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The following first appeared in the private email list IVy-subscribers,
which was available to all those who subscribed to the
printed magazine, International Viewpoints. 
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When all else fails
By Phil Spickler
5 Jan 1999
Dear Ant et al,
I should like to make one final effort at winning the first 
unpopularity contest of 1999, and so, being of unsound mind and sick 
body, I do bequeath the following words as my best possible entry in 
the aforementioned contest.  Since entries are required to be 150,000 
words or less, and since brevity is the soul of wit, etc., etc., 
etc., well, here goes.
For some years now, it has been heard from various "sources" that 
comes the revolution, or better days here on earth, we shall all find 
bigger and better games to play.  These games may be off-world, they 
may be games (don't laugh) that will be played without bodies, but 
the important thing is that when all the reactive minds have been 
erased or diminished sufficiently, we shall go on to bigger and 
better games, even though the "sources" who have made statements like 
this seem to be ignoring the actual and well-defined things that make 
up a game, namely, opponents and fighting.
That's right, folks -- whether you're talking about tiddlywinks, 
rugby, football, the Miss Universe contest, the great test matches of 
cricket, World War II, or America's most recent clash with Iraq, or 
H.G. Wells' _War of the Worlds_, games are all about opponents and 
fighting, with something to win and something to lose, and a playing 
field upon which all this might take place.  By gosh, even Life 
itself has been defined by some as a game.  I leave it to each of you 
to figure out who the opponents are, and what they're fighting for. 
But if you do so successfully, you'll probably feel a lot brighter 
than you did before.
Now, most of the time, the "sources" that talk about bigger and 
better and finer games aren't really talking about games; they're 
talking about something where everyone feels a lot better, and 
there's lots of floating tone arms and needles, and everyone's thetan 
or thetans feel all polished and happy and smiley-faced, and nobody's 
doing any fighting, and there are no opponents and no fighting, which 
would be very bad, very Red Zone, very entheta, very not-cricket.  So 
we can dismiss all that blather as just a lot of folks talking who 
don't know what a game is.
The other aspect of this that makes it somewhat ludicrous is, and I 
ask you to imagine for just one moment, that there really are 
deathless thetan immortals -- gods, if you will, in and out of 
disguise -- beings, if that would please you more, who are deathless. 
To continue, ask yourselves for just a moment, what sort of game or 
games do you think such folks would invent to play, being as how 
they're deathless immortals and outside the range of even injury, but 
they do have the ability to postulate and perceive.  Well heck, just 
in case you're being thick tonight and don't get the idea, the kinds 
of games these chaps would invent would be games in which they 
suspended their knowledge of their immortality as fully as possible 
and took on, at whatever cost, the roles and identities of mere 
mortals who could experience pain and the full range of other 
sensations, and who could (thank God!) experience death and oblivion. 
And even if it took trillennia to forget that these folks were really 
immortals, that's what they'd have to do in order to play some real 
games with opponents and fighting and something to have if you win. 
The Greeks in their amazing mythology had all of this quite straight 
-- please read Bulfinch.  This will do much to raise your reality on 
gods and goddesses.         Now along come the deluded, who instead 
of wanting to help these people to pretend to be mortal and simply 
rehabilitate, to one degree or another, their willingness to play a 
game, with opponents, fighting, victory, death, and all the wondrous 
things that are really part of a game, we have mass movements that 
are aiming at blowing folks back into full consciousness of their 
immortality, taking them outside the game, undoing all the hard work 
of the eons and screwing them up for a long time to come, since they 
are no longer fish nor fowl.  In other words, the game has been 
spoiled for them, and yet there's nothing left to do except to go on 
and spoil the game for others, and call that a big wonderful game.
My small mission of some many years ago, with yours truly at the 
helm, had the good or bad fortune, back in the late '60's and early 
70's, to be delivering Dianetic and Scientology services to a fair 
number of American football players here in the San Francisco Bay 
area.  Several of these people, due to my inability to have a better 
understanding of what Ron Hubbard was talking about when he said 
in_Fundamentals of Thought_ that we want to rehabilitate not only the 
sanity or ability of the  individual, but his general capability in 
living and playing the game,  were taken so far in their auditing 
that they ran into touches of their own real or imagined immortality, 
rose to heights of pan-determinism, saw the game of football as a 
pretty stupid unimportant thing with a lot of big physically 
over-enhanced steroidal morons chasing a small ill-shaped ball around 
a small field while kicking the tar out of one another, as tens of 
thousands of crazed mob-ruled maniacs screamed and shouted for the 
blood and death of their opponents; and upon seeing these matters 
through that viewpoint, willed themselves out of the game.  One of 
the biggest and meanest of all actually remembered that he wished to 
be an artist, and so went from bone-crushing to the manly art of 
painting still-lifes.
But without going any further, I'm sure that you get the point, and 
therefore be it known, what you see going on in this world and 
others, past and present, with all the sturm and drang, with all the 
blood, the hate, the venom, the torture, the pain, the destruction, 
the highs, the lows, the passions, the injustice, you name it -- that 
IS the game, and there isn't one that's any better.  So please 
disregard the words of all the false prophets that would have you 
believe that what has been so wonderfully and beautifully created to 
avoid the awful nothingness of pure beingness is somehow not a big, 
beautiful, wonderful, best game of all.  It really is!  And if you or 
your heirs have no further wish to be in that game, it's easy as pie 
to get outside of it any time you want, or get off the wheel, as the 
Buddha is said to have advised, and if you're lucky, you can always 
blink back into it again, and find that it's still going 90 miles an 
hour with tight curves and a precipice on every side.
Thank you for listening.  I hope this entry wins the Most Unpopular 
Person in the Universe contest -- if it doesn't someone will be quite 
disappointed.  Here's to all the best and the worst in the New Year 
-- you can count on it.  Vive la game!  Vive la vie! -- Phil