It's Scientology. It's always been Scientology.

The setup is a classic recruitment funnel. You sit down, they hook you up to what they call an "e-meter" — essentially two metal handgrips connected to a device that measures galvanic skin response, which is about as scientifically meaningful as a mood ring. They tell you you're stressed (shocking, you live in San Francisco), and then they start steering you toward Scientology literature, courses, and eventually your wallet.

As one local put it, "They've been there for a million years and are pretty openly Scientologist. Fully agree that Scientology sucks."

Look, we're a liberty-minded publication. We believe in your right to believe whatever you want, even things that are objectively bizarre. But we also believe in informed consent and transparency — two things Scientology's street-level recruiting operation isn't exactly famous for. If you're going to pitch people on a high-control organization with a well-documented history of financial exploitation, harassment of critics, and alleged abuse, the least you could do is put your name on the table.

The real issue here isn't that Scientology exists on Market Street. It's that the pitch is specifically designed to obscure what it actually is. No prominent signage. No mention of L. Ron Hubbard until you're already in the chair. It's the organizational equivalent of a bait-and-switch.

So here's our public service announcement: Don't take the test. Don't give them your contact information. Don't give them money. And if you see a friend or a confused tourist sitting down at that table, maybe give them a heads up.

Your stress is real. The solution isn't Scientology. Try a walk through Golden Gate Park instead — it's free, and nobody will try to sell you a bridge to spiritual enlightenment afterward.