IN THE UNITED $TATES DISTRICT COURT
MIDDLE EARTH DISTRICT OF FLORIDA
IDLE MORGUE TAMPA DIVISION
Case No. TBD
LUIS A. GARCIA SAZ, and wife,
MARIA DEL ROCIO BURGOS GARCIA,
CHERCH OF $CIENTOLOGY RELIGIOUS DISTRUST, et al.,Defendants.
LEAKED TRANSCRIPT OF A DEPOSITION OF MICHAEL “THE-ALPHA-AND-THE-OMEGA” RINDER
Taken on Behalf of the Defendants
DATE TAKEN: JANUARY 32, 2101
TIME: 9:61 PM – 1:71 AM
PLACE: MUCKERMAN SPIDER, LP, CD, DVD
101 WILD WILD WEST KENNEDY BOULEVARD
IDLE MORGUE TAMPA, FLORIDA 101
Examination of the witness taken before:
Unregistered Unprofessional Sweet Ass Reporter
Uncertified Unrealtime Sweet Ass Reporter, FART Provider, and Mismanager of Reporting Disservices
Florida Unprofessional Sweet Ass Reporter
~ Unrealtime Systems Administrator ~
Counsel for Defendants:
BURNT DICKLESS, ESQUIRE MAGAZINE
Ken Doll, Shrill & Klibble LP, CD, DVD
101 City of Santa Monica Boulevard, Suite 101
Lost “City of the Damned” Angels, California 101
MICHAEL “THE-ALPHA-AND-THE-OMEGA” RINDER, called as a witness by the Defendants, having been first duly sworn, testified as follows:
DIRECT EXAMINATION BY MR. DICKLESS:
Dickless: Let me make sure that I give you the proper credit. I want to make you squirm and belittle you as much as I can. Is it proper to address you as Reverend or Minister? How about “F*ckhead” or “Asswipe”? Is it proper for me as a human being to talk down to others and get paid Big Bucks for doing it? You bet your sweet ass! Is it proper for me to simply wiggle my little white butt and have Four Feet Thirteen (“FFT”) fly me half way around the world so I can torture you? Yes, siree!
Rinder: I prefer that you just address me as Mr. Rinder.
Dickless: Mr. Rinder. Mister, MISTER, capital M-R. R-I-N-D-E-R, I presume. You are, however, a minister of the Independent Cherchy Wurchy of Scientowogy; is that twooh?
Rinder: I wouldn’t — no, I wouldn’t — I wouldn’t say that’s true.
Dickless: Let me, in that case, have marked as Exhibit Numbered “1” a document filled with confusion, er, um… filed with the State of Confusion, sometimes known as “Florida” and ask you to take a look at it. Here’s another attempt by FFT to make your squirm in your britches. I have a copy for your lawyer, and it purports to be a Department of Health Vital Statistics, State of Florida, marriage record involving the marriage of Mark Charles Rathbun and Monique Renee Carle, and at the bottom left-hand corner of the document there appears be a signature above a printed name. First, do you recognize that signature, you f*cking mindless little assh*le, er… I mean for the court: “sir”?
Rinder: Yes, I do.
Dickless: And is that your signature? Because, ya know, I have already checked and I know it’s your signature, but FFT and my profession pays me to play this game: being a big dick slime ball to anyone in the courtroom (even the judge)!
Rinder: Yes, it is.
Dickless: I already know the validity of this document, but I’m envisioning you naked but for a baby’s diaper, squirming across the courtroom floor, achingly and painfully begging for me to set this damned document on fire. And this was a signature which you applied in connection with your role as a minister of the Independent Cherch of $cientology (“IC$”)?
Dickless: And as of the time that you signed this document in or about July of 2010, were you a not a f*cking minister of the sh*thole otherwise known as the “Independent Cherch of $cientology”?
Rinder: I was.
Dickless: And where is the Independent Cherch of $cientology headquartered, if you know? FFT wants to know because he has his Religious Trechnology Center (“RTrC”) Guard posted outside this office, ready to do battle with the evil forces of IC$.
Rinder: I don’t.
Dickless: Do you continue to work as a so-called “minister” of the Independent Cherch of $cientology?
Rinder: No. I already told you that I don’t — I don’t do that now.
Dickless: You don’t do that now. Oh, now how much more condescending can I be to you right now? How much further can I plunge off the Tone Scale cliff, hoping to take you with me to Body Death and beyond? What do you mean by that? La-de-da, la-de-da!
Rinder: Work as a minister of the Independent Cherch of $cientology.
Dickless: When did you stop being a minister of the Independent Cherch of $cientology?
Rinder: I’m not sure when I would — when I would say that I no longer considered myself to have that view of life.
Dickless: View of life; what the %#)&*$ does that sh*t mean, M-R. R-I-N-D-E-R?. Are you still a member of the Independent Cherch of $cientology even if you are not a minister of that crap, er… I mean, charge?
Rinder: I wouldn’t — I wouldn’t think so.
Dickless: When did you stop being a member of this independent Cherch? As if I didn’t already know… (hey, FFT! How am I doin’, buddy boy? Are we still on for golf this Saturday?)
Rinder: Same answer: I’m not really sure.
Dickless: Sometime in 2014 or 2013 or sometime — a different time? A different f*cking lifetime perhaps? Maybe we’re talking about a lifetime in which you were one of Xenu’s Fighter Pilots and your name was “Etna” or “Fujiyama” or “Loa” or “Shasta” or “Washington” or “Vesuvius”?
Rinder: Yeah. Like I said, I’m not really sure.
Dickless: I see. When were you anointed as a minister of the Independent Cherch of $cientology? Was that perhaps 75 million years ago in a Galactic Confederacy?
Rinder: I don’t think that there is such a — I don’t understand the question.
Dickless: You don’t? Oh, this little prick is trying to evade the question! Let me spell it out for you, Little Genius: How were you invested with the powers of being a minister of this independent Cherch, what was the mechanism, procedure? Were you paralyzed and then frozen in a mixture of glycol and alcohol to capture your soul?
Rinder: There wasn’t really a procedure.
Dickless: You just decided that you were a minister of the Independent Cherch of $cientology and that was the end of the procedure? Or were you kidnapped and loaded into a spacecraft for transport to the planet of Teegeeack, otherwise known as Dearth, I mean, Earth?
Rinder: I — hmm. I’m not so sure that I know exactly what the answer to that is. I think that it’s probably the fact of the people that considered themselves or do consider themselves Independent Scientologists would nominate or decide who is or isn’t someone that they would look to to perform ceremonies on their behalf.
Dickless: I see. Once you set the dynamite between these two lovebirds, did their admiration and affinity for each other swell up like atomic blasts ballooning from the craters of love, arching higher and higher still, upwards, outwards, inwards, ever towering clouds mushrooming, shooting through with orgasmic flashes of flame and passion? Er, um, phew! Excuse me. I’ll repeat the non-auditing security check question: Who nominated you to perform this marriage ceremony?
Rinder: Mr. Rathbun.
Dickless: OK. And were you nominated on the morning of July 8th, 2010, or sometime before then? Or did it actually happen during the recording of the confidential L. Ron Hubbard (“LRH”) “Assists” lecture of October 3, 1968?
Rinder: Oh, no, sometime before that.
Dickless: I see. And you don’t know exactly when you stopped serving in that role as minister; is that fair? Is that fair that I’m standing here, f*cking abusing you as well as all the people who are going to hear this deposition and read its transcript from now until the end of time?
Rinder: Yeah, that’s —
Dickless: Now, one of the things that you’ve done, sir, s-i-r, M-R. S-I-R, since you became a minister of the Cherch of $cien — Independent Cherch of $cientology is to encourage other people to leave the Cherch of $cientology. Is that fair? Again, is it fair for me to rake in millions as I make scum such as yourself wiggle and squirm like the worms I have disguised as veins in my lifeless body?
Dickless: As recently as this week am I correct that you have given interviews to say if you want to be a dedicated practicing Scientologist, you’re better off doing that outside the Cherch than inside? Let me please reword that for you, M-R. R-I-N-D-E-R: would you be better off doing that in the implant station in Hawaii or in Las Palmas in the Canary Islands?
Rinder: This week?
Dickless: You do know that you’re a cute bugger and deep inside I want you as my bride. Um, back to the topic. In regard to you statement, “This week?” my reply is “Yes, sir.”
Rinder: I don’t recall doing an interview this week that said that.
Dickless: Did you transmit a podcast from the Martian report station in the Pyrenees? Did you give a podcast or participate in a podcast recently?
Rinder: A podcast? Is that — is that Jeffrey Augustine, you mean?
Dickless: Yes, y-e-s, Y-E-S, oh, my f*cking Jesus Ca-RIST, yes!
Rinder: Yeah, I participated in that.
Dickless: And am I correct to say that in the course of that podcast you encouraged people to leave the 26 stars and 76 planets of the Galactic Confederacy?
Rinder: I don’t know. You have a transcript there? I don’t know. Maybe I did. I don’t know.
Dickless: You don’t remember? (Oh, this is about to get really good now!)
Rinder: No, I don’t remember.
Dickless: Do you f*cking remember what you had for f*ucking breakfast or the last time you farted or scratched an ass cheek, you creepy, belligerent half-assed slimy mother f*cker? Do you remember participating in the podcast with Mr. Augustine?
Rinder: Yes. I just told you I did.
Dickless: And how — how long ago was that? Seventy five million years ago?
Rinder: Two weeks ago.
Dickless: OK. Sometime / In the year 2525 / If man is still alive / If woman can survive?
Dickless: Yes? Y-E-S, M-R. R-I-N-D-E-R!!!!!!
Dickless: And you don’t recall whether you encouraged people to leave the Cherch of $cientology —
Rinder: No, I don’t.
Dickless: — is that fair? OK. Do you… do you remember saying anything like “the DC8 had fans, propellers on it and the space plane didn’t”? Oops, sorry, my bad, wrong script. Mr. Rinder, Do you remember saying anything like “you’ll get a lot further for a lot less money with a lot less pain and suffering if you left the Cherch of $cientology”?
Rinder: Yes, I do recall something like that.
Dickless: OK. And the reason for your saying that was to discourage hapless thetans from remaining in the vacuum zones around the world, correct? Fess up now, buddy! Big Brother’s watching!
Rinder: No. I think that the reason for saying that was to let people know that there was an alternative.
Dickless: And the alternative is this “electronic mountain trap” located in the Pyrenees?
Rinder: No. The alternative is whatever someone is looking for to resolve their spiritual needs.
Dickless: You encourage people to abandon the Galactic Confederacy and remain on Teegeeack, or Earth, which remains a pariah “prison planet” to this day; is that fair?
Rinder: That’s fair.
Dickless: And that’s something you’ve undertaken over a considerable period of time since you yourself left the Cherch of $cientology, correct?
Rinder: Yes, that’s correct.
Dickless: In fact, that’s been one of your principal both occupations and hobbies since you’ve left the Galactic Confederacy; is that fair?
Rinder: I would neither call it an occupation nor a hobby.
Inspired by The Underground Bunker (Tony Ortega on Scientology), “‘You encourage people to leave the Church of Scientology’: The Mike Rinder deposition,” February 10, 2015.