Sunday, July 24, 2011

Field Trip!

It's summer, and money is tight.  So I have been looking around for affordable (read free) things to do.  The other day I came across a coupon on the LA Weekly website for free admission to the Pyschiatry: An Industry of Death Museum.  It was eight pm on a Tuesday night, and this place just happens to be open until 10pm (weird hours, right?) so obviously I downloaded the coupon onto my phone and took myself to Hollywood!

I have walked by this place a number of times and thought to myself, "What is up with that place?  What kind of a name is that for a museum?  And what kind of hole does this fill in the public consciousness?" Time to find out!

So, turns out I didn't need the coupon, because the museum is ALWAYS free.  Okay, interesting.  My friend and I went in, and as the docent is giving us the history of the museum she mentions that it's affiliated with Scientology.  Ding ding ding!  Weird hours, unnecessary coupons, and unwieldy name all starting to add up here.  Clearly I am great at mental math.

The museum is basically a loop, and they start you out in a small room with padded walls to watch a movie.  The padded walls were a really nice touch; I guess I should expect great production value from anything associated with Scientology.  The movie had testimonials from lots of psychiatrists saying that there's no medical proof for most of psychology, and then it showed that they were the authors of books like "Mad in America", so they're obviously reputable sources.  The movie also showed shots of lots of really unhappy looking people, and interviews with their families about how their lives were ruined by psychiatry.  Finally, once we were totally depressed, we were turned loose into the museum.

The museum was like a combination of Universal Studios, Ripley's Believe It or Not Museum, and the Holocaust Museum in Normandy.  It was basically a parade of Atrocities Everyone Loves to Hate, beefed up  with weird visual aids: examples of medieval torture devices, bloodletting knives or primitive electroshock chairs, realistic looking mummified heads made of wax, photos of bone thin patients locked in "cage beds", etc.  Every six feet or so there were large monitors showing video segments (now I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I should NEVER submit myself for an in-house Scientology project).  The exhibits are organized somewhat chronologically, and concern the Holocaust, racism, Hollywood icons, school shootings, insurance fraud and TERRORISM to name a few.  This was all accompanied by a bunch of arguments that really stretched to show that all of psychiatry is a conspiracy with big pharma.  

Don't get me wrong.  I think that people, especially kids, are over medicated.  I believe that there are lots of people out there who want a quick diagnosis, or who want to put other people's inexplicable behavior into an easy to understand box.  But I also believe that sometimes we can become emotionally unbalanced, and need more than someone to talk to.  There is a time a place for chemical aid.

When we left the museum we passed through a room whose walls were COVERED with pamphlets.  A sign politely informed us that each guest was permitted to choose one pamphlet free, but that additional pamphlets can be purchased for $1.50.  I was tempted to take the one titled Raped by Psychology, but I restrained myself.

I couldn't leave without checking out the gift shop.  Sure enough, right there on the shelves were copies of "Mad in America" and all the other books whose authors were quoted favorably in the introductory video.  What a surprise.  There was also a book that had a giant tag line saying, "Tom Cruise was right!!!"; I forget the title though, because I was so mesmerized by that.  There were also some really awesome tee-shirts.  My favorite was a bubblegum pink one that said, "Psych drugs turn kids into killers."  'Killers' had a gun superimposed over it.

We rushed out of the museum.  Luckily there were some teenagers foolish enough to talk to the docents, so we avoided being cornered by Scientologists.  We felt thoroughly depressed and in need of chemical aid after my trip through that weird, sterile space-it was like a carnival ride from the most depressing circle of hell-so we headed over to Mercantile for a glass of wine.

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