Of course, by now you’ve heard of the tragic death of Jett Travolta, 16-year-old son of actors John Travolta and Kelly Preston.

While doing some research on the boy this morning (I knew nothing about him), I was startled to find significant press about his affliction, which the Travoltas maintained was Kawasaki disease, brought on by fumes from carpet cleaner (how they arrived at this conclusion, or who exactly made the diagnosis remains a mystery, at least with regard to the research I’ve done thus far).

My absolute worst nightmare is losing one of my children. I cannot imagine the horror, the grief, the endless tears (and, as would be in my case, temporary assignment to the psych ward), the feelings of guilt and “If only I’d…” It’s all so ghastly to me, I have trouble even thinking about it. I have only sympathy for Jett’s parents and extended family. I can imagine no greater tragedy.

But, even in the wake of this horrible accident, the Scientology correlations are inevitable — especially the ones that draw attention to Jett’s autistic characteristics, and the fact that Scientology does not recognize autism as a “real” disorder. You cannot Google “Jett Travolta” without seeing them. I have to confess, it does make me wonder.

I’ll come right out and say that I believe Scientology — like many other religions, including some groups calling themselves “Christian” — is a cult. My family and a few close friends know my struggles with the organized church, and how I believe that some radical offshoots of fundamentalist Christianity can brainwash their followers, just like the occasional nutters in Islam, Judaism, Catholicism and other religions (and if you believe otherwise, you’re probably brainwashed yourself).

But Scientology pretty much takes the wackjob cake for me, as revealed in my post about it several weeks ago. The more I read about it, the more weirded out I became. And friend, you can read dirt about Scientology for a long, long, long time. And honestly — can you make out what this guy is saying?

I won’t provide any direct links here, but doing a search on the boy’s name with the added term “autism” or “Scientology” will reveal some provocative — and troubling — reading.

Crap. I hate it when kids die. My heart goes out to Jett’s parents, regardless of whatever else is said.

Fink out.

This is the kind of story that, when you read it or hear it, you smile and go, “Get outta here.” In other words, you don’t believe it. But it is undeniably, embarrassingly, head-shakingly true.

Remember the lawsuit filed against a dry cleaner by that rookie judge in Washington DC? The cleaner lost the judge’s suit pants, and the guy flipped out and sued them.

Well, the Mother of All Frivolous Lawsuits (and as you know, fiends, that is a tough title to win, since frivolous lawsuits rule the American justice system) is in the news again, and once more, it appears to have received its walking papers. The guy just can’t let it go.

According to this article at CNN.com, the appellate court told wackjob judge Roy Pearson (he has since been relieved of his duties) to get over it and go away. However, considering this nut’s history, that’s not likely to happen until he’s told to go away by the US Supreme Court. (And yes, it’s totally possible that our court system will allow it to go that far.)

Anyone with half a brain can see that his lawsuit — to the tune of $67 million for losing a pair of suit pants — was insane. You actually have to read it to believe it. From the Wall Street Journal:

He wanted $500,000 for emotional distress and–though representing himself–$542,000 in legal fees. Best of all, he claimed that the signs on display at Custom Cleaners, “Satisfaction Guaranteed” and “Same Day Service,” were fraudulent, entitling him to damages of $1,500 each per day under D.C. consumer law. He multiplied 12 violations by three defendants by 1,200 days, and soon was up over $65 million (later cut to a mere $54 million).

And here’s the kicker. The dry cleaner (the Chung family, South Korean immigrants trying to establish an American dream) initially offered Pearson a $12,000 out-of-court settlement for him to drop the lawsuit. $12,000 for a pair of trousers, and he refused. Instead, he tacked on an extra $2 million for “discomfort, inconvenience, and mental distress.”

Mental distress. Over pants.

According to the Wiki about it (again, you really do have to read it to believe it), DC Superior Court Judge Neal Kravitz was quoted as saying that “the court has significant concerns that the plaintiff is acting in bad faith.”

Gee, ya think?

Some things are so idiotic, there are no words. But here are a few wise ones from the WSJ op-ed:

Whole dockets’-worth of opportunistic litigation would dry up if we revised [our] laws so as to require a showing of actual injury.

It’s nice to see that even the organized plaintiffs bar piously deplores Mr. Pearson’s abuse of the law. It would be even nicer if they agreed to stop opposing reforms that would give the Chungs of the world a fighting chance the next time around.”

And until that day, we will continue to read about loony litigants like Roy Pearson, who, at the trial, broke down in tears when describing his lost pants, giving the judge no choice but to call a brief recess for Roy to regain his composure.

I am not making this up.

Hey, no school for me today. I kind of wish we’d had it; Meg made cinnamon rolls. OH WELL.

Fink out (and excited about the Christmas fête tonight)

PS – This was the view from my back door this morning at 6:00.

Photo credits: Washington Post

….and then there’s truly freakish.

Freakish:

Ok what is THAT all about? I mean, I understand it’s a “kissing shield” or whatever, but why? Why not just hug or shake hands? And what do you do with the thing after you’re done with it? Ewww.

Sheesh. Only in Hollyweird.

Disclaimer to the skittish and easily riled: I make no religious judgments. Rather, I just comment on what I think is strange, creepy, troubling or simply wacko. So, if you’re a Scientologist, rock on. To each his own, and all that.

Truly Freakish:

The religion is Scientology. Its scripture: the writings of L. Ron Hubbard. According to Scientology’s official website, the religion is based on an individual’s personal and spiritual growth. Fine. They list in their “Creeds and Codes” that all humans have a right to their own ideas and goals. Fine again.

But then, there’s the Xenu weirdness, wherein Hubbard postulates that 75 million years ago, an alien named Xenu came to earth, and…well, just click the link and read about it. Apparently, the Xenu documents were hidden from view until people began extricating themselves from Scientology (because, among other things, one has to buy one’s way to the next level of “clarity”). They have since become public record.

And somebody has gone to extreme research lengths to produce this site. It’s fascinating reading for sure; I spent 2 hours last night lost in it. The links are flipping endless.

The whole “E-Meter” thing is totally weird, too:

Of course Travolta’s an “OT III” level. He paid six figures to get there. The consistent thread I observed in all my reading was that many of the Scientology members interviewed are celebrities, business executives, TV and movie producers, doctors, attorneys; in other words, people with money. And you need money to advance through the levels. It’s a flavor of bizarre around which I am having trouble wrapping my reptilian brain.

That’s ok though. I get that a lot. I think I’ll read some more today, in hopes of having a Tom Cruise moment of ultimate clarity. Then, perhaps, I won’t come across as so terribly glib.

Fink out.

Photo credit: Associated Press; LA Times