Subject: Re: Roots and orgins
From: "tigerlily2000" <[email-masked]>
Date: Sat, 6 Nov 1999 21:24:54 -0800
Newsgroups: alt.clearing.technology

Gee, Phil, you should use Konchok's process...designed to run out any
confusion.  Then you wouldn't have to be concerned about all the suggestions
laid in.:)

Gee, sometimes it is fun to be l.l on the tone scale.:)  Pat
[email-masked] wrote in message
<[email-masked]>...
>
>From this one gets an inkling of where Hubbard gained so much insight into
>hypnotic techniques, most especially the technique laying in suggestions by
>use of confusion.
>
>Best Regards, Phil Scott
>
>
>
>
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>
>CLICK HERE FOR SPECIAL MULTI-FILE VERSION:
>For easier reading and printing, this version is in six files linked
>together.
>
>
>Jack Parsons
>&
>The Curious Origins of the American Space Program
>by The Magician
>Part 4: Abreaction Therapy
>There was no pay phone at the Palladium, a restaurant on the U. of Penn
>campus, but they let me use the house phone at the end of the bar. I told
>Sheri about the books Wilson had mentioned and asked her to get me a direct
>flight to Los Angeles.
>I felt the stare as I turned. The man was wearing a black suit and sitting
>on one of the high wooden barstools. Someone had apparently replaced his
>blood with embalming fluid and it still annoyed him. The deep-set eyes in
>the greenish gray flesh stared without blinking. He stood up and moved
>toward me.
>
>"Have the time?" the mouth asked.
>
>"It's two-thirty," I guessed.
>
>"You lie!" he affirmed with some belligerence. "It's a quarter past four."
>He glared at me before turning and shuffling out the door to Locust Walk.
>
>When I followed a few moments later, he had disappeared.
>
>I went back into the Palladium and dialed the time. It was 2:33. Then I
>tried the number Homer Nilmot had given me.
>
>"Trans-Global Consultants," the woman answered. She said Mr. Nilmot was out
>but she would relay my message.
>
>When I got back to the office, Sheri told me she had gotten a flight
>reservation for the day after tomorrow.
>
>"Just enough time to tie up some loose ends," I said. I told her about the
>walking stiff I had met at the Palladium.
>
>"Sounds like one of my two Men in Black," Sheri responded. "The one from
the
>cemetery, she said gravely."
>
>"Well, this was definitely an actor from Rent-A-Ghoul. Who are these Men in
>Black supposed to be, again? Maybe that's the point of this little charade.
>To create distraction."
>
>"The classic Men-In-Black are the bad guys of the space brother world,"
>Sheri said. "Traditionally, they are tanned or olive-skinned individuals
>with high cheek bones, faintly Oriental in appearance, often driving black
>Cadillacs or Buicks or something, and who appear to people who have had ufo
>experiences and threaten them to keep quiet about whatever has happened. Or
>sometimes they show up in the guise of Xist or Air Force agents, take down
>full reports of the victim's experiences, and tell him the military is
>conducting an investigation. Except if the `investigators' are
investigated,
>their credentials often turn out to be bogus. Experiences with MIBs may be,
>incidentally, the reason General Carl Spaatz, our first Air Force Chief of
>Staff, announced at a press conference in 1948, `There is no truth to the
>rumors that the flying saucers are from Spain, or that they are piloted by
>Spaniards.' "
>
>I thought about that. "Well, that doesn't fit this fellow," I said. "He
>didn't have the slightest hint of a suntan, and I haven't seen any ufos
>lately."
>
>"Me neither," said Sheri. "I guess we don't qualify to be among the chosen
>few." She curled out her lower lip in a pout.
>
>There was something bothering me about what happened at the Palladium. It
>seemed, well, familiar. "Give me a Men-in-Black example," I asked Sheri.
>"Something early, maybe. Something classic. You know, before the media and
>the hype took over."
>
>"Easy," she said. "There was Albert Bender. He closed down his
International
>Flying Saucer Bureau in 1953. He said three men wearing black suits were
>responsible. Most amateur ufologists concluded it was government agents who
>had put pressure on him. It was another ten years before Bender told the
>full account in his book Flying Saucers and the Three Men. Bender's three
>men weren't your average government bureaucrats. No, sir. They had glowing
>eyes. They materialized and dematerialized in his apartment. They took him
>to a secret ufo base in Antarctica. And so on."
>
>"So it was likely a hypnotic experience," I said. "An extended mind fuck."
>
>"Or whatever," Sheri said. "He exhibited the usual symptoms from
>contact--upset stomach, loss of appetite, headaches, lacunar amnesia."
>
>It came to me, then, what had been bothering me about the Palladium ghoul.
>It took a little digging through the files, but we found it soon enough.
>
>It was a paper entitled "The Confusion Technique in Hypnosis," by the
>hypnotherapist Milton H. Erickson. It was published in the American Journal
>of Clinical Hypnosis in 1964. Erickson gives an example of the technique in
>action:
>
>"[A] man came rushing around the corner of a building and bumped hard
>against me as I stood bracing myself against the wind. Before he could
>recover his poise to speak to me, I glanced elaborately at my watch and
>courteously, as if he had inquired the time of day, I stated, `It's exactly
>ten minutes of two,' though it was actually closer to 4:00 P.M., and walked
>on. About half a block away, I turned and saw him still looking at me,
>undoubtedly still puzzled and bewildered by my remark."
>
>Erickson goes on to explain that the technique works through the use of
>vague and puzzling statements. Because of the initial confusion, the
>hypnotic subject will then treat the first clearly understandable piece of
>information as unusually important.
>
>"Maybe they're softening up our minds now," I said to Sheri. "They're
>getting ready to stick it to us."
>
>"Whoever they are," Sheri said.
>
>I asked Sheri to keep trying Homer Nilmot's number. Meanwhile I made myself
>a cup of coffee, and sat down to study the theory of sex magic in William
>Sargant's The Mind Possessed. David Wilson had let me borrow his copy,
which
>I gladly accepted. Returning it would give me an excuse to talk to him
>again.
>
>According to Sargant, there is a general physiological mechanism for
>reprogramming behavior. It involves the creation of intense emotion, such
as
>fear or anger, leading up to a collapse from emotional exhaustion. Sargant
>originally studied soldiers who were having mental difficulties stemming
>from traumatic war experiences. It turned out such problems could generally
>be alleviated through a drug-induced emotional experience of sufficient
>intensity to lead to a general physical collapse. Sargant called it an
>"abreactive experience".
>
>"After the patient had come round," Sargant wrote, "he might burst into
>tears or shake his head and smile, and then report that all his previous
>fears and abnormal preoccupations had suddenly left him, that his mind was
>functioning more normally again, that he felt more like his old self, that
>memories which had obsessed and terrified him could now be thought of
>without fear or anxiety."
>
>It was not necessary to "re-live" the original experience. Just to generate
>the emotional collapse. The mind, according to Sargant, subsequently became
>pliable to new programming--new behavior and attitudes, just as it
>apparently had been when the original problems were implanted.
>
>Drugs were only one method for inducing the collapse. Music and dancing was

>another. So was terror induced by hell-fire preaching. Or a holy-roller
>atmosphere of music and confession and induction of the Holy Ghost. Or
>electro-convulsive therapy. Or exhaustion through repeated sexual orgasm.
>
>The collapse could serve the purpose of a general release from worries,
>guilts, obsessions, and sins. But one also became open to new ideas,
Sargant
>claimed. One could become a new man or woman, for good or evil, in the
>service of the Gods, the flag, or the self.
>
>In sexual magic, the trance is induced through sexual exhaustion. Sargant
>quotes Aleister Crowley, the magician himself, on the details:
>
>"The candidate is made ready for the ordeal by general athletic training
and
>by fasting. On the appointed day he is attended by one or more experienced
>attendants whose duty it is to exhaust him sexually by every known means.
>The candidate will sink into a sleep of utter exhaustion but he must be
>again sexually stimulated and then again allowed to fall asleep. This
>alternation is to continue indefinitely until the candidate is in a state
>which is neither sleep nor waking, and in which his spirit is set free by
>perfect exhaustion of the body . . . [and] communes with the Most Highest
>and the Most Holy Lord God of its Being, Maker of Heaven and Earth."
>
>I called Sheri back in and read the passage to her.
>
>"So basically you fuck your brains out until you see visions and talk to
God
>and the angels," she summarized.
>
>That seemed to be pretty much it.
>
>"With the help of experienced attendants," I noted. "It probably induces a
>change in the brain's hormonal balance. But obviously there are more
>techniques than just the one Sargant mentions here. For example, when Jack
>Parsons and Marjorie Cameron were engaged in ritual intercourse, it was L.
>Ron Hubbard who was communing with the Most High. Ron the Seer, right?"
>
>"Sounds like a complex subject. If you want the whole technology, perhaps
>you should go the source." She laid a book on my desk. It was Crowley's
>Magic in Theory and Practice.
>
>I groaned inwardly. This wasn't what I wanted to spend my time on. I just
>had the vague hope that if I could get into Parsons' mind-set, it might
help
>me find out who killed him. It was a comforting belief since it was all I
>had to go on at the moment. But getting into Parsons' mind- set was turning
>out to be a complex process.
>
>I studied Sheri's posture. She was sitting with her feet propped up, the
hem
>of her skirt slipping well above her knees. She was wearing a silk blouse
>that clung seductively to her breasts.
>
>"You want to get something to eat after work?" she asked. "I'll buy you a
>burger and a margarita at the Copacabana."
>
>I considered it. The offer was tempting. I was a sucker for fresh lime
juice
>and tequila. I hesitated, though. All my instincts told me not to get too
>chummy with the help. The phone wouldn't get answered, the research
wouldn't
>get done, the office would fall apart.
>
>On the other hand, we were only going to get a hamburger. Why not. Just
>because she wanted to buy me dinner didn't mean she expected to sit on my
>face for dessert.
>
>"Sure," I said. "Why don't we go have a margarita?"
>
>At Copa we got a table on the 4th Street side where we could watch the foot
>traffic at the corner with South. Jimmy Cliff's "The Harder They Come" was
>booming out over the sound system. As we sipped our drinks, Sheri told me
>that Albert Bender was also a student of magic.
>
>"This was going on while Bender was studying ufos. What happened with
>respect to the Men-in-Black may have been only obliquely related to `flying
>saucers.' Magic is a traditional method of conjuring up elementals. And
>Bender suffered from a lot of poltergeist manifestations."
>
>"In that case, maybe Jack Parsons was also visited by Men-in- Black," I
>said.
>
>"Maybe it's all magic," Sheri said. "The saucers are just techno- veneer.
>Most of the interesting stuff seems to take place in someone's mind, with
no
>witnesses."
>
>I watched her tongue lightly lick salt from the rim of the glass before she
>took a sip of margarita. When I had interviewed Sheri only a couple of
>months previously, she had claimed she was a Hindu vegetarian who didn't
>drink but got stoned frequently. Now here she sat with a drink in her hand,
>and she had just ordered a hamburger.
>
>"No salad tonight?" I asked.
>
>She shrugged. "Sometimes like Fritz Mondale I ask myself, `Where's the
>beef?' I get this intense craving for bloody bovine carcass."
>
>"As long as you don't knock over little old cows in the street to support
>your habit. Or stand on a soapbox preaching the occult virtues of
>meat-eating."
>
>"No possibility of that, not since I found Bob. Bob says death to all
>fanatics."
>
>She had been a rock groupie, once getting arrested in Miami. She had played
>guitar for several years, then had switched to electric blues harp and had
>performed with Muddy Waters.
>
>"Bob drinks, you know," she said, her tongue at work on the rim of the
>glass. "He's drinking buddies with the Fightin' Jesus. That's the one who
>comes bringing not peace, but a sword. The Macho Jesus, not the wimp who
>turns the other check."
>
>"So that's why you were reading Wigglesworth--to study up on the Fightin'
>Jesus."
>
>Once she had rehearsed for the part of Mary Magdalene in Jesus Christ
>Superstar. Although all in all she preferred Krishna, she said, as Krishna
>could be seen in anyone, including a lover, she had claimed. But that was
>the last I had ever heard of Krishna. Maybe it's just something you say in
a
>job interview, when you don't want to sound like a Jesus fanatic.
>
>"Nah. American history is cultural edification. Roots, you know? Which
>reminds me. You want to go to a party tonight? It's called the Mauvaises
>Arts Ball, and gets started around eleven o'clock. It's a parody of the
>Beaux Arts Ball, the one for Arts and Architecture held later in October."
>
>"Mauvaises Arts?"
>
>"If the Beaux Arts Ball were the semi-orderly formality of a ceremonial
>dinner dance, then the Mauvaises Arts Ball would be the orgy in the back
>room. It was inspired, I think, by the reviews of Bad Cinema that Dan
>Akyroyd used to do on Saturday Night Live. Anyway this year's theme is
>Apocalypse Culture."
>
>"As in the Four Horsemen?"
>
>"As in the Kali Yuga, Friday the Thirteenth, nuclear winter, the mark of
the
>beast, marrying and giving in marriage, chaos theory, the Society Hill
>Dungeon, rumors of war, the return of Quetzalcoatl, 2001, lycanthropy,
>famine, the invasion of the body builders, automobile air bags,
Presidential
>astrology, AIDS needles washing up on the beach, earthquakes, sex with
>robots, psychic warfare, cable TV--all those things."
>
>"I take it I don't need to wear a Tuxedo then."
>
>"You can wear pretty much anything you want. There will be the usual artsy
>crowd there, and a lot of pinks and assorted politicos. A couple of fellow
>Sub-Genii are scheduled to speak, or rather to rant and rave. It's all part
>of the atmosphere. Later in the evening there will be a channeling session
>delivered by Helen Morley, the Avatar of Amargi."
>
>"Where's Amargi?"
>
>"Amargi is a Sumerian word meaning freedom."
>
>That appeared auspicious. It sounded like fun, and I said I would go. I
>worked my way around the bar to the phone, called Trans-Global Consultants,
>and left a message telling Homer Nilmot where I would be.
>
>When I returned to the table, I saw a mounted Philadelphia patrolman had
>stopped just outside the window. From time to time passersby would pause to
>pet the horse. All but the better-looking women were told to keep their
>hands to themselves. I guess the horse was picky.
>
>"So what did David Wilson at Penn have to say?"
>
>I told her about Liber Oz.
>
>"It sounds to me pretty much a strong statement about individual rights,"
>Sheri opined. "I think the Founding Fathers would have approved. Leave out
>the love part, maybe."
>
>"Yeah. Whatever happened to politics, anyway. Now every political campaign
>is run as a crusade to solve the world's problems."
>
>"So. You don't believe in crusades against evil, taking out the bad guys,
>all that." Sheri's tone was mocking.
>
>"No. The way I look at it, organized sin and organized sin- fighting are
two
>sides of the same corporate coin. It's like the Society Hill Towers'
>resident priest who has a number of women confess that the grocer's new
>delivery boy has seduced them. He makes them each put a hundred dollars in
>the poor box. Then the delivery boy appears, and the priest asks angrily,
>`What have you got to say for yourself?' `Just this,' the delivery boy
>replies. `Either you cut me in on those hundred-dollar fees, or I take my
>business to some other parish.' "
>
>"Yeah," Sheri agreed. "You can't get rich saving souls if everyone's
>converted."
>
>"Crisis managers couldn't cope without calamity. You can't get elected
>President without a social problem to fight, or a menace to protect people
>from. Of course the `problems' never disappear. The Cossacks are always
>coming to rape our women and destroy Our Way of Life. And by definition
>there'll always be people with below average income or whatever. The chief
>function of government is to find problems that can be profitably managed.
>Everyone wants to save the world, as long as doing so gives them power, and
>as long as someone else pays for it."
>
>"Why do you think people go into politics, anyway?"
>
>This was getting too serious for discussion over margaritas, I thought.
>
>"A lot of men go into politics because of the women. Ever been to a major
>political convention or an election night party? Sexy women everywhere. And
>there's nothing like working for a noble cause to get them hot and
willing."
>
>Sheri blushed. I was surprised.
>
>"It's niacin," Sheri explained. "I took a 500 milligram capsule a few
>minutes ago. It creates a skin flush similar to the Masters and Johnson
>sexual flush. Trisha's recommendation. Niacin reduces serum
cholesterol--the
>fat in your bloodstream. She was a biochemistry major."
>
>Sheri decided to change the subject.
>
>"The other day I was in Garland of Letters--the New Age bookstore down the
>street, and these two women were looking at books, and this other woman
>comes by and says, `You ladies don't look at that witchcraft. Read your
>Bible.' "
>
>"I read the Bible one time myself," I said. "Not Bob's, the other one."
>
>Sheri looked skeptical.
>
>"Really. The begets and all. One thing I remember it says is that Satan
>appears as an angel of light. You don't hear much about that, these days.
To
>hear some Christians tell it, Satan has pointed ears, 666 tattooed on his
>forehead, and dresses in brand-name Lucifer Leather with an
>appropriately-sized forked codpiece. But their own reference manual says
>it's the opposite of that."
>
>"You're saying that if everyone agrees something is evil, it's just as
>likely not?"
>
>"Not exactly. I'm saying that when you find Satan, he'll probably look like
>Jesus Christ himself."
>
>"And what does that have to do with Jack Parsons? Or abreaction therapy?"
>Sheri demanded, after a moment's thought.
>
>"I have no idea. Just something that came to mind."
>
>I signaled for the check.
>
>(to be continued)
>
>Review Part One -- Review Part Two --
>
>Review Part Three --
>
>Click Here for a complete
>UP-TO-DATE version of all published
>Jack Parsons' articles
>
>
>
>
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