Poor Scientology. Kabbalah's the inclusionary spiritual inspiration society* getting all the press these days, supposedly marrying off Demi and Ashton, inspiring Britney to get gibberish Hebrew tattoos, and hawking Madonna's awful children's book. But L.A. Voice's Mack Reed spent his Mother's Day brunching at the Scientology Celebrity Centre, sampling the decor, and somehow escaping without a strange urge to give John Travolta ten percent of his salary:

Our guide ushers us upstairs with the promise of seeing some of the rooms where the celebrity guests once stayed in the hotel's heyday, and still do now that it's a mecca for famous Scientologists and those soon-to-join... [S]he stops to describe the first of what looks like a dozen posters outlining the Scientologist "auditing" process meant to examine and clear "obstacles" from one's life. I take a deep breath and say as brightly but firmly as possible, "We're pretty familiar with the church, thanks - we're more interested in the building," and she smoothly shifts gears into the "architectural" tour.

[*Ed. note—This is certainly not any kind of secret codeword for "cult." If there's one thing Scientology is not, it's a cult. No need to send people to hang around Defamer's offices!]