Moo Goo Guy Pan

Sneaking Fun Into Scientology Training

This post is in response to the January 30, 2025 poll. Be sure to get your votes in on the poll that ends February 27, 2025.

One if the biggest problems with studying Scientology is that L. Ron Hubbard contradicted himself at every turn. At the start of every course, we had to read the KSW policy about how Scientology was a “deadly serious business.” Two policies or so later in a course, you would run into a policy talked about “the spirit of play.”

By the time I got to some of the highest level of training offered by Salt Lake Mission, the lowest equivalent of elementary school in Scientology training, we were being given a little leeway. This just means we weren’t being watched with such an eagle eye. We were trusted to do things the Scientology way. In this story, I was doing one of dozens of rote drills with my assigned twin, Paul. It involved Paul delivering a command, me originating things that he had to handle, then re-delivering the command.

The English translation of that last paragraph is that Paul was trying to keep me on track, I would bring up things that had nothing to do with what he was asking. He had to acknowledge what I said and steer the conversation the right direction. It was mind numbingly boring.

The person delivering the commands, Paul, was supposed to ask either “do fish swim? or “do birds fly?”

The coach, me, was supposed to answer yes some of the time but most of the time say phrases from “Alice in Wonderland.” On the night in question, I snuck a takeout Chinese menu into my course pack when the tedium became too great. My twin was required not to react when I made random responses. The response was just supposed to be “Thank you. I repeat the auditing question, do fish swim?”

Paul asked “Do fish swim?”

”Moo Goo Gai Pan,” I replied, then “Raised eyebrows, flunk.”

”Do fish swim?”

This time I purposely mutilated subgun wor soup “ummm sum gum war sou up?”

”I repeat the auditing question, bitch, do fish swim?

Welp, that broke both of us. We both busted up laughing. The course supervisor had to intervene because heaven forbid we enjoy ourselves on course. I managed to slam my course pack shut before she caught sight of the menu, which we both continued to use for the remainder of the time I was there.

Two weeks later was Paul’s birthday. I brought his present to course. He had been telling me for the entire prior week about a kitchen accident he had which destroyed his frying pan. Apparently you can’t melt cheese on high in a frying pan for 20 minutes unattended.

So I gave him the only possible gift I could for his birthday: a block of cheese and a blue frying pan. The label on the handle simply said “Moo Goo Guy Pan.”

Sometimes there were short moments of levity in Scientology. I think that’s why I stayed so long.