oO } ean NEWS 60 PerUSE, AINUSE, Report pr Missing: Scientology the Culprit Raoul Manik, Fake News Correspondent Editor’s Note — Oh God, not another bloody Scientology article. What have I done to deserve this? As usual, the opinions—implied or expressed, real or fake—of individ- ual Other Press writers, are not necessarily representative of all staff and contributors of the Other Press. Section Editor’s Note — Fake news correspondent Raoul Manik has been missing since late last month. His absence wouldn’t even have been noticed when he missed yet another deadline at the Other Press, had it not been for a call from the bartender at the Ivanhoe. He informed me that “that drunk shit from your paper who’s always down here left some junk behind that you better come pick up.” Left behind at the Hoe were his journal and tape recorder. What follows is the pieced together account of what happened to him. Notes from his journal have been added to the tape he left behind. It happened innocently enough. I was minding my own business at a downtown café when I noticed hin—hard to imagine being snuck, up on by someone so recogniz- able, but I didn’t even see him coming until his head popped up over the giant latte cup on my table. He was brief: He handed me something with trembling hands and hur- ried movements, fear welling within his eyes. Dumbfounded, I looked down at a crumpled cocktail napkin and unfolded it. Scrawled on it: Please, help me! Before I could process what was happening, he was gone—out the door of Blenz and sprinting down Robson Street, a limo chasing after his little strides. I looked back down at the napkin. Below his plea there was a place and time: The Ivanhoe, Midnight. I gasped. He must be in trouble. It was then that I knew I must help Tom Cruise escape from the Church of Scientology. Raoul Manik: Why meet here at the Ivanhoe, Mr. Cruise? | OUNEPPPSS Tom Cruise: Because there are no souls here so their E meters can’t trace us. RM: E meters? What in the name of God are you talking about? TC: Nothing. Pve said too much. And it’s Xenu, not God. RM: ...Okay then. Bartender, another round. Mine’ll be a double this time. The bartender brought our drinks while Cruise went to the can: Glenfiddich for me, a pear cider for him. He had asked for a lime wedge but was ignored. RM: Now why are they after you, Mr. Cruise? TC: Because I want out, that’s why. Damnit, this cider tastes like cheap champagne without the lime. It even smells funny. Cider, (sniff sniff), you stink. RM: Frankly, I don’t know why you'd join in the first place. The whole damn cult seems corrupt. TC: It’s not a cult; it’s an applied religious philosophy. Scientology is a self-help guide to fixing your self- perceived Ata a: pay-as-you-go plan towards person- al vanity through salvation. RM: So why'd you join? You're Tom frickin’ Cruise. You ditched Nicole Kidman for Penelope Cruz. You’re fucking Maverick man. Why'd you:do it? TC: Dump Nicole? Well... RM: No, join Scientology. TC: Oh. Because I’m (inaudible). RM: Sorry? TC: Because I’m short damnit, and they promised they’d make me taller. inadequacies. RM: You can’t be serious. You joined a cult that has had high-rank- ing members indicted and put in jail for conspiracy and theft because you wanted to be taller? TC: Yes. And now I want out because they have told me nothing but lies. RM: About Xenu? TC: No, about making me taller. Look at me man! KO Roey If Xenu could take Travolta from Look Who’s Talking Now id to Pulp Fiction, imagine what he could do for you. RM: Honestly Mr. Cruise. Isn’t joining a religion created by a sci- ence fiction writer a lot like taking diet tips from Kirstie Alley? There’s just a fundamental conflict of inter- est in it. How could you ever believe what you were hearing? L. Ron Hubbard said that aliens from Venus dropped an H-Bomb on Earth and then showed the sur- vivors movies about God and Satan. His own son fled the Church and had to go into hiding to protect his family for fear of reprisal. You guys made Battlefield Earth. What the fuck is wrong with your What would make you believe that nonsense? TC: He told it to us on his cruise ship. RM: Oh, was it nice? TC: Gorgeous. It kitchens... RM: Really? TC: ...a dining hall, tennis courts... RM: Sounds nice. TC: ...it really was... RM: Are you fucking mental? ’'m getting out of here. TC: No, please don’t! I need your help. Please. Please help me escape. RM: (Sigh) What can I do, Mr. Cruise? TC: I have a plane waiting for me at the airport with a private pilot. had two From there we'll fly to Switzerland. Right now I need you to come with me to collect my things from the Church. Here’s our ride. A limo has pulled up outside—Ive been had! RM: Mr. Cruise, what’s the name of the pilot? TC: It’s John. Why? RM: (A rustling sound) Get your hands off of me Tom! I’m going nowhere. TC: I need you to come with me to collect my things from the Church. RM: No, Tom! TC: You must come or they'll flat- ten us like buttons. RM: Now that doesn’t even make sense. TC: You must come and watch the movies with me. RM: Let go of me Mav...(tape ends). Section Editor’s Note — If you have any knowledge of Raoul’s whereabouts, please tell him he’s fired and to stop leaving gibberish messages at the office about how much Battlefield Earth and Vinnie Barbarino rock. We’re sick of it, dude. | { i; a a ts i a! Gi