Image via Complex Original
Scientology is at best a dubious organization, at worst an insidious cult, and the new HBO documentary Going Clear illustrates this in no uncertain terms. But despite all the real-world implications, one thing we couldn't help but wonder while we watched the film was how the hell anyone could take king conman L. Ron Hubbard seriously in all the ridiculous getups he wore.
Sure, we as a society like our spiritual leaders to play dress-up — Catholic vestments are, after all, luxe as fuck — but we like them to dress up as spiritual leaders. LRH, on the other hand, dressed up like a cowboy, or a playboy, or a sea captain. The title of Going Clear refers to the state of having freed oneself from the "subconscious memories of past trauma," so hope these outfits have been long since forgotten.
While the HBO documentary shows us a chilling and decidedly un-funny portrait of the power and corruption at the heart of Hubbard's religious scam, it's also important to sit back and laugh at the asshole once in a while. Here are a few of his most flagrant sartorial offenses.
RELATED: The Biggest Celebrity Fails of 2016
L. Ron the Playboy
If you spend any time exploring the virtual rabbit hole that is LRH portraiture, you’re sure to come across his trademark ascot-and-unbuttoned-dress-shirt combination. It figures heavily in his Going Clear footage, and it’s… unsettling. It’s also a product of the times—he did a whole lot of press in the mid-‘60s through the mid-‘70s, when the look had a bit more cachet than it does now. Regardless, it was never a good idea, especially when you look as inherently creepy as L. Ron. He probably thought he was channeling Hef. Thurston Howell is more like it.
L. Ron the Rancher
There are probably a few people out there who can rock a bolo tie without looking like they’re wearing a costume. Actual ranchers. Oilmen. Bolo tie-makers. But despite the church of Scientology’s claim that Ronny was the grandson of a wealthy western cattleman who grew up breaking broncos and hunting coyote, contemporary records indicate that dude grew up in a townhouse in Helena and granddad was a veterinarian. So, put the damn bolo away.
L. Ron the Bizzaro Noir Detective
The askew fedora and workaday suit-and-tie combination are serviceable enough for ex-pulp writer Hubbard’s detective fantasy, but those strangely angular sunglasses throw the entire thing into disarray. It’s like an alien from a 1950’s B-movie attempted to impersonate a 1930’s gumshoe but forgot to remove the protective eyewear he was issued to protect his oculars from Earth’s yellow sun. Or something like that. Maybe it’s just us. But whatever your particular pop-culture associations, one thing is inescapable: LRH looks like a mentally unstable goon that’s trying really hard here. Which, to be fair, is pretty much what he was.
L. Ron the Artiste
Given the degree to which Scientology tries to hold up every aspect of Hubbard’s life as extraordinary, it’s not surprising that the church has attempted to mythologize his artistic endeavors, portraying him as an academic exploring visual media in a search for the ultimate philosophical truth of human experience. Better bet: He was a sad old dude in a beret. Hey, maybe he was just trying to explore the metaphysical implications of looking like a hackneyed stereotype.
L. Ron the Commodore
OK, it’s worth noting here that Hubbard was, indeed, a bona fide sea captain. He commanded a couple of ships during WWII, and was at the head of a Scientologist fleet later in his life. It’s also worth noting that he was removed from his military posts after being found incapable of command, and that his seafaring Scientology expedition came to a close after multiple countries closed their ports to him. So: shitty sea captain. At least the look matches the skill level.
L. Ron, Your Sad Drunk Uncle
Maybe it’s cruel to make fun of a crazy old man in a sweater vest. But if you try to tell us that LRH here doesn’t look like he’s one scotch away from going on an extended homophobic tirade at the family reunion, we’ll tell you that you’re lying to yourself.
L. Ron the Cowboy
Like we said earlier, Hubbard had a particular interest in playing up his enterprising Western roots, even if those roots were largely fictionalized. Here, the madness comes to fruition in glorious fashion. Guy’s in his seventies here and he looks like a kid at a cowboy-themed birthday party. It’d actually be a little sad, if he weren’t a manipulative, conniving bastard who duped thousands of people out of untold sums of money in service of his egomaniacal quest for riches and fame. But he was. So it isn’t.
Oh, also, to all the Scientologists out there: Uh, just kidding! Please don’t send the Squirrel Busters after me.