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rfmcdonaldLast night, I went for another reading at the Church of Scientology's Yonge Street headquarters, the first since my visit of the 8th of September. (It was warm inside, the greeter at the door had followed me for a couple of metres, and I thought what the hell.)
Inside, the same guy who read me in September read me again. My hands were fairly dry from the cold, explaining why he found it difficult to pick up my stress levels. He tried to sell me a copy of Dianetics for $C10.95, quoting the precise price after taxes, and I begged him off by pleading that I wouldn't get my paycheck for another week or two. We agreed that focus is something lacking in our lives, granted; his citations of Tom Cruise and John Travolta as focused Scientologists, though, weren't nearly enough to push me over.
We talked briefly about the most fatuous brand of self-help books, the ones which preach self-acceptable before (or even instead) of any actual changes. I raised the 1988 hit "Don't Worry Be Happy" as an example of this philosophy. Grim-faced, he told me that Bobby McFerrin had killed himself just nine weeks ago.
Naturally, when I got to the Grey Region I checked news.google.ca. And guess what? He's still alive. Now, the man wasn't necessarily lying, since Snopes documents an urban myth of long standing of to his suicide:
Even so. One would think that a major, or at least a notable, element of one's outreach routine would have been more adequately researched than this.
Inside, the same guy who read me in September read me again. My hands were fairly dry from the cold, explaining why he found it difficult to pick up my stress levels. He tried to sell me a copy of Dianetics for $C10.95, quoting the precise price after taxes, and I begged him off by pleading that I wouldn't get my paycheck for another week or two. We agreed that focus is something lacking in our lives, granted; his citations of Tom Cruise and John Travolta as focused Scientologists, though, weren't nearly enough to push me over.
We talked briefly about the most fatuous brand of self-help books, the ones which preach self-acceptable before (or even instead) of any actual changes. I raised the 1988 hit "Don't Worry Be Happy" as an example of this philosophy. Grim-faced, he told me that Bobby McFerrin had killed himself just nine weeks ago.
Naturally, when I got to the Grey Region I checked news.google.ca. And guess what? He's still alive. Now, the man wasn't necessarily lying, since Snopes documents an urban myth of long standing of to his suicide:
The 1988 feel-good anthem "Don't Worry, Be Happy" transformed a talented artist into a household name, garnering Grammy honors as song of the year and record of the year, and winning the "best pop vocal, male" award for Bobby McFerrin. It also served to spawn a long-lived rumor: As early as 1992, whispers were afoot that the man who had composed and sung this bouncy little ditty had failed to heed his own advice and had killed himself instead.
Usually those rumors were non-specific, baldly imparted as "He committed suicide," but sometimes the additional detail that he'd shot himself would be provided. The tale was justly ironic and thus much beloved: the man who'd crooned "In every life we have some trouble, but when you worry you make it double" ultimately couldn't stomach what he'd been spooning out to others.
Even so. One would think that a major, or at least a notable, element of one's outreach routine would have been more adequately researched than this.
