Scientology and shooting pringles in the faces of the poor

I’m hoping that anybody reading this is not a member of the church of Scientology. The simple reason for this is that I can’t be arsed laying out the finer points of why your religion is an utter pile of wanking aftermath, aptly summarised in your deluded spokesman Tom Cruises’ couch jumping shenanigans on Oprah Winfrey’s equally lamentable excuse for daytime programming. For those who don’t have time for the venerable Mr. Hubbard’s pseudo-scientific, religious clusterfuck, well done for achieving the base level in rationality.

OK, there’s nothing new in taking a stab at the most obviously fraudulent cult in modern times, in fact, it’s actually a bit trendy to take a pop at Scientology, the most gaping open goal in the minefield of intellectual discourse. Nobody in their right mind is going to disagree with whatever far out statement you make lamenting this horseshit; you may as well argue that food aid for famine victims is better provided in the form of cooked meals rather than serving Pringles via a shotgun to the face. Yet still the delicate balancing act between the freedom of religious worship and protecting people from being conned rages on, often coming down in favour of the former through sheer laziness. Are we too scared to recognise that some religions are totally made up? Why do we have to give equal credence to every bogus notion that smacks of false spirituality, hiding itself behind basic human decency that allows people to believe whatever the hell they want to without bullying them?

There’s an important court case happening in France at the moment, where a former Scientologist is suing her religious bosses for extorting money from her after a free personality test (we’re back the Pringles analogy, once you pop, you can’t stop). If successful, Scientology could be banned across the country, to which I say good riddance. It’s bad enough that Microsoft word is automatically correcting my poor spelling of Scientology to include a capital letter, the idea that people’s lives are being destroyed is much worse

The reason we can’t put other religions on trail such as Christianity and Islam is that it’s simply too late. All the key witnesses are dead, and should Jesus ever show up to provide testimony it would be a shore fire indicator that we’d better all start getting down to church pronto. Luckily we still have a chance to rid the world of the utter poison that is Scientology. In my hometown of Perth, Australia, I regularly see large groups of former Scientologists marching through the city centre, living witnesses to the danger of letting things be. The scene is made all the more fitting when you see the marches dressed in fancy dress, an attempt at masking identity rather than joviality.

Life is often about tolerating the various views that people hold that may not coincide with your own, and accepting the multi-cultural world we live as complex place that needs to be dealt with empathetically and with respect. In the case of Scientology, it simple isn’t.

The most important day in the history of the universe

24th of May is shaping up to be a momentous day in World history, and not just because Mongolians are charging to the polls to elect their next president (is there a person amongst us who hasn't cried out 'go Tsakhiagiin Elbegdorj, go' whilst out shopping or during sex). Even more important than suspect democratic institutions going through the motions is the upcoming finale to the English football season, with four teams battling it out to avoid having to ply their trade in footballing purgatory, or to be more precise playing twice a year against Blackpool. In just a few hours Newcastle, Middlesbourgh, Hull and Sunderland will be applying the same suspect tactics that got them into trouble to try and salvage their status as being amongst the big boys of world football. It's an unsurprising list of the usual suspects, aside from Newcastle United, whose plight has been filling many column inches as football pundits attempt to dissect the reasons behind the gradual disintegration of a club that should have been challenging for trophies rather than trying to overtake Hull City in a footballing fight to the death.

The various diagnosis have been offered up in much more detail than I could possibly cover, but here's a summary for the uninitiated. Firstly, and most importantly, as the old song goes they've never won fuck all. Despite claims to greatness, Newcastle United haven't won a major trophy in over 50 years. Various managers and directors have chucked millions of pounds at the team to try and fire them towards the top, each campaign grinding to a halt in the face of better organised and more ambitious opposition. The only time Newcastle stood a genuine chance of winning the league was in the 1995–96 season when, after leading the pack for most of the season, they chucked away a big point advantage to Manchester United, giving the world the famous footage of Kevin Keegan utterly losing the plot in a post match interview that summed up the clubs forthcoming fortunes. Since then various managers had a crack at matching the club's expectations (it should be noted that expectation and ambition are very different beasts, the latter driving clubs to success, whilst the former has poisoned great clubs with the deadly venom of impatience). Money was pissed away on expensive mercenaries, manager after manager brought in and sacked until finally the team began to resemble a jigsaw puzzle without a picture on it. This season alone has seen four managerial appointments, a staggering testament to the utter incompetence of the people running Newcastle United. Now, in the clubs darkest hour, their fate lies in the hands of po-faced local hero Alan Shearer, perhaps the greatest player to wear the black and white, and a man who represents everything wrong with Newcastle United.

On the day of Shearer's appointment, Sky news (a network with nothing better to do) showed footage of delighted fans hailing the arrival of their saviour. To be fair it was pretty big news, as speculation had surrounded his potential appointment for years, undermining almost every manager that had tried to do their job at Newcastle under the huge shadow he cast. There was nothing to indicate Shearer was equipped to mastermind the great escape fans had hoped for. He'd never managed a team in his life, and quickly returned a serious of lacklustre losing performances that saw them languish in the relegation zone. This has been overlooked by the pundits and fans, probably the same ones who so enthusiastically welcomed Shearer in front of the Sky cameras. After all, Newcastle fans are more interested in a glorious narrative rather than an acceptance of the realities of their situation. They'd much rather take a punt on a local hero like Shearer, a man who has waited until there is barely anything left in the tank until taking over the reigns, perfectly setting himself up as a miracle worker if he succeeds and hardly to blame if they were relegated, in spite of the shockingly poor football orchestrated under his reign thus far.

Should Newcastle survive tonight, it won't be a story of pluckiness and fortitude in the face of insurmountable odds, an honour that should be Hull city's (though their manager Phil Brown looks like he should be running the knicker factory in Coronation Street). In the same way that Leeds United's spectacular fall from grace acts as a warning against overextending the financial security of a club, Newcastle United should be an lesson in what happens to a football club that is run on the misguided ambition of impatient fans, mesmerised by a narrative nobody else can see.