#sandwich tribunal

[sandwichtribunal]

10 Years of Sandwiches

The Tribunal has been writing about sandwiches for 10 years now, and if we've learned anything, it's to eat more sandwiches!

10 years ago today, on August 21, 2014, I registered the domain sandwichtribunal.com. A Quick Recap I’ve told the story before but essentially, early in 2014 my friends Josh and Thom and I started tweeting pictures of sandwiches at each other, basically bragging about the delicious things we were eating. We started calling ourselves the Sandwich Tribunal in jest. @dodecaphonix @El_Josharino 2…

[unopenablebox]

another tremendous offering from the sandwich tribunal

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

Given the way this game was effectively stolen from its original creators, I can't recommend you purchase it. But if you were to acquire a copy of the game, here are some things you could try to do or see that we didn't in this playthrough:

Get your *shit* together.

Shoot down the body.

Encounter a mysterious pair of eyes.

Hear out Measurehead's race theory.

Jump over the railing to the policeman's cloak.

Find a fourth way into the harbour.

Convince Kim to let you work on his Kineema.

Convince the Deserter that you are a real communist.

Get Kim to wear the jacket. You know the one.

Order a pie.

Find out about another cryptid.

Steal Gaston's sandwich.

Convince Rene you're a war hero.

Recruit a new detective.

Fail the Authority check to convince Titus to listen to you.

Succeed at dodging the first shot in the tribunal.

Fail to save Ruby.

Fail to save Kim.

Become THE ICEBREAKER.

Truly embody the spirit of Kraz Mazov.

Visit the fair.

Organize a committee.

Re-conceptualize yourself.

Buy the lamppost from Roy.

Throw away Dora's letter.

Cause a shitstorm.

Recover your address.

Learn the victim's real name.

Call in sick.

Discover what Kim wanted to be when he grew up.

Arrest Klaasje.

Figure out what kind of animal you want to be.

[geigenklang1]

AUTHORITY - The bonds between officers -- partners -- are *paramount*. That's how trust is built. Trust saves lives.

This is supposed to be a funny scene where you convince Kim to share sandwich with you, but in hindsight, I'm actually touch by this Authority line. Because later during the tribunal, it is an Authority check, and it is *trust* that saves Kim's life.

[princess-of-the-corner]

New official Wizards sequel dropped yesterday. Here's what we learned from the first episode. Spoilers ahead.

Justin got fired as headmaster of WizTech because of the 'Unicorn Incident' and gave up teaching wizards after that. He's now the principal of his sons' middle school. He has also never told his wife or sons that he is a wizard, and neither of his sons have magic.

Max, who inherited the Waverly Sub Station at the end of the original series, has turned it into a billion-dollar sandwich shop franchise.

Alex is now on the Wizard Council, which this series is calling the Tribunal.

Billie, the new main character, is apparently part of a rather cliche prophecy that she will stop the end of the world, hence why Alex needs Justin to teach her after all her other teachers gave up on her.

Wait what do you mean Justin's kids don't have Magic? How does that happen?

Justin getting fired is kinda bullshit like there was a Whole Thing™ about how he was so valuable to the world of Magic that he was allowed to keep his powers despite losing the competition.

Also they really did the 'super rebellious character with a dislike of authority is now part of The System™' bit huh. Hopefully this is Alex less 'ah this is a good career path for me!' and more 'if I want to make changes for the better I unfortunately have to game the system'

Good for Max tho

Also bruh why do we need some Prophecy can't we just have this annoying child like 'hey teach me Magic!!!"

[mariacallous]

What do you think of when you hear the word “liverwurst?” Many people think of something gross, usually liver (which, although pooh-poohed by Americans, is very popular in many cuisines across the world). Then there’s the German word “wurst” (meaning “sausage”), which sounds exactly like the English word for something that’s the least likable, the most inferior. Even translated fully into English (liver sausage), it sounds horrendous. 

Beyond its name, liverwurst is a paté, which makes most Americans squeamish. It’s made from offal, the internal organs (heart, liver, kidney, brain) and entrails (stomach and intestines) of a butchered animal — usually pork. Liverwurst is mentioned in the 1987 Chicago Tribune article titled “The Foods You Love to Hate,” and even with the rising popularity of charcuterie and nose-to-tail eating, liverwurst hasn’t gained traction in the U.S.

Despite Americans’ aversion to liverwurst, I love it. For me, it provokes feelings of adoration and nostalgia. I grew up eating liverwurst and associate it with one of the most important people in my life: my grandmother, Tutu. For the record, my kids love it, too.

One of my most cherished childhood memories is of eating liverwurst in Tutu’s San Francisco apartment. My grandparents were German Jewish exiles who barely escaped Nazi Germany in 1938. They arrived first in Honolulu, where they lived for three years until Pearl Harbor; that’s where the name “Tutu” came from — it’s Hawaiian for grandmother. They settled in San Francisco in 1975. I was born the following year.

Although I grew up eating liverwurst, my parents never fed it to me; it was a treat (along with Barbies, paper dolls, and My Little Ponies) reserved for Tutu’s house. Unlike many grandmas, Tutu wasn’t much of a cook — she much preferred to have family celebrations at restaurants — so her kitchen rarely smelled of sumptuous food preparation. But Tutu always made sure her grandkids’ favorite store-bought foods were available when we visited: hard boiled eggs (always sliced with an old-school slicer, which I later inherited), Stove Top, chocolate pudding and sprinkles, and a fresh pack of liverwurst.

At some point, I internalized the idea that it wouldn’t be cool for me to bring a liverwurst sandwich to school — the other kids would have turned their noses up in disgust. But that didn’t stop me from enjoying my liverwurst on toast under safe cover at Tutu’s house. She would even cut off the end of the Farmer John liverwurst tube when she opened a new package and save it for me for the next time I was at her house — she knew I loved scooping out the meaty, smooth spread from its snug, hemispheric encasing and eating it directly, even before I put it on bread or crackers!

The fact that liverwurst was a staple at Tutu’s house also taught me about the cultural specificities of our German Jewish ancestry. After all, liverwurst isn’t a thing other Jewish kids eat — it’s a quintessentially German product. It was also a symbol of the fact that German Jews had been well-integrated into German society before the Nazis came to power; they had attained economic success and weren’t as marginalized as other European Jewish groups were. They were also more secular than other Jews, likely because they came to understand that being less observant might help them avoid the stigma of being Jewish and fit into German society better. German Jews were culturally quite German, which set them apart in certain ways from other Ashkenazi Jews who emigrated to the U.S. in the early 20th century. This specific history explains why, although Tutu held very negative feelings about Germany, she still carried on German traditions, like eating liverwurst. 

Liverwurst represents my cultural heritage, my family history, and the unique traditions of German Jews. Continuing to eat it is one of the ways I honor Tutu and pass down our traditions to my own children. I feed it to my kids — spread on toast or crackers — partly as a way of teaching them about their family history, but also because, despite popular opinion, liverwurst is delicious!  

We all know kids: if they think something is gross they’ll refuse to eat it. But my eight-year-old son asks for liverwurst. He still doesn’t remember its weird name so when he wants it, he asks for “Starburst.” My daughter is only two and can’t yet ask for it by name. But I can only hope that, like her namesake — her middle name is Hilda, Tutu’s given name — she will love liverwurst as much as I do.  

[fearthereaperx]

WHERE: Sons of Silence Clubhouse WITH: @nathaniel-donovan

In the midst of a club sized wound being ripped wide open once again, not only with the most recent Tribune article but with her nephew entrusting her with the truth of what had happened with the bomber, Laura had damn well doubled her presence at the clubhouse. She’d done it for a myriad of reasons, ranging far and wide from the club needing endless support to her nephew sinking to the absolute lowest she’d ever seen him, sparking this inherent need of hers to try and raise him up in any way she could. Today, she was stockpiling the fridge with enough to keep the club fed for the week, but she was also using it as an opportunity to check in and get a glimpse of where she was needed most. Parking her Bronco just outside the clubhouse, she stepped down from the driver’s side and opened up the back, revealing several covered dishes that would take her a couple trips to manage on her own. But then she spotted Nate and whistled loud, hoping to catch his attention and wrangle him into helping her. “Hey, honey– you mind helping me carry some of this shit inside?” She needed help with everything, and she realized it’d been a while since she’d checked in with him specifically– in her mind, it was two birds, one stone. “I brought some sandwiches, lasagna, a couple pies,” she explained, gesturing over at the dishes. “Got some fresh sweet tea too– sometimes I think Cole’s the only one that loves this shit, but oh well,” not that he’d really had much of an eye for anything as of late, but Laura hoped the sweet tea might be an exception. "Anyway, you got a second to help?"

[bethanydelleman]

This might be my favourite funny part in all of Jane Austen’s novels, and it’s just even better considering how we have parties today:

Mrs. Weston proposed having no regular supper; merely sandwiches, &c., set out in the little room; but that was scouted as a wretched suggestion. A private dance, without sitting down to supper, was pronounced an infamous fraud upon the rights of men and women; and Mrs. Weston must not speak of it again.

-Emma, V2 Ch11

You mean... a buffet? A buffet is an infamous fraud upon the rights of men and women? How dare Mrs. Weston even think of such a thing! It sounds like my human rights have been violated for years and years. This is basically every Super Bowl party I’ve been to in my adult life!

Summon the tribunal!

[ahsokaanakinrexorobi-wan]

DURING ORDER 66

*Stitches's comlink go's off*

Stitches: you spin me right round baby right round like a record baby right round

*Stitches takes his helmet off clips it to his kama and answers his comlink*

Palpatine: Execute order 66

Stitches: *hangs up*

*Stitches makes a sandwich and starts walking through the tribunal*

*stitches walks into the hanger*

Stitches: what the fuck is happening here

*a blaster shot hits stitches's sandwich*

Stitches: looks like it's time to kill the jedi

Rex: what

*Stitches shoots at ahsoka and ahsoka deflects the shot*

Stitches: I'm sleepy

*stitches lays down on the ground and goes to sleep*

[thislovintime]

Peter Tork, early 1980s (photo 2 taken in Japan).

“In addition to the [Studio 19] club shows, Tork and his band will play Sunday night [March 21, 1982] at Peaches Records in Clearwater at 6:30, 7:30 and 8:30 p.m. The Peaches shows were added because many of Tork’s fans are too young to be admitted into the club, said a spokesman for Studio 19.” - The Tampa Tribune, March 19, 1982

“Last weekend in Clearwater, Tork and his new band, The New Monks, broke up. Until then, his latest comeback attempt had been rolling along smoothly during the last 18 months. […] The breakup resulted from poor attendance at two Studio 19 concerts, an abruptly canceled canceled gig last Sunday and a flare-up resulting from an on-going friction between band and management, Tork said earlier this week. ‘It was the culmination of a long, slow descent,’ he explained. ‘It’s been a struggle. I thought things had been getting better.’ However, drummer Vince Barranco recently said that the band’s split-up is not final, just in limbo, pending working out problems with management. ‘Oh, it’s further out than limbo,’ Tork said. ‘The band is not intact, and not functioning.’ Calling from a pay phone at a YMCA in New York City, where he works out regularly, Tork said his trip to Florida, which coincided with the annual Monkees Fan Club Convention last week in Largo, has left him in less-than-enviable financial shape.
 He said the band members claim they did not get paid for the Clearwater concerts. ‘I’m broke,’ he said flatly. ‘I cannot buy a sandwich. Well, I can, but it’ll stop me from eating for two days.’ Tork said only bass player Paul Ill has served official notice of quitting the band. The rest are ‘not too anxious to get back to work,’ he said. Barranco, pianist Tom Myers and guitarist Phil Simon remained in Clearwater last week waiting to get paid for last weekend’s concerts from the promoter, Barranco said, adding that the break-up is not based on personal hostilities. ‘Peter’s a nice guy and all,’ Barranco said. ‘It’s strictly business. ‘I’m game (to rejoin) if everything’s comfortable,’ he said, noting relations between management and band members would first have to be cleared up. […] ���When I left the Monkees, I found that I was not grounded,’ [Tork] said, referring to his lack of dues-paying and basic music industry know-how. ‘I wanted to learn the trade from the bottom to the top. In California, you can’t do that — there’s no middle ground.’ The small turnout at the Clearwater shows made him question his career direction. ‘I asked myself, “Do I not draw?” Maybe I overplayed my own value,’ he mused, ‘or maybe it’s Reaganomics.’ Due to cost of traveling, The New Monks have been giving small, well-received performances only in Boston, New Jersey and New York, shows featuring Tork on banjo and guitar. […] ‘Some reviews said “don’t do any Monkees material,“ some said “do only Monkees material,”’ Tork said. ‘We decided to call our own shots, but we don’t have enough consistency or experience.’’ […] [During Monkeemania] separating the musicians from the characters on the show was almost impossible. Cast as the dunce, Tork’s character undermined his formidable musical talent. ‘The Peter Tork character reached a lot of people,‘ he said. ‘He was an outcast — he lurched around, not getting hurt by his own bumbling idiocy.’ The character had a built-in protection system — that dumbfounded, naive look — that appealed to everyone, he said. One of Tork’s fondest Monkee memories came during a break in the filming for the pilot of their first TV episode, in which they had been pretending to play instruments. ‘We got them to give us power in the amps and we just started playing,’ he recalled, ‘and everybody started dancing.’ However, Tork is most proud of the second stage [of Monkees history], circa 1967. On ‘Headquarters,’ their third album, the group, for the first time, played almost all of the instruments. Other personal favorites from that period include ‘Pleasant Valley Sunday’ and ‘Goin’ Down,’ a one-take jam released only on the flip side of ‘Daydream Believer.
’ […] [I]n 1978, Tork started easing back into show business, circulating his picture in hopes of landing a spot on a sit-com but drawing few offers. 
After a brief stint as a strictly oldies act, he founded The New Monks, ‘and now here I am, broke in New York City,’ he said. But the 38-year-old [sic] singer is far from calling it quits. ‘I’m going to keep plugging,‘ he vowed. ‘I’m not done — this is my craft, my trade.’” - The Tampa Tribune, March 27, 1982

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 26: Last

Content Warning: Mention of beheading, lack of eating

Esredes had been acting strangely since he came into the office later in the morning. The Tribunal had called him for a session in the morning, and while he normally at least greeted his team's coworkers if they were in, he didn't acknowledge them at all. Magdelaine and Alvere had both tried to say hello to him at different points, but he only muttered back a hi and left the room.

Now that he was back to his office, he only relaxed a little in the comfort of it. He took out today's newspaper and instead of setting it on the side of his desk, he threw it directly into the trash, and got to work. And unlike what happened at the Tribunal, he randomly emerged from his office at multiple points to go down and across the hall, telling Heilyn and Ferrant both he appreciated them a lot and what they did for him.

To top it off, when lunch hour came, he didn't re-emerge from his office. This prompted Heilyn to check in on him. He came in and put a half sandwich and bowl of soup on his desk. "Hey." He said. "It's fine if you don't want to come eat in the breakroom, but at least eat while you're doing it. Esredes looked up at Heilyn, then at the food, and winced a little. "I'm feeling a persistent sense of nausea today." He offered. "Can't eat. Not feeling it." Heilyn's look grew concerned. He closed the door to the office and pulled up a chair. "Hey, wanna talk about it? I don't keep up with the news, learn most of it from folks at the workshop chattering away while doing their crafts. Clearly something's got you though and... I can go, we talk, or I can just stay and keep you company so you're not alone. Take your pick." "Mmm." Esredes said, finally sighing. "So you didn't read the newspaper." Heilyn shook his head. "Nah, fell out of the practice in Ul'dah. Too depressing in a city of greedy money-lovers as a low-income house. Learned what I needed to about local events in the market, and little Ala always brought home the good stories." Usually Esredes skimmed through the newspaper, but today, front and center as the headliner, they had elected to print about a recent execution. An infamous and highly wanted for years criminal had finally met his end by the sword, and the paper discussed how joyous of an occasion it was, and how the streets were now safer. "My appetite went away." He said. "Can't eat. Waiting for it to come back. When it does, I'll eat." Heilyn's ear twitched. There was silence for a moment. "Hey, if you need to miss the party this evening, that's okay. Just know that you are supported. No matter what happened, I'm going to have your back. Just make sure you are taking care of yourself, alright?" "The...? Oh gods. I forgot about the party." Fuck. "No, no, I'm not skipping it or anything. I just won't eat."

The building's custodian was retiring, and Ferrant arranged for a going away party near the end of the workday. Esredes wouldn't miss it for anything- keeping two rooms clean for him, especially the blue room, was not an easy task, and he was forever grateful for it. So when four rolled around, he stopped working and joined his coworkers in the break room. There was cake, and he still didn't touch it, but he smiled and put on an upbeat demeanor, continuing his thankful and appreciative words from earlier with everyone else as they thanked a beloved employee for his work and wished him well in retirement.

When the workday ended, Esredes didn't immediately have plans. Usually that was a blessing for him to go home, but he didn't want to, not today. Instead, he immediately linkpearled around his friends, taking care to avoid anyone who was in any way part of the military before the war ended, to see who was available to go out as he changed out of his work clothes in the bathroom. While putting his work clothes back in his bag, he came across his badge for the Sky Vigil, which was always on him somewhere just in case Temple Knights tried to stop him. More specifically, he came across the back of it, which listed if he could donate blood and his next of kin, Seraphiaux Rosemond. And then he covered it with his work shirt.

Fortunately for himself, several friends responded to his call and agreed to come with him to one of those Empyreum startup bars. At the bar, the same question came up when others ordered food with their drinks and he didn't: are you going to have anything, Esredes? But he shook his head and said he wasn't hungry. His appetite might just rival his neck for the most fragile part of his body. Like he had done with his coworkers earlier, he told all of his friends who came he appreciated them. Some of them found it a little odd, others hugged him or squeed his name in joy in response. The night went on and on as the group chattered, about everything going on in their lives. Weddings, getting engaged, new job or life opportunities, children for the couple people in the group who had them, and what they were doing for Valentione's Day. He came in and out of the conversation, but it seemed the group noticed he was off. They kept asking his opinion on things, they turned the conversation to him on multiple points, they teased him in good faith and he retaliated with even more teasing. By the end of the outing, he had managed to steal a few pieces of an appetizer that no one stopped him from taking.

It was late when he said goodbye and went home. Esredes did some brief candlelight reading in bed, then drew the covers over himself. As he'd calculated, he was tired enough to pass out without thinking too much, and for a small mercy, he didn't have nightmares. In the morning, he would wake up, and send a silent thank you- to what he didn't know, but he did- as he rose and got ready for work. Some days were harder than others to get out of bed, but today he felt exceptionally light. He didn't linger in bed at all, instead springing right up. Today was a new day, and he'd rise to face it for whatever it was.

[sandwichtribunal]

The North Shore 3-Way

"The main draws of the sandwich are a great pile of rare, juicy roast beef and that vinegary, savory, very mildly sweet James River barbecue sauce, but it wouldn't be a 3-Way without the mayo and cheese." The North Shore 3-Way

There are a lot of great roast beef sandwiches across the US. Some of them we’ve covered already: Upstate New York’s Beef on Weck is an all-time great, and of course Chicago’s Italian Beef is one of my personal favorites. Maryland’s Pit Beef sandwich is a delicious option we haven’t explored fully enough here at the Tribunal, and there are plenty of hot beef sandwiches–whether they’re called…

[unopenablebox]

is sable actually just a jewish thing? do people not know what sable is? sandwich tribunal guy managed to only learn what it was in 2017 apparently which has really shaken my assumptions here

[wherewhereare]

JJ is more Clints friend I believe. He likes to flash his wealth, i get the feeling he buys his friends with things like footing the bill for elaborate hunts even though those guys are millionaires and not billionaires. I don’t like him. I’ve seen some very disgusting pictures of him with dead animals. Run Blake!

Fact check: Jimmy John's founder hunted big game before he sold chain (usatoday.com)

Hunting Report, which keeps an online database of hunt reports and related articles, documented several of Liautaud’s hunts. The last hunt listed on its website took place in South Africa between March 26 and April 4, 2004. On that hunt, the major game killed included a rhino and lynx.

You can read the entire article, but this is the summation.

Our rating: Partly false

We rate the claim that the owner of Jimmy John’s uses his money from the sandwich chain to kill endangered animals as PARTLY FALSE, as some of it was not supported by our research. The sandwich shop’s founder, Jimmy John Liautaud, no longer owns the sandwich chain. Liautaud did hunt big game, but has not done so for years. 

Our fact-check sources:

Chicago Tribune, "Jimmy John's founder opens up on expansion, big game hunting, possible IPO"

Hunting Report, "Search Results for 'Liautaud'"

Hunting Report, "Hunting Report 4027"

Inspire Brands' website

Inspire Brands, "Inspire Brands Completes Acquisition of Jimmy John’s"

USA TODAY (Associated Press), "The owner of Arby's acquires Jimmy John's Sandwiches"

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Ex-Moonie recounts his life as a follower of the Rev. Moon

Chicago Tribune March 1979

By Michael Hirsley

One week, he was a Yale University graduate with a bachelor of arts degree in psychology and philosophy, considering graduate school and beginning summer vacation in Berkeley, Calif.

The next week, he was on a farm with his new friends, jumping and pumping his arms up and down while chanting, “Choo-choo-choo-choo,” like a “choo-choo” train in a sort of rural Romper Room gone wrong.

After four weeks, he called his parents to assure them he was doing well. Within six months, his new California friends had become his only family.

He turned over to them his earnings from selling flowers, then from washing dishes, while settling for peanut butter sandwiches as nourishment, and four hours for sleep. Once, he sneaked away and bought himself a glass of milk and a cookie. After he finished them, his shame was instant. He threw up.

Why would a 22-year-old man with a college education begin acting like a child, pliantly follow orders and work for next to nothing, and be unable to eat a cookie in solitude without feeling like a traitor?

He met them that first week in Berkeley. A man who had been kind enough to direct him to a hotel invited him to dinner. There, he met the group.

“They didn't say anything about being a religious group. They were friendly and paid incredible attention to everything I told them about myself,” Edwards says. ‘‘I liked the atmosphere better than social hours in college.”

But still, it is disquieting to imagine that someone like Christopher Edwards — who still fits the Ivy League image in a vested suit, and still looks like a college student as he sips a cup of coffee in a Chicago hotel room — “gave” his soul temporarily to a cult.

His credentials are non-radical, middle-of-the-road: Son of a doctor, member of an upper middle class family, spent summers traveling in this country and in Europe... Was he really the typical college graduate he seemed to be when he became a Moonie?

“What’s typical?” he asks. “One of the last memories I have of college is sitting with a friend and watching (on television) the last troops leave Vietnam. I was somewhat disillusioned with the war and our society.”

He said his peers in the Moonies included many white, middle-class, college-educated men and women in their early 20s.

“There are people who are more susceptible to a religious group like this, people coming out of college, a little disillusioned, looking for a loving community,” he says. “But I really fight the notion that something has to be wrong with you to get involved in a group like this. I think only an extremely selfish, narrow-minded person would not be susceptible.”

He accepted the group’s invitation to go to the farm in California for the weekend. Once there, he ignored guards at the front gate, the silly “choo-choo” game and the fact that “someone followed me everywhere I went, even to the bathroom.”

Edwards admits he found those things “silly and embarrassing, and very odd, but they seemed harmless. I thought theirs was a simplicity that could be trusted.”

And, he concedes, that as a psychology student, “part of my motivation for staying was pure curiosity. Their tactics attracted me.”

His early days with the group consisted of repetitive exercises and lectures in which “you were praised for following directions and accepting repetitive boring speeches without questioning them,” he says. “I felt confident that I couldn’t be manipulated, but I was.”

Those childish games and dogmatic speeches were exercises to break down resistance to brainwashing, he says. “I was put in a hypnotic state,” he says. “I was in a trance.”

For nearly four months, his parents — Dr. Charles Edwards. a surgeon, and his wife, Betty, of Montclair, N. J. — were blissfully unaware of what was happening to their son. It wasn’t unusual to hear little from him when he was traveling on his vacation.

Even a letter, in which he described to them his work with a Creative Community Project in Oakland, caused them no anxiety until they saw the project name again in a newspaper article.

“It was about a meeting for parents who had lost their children to cults. It indicated that Christopher’s project was part of the Rev. Sun Myung Moon’s Unification Church, the Moonies,” Dr. Edwards said in a phone conversation from his New Jersey office. “We were shocked.”

The Edwards attended the meeting, and were shocked anew. “It was supposed to be a one-hour meeting, from 3 p.m. to 4 p.m.,” Dr. Edwards recalled. “It lasted until 8 p.m. There were over 500 parents there.” Unification Church membership is estimated at 80,000.  [There were never more than about 10,000 core members in the US and many of those were imported from Japan and Europe. If everyone who ever had any connection with the UC was counted the number of 30,000 might have been reached decades ago.]

After the meeting, the Edwards’ contacted Ted Patrick, the controversial “deprogrammer” who assists parents in kidnapping their children from the Moonies.

“Patrick had a three-and-a-half month waiting list,” Dr. Edwards said. While he waited for Patrick’s call, he read everything he could about the Moonies.

In January of 1976, Dr. Edwards met with Patrick to plot Christopher’s kidnaping.

The doctor closed his practice for three weeks. He flew to California, found his son after considerable searching, and said he just wanted to be sure Christopher was all right.

“I met him in a coffee shop were he worked,” Dr. Edwards said. “I saw all these kids there walking around with passive looks and mechanical movements. I thought they were in a trance, and I have had some training in hypnosis.

“I didn't say anything against the cult, and I was invited to lunch the next day. I watched recruiting techniques used on me. They looked me in the eye and spoke lovingly, flatteringly, and made me feel important.

The next day, Patrick and assistants helped Dr. Edwards pull his son out of a car and away from a fellow group member.

Dr. Edwards said the weeks of deprogramming that followed — including plane fares for five deprogrammers and assistants and a detective after the family received threatening phone calls and suffered two break-ins at their home — cost “tens of thousands of dollars.”

Christopher Edwards now lectures on cults, and has written a book about his experiences, entitled, “Crazy for God.”

“Its just coincidental that my book is coming out just when Guyana and Jonestown are making us worry about cults,” Edwards says.

“The People’s Temple suicides in Jonestown and thereafter; and an “informal” congressional hearing on cult worship last month; are heightening public anxiety about cults.

Edwards’ book provides fuel for such concern, citing mechanical movements, glassy eyes, and loss of intelligence and initiative as changes which cult members undergo hypnosis.

In one small section, where Edwards expresses hope that “a psychological test will one day emerge to verify these changes,” the book provides a scary glimpse at the potential for “psycho-war” between cults and deprogrammers.

“I fought against the deprogrammers for quite a while, and I told them I would die for my cult friends and leaders,” Edwards says “That still worries me a great deal.”

__________________________________

Crazy for God: The nightmare of cult life by Christopher Edwards

The Social Organization of Recruitment in the Unification Church PDF  
 by David Frank Taylor, M.A., July 1978, Sociology

Moonwebs by Josh Freed (the book was made into a movie)

__________________________________

Unification Church’s deceptive recruiting tactics - Part 1

4:00 Ford Greene “At the outset there is never a disclosure: 1) We are the Unification Church
 2) We believe that Rev. Moon is the second coming of Christ
 3) We believe that you are dominated by Satan 
4) The way for you to become free from Satan is by being unconditionally obedient to Moon because he is the only human being who has ever conquered and defeated Satan.”

1:30 Allen Tate Wood
“…The purpose of getting there is to get them off to a training center, run them through a training regimen of 7, 21 or 40 days. When that is complete that person is going to be on a bus for the next seven years, working 16 hours a day. They are not up front about that.”

Unification Church’s deceptive recruiting tactics - Part 2 5:00 Ford Greene:
 “The pitch that is always made is a pitch to conscience, is a pitch to a person’s highest, most moral inner yearnings and the ultimate result is enslavement.”

__________________________________

Ford Greene on Sun Myung Moon and the Unification Church

Allen Tate Wood (was also interviewed by News Center 4) LINK to a webpage of interviews with Allen Tate Wood

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Day 4 of vacation!

Slept in today, as I had no tickets until the afternoon.

Had a Chicago style hot dog for lunch at a gimmicky restaurant called Devil Dogs. It was tasty, and a good mix of crisp veggies and soft hotdog. (I picked the peppers off because I don't like spicy food.)

Then it was off to the Shedd Aquarium!

I didn't get pictures of the Pacific white sides dolphins, but it was a wonderful show. Not very long, but the presenter explained dolphins while the dolphins jumped and tail walked and such.

I did get a pic of one of the belugas, only like 5 feet from me!

They have a starfish touch tank, and I let a few starfish. Most of the starfish were on the far side of the tank, and the docent said the starfish are smart enough to know that means they won't get poked as much.

The Amazon wing is nice, and has alligators and parrots and an anaconda in addition to the fish.

And the Mata Mata turtle, as seen on the center pic.

The downstairs coral reef is very nice, with lots of live coral and pretty fish and eight foot long sharks and giant models of coral polyps.

I just had to share with you the best shrimp species name. You go, sexy shrimp.

The sturgeon touch tank is very fascinating. Sturgeon live in fresh water, live for decades, and basically haven't evolved in several million years. I got to feel the bony spine of one.

After the Shedd I went to Luke's for an Italian beef sandwich (structurally similar to a French dip, but the kitchen dips it for you.) It was delicious and greasy and the place wasn't crowded at all, even at 6 on a Saturday.

I saw The Bean (aka cloud gate). Top photo is underneath the arch of the bean, the curved mirror is very fun.

I did some sunset architecture appreciation at the Chicago Tribune, an intricately carved 1920's building that originally housed a newspaper.

Also the Tribune building has random rocks and bricks from other places stuck in it. Off the top of head it has pieces of Lincoln 's tomb, Chimney Rock, the Parthenon, the Forbidden City in Beijing, the Sydney Opera House, Notre Dame, the original World Trade Center, and a few dozen others. No, I don't know why.

The wings are by a Mexican artist and are traveling to different cities to be displayed, as a statement of welcome to immigrants. A lot of people were taking pics in them, but I think the wings look cool empty.

Watched a busker who passionately played a violin while playing recorded piano music from a speaker, which I think is a great way to accompany songs.