Biased Journalism Vol. 2, issue 22

Copyright 1996 Shelley Thomson; all rights reserved.

Mail, articles and comment may be directed to Netiquette will be observed with all communication, except for the following: harassing or threatening mail will be posted to the net immediately.

Table of Contents for Biased Journalism.

Biased Journalism Volume 2, issue 22 December 6, 1996.


  1. The Big Chill: the Church Handles Martin Hunt
  2. My Father: a Joe Horn essay
Read at your own risk. This is Biased Journalism!

1. The Big Chill: the Church Handles Martin Hunt

Readers of alt.religion.scientology know Martin Hunt very well, the witty and intelligent critic who signs his posts "cogito ergo sum." In the middle of the week silence suddenly fell. The files vanished from Hunt's web page. 67 of his posts were erased by cancellations apparently emanating from his account. He refused to answer his telephone.

A net.citizen in California telephoned the local (Canadian) police and persuaded them to check. The police reported that Hunt was all right. Immediately after their visit the concerned citizen received a letter.

We apologize for the breach of netiquette, but we think that this letter should be seen.

 ---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Fri, 6 Dec 1996 20:24:18 -0500 (EST)
From: Martin G. V. Hunt <>
To: xxxxxxx
Cc: Nobody.@freenet
Subject: None.

Mr. Xxxxx,

This is to inform you that two Victoria municipal
policewomen contacted me.

I wish no more contact of any kind with you or anyone 
else in this regard ever again, and no explanation 
will be ever be offered.

I am no longer a critic of the Church of Scientology.

                                   Martin Hunt.

Cogito, ergo sum.

Some three hours apparently elapsed between Hunt's last post and the wave of cancellations. What happened to Martin Hunt during those three hours?

We may never know. Hunt has chosen silence, and his choice must be honored. But if we _could_ know, we feel that the church of scientology has something very serious to answer for.

2. Veteran's Day: My Dad

I remember my dad. I was barely five when he held me in his arms that last time, bounced me on his knee, wearing that white uniform. I remember the smell of old spice, brown, leathery, sunburned skin and I remember that his eyes had great sadness and tears in them. I guess he knew that he would never see us again.

He died in a Kamikaze attack March 19, 1945 aboard the Carrier Franklin. His remains and effects were never found. His death destroyed my family, and made my mother insane, refusing to acknowlege my and my younger brother's existence. My brother and I were raised by our Grandpa, who came back from being a metallurgist at Oak Ridge, Tennessee and effectively used the rest of his remaining life and his retirement savings to raise me and my little brother.

We got thru school, my little brother and I, enlisting regular army and ultimately both ending up in Southeast asia, in the wrong and corrupt Viet Nam war, not fighting for America so much as fighting for our brothers and sisters who were already there. We both survived two tours each. We always think of our Dad, whom we miss all the more terribly because we never had him, really. My Father, whom my younger brother doesn't remember and our children and their children cannot even conceive of him or what he was like. In addition to losing his young life and future, this was the greatest price my Dad paid, to be unremembered by his grandchildren and youngest son, his only memory ultimately being a collective memory that fades and dies with the last participant or victim of that war. We will never know the full price we paid because we never really had him with us. I only know that WWII destroyed much more than countryside, buildings and faceless soldiers. Like all wars, it destroyed countries, families, lives, minds, and futures.

I miss you, Dad, and I pray and hope we have not shamed you or belittled your sacrifice in the way we have led our lives as Americans. I always try to remember you every day. Please rest in peace. I'll always miss you.

"Out of the depths I have cried unto thee, O Lord. Lord, hear my voice...."
Psalm 130
WWII Naval Casualty list: 56,206 Dead, 80,259 wounded, 8,967 missing.

Joe Horn

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