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Date: 7 Dec 2000 07:00:44 -0000
Message-ID: <D2ZDUV1S36867.3338425926@frog.nyarlatheotep.org>
From: Anonymous-Remailer@See.Comment.Header (ace of clubs)
Subject: Re: Gerry Armstrong, An Answer For You, Good Buddy!
Newsgroups: alt.religion.scientology
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Hell-l-l-l-l-l-l-looooooooo, Gerry!

I yam sooo glad to see that oncet again you have ventured to rear yer
plug-ugly viper's swaying head out of yer ratty hiding-basket, and to
hiss, and to flick yer two-tined tongue, and to spit and spew some more
of yer copyrighted GA ga-ga-gag-me-with-a-Cobra acid venom all over
a.r.s. You know, the ol' place jest wouldn't be home to yer fucked-up,
fermented, festerin' buddies without yer acerbicly vague and
incomprehensible wit-shit eatin' smokin' holes in their
already-dessicated, decaying, drug-saturated brains.

I don' get around these parts much anymore, 'cause the I.Q. average for
the place seems finally to have dipped below the freezing mark, but I
wuz so amused to see some Gerbil-Gerry Armstrong droppings litterin' the
place that I jest had to stop by long enough to give a tip of the Ace o'
Clubs skull'n'crossbones hat to my old Christian, cryin', martyred
buddy, Ger-Ger. Ain't you jest *glad* and *happy* to hug yer ol'
brother-in-Christ, Ger, baby? Ain't you jest reachin' out with yer own
special leperous brand of Christian love to embrace yer poor ol' fellow
spiritual pilgrim, Ace--however misguided you may think him to be?

Well, God*damn*, but I'm happy to see you, too, choirboy!

I noticed you wuz oozin' in the general direction of a Mr. Craver:

>I've worked on the proof you ask for and am pretty well complete. But
>I thought that before I posted it I'd get your agreement that Hubbard
>wrote the following in [$]cience of [$]urvival:

Well, let'$ je$t $ay that ol' Hubby did $ay it je$t that way, and $ettle
on *that* a$ a working hypothe$i$ good buddy. I'll play widja:

>There are only two answers for the handling of people from 2.0 down on
>the Tone Scale, neither one of which has anything to do with reasoning
>with them or listening to their justification of their acts. The
>first is to raise them on the Tone Scale by unentrubulating some of
>their theta by any one of the three valid processes. The other is to
>dispose of them quietly and without sorrow.

Yeah, and now, Ger, son, I have a good, thoughtful, charitable Christian
question fer you, so you listen up to ol' Ace now. Here 'tis:

Just what the flaming flying fuck does the term "dispose of" mean, you
pusillanimous, puling, pocket of putrifying pus? Do you even know? Do
you have a fucking Christian brotherly-fucking-love clue?

Of course you don't have a clue, you stupid stultifying sycophantic
suppuratin' sack o' faux-Christian shit.

It means "1. To attend to; arrange; settle. 2. To transfer or part with.
3. To get rid of; throw out or away."

You know--jest like I'm doin' right here, with nothin' more awful than a
few combinations of letters from the alphabet. Jest like gets done with
a non-violent SP Declare. Jest like gets done with a disconnection
letter. Jest like gets done when someone is sent to jail. Jest like gets
done when someone is deported. Jest like got done when Napoleon was
banished. Been going on since the dawn of time, and certainly since long
before L. Ron Hubbard quit soilin' his diapers.

So what the fuck are you whining about? Do you know? No, you don't know.
It takes the special twisted, rotting lesion-eaten paranoia of the
writhing pale worms of evil that crawl through yer demented and
quivering grey matter and whisper phrases of fear to you in the night to
be able to characterize the quote above into some HIIIIDDDDEOUS
and sends you shivering and squirting to the cold toilet in the cold
night when the cold wind rattles yer lonely, starin' windows.

And the fat grey and wriggling worms are NOTHIN' but the product of yer
own miserable traitorous and vicious lies. And they are yer constant
companions. And you deserve them.

You are a pathetic thing that also deserves the sympathetic mewlings of
your tiny, terrified cadre of equally pathetic admirers. Because the
worms crawl through their nights, too. But they are the worms of their
own creation.

And most of *them* even ignore your paranoid, venomous "Christian"
rantings now.

Always *so* nice to chat wid you, Ger. But I do believes I gotz better
things to occupy my time now. I b'lieve that you may conclude correctly
that wid this message, wid this epistle of brotherly Christian luv--(c)
Gerry Armstrong brand--that ol' Ace is done wid you. In short, I has
jest disposed of you *and* yer sick, twisted mental worms, *and* yer
pathetic stupidity, *and* yer pitiable, craving, slavering need to find
evil in what *YOU* evilly betrayed, you cowardly, covert, double-agent,
backstabbing, sneaking, slithering excuse for humanity.

In terms you may still be able to unnerstand, Ger, ol' paint: FOAD.


The worms crawl in. The worms crawl out.
The worms play Pinochle on my snout.



ace of clubs




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