What I think happened didn’t really happen. That’s what Aaron, the frenetic, alarming man at the front of the room, tells me. My perception isn’t reality, he says, and the sooner I separate the two, the better off I’ll be.

I hope he’s right, because my perception is that this whole situation—the room, these people, glossy brochure in my hand—is starting to freak me out. I am in a “breakout session” as part of my three-hour introduction to the vaguely described Landmark Forum. I’m here on behalf of a friend, who’s been transformed by the Forum and wants everyone he knows to try it out. My purpose, truth be told, is threefold: to support my friend, to make sure he hasn’t joined a cult and to do some research for an upcoming theater project. We’re about halfway through the intro, and while I’m pretty sure it’s not quite a cult, my skept-o-meter is starting to redline.

Landmark Education Inc. is a fast-growing company that sells three-day “transformation” weekends. Pushing students through grueling 16-hour lectures in a beige room with the windows drawn, the Forum promises a complete life-changing experience for “only” $395. The Forum descended from EST, a controversial self-help technique pioneered in the self-obsessed 1970s. Aaron denies the link, simultaneously saying that Landmark has no relation to EST. (Yet it bought EST’s intellectual property.)

This is exactly what impresses me about Aaron (and the glossy brochure in my lap): his ability to talk forever without actually saying anything. He’s writing things on the chalkboard, screaming, laughing—all sound and fury—and all I’ve gathered so far are some ambiguous quips about happiness and control. He’s fond of the unidentifiable quotation—a famous so-and-so once said—and it seems to be working. Folks are pulling out their checkbooks, ready as hell to plunk 400 bucks on a vague promise of a better tomorrow.

Where have I heard this before? Oh, yeah—everywhere. The impressive adjectives, the promise of a better tomorrow, the unidentified quotes—it all comes from the same seed. It’s the language of this century. Colorful but vapid PowerPoint presentations, complex arguments that rely on spotty facts, “reality shows” edited to prove a point that was never there: These are the tools of the modern manipulator. The media-savvy White House knows this better than most. Show the president in a F-16 on an aircraft carrier, and who cares whether he pulled strings to join the National Guard and avoid service in Vietnam? He’s a fighter pilot, damn it. I saw it with my own eyes!

I know, I know. It’s just “spin,” right? Politics as usual. Sure, but it’s gotten so pervasive that we’re all our own PR agents, with a growing expertise in sound bites. Did you know that most eighth graders prefer to present their book reports in PowerPoint? In a way, it’s the biggest possible tribute to stagecraft and showmanship. “Razzle-dazzle” has left the Great White Way, seeped through the “fair and balanced” journalism of FOX News, and is now collecting in a big puddle under the offices of Landmark Education.

By the time the seminar ends, Aaron and his minions are swarming the prospective customers, ready to answer any questions we might have. Though the questions vary, the answers are as canned as can be. Aaron is “on message,” as they say in Washington, and if he can keep this up he may want to drop a résumé for Ari Fleischer’s gig. He’s explaining to people that the problem with their lives is that their perception is different from reality. It’s fascinating, considering Landmark’s business model seems to be all perception and no reality. But who can blame them? At this year’s Oscars, Michael Moore said that we live in fictitious times. I guess this is what he meant.