if they are too big to topple the end is the same, you discover it's bunk and walk away hurt in many ways. The worst part is some get trapped for their whole lives. The greatest cost could be a living death, losing control of your mind while still in it.
It is impossible to prove that one religious belief is more valid than any other with empirical certainty, but if you buy a car you research it a little first, right? I can only offer you my stern admonition against believing anything without doing your homework first. This is your soul we're talking about. Possibly your personal safety as well as that of those you love. Do your homework, please, just do your homework. 'Okay,' you think, 'what is the homework?' What do you look for? What separates the cults from the faiths? The Bible offers hint. Jesus said in Luke 6:43-44 [43] "No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit. [44] Each tree is recognized by its own fruit. People do not pick figs from thornbushes, or grapes from briers." Many of those I've seen come in contact with these organizations end up estranged from family, friends, entire communities and their own assets for the understandable mistake of simply seeking enlightenment. Congregations of devout Christians have been burned alive and whole villages, women and children forced to commit suicide. People have been kidnapped and forced to believe then forced to surrender their possessions. No matter how hungry you are remember that some fruit is crisp and red on the outside but can be rotten to it's core.
Number Two
The question I still can't really fully answer is what caused me to make the first call to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I called the Mormons because their commercial said that they would give me a free copy of the King James Bible and I thought, hey, I just gave away my last Bible so what's the worst that can happen? My first clue that something was amiss should have been when our friendly-voiced operator said "Just listen to what they have to say with an open mind, please." I shrugged it off and invited the local missionaries over the next day. The next day Elder Krage and Elder Hunstman showed up, one looked like Opie and the other was a non-descript blonde youth. Both seemed beyond reproach and had the confidence and humility of truly holy people. They brought the Bible and said that in return they would like us to simply hear a lesson in LDS (Latter Day Saints) theology. At first they only went into the aspects of the church that mirrored standard Christian faith. I listened with interest. They began to come over with increasing frequency, sometimes not bothering to call first. They were always polite and tried to help with any chores or work around the house that they could. I would cook and then we would have a lesson. After a proscribed number of lessons they invited us to their church. They said that to actually be members we would have to meet with the local leader of the Missionaries and the Bishop of the Local Church, then we had to be baptised. I had wanted to belong so badly to the body of Christ that I simply hadn't been listening to what they all had been saying.
The meetings went well and they seemed to like us so they told us what had to happen next. My live-in Girlfriend and I would have to get married to be baptised. We hastily prepared a ceremony and got married in their church not inviting any of our family on either side, then were baptised. At the time it simply did not occur to us that our families might want to be involved since they were all non-religious. They didn't exactly roll out the red carpet for our families either. It seemed the separation from those who might disagree was a good thing to them. Right after the marriage Petra got pregnant. I told my mother first that she was to be a grandmother and she initially recieved the news with joy. Then the whole family stopped answering their phones. Once they found out what we had done, getting married without inviting them, they all turned their backs on us. So here we are, a young couple with nothing, and now with no one. The only people that we had to turn to now were in the Church. The tapestry of manipulation was stretched wide and beautiful before me yet I still refused to see. Petra was sick all the time from the pregnancy and had just been fired from the restaurant she was working at for being pregnant. Yes it's illegal but only if you can afford a lawyer to sue them, and even then what did you win? We got a job at a telemarketing firm (I'm sorry, world) qualifying mortgage leads all day. It was the only thing she could do in her condition and we only had one car so we had to work together. When the missionaries found out they tried to get us a car from someone in the church and I flatly refused. I was beginning to see the web that was forming in our path. First a car, then a job, then I could not get out if I wanted to. Still I tried to be a dutiful Mormon, telling others of my faith and going on teaching errands with the Missionaries.
Then the Bishop took me in his office. He spoke to me of the joy the Church had given him and how much it could do for me. A long admonition ensued about the danger of apostosy and then he asked, nonchalantly, if I had started tithing yet. I responded in the negative without details. He looked at me disdainfully and said "Why?" as if the notion of not tithing was absurd. My wife and I were poor at that time. We had no family and support, piling bills and were one step above welfare. We were charity cases and he was asking for our money. That was the last straw. I stopped attending services and stopped communication with the missionaries. Then they fought back. The local leader of the 'home teaching' endeavors in my area just happened to get a job at the same telemarketing firm we were at. He would try to chat with us all day and at one point went so far as to say that he was concerned for my spiritual welfare because I continued to drink coffee at work. I was fortunate to find a job shortly after with a fine-dining Italian restaurant that payed enough for Petra to stay home until the baby was born. The missionaries continued to show up uninvited and did everything but put up tents on our front lawn. It was always personal, why are you hurting us this way? So now we were adrift in a very lonely sea. We had been estranged from our families, and had an infant to support with a still small income. Neither of us could sleep and I was working twelve to fourteen hours with only one day off a week. Finally we gave up and decided to move to Maine where my wifes family lived. Then my family decided it was time to reconcile, but things are still not the same almost two years later.
In less than six months just being a dilettante in the LDS church had cost me my family, my security, and forced me five-hundred miles north. This was in a mostly Catholic state, New Jersey. Now imagine our plight if we had lived in a predominately Mormon community like Salt Lake City. I began to research the Church and found out that there are many people who suddenly find out they now have no place to work and no friends yet still have to support their family. I also found out what they really believe and it had very little to do with the Bible. The names remains the same but the theology is totally different. There is a very valid reason that before baptism they make you sign a paper saying that you are not a member or any anti-mormon group. I would advise anyone curious to research beyond the book of Mormon into the true and pivotal doctrine of the faith which is not to be easily found in any of the books they give you at first. Whatever you do don't try and get the word from them. That can be a very costly mistake. They know how to get you in and keep you in. It took less than a year for basic contact with their missionaries to lead to total life crisis. Now I'm just suspicious of all 'new age' faiths. Give me that old timey religion back.
It is impossible to prove that one religious belief is more valid than any other with empirical certainty, but if you buy a car you research it a little first, right? I can only offer you my stern admonition against believing anything without doing your homework first. This is your soul we're talking about. Possibly your personal safety as well as that of those you love. Do your homework, please, just do your homework. 'Okay,' you think, 'what is the homework?' What do you look for? What separates the cults from the faiths? The Bible offers hint. Jesus said in Luke 6:43-44 [43] "No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit. [44] Each tree is recognized by its own fruit. People do not pick figs from thornbushes, or grapes from briers." Many of those I've seen come in contact with these organizations have ended up estranged from family, friends, entire communities and their own assets for the understandable mistake of simply seeking enlightenment. No matter how hungry you are remember that some fruit is crisp and red on the outside but can be rotten to it's core.
Number One:
What would cause one to become the willing pawn of an organization that they know means them harm? It's elemental in simplicity. When you grieve, when you worry, when life presents situations beyond your ability to cope you are vulnerable. When any organism is weak parasites are a natural eventuality. That is where [insert cult name here] comes in. They are immediately available and will seek you actively like the lioness hunts the sick and the lame of the herd. They offer salvation for the measly price of fealty. Then the loving and welcoming gestures become orders and demands. Slowly the focus of your life changes and now revolves around them and their wants and needs. It happens gradually, you at first accept the surface doctrines which seem logical and well-presented. The people you meet all have a testimonial of their success with [insert cult name here] and you are lulled into a sense of belonging. Then the threat of removal from the community in which you are now integrated becomes a very real tool of manipulation. Soon you are presented with the real belief system and it starts to get a little scary. It is very far-fetched even for a spiritual doctrine but your too far in and have to commit, hoping that you can fake-it-till-you-make-it. The worst part is that the same tactics are used in sickening similarity by almost all of them. They all have interchangeable parts that can be reassembled in any combination like Mad-Libs but must be used in the right order and measure. The unfortunate end is any one of the same sad finales we have seen in the news day in and day out. So why would we get involved?
People have sought spiritual solace for as long there has been pain. There are many different paths one can take and they all have their appeals. The Christians offer salvation through the Messiah Jesus Christ. Judaism a relationship with God based on obedience to doctrine and laws older than written langauge. Islam is simply the belief that "There is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet." One might argue any of their validity but they all have one thing in common. You can read their books without really getting involved in any organization. You can be a solo practitioner of any of the above religions. You might not reap as much reward doing it alone but you can still achieve salvation or peace on your own. When you become involved with most cults they immediately will attempt to force to enter their organization. They attract you with the offer of something as simple as a free bible but to get it you have to entertain their missionaries. Then the problems start. They show up and are friendly and non-judgemental, they want your confidence. They get you talking and find out what your problems are, then they create solutions with the Church as the sole arbiter of your newfound security and happiness. This is where you get involved. This is why you get involved. You believe that these people are acting out of altruistic kindness and are truly representatives of the living God. No matter what you've heard you put it aside and open your heart and mind to these spiritual ticks.
You are welcomed into the Church and many of the top people in the hierarchy give you quite a bit of positive attention. They talk to you about your future in the organization and how happy they have been. They tell stories of a life lived in pious contemplation of their impending eternity. It is hard to be cynical or to ask questions in an environment full of those who believe so ardently.
It is a natural to want to please your new hosts and you jump in with both feet. You came here to find peace and salvation right? That can't come easy so you persevere. Many days and even weeks can pass as their tried and true methods begin to work on your resistance. They might use Church Services followed by indoctrinational groups masked as Sunday School. They might use moving up in the ranks of Church authority, or in knowledge of their core ideologies as a reward to get more deeply involved. Other organizations less centrally based in traditional Judeo-Christian theology resort almost immediately to separating you from friends and family and immersing you in their community. They cut you off from your lines of support and the only people you have to rely on are in the church. Their methods can then range from the simple threat of excommunication to sequestering you at a 'retreat' where you are deprived of protien and sleep or brow beaten during degrading forced labor in a brainwashing ritual as old as humans. No matter what happens you are expected to keep to a strict schedule of teaching and learning and then eventually recruiting. After you are theirs, after they own your heart and mind, they go after your money. In some organizations you are expected to pay a tithe, a percentage of your gross income, not net, gross. Others ask you pay for progressively more detailed explanations of the 'truth.' The worst thing that can happen is to you in their care is to have to sign power of attorney over to them regarding your total assets. Occasionally maxing out your credit and donating it all to themselves.
So the question persists, why would we do this? The answer is simple. Because their methods work. People are attracted for the same reasons and people are snared by the same gambits. The more important question is why someone would do this to another person. Power, plain and simple. It always begins with an individual who has the 'best intentions' for your soul. They can be a modern day prophet with the revised word of God in hand given to them by the Almighty Himself or the fevered inspirations of a writer mistaken for divine intervention. The ultimate draw is the discovery that with even a pretty thin cover story you can make an awful lot of money and gain power that your state government envies. You don't have to pay taxes, and hey, you are responsible for millions of salvations right? Then the government begins poking around your records and words like racketeering and fraud, kidnapping and misappropriation are tossed around. Your flock begins to thin except for the most 'loyal' and you sequester. This is point at which most of the cult leaders become so mad with their own delusions that we end up with fatal fires, gunshots and suicides directed by your local neighborhood religious icon. Even if they are too big to topple the end is the same, you discover it's bunk and walk away hurt in many ways. The worst part is some get trapped for their whole lives. The greatest cost could be a living death, losing control of your mind while still in it.
It is impossible to prove that one religious belief is more valid than any other with empirical certainty, but if you buy a car you research it a little first, right? I can only offer you my stern admonition against believing anything without doing your homework first. This is your soul we're talking about. Possibly your personal safety as well as that of those you love. Do your homework, please, just do your homework. 'Okay,' you think, 'what is the homework?' What do you look for? What separates the cults from the faiths? The Bible offers hint. Jesus said in Luke 6:43-44 [43] "No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit. [44] Each tree is recognized by its own fruit. People do not pick figs from thornbushes, or grapes from briers." Many of those I've seen come in contact with these organizations end up estranged from family, friends, entire communities and their own assets for the understandable mistake of simply seeking enlightenment. Congregations of devout Christians have been burned alive and whole villages, women and children forced to commit suicide. People have been kidnapped and forced to believe then forced to surrender their possessions. No matter how hungry you are remember that some fruit is crisp and red on the outside but can be rotten to it's core.
Number Two
The question I still can't really fully answer is what caused me to make the first call to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I called the Mormons because their commercial said that they would give me a free copy of the King James Bible and I thought, hey, I just gave away my last Bible so what's the worst that can happen? My first clue that something was amiss should have been when our friendly-voiced operator said "Just listen to what they have to say with an open mind, please." I shrugged it off and invited the local missionaries over the next day. The next day Elder Krage and Elder Hunstman showed up, one looked like Opie and the other was a non-descript blonde youth. Both seemed beyond reproach and had the confidence and humility of truly holy people. They brought the Bible and said that in return they would like us to simply hear a lesson in LDS (Latter Day Saints) theology. At first they only went into the aspects of the church that mirrored standard Christian faith. I listened with interest. They began to come over with increasing frequency, sometimes not bothering to call first. They were always polite and tried to help with any chores or work around the house that they could. I would cook and then we would have a lesson. After a proscribed number of lessons they invited us to their church. They said that to actually be members we would have to meet with the local leader of the Missionaries and the Bishop of the Local Church, then we had to be baptised. I had wanted to belong so badly to the body of Christ that I simply hadn't been listening to what they all had been saying.
The meetings went well and they seemed to like us so they told us what had to happen next. My live-in Girlfriend and I would have to get married to be baptised. We hastily prepared a ceremony and got married in their church not inviting any of our family on either side, then were baptised. At the time it simply did not occur to us that our families might want to be involved since they were all non-religious. They didn't exactly roll out the red carpet for our families either. It seemed the separation from those who might disagree was a good thing to them. Right after the marriage Petra got pregnant. I told my mother first that she was to be a grandmother and she initially recieved the news with joy. Then the whole family stopped answering their phones. Once they found out what we had done, getting married without inviting them, they all turned their backs on us. So here we are, a young couple with nothing, and now with no one. The only people that we had to turn to now were in the Church. The tapestry of manipulation was stretched wide and beautiful before me yet I still refused to see. Petra was sick all the time from the pregnancy and had just been fired from the restaurant she was working at for being pregnant. Yes it's illegal but only if you can afford a lawyer to sue them, and even then what did you win? We got a job at a telemarketing firm (I'm sorry, world) qualifying mortgage leads all day. It was the only thing she could do in her condition and we only had one car so we had to work together. When the missionaries found out they tried to get us a car from someone in the church and I flatly refused. I was beginning to see the web that was forming in our path. First a car, then a job, then I could not get out if I wanted to. Still I tried to be a dutiful Mormon, telling others of my faith and going on teaching errands with the Missionaries.
Then the Bishop took me in his office. He spoke to me of the joy the Church had given him and how much it could do for me. A long admonition ensued about the danger of apostosy and then he asked, nonchalantly, if I had started tithing yet. I responded in the negative without details. He looked at me disdainfully and said "Why?" as if the notion of not tithing was absurd. My wife and I were poor at that time. We had no family and support, piling bills and were one step above welfare. We were charity cases and he was asking for our money. That was the last straw. I stopped attending services and stopped communication with the missionaries. Then they fought back. The local leader of the 'home teaching' endeavors in my area just happened to get a job at the same telemarketing firm we were at. He would try to chat with us all day and at one point went so far as to say that he was concerned for my spiritual welfare because I continued to drink coffee at work. I was fortunate to find a job shortly after with a fine-dining Italian restaurant that payed enough for Petra to stay home until the baby was born. The missionaries continued to show up uninvited and did everything but put up tents on our front lawn. It was always personal, why are you hurting us this way? So now we were adrift in a very lonely sea. We had been estranged from our families, and had an infant to support with a still small income. Neither of us could sleep and I was working twelve to fourteen hours with only one day off a week. Finally we gave up and decided to move to Maine where my wifes family lived. Then my family decided it was time to reconcile, but things are still not the same almost two years later.
In less than six months just being a dilettante in the LDS church had cost me my family, my security, and forced me five-hundred miles north. This was in a mostly Catholic state, New Jersey. Now imagine our plight if we had lived in a predominately Mormon community like Salt Lake City. I began to research the Church and found out that there are many people who suddenly find out they now have no place to work and no friends yet still have to support their family. I also found out what they really believe and it had very little to do with the Bible. The names remains the same but the theology is totally different. There is a very valid reason that before baptism they make you sign a paper saying that you are not a member or any anti-mormon group. I would advise anyone curious to research beyond the book of Mormon into the true and pivotal doctrine of the faith which is not to be easily found in any of the books they give you at first. Whatever you do don't try and get the word from them. That can be a very costly mistake. They know how to get you in and keep you in. It took less than a year for basic contact with their missionaries to lead to total life crisis. Now I'm just suspicious of all 'new age' faiths. Give me that old timey religion back.
It is impossible to prove that one religious belief is more valid than any other with empirical certainty, but if you buy a car you research it a little first, right? I can only offer you my stern admonition against believing anything without doing your homework first. This is your soul we're talking about. Possibly your personal safety as well as that of those you love. Do your homework, please, just do your homework. 'Okay,' you think, 'what is the homework?' What do you look for? What separates the cults from the faiths? The Bible offers hint. Jesus said in Luke 6:43-44 [43] "No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit. [44] Each tree is recognized by its own fruit. People do not pick figs from thornbushes, or grapes from briers." Many of those I've seen come in contact with these organizations have ended up estranged from family, friends, entire communities and their own assets for the understandable mistake of simply seeking enlightenment. No matter how hungry you are remember that some fruit is crisp and red on the outside but can be rotten to it's core.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Outro
It is impossible to prove that one religious belief is more valid than any other with empirical certainty, but if you buy a car you research it a little first, right? I can only offer you my stern admonition against believing anything without doing your homework first. This is your soul we're talking about. Possibly your personal safety as well as that of those you love. Do your homework, please, just do your homework. 'Okay,' you think, 'what is the homework?' What do you look for? What separates the cults from the faiths? The Bible offers hint. Jesus said in Luke 6:43-44 [43] "No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit. [44] Each tree is recognized by its own fruit. People do not pick figs from thornbushes, or grapes from briers." Many of those I've seen come in contact with these organizations end up estranged from family, friends, entire communities and their own assets for the understandable mistake of simply seeking enlightenment. Congregations of devout Christians have been burned alive and whole villages, women and children forced to commit suicide. People have been kidnapped and forced to believe then forced to surrender their possessions. No matter how hungry you are remember that some fruit is crisp and red on the outside but can be rotten to it's core.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Intro #2
Early in the morning, before the sun has started drying out your overwatered lawn, there they are. They walk down the street in white shirts and black ties. Shades get pulled and doors get quietly locked. They are from various 'churches' in various states and all have one thing in common. They believe that they have all the important answers to all the important questions and they are willing to do most anything to get you to hear them. They have massive assets and there is usually a trail littered with the broken lives of the hopeful who gave all theirs to simply be able to believe in something. Some of them are splinter groups from Christianity and some are simply complete fabrications. Much like the Emperors new clothes they all show themselves transparent under even the lightest inspection. Unfortunately, most of their victims are in such dire circumstances already that they will accept any pill sugar-coated with hope.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Graf #8
I always feel lame trying to describe how writing makes me feel. How am I supposed to feel? I feel resentful that at 1:00 in the morning I am on my laptop reading essays and not in bed. But one of them actually touched me enough to turn off the self-pity and turn on the attention span. I loved the story of the skating chicken girl looking wantingly at the black sequined tights, I was very amused. It had a human quality to it. Most school essays are written for the purpose of satisfying a requirement without the greatest artistic imperative, "I was inspired." "I was inspired." created Mona Lisa whereas "I had to write a report on the Six Day war" created a non-narcotic substitute for Lunesta.
The overall impression I get from the writing I read in this class is that most people who would otherwise be speechless and mute spill their emotional guts the minute you put them in front of a keyboard. Funny thing that, reminds me of an autistic child I was staff for once, Jimmy was his name. His eyes told you nothing and his mouth said less. He would scream for no reason and sit rocking back and forth all day, only stirring when you turned off the "Raffi" video. If you put him in front of a keyboard he would type things though, like "My name is Jimmy, I am hungry." and all in perfect punctuation, spelling and grammar. I wondered why his doctors never used that more. The point is that many of the essays tell remarkable stories of plain life. Simple common experiences given a lovely life by focusing in on them. I think it is fun to see what other people consider the beautiful moments in their lives. It tells you more about them then any head-shrinker ever could hope to.
The overall impression I get from the writing I read in this class is that most people who would otherwise be speechless and mute spill their emotional guts the minute you put them in front of a keyboard. Funny thing that, reminds me of an autistic child I was staff for once, Jimmy was his name. His eyes told you nothing and his mouth said less. He would scream for no reason and sit rocking back and forth all day, only stirring when you turned off the "Raffi" video. If you put him in front of a keyboard he would type things though, like "My name is Jimmy, I am hungry." and all in perfect punctuation, spelling and grammar. I wondered why his doctors never used that more. The point is that many of the essays tell remarkable stories of plain life. Simple common experiences given a lovely life by focusing in on them. I think it is fun to see what other people consider the beautiful moments in their lives. It tells you more about them then any head-shrinker ever could hope to.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Intro 1
What the hell is wrong with Tom Cruise? He is on television, in the news media, and all over the world preaching the virtues of Scientology. The claims that he makes boldly storm the gates of absurdity and lay siege to all good sense. What could cause a man like him to abandon the life he lived and become the willing puppet of a spurious "faith" like Scientology? The frightening answer is that it can happen to anyone. Cults are nothing new, there are many mainstream cults like Hare Krishna, Mormonism and Scientology that have managed to become mainstream religions. These organizations prey upon peoples deep and inherent need to believe in something. Cult recruiters use clever tactics to draw you in and then the brainwashing starts. Once they have you firmly in their grasp they use training methods developed for orgaizations like the Military and the C.I.A to keep you there. They take everything you have and everything you can possibly get in the future and offer relatively little reward. If you do finally manage to get out you will often face lengthy legal battles for things like your money, your house, and your children. Cults fight dirty. The battleground is your heart and mind, the prize, your soul.
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