Ah, Tom Cruise. Known for your acting, of course, but also the poster child for Scientology and crazy, couch-jumping hyper-romanticism. I’ve followed your career closely over the years.
We had a moment, you and I. I happened to be in Las Vegas when you were filming Rain Man with Dustin Hoffman. To be honest, I was looking for Dustin. You aren’t really my type. So I wasn’t in Cruise-control, so to speak, when I was standing in front of one of the casinos, camera in hand, waiting for the valet to bring my car.
Just at that moment, an SUV drove up and the parking attendant said, “Here comes the Cruiser.” I’m thinking, “Toyota Land Cruiser. Who cares?” So when you stepped out, I drew a complete blank. You also had a blonde on either arm and I wonder what your wife (Mimi Rogers at the time, who is definitely not blonde) would have thought about that. You walked past, and I turned to watch you go. You looked back and stopped for a second. You’d have let me take your picture. But I just stood there slack jawed, so you continued on. And that was that.
What a putz I can be sometimes. Ah well. And, God, but you’re short. But it has made me focus on you slightly more than the average actor. Actors rarely pierce my thought bubble for more than a second or two. But I’ve had whole conversations with you in my mind.
If we were ever trapped on an elevator, for example, I’d tell you that you have an amazing talent, and you should own that. Scientology is not why you are successful. In fact, it has taken much more from you than it has given you. Not only has it taken a boat load of money from you, but also an obscene amount of your precious time, your sense of free will, and untold numbers of personal relationships.
Yes, they’re adept at massaging your ego, but Scientologists don’t truly care about you. In fact, the higher up they are, the more they laugh behind your back, and the lower down they are, the more they resent you for the shiny, squeaky clean image you portray of this cult which does nothing but chew people up, take their money, and spit them out the other end. And frankly, everyone who isn’t into Scientology laughs at you, too, for being so duped for so long.
You can come off as arrogant or at best extremely self-assured, but the very reason you got sucked in to this cult is that you have no confidence at all, deep down. That makes me worry for you, because Scientology is dying, and it has been for a long time. Sooner or later this pyramid that you find yourself standing atop is going to crumble, and then where will you be? What will you do?
When that day comes, and it will, I hope you will be able to hang on to the fact that your talent is yours, not theirs. You’ll have to learn how to live in the real world for the first time in your adult life, and that will be terrifying. Sadly they’ve brainwashed you into thinking that seeking help from the mental health realm is bad, and Xenu won’t be around to hold your hand. But at least you’ve got your talent, and that’s a solid foundation on which to build. So take heart.
Unfortunately, even without Scientology, you’ve got fame to contend with, and that means you’ll never know for sure if anyone around you is sincere. That’s my definition of hell. Maybe you’ll luck out and find yourself trapped in an elevator someday with someone who’s willing to give you honest advice. Even so, I wouldn’t want your life, Tom Cruise, whether you finally free yourself of that parasitic cult or not.