It was at this point that I remembered that laughing at frauds is the only proper response to them. And that footage did contain quite a few howlers, so much so that it is almost innoculated from irony, and one must just sit back and brace yourself for repeated interjections of "What the FUCK?" I must confess that I failed to grasp Tom Cruise's importance to that group. I figured it was sort of like Richard Gere and Buddhism--that he just happened to be a devoted and outspoken (and highly visible) member of that organization. It would appear that he's far more important than that. That video presented a rather hagiographical view of him--how many humanitarian points does he really deserve for shaking hands with some firefighters on 9/11? When I watched that moment, a sly smile crossed my face as I thought of that ferret-faced former NYC Mayor whose chances of being president have been so dramatically dashed. Fear President Cruise. Fear him. Now that he has passed the all-important "Played a Politician in a Film" primary, politics would seem to be next on Mr. Cruise's list. He would no doubt couch such ambitions in some desire to gain some representation of his faith in Congress, and to have a larger pulpit from which to espouse his views, even though they are already represented there (I cannot recall the woman's name at this point, but I can recall she is with the elephantine party) and everyone knows about his tonterias. I'm guessing he'd try for a congressional seat somewhere in Southern California. It would have to be an independent run, as I doubt either major party would want him. And he would lose, right? Well, perhaps, but he would gain an enormous amount of media attention, and he would be able to collect huge quantities of checks from Scientologists all over the world (although their distribution geographically seems limited to Hollywood and Clearwater, FL, and that Republican congresswoman whose name I cannot recall). Cruise could take a few pages from the Mitt Romney playbook -- which has actually worked reasonably well, lest we forget.
But Mitt Romney is running right now on his impressive business experience, no? What does Tom Cruise have to offer, aside from his weird religion? Answer: the greatest asset of all, star power. There is not a shortage of yokels who will be so starstruck by being gladhanded by Tom Cruise in a coffee shop they will vote for him without reservation. He will have several things working for him:
- the aforementioned starpower
- enormous media attention (it will probably be the first congressional race ever covered on Extra!, and I would imagine that they would do a much better job of covering politics than the current crowd)
- no shortage of celebrity buddies to help his "historic" campaign (anyone unimpressed with just meeting Cruise will no doubt be melted after being double-teamed by Jenna Elfman and Jason Lee at the local Denny's)
- a bulging pocketbook from all the checks from wealthy Scientologists (as though there is another kind--detractors often refer to religion as a business, but Scientology removes any irony from that observation with its up-front charges for its services)
- most importantly, he wouldn't have to lock up a majority in a three-way, plurality race
Nobody expected weirdo Mitt Romney to go anywhere, either, but he's certainly broken through to a greater extent than I thought he would. I still don't see him as the GOP nominee, however. However, should Mitt become President, sometime around 2011 he might find a diminuitive couch-jumper in his office, discussing the finest points of their shared favorite novel.
And how would the couch-jumper perform as a United States Representative? Would he be more conservative or more liberal? With which party would Congressman Cruise caucus? It is unclear. On the one hand, his visceral loathing of science, his outspoken and intense personal faith, and his combativeness on cultural matters would make him a natural to lean more toward the conservative end of our political spectrum. And let us remember that the only feeling more deeply felt than conservative hatred of liberal Hollywood types is a conservative adulation of conservative Hollywooders. On the other hand, Cruise is a Hollywood type, and unless he tries to run for Congress in Orange County it would probably be necessary for him to take some pretty liberal issue stances to get elected anywhere in Southern California. Perhaps he could try San Diego, although the pot-smoking Republicans who inhabit that fair city would be far less receptive to him, I would think. No, it would have to be somewhere in L.A., perhaps a district with a high percentage of Scientologists that is currently represented by a Blue Dog/DLC type of Democrat. Cruise could run to the left on all the issues that his constituents care about while being free to pursue his personal pet issues, which are all that matter to him. And, let's remember, even if Cruise were to only win 35% of the vote--which I submit is hardly impossible to imagine, as his current national approval ratings are in the mid-twenties, and probably higher in L.A., and with the money and star power--he could win.
So, let's assume that he does all this. What next? I doubt he'd be an effective representative at first, as every member of congress would be scared to be associated with the man, and he would find it difficult to create relationships with senior congressfolks. I highly doubt he would actually try to effectively represent his people so much as introduce various bills trying to ban psychiatry and all the other nonsense that his "church" preaches, as well as frequently taking to the bully pulpit. Perhaps he would champion some conservative positions, too, just for good measure. Everyone would assume that Cruise would be a one-term wonder, but after a relatively quiet and uneventful term, Cruise would probably get a second, thanks to the miracle of incumbency. He'd go from being a dangerous, mocked fanatic into something else: respectable. He'd just be a member of congress. Other people, knowing that he's here to stay, would probably start working with him more. He'd get some medium-profile legislation passed. His approval ratings would improve, in his district and elsewhere. A third term, and a fourth, would follow shortly thereafter, and his kooky views would become almost quaint, something his constituents would refer to in an affectionate "that's our congressman" manner before reelecting him with 78% of the vote.
And then, maybe, he'd decide to try something bolder. Let's say that there's no incumbent Governor of California to run in 2018. Cruise, having become a reputable and respected Congressman, decides to throw his hat into the ring, again as an Independent. The California Republicans, being gluttons for punishment, would no doubt run some arch-conservative like Tom McClintock, while the Democrats would, as usual, gag away their dominant advantage in the state by being sure to find some charisma-free hack like Phil Angelides. A neutral third choice with experience and name recognition would shake up the race. Cruise would not have an easy go of it--his religion would still be considered weird, and his portfolio would be relegated to a few terms in Congress. However, by this point, Congressman Cruise will have learned to release his enthusiasm for Scientology in more acceptable ways and will be able to deal with it effectively. Now, in 2008, Scientology is weird. In a decade, it will be far more "lived-in". Cruise will tar Angelides as someone who can't get things done and played his connections to the top, and he will designate McClintock as someone who is out of touch with the state. Maybe there will be some sort of major issue--perhaps a nuclear meltdown or something of that nature--that neither Angelides or McClintock will touch, but Cruise is able to handle effectively. In the end, I see another plurality victory for Cruise--maybe 41%.
And as soon as he is elected governor of the largest state in the union, rumors will immediately begin about the only higher job in the nation. Cruise will deny them, of course, and insist that he wants to focus on state business. Cruise will make sure to get some accomplishments to run on, and by late 2019 he will admit that he is considering throwing his hat into the ring. At this point, his religion will hardly be even a minor concern--will he be able to clear the gridlock in Washington? He'll get some endorsements from non-Scientologists--practically the entire, demented brotherhood of Broder will be behind him, and former Gov. and L.A. Mayor Arnold Schwarzenegger will endorse him for President, saying that, "although he is not as good an actor as me, he is just as good a politician." By early 2020, he will form an exploratory committee, and on a clear, cold March morning, standing in front of the Capitol building in Sacramento, holding gloved hands with First Lady of California Katie Holmes, breath visible, little Suri fidgeting distractedly--Tom Cruise will announce that he is running for President as an Independent. He'll point to his manifold accomplishments in Washington and in Sacramento, and that he shouldn't be judged by his faith alone, but by his competence. The media will rave. He will win easily. And then President Tom Cruise ban psychiatry by executive order, order a Thetan-killing weapon prototype from Northup Grummond, and task the 82nd Airborne Division to kill Xenu for real this time. And America will love him, and we'll all convert to Scientology, and a single tear will fall from the eye of Vishnu, who as it turns out was the real god all along. The end.
