Photo: He doesn’t have the stomach for it, nor do I.
The recent article about Scientology reminds me of an ordeal my business endured last year (and it has a car angle).
I have created advertising for the National Western in Denver for the past three years. It is the world’s largest stock show (800,000 attend). Our campaign has made the animals the "Rock Stars of the West." While we’ve had a few run-ins with PETA, we’ve had more trouble with the Scientologists.
It all started when one of our ads claimed that the horses of the Show would be "The Only Stars Not Converting to Scientology"
The Church thought otherwise. Lawsuits were threatened, the ad was pulled, and we got around a personal lashing from Tom Cruise only by agreeing to send the agency to a day of (unpaid) sensitivity training at their HQ in suburban Engelwood.
It was bad.
What made it truly unbearable was the insensitivty of their staff towards my beloved Mustang (real horses scare me, so I drove my car). While we were being walked out of their building to the parking lot, I was treated like Mephistopheles for worshipping such a gas guzzler.
Right.
I’d like to see their puny church choirs match my Cobra Kenny’s awesome pipes.* While I am not sure their churches even have choirs, apparently some Scientologists have little sense of humor.
* I just sold my Cobra "Kenny," but his spirit has not left me. Especially not his heavenly custom-tuned Bassani exhaust.
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