DO THE CLAM!!

Cruise exchanges the secret exorcise-Xenu signal with his mentor/commander David Miscavige.

The accompanying LA Times article and photo essay reveal tidbits like the fact that the composer of the wuss-muzak classic "On the Wings of Love" is now scoring Scientology productions, which just makes sense in so many ways. Mostly it's about how Cruise spent major time at a 500-acre compound which includes a multi-million dollar mansion for the eventual return of L. Ron Hubbard (hey, even resurrected messiahs need their bling), among other amenities:

" Maureen Bolstad, who was at the base for 17 years and left after a falling-out with the church, recalled a rainy night 15 years ago when a couple of dozen Scientologists scrambled to deal with 'an all-hands situation' that kept them working through dawn. The emergency, she said: planting a meadow of wildflowers for Cruise to romp through with his new love, Kidman.

"We were told that we needed to plant a field and that it was to help Tom impress Nicole," said Bolstad, who said she spent the night pulling up sod so the ground could be seeded in the morning.

The flowers eventually bloomed, Bolstad said, 'but for some mysterious reason it wasn't considered acceptable by Mr. Miscavige. So the project was rejected and they redid it.'"

Sadly, no word on what happened to the little flowers after the break-up.

Oh, yeah, there are some other headlines you might want to check out while you're there, like how the Senate actually grew a spine and blocked legislation to renew the Patriot Act (for now), or how our Fearless Leader allowed as how he may have authorized wiretaps of the likes of you 'n' me, yeah, without court clearance (but, it was for our own good, terror9/11terror9/11, gollum, gollum).

Still, I think the story about Tom Cruise's guest stays at nanoo-nanoo Neverland takes precedence. After all, if the Scientologists are right, we're all at the mercy of 75-million-year-old alien ghost parasites clinging to us, and frankly that's a lot more dire than any trifling concerns we might have about our piddly not-even-three-hundred-year-old government, or the particular incarnations we're in now.

Also, if we join, we might all get to wear those matching green shirts, and that would be kick-ass.