Suri, Wrong Number

Last July, I snapped a photo of this sign outside the Church of Scientology's Pacific Area Command Base located at the corner of Sunset and L. Ron Hubbard Way (yes, Rest of the World, not only does Los Angeles celebrate "Crash Day", but we name our streets after L. Ron Hubbard -- please don't judge us):



In need of another kind of audit

After some minor Photoshopping (to remove the "2"), I submitted the picture for TVgasm's countdown to Big Brother 6.

A year later, I was walking by the same sign, however the LED display looked slightly different (no Photoshopping here):


Four million "un-read" roam the Earth!

As you can see, it no longer says: "GET IT, READ IT 25 MILLION HAVE." It now says: "GET IT, READ IT 21 MILLION HAVE" (the "IT" in question is Dianetics). So what happened to the other four million who had got it and read it as of July 1, 2005?

Even if all four million took a cruise on the Freewinds and never returned, they still would have gotten it and read it, no? According to this official news release from the Church of Scientology dated April 27, 2006, Dianetics "has sold well over 21 million copies," so I don't know where that 25 million figure came from in 2005.

Something's fishy -- uh, fishier -- at the Church of Scientology.

And here's what the message looks like, in context:



Previously, on The Dish: It all Begins to make sense now..., Battlefield Earth to Tom

Middle American Graffiti

Everybody's a critic

Happy Belated Crash Day (or April Fool's Day II)!

"Oh, you shouldn't have..."

I can't believe I forgot it was Crash Day until late Crash Day evening. But since my racist boss refused to give me Crash Day off, I was too busy to remember. And apparently, God (or Xenu?) hates Crash Day, because today was an especially dreary, rainy day in a city usually known for its glorious, sunny weather and rampant, in-your-face racism.

And He's (It's?) not the only one who hates Crash Day... some (irony-loving) Grinchy protestors actually tried to crash the Crash Day festivities! Who were these Crash Day Scrooges? Gays upset that Crash "stole" Brokeback Mountain's "rightful" Oscar (not to mention its DVD thunder, since Lionsgate released the Crash Director's Cut Edition (now with 10% more condescension simplicity stereotypes Oscar-winning brilliance!) on the same day as Brokeback hit Wal-Mart shelves)? Minorities upset that every stereotype of them was confirmed in the movie? Whites upset that a Salvadoran Puerto Rican Mexican-American was Mayor and not locksmith? Psychlos sent by Terl upset that a Scientologist was spreading the truth about thetans? Moviegoers With Taste upset that such a heavy-handed, schlocky, fetid movie was being feted by the city? Angelenos upset that our mayor thinks that "Yes, this is our Los Angeles"?

Uh, no. They were just some "union members seeking a new contract with the city." Probably Italian.

Anyway, I didn't let these racist union members rain on my Crash Day celebrations (I was powerless to stop God (Xenu?) from doing same)! Actually, the rain helped as I managed to get into three car accidents (thank you God (Xenu?)!)... all caused by Asian women drivers, natch. Then I got carjacked by a pair of African-Americans who told me that not all African-Americans are car-jackers. Some of them are drug addicts. Then I called them both the N-word. Surprisingly, they didn't take it nearly as well as Don Cheadle did when William Fichtner called him that. Then I shot three little Mexican girls (two of them with blanks). I put on a cop uniform and molested a woman (I think she was African-American, though she was pretty light-skinned). Finally, I shoved a rich white woman down the stairs so her maid could teach her that racism is wrong.

So, pretty much like any other day in Los Angeles.

How'd you celebrate Crash Day?

Oscar, Mayor: Winners

Best Tourism Campaign Ever:

And the film did get a little hometown push, including from Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa.

He "was wonderful to us," Haggis says. "He really embraced the film. He said 'Yes, this is our Los Angeles.' "

That's right, tourists... come to L.A. where you too can get carjacked, shot (with blanks, of course), diddled by a racist cop, pulled from a flaming car wreck by said racist cop and called vicious racial epithets to your face by media relations consultants! All the glamour of the movies, come to life!