Sunday, December 21, 2014

Klasskurtxian* Invertebrates


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It's firstly their intransigence to put my teeth on edge, that they're *cognition's* high ground, sans all fault, they would allege! That they would claim the "dead-lock-nut" on all that they survey, when it's merely their assumptions to support them, holding sway!
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...And loath to re-do work that's proved them *wrong* at many turns, they corrupt the pool of data to degrade what we might learn!
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They defend the indefensible and contrive what we now know is a canted load of crap corrupting jealous status-quos! They defend the indefensible lending credence to their lies; they laugh and smirk and grossly smear the "truth" from "fiction" lines!
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They defend the indefensible and pretend the scientific when their "balance" is a biased mess of canted nonspecifics!
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...And these would point at me with shaking fingers—(I'll bite off!)— and accuse me of the ignorance they contrive from air and cloth! It's them creates the *void* endured, and from which they'd employ: their "bag of tricks" they use against the truth we might enjoy!
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It's them who fronts the "mainstream" and colludes to form the myth that there's no *point* to UFOs... "that *point's* a point best missed!"
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See, if they admit to UFOs their *towers* crash to ground! It they admit to UFOs we'll know we're played for clowns! If they admit to UFO's their righteous slide ensues and we begin to win at last... as they begin to lose! See, what we win's reality that's grander than we knew, as we're recast to take that place... which has the wider view!
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What we gain's advancement as the "door's" thrown open wide... (!) and from their cage we'll fly on out to "soar and cleave" outside!
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Now I've no time for those described who'd keep us in their "box." Who'd LIE and CHEAT to keep us bound and on the harshest clock!  Where you don't get "a piss break," and there is no "workman's comp," and overtime is what you do to keep your so called job!  Who prosecutes denial, and corrupts the status quo by persecuting innocents reporting what they know!
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I've no regard for these who prey! They are beneath concern. They block the way to truth and light, and from them we shan't learn!
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They are beneath my stern contempt; they'll have no stock with me! They've lost what credit they had held; they are, if fact, diseased! They abdicate trustworthiness; they lose the right to teach, as what I sense is out there, and it's them who blunts my reach!
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They're dismissal and denial and are everything they hate; reality approaches, they would doom us to their fate!
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...And that's a fate of "slaves" and "drones" and everything thought bleak. That's the fate for all who hear the "reflex" skeptic speak! That's the fate envisioned... by those "skeptics," dim and slow, who think themselves the center of those things they think they know!
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We are more than they allow; our future shines and gleams! We are more than they would think to guess... or even dream!


alienview@roadrunner.com
http://www.alienview.net/



I expect offended CSIcopian Dragons to roar down from privileged mainstream mountain tops but out slithers mere garden salamanders, their moist little skins glistening with the moisture of the dead, damp, so necrotic page leaves sustaining them. Out in the open, see, they soon start to desiccate and must whine and moan—otherwise protest that you retreat into the smothering, light negating, moldy rot... with them... ...respect their hypocritical rules, and tolerate their self-aggrandizing prerequisites... abide their reflex censure ...respect their invalid dismissal ...countenance their intellectual malfeasance...approve their professional malpractice...validate their gray reductionist faith...
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Screw that! Considering how they've contrived to so openly betray the public trust with the officious, hyper-educated and duplicitous games they reflexively insist upon playing—I've got a spot rarely seeing sun for which they can flat pucker-up!  Their dismissive refusal to become remotely educated upon that which they would so faux-authoritatively denounce—in the service of a duplicitous mainstream—challenges reasonable credulity and mandates the harshest criticism.  CSI bites the bag!
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Granted, their prerequisites would be fine if you want to ape the aforementioned salamander—with all respect to real salamanders, everywhere (which are cognitively superior to your garden variety klasskurtxian* "debunker" amphibian newt in every way...)—but I'm a man, a human, specifically, decidedly mammalian, who aspires to the creative, the progressive, and the forward looking!  I perceive a dead-end to the slimy path of the overspecialized moist-skinned skepti-bunky salamander, a dank reptilian precursor of reflex negativity and old school 19th century philosophy... so the well rewarded and willful watch-fob for a hubristic same.  I spit, revolted, in its general direction.
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...These pompous "pelicanists" who artfully collude and woefully conspire to preclude our emergence into the inexorable future; these mal-aspiring and label-flinging CSIcopians... arrogant authoritarians who only assume the cloak of "legitimacy" and occlude our sensibilities with the misused and so then smothering folds of it!  Slow Suffocation!
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See, I suspect these errant—even if well meaning—reductionists have only crawled out on one of the lower Cartesian branches of the aggregate "existential tree" comprising matter and science. Having mapped out and minimally categorized same—and close to the meager end of it, even—they delude themselves that they are rather close to the top of the tree itself! They don't perceive the actual reality of nearing the end of but one of theof ONE, we forget the "forest" at our periltree's lower branches.
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I offer that this is a conservative estimate of a minimalist's Cartesian materialism... or seems conservative at any rate.  Their arrogant proclivities are damning... See, dogmatic materialism is just another kind of religion.  It gets organised and then it gets exclusionary on the way to abusive.  Such has been so with religion of any stripe.
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Verily, these are: inveterate and itinerate mal-invertebrates or other short-sighted, so errant, oxygen thieves... and that's the nicest thing I care to say about them.  There's no profit to the pussy-foot.  "Bull in china shop" seems called for at this juncture.
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The question is begged who do these think they are?  Who abdicated the position of smirking majority dick-head and installed them?  Then, how long shall we suffer their deceitful programs and dishonest prosecutions in this field already rocky with the imprecision and indecisiveness they've precipitated and nurtured in gross and reptilian corporate pursuits: screwing each of us over for a percentage as the we wander closer to the squalidness they've engineered?
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When will we banish them from our considerations, boycott their somewhat less than Promethean publishing houses, ironically, and let their metaphoric books pile up to molder into the dead and slimy leaves that they resemble and under which these salamanders hide? What will be the artifice of their eventual invalidation, their ironic slide into similarity with the discredited eugenicists, Flat Earthers, and Phrenology practitioners... adherents of the well discredited past—their manufactured and well sustained voids producing them and *sciences* like them—those tired, now unsupported, and legitimately (?) invalidated "sciences" of the too murky and duplicitous near past... stillborn branches on conception's tree.
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Verily! The present is already the past as the future accelerates to the onrushing present like a cosmic train!  What looms!?
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See, not only does this canted and conflicted "science" of the card carrying CSIcopian—even before he came to be known as the detested "CSIcopian"—often misstep, err grandly, and grossly confuse the issue (consider Eugenics and the staid Aristotelian thinking [science at any cost] of Dr. Mengele, say), ...aping a masquerade of "due process" and "order's organisation" and *peer review,* it is allowed to blunt, obstruct, impede, thwart, and frustrate the honest, progressive, and far-reaching efforts of other, more gifted, individuals... ...but maybe the reader's never heard of Immanuel Velikovsky or Nicola Tesla!  Many worthy men and women languish unjustly on that ash heap in history.  Rupert Sheldrake is another, hazarded and hounded even as I write these words.
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....And folks, think where we could be given the fruit of our human genius availed itself more equitability to an aggregate "you and me" humanity... ...Our star Sol could wear our glittering stellar civilizations like rings and bracelets. I digress.
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It's clear that Debunkers could be a lot more tentative with their rejections, circumspect with their dismissals, and careful with their derisive refutations and knee-jerk refusals! Why, they might give them up altogether!
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Verily, their rejections are always premature, their dismissals invariably inopportune, wrong and wrong minded. Their reflex refutations and refusals too overtly (suspiciously!) negative.
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Increasingly, they only achieve an aggregate ineffectiveness with much of the population they'd, ironically, want to convince because they are so stridently arrogant with regard to the proclamations of their own unwarranted effectiveness!  The perceptions of the intelligent persons they want to support them are enough to discount that effectiveness and make it moot.
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They sow the seeds for their own eventual rejection and failure. Good thing, too! Their failure is finally our aggregate if ironic advancement, I feel, from the reptilian society we are presently to the mammalian society we are in fact, even if only as individuals, presently!
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You know what those skepto-guys are at the bottom of... "...search your feelings, Luke"!  Debunkers in a legion of varied flavors are at the bottom of every bit of torturous behavior we practice on one another and afflicting humankind today, frankly! My well searched feelings don't indicate an overstated case, I offer.
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This includes being swept up in the insanities of fundamentalist reactionaries of every stripe and flavor, an accommodating if abused overpopulation of people kept purposefully ignorant (and terror stricken!) about vital aspects of their individual lives, and then even the ongoing and increasing death of the individual and respect for same! Interesting times loom, eh?
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The incredible irony is that these same obverted klasskurtxians* would profess to be the default champion of the antithesis of these things!
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They decry overpopulation, but, realizing that overpopulation insures that they don't have to pay any one person too much respect—always someone to replace the "trouble-maker"—they won't vociferously credit how dire the eventual consequences of that overpopulation will be! They decry religiosity but won't credit the new archeology competently refuting that religiosity! They decry the dumbing down of the aggregate population but still support the corporate educational philosophies of psychopaths facilitating "employee production" and poverty; philosophies not shy about sacrificing every human consideration necessary to maximize efficiency for profits... profits not reasonably shared, I add, by any estimation!
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Overpopulation and a numbingly incessant mal-education via media, institution, agency and government... all to insure the seeming inevitable death of the creative individual.  They exacerbate punishment for thinking out of the box and increase persecution for other victimless if alternative self-expressions and creative enterprises... This is no less than the systematic Extermination of the individual and her creativity, reader!
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...CSICOPian pelicanists and *faith-based* debunkers help to orchestrate the social symphonies of their inhuman masters... Corporate Multinational Behemoths who care as little for them, actually, as the individual human being they would, handily... even gleefully, wipe out! Search your feelings!
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Again, I don't believe I overstate my case. These errant CSIcopians are likely more wrongly motivated across broader fronts than we even suspect! They're against, for example, an alternative nutritional medical approach and four-square behind the big pharmaceutical companies and their passionate desire to manage disease rather than cure it. They are reflexively dismissive with regard to alternate power sources and so, at least indirectly, are proponents of big oil and the continued degradation of our spaceship planet! The reader can think of other examples where the seriously erring CSIcopian very ironically fronts for the old regressive over the new progressive. Plus: they're the darling of the entirely disingenuous mainstream!
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Could it be that they (these CSI adherents) are the invention of the mainstream, created to obfuscate, complicate, and otherwise obliterate an interest in the ufological, or any other peek behind that jealously guarded "curtain," and not the mere lap-dog as I suggested earlier? Who's to tell, the mainstream persecutions continue virtually unabated for those of us getting a sense... of some "reality" significantly greater than the one a CSIcopian would allow, is this writer's feeling!
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A chicken or egg discussion is moot. That there is a scurrilous symbiotic relationship is plain, and "what foul beast slouches off to [that CSIcopian] Bethlehem to be born," again, indeed?
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Yeah, I'm pretty hard on the canted debunker... I see him as an abject retreat from the enlightened and individually powerful beings that more human individuals might eventually become. He is a dangerous anachronism, an intellectual troglodyte, a fading ink stamp in a cultural passport where all the borders have come down. I see him as the knowing or unknowing agent of the scales on our "reality" perceiving eyes... causal of the calluses on our wrongly subjugated knees!  The human knee is disserved callused.
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Further, I come to see it as lunacy that skeptibunky DENIALS and PROTESTATIONS and DEMANDS for proof (proof they'd never accept anyway!) are remotely entertained as anything other than a time-gaining dodge to slow their advancement into a future they know is coming... Worse, they seem that special kind of person willing to continue to profit, for as long as is possible, at the dear expense of others they couldn't give a tinker's damn about.
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In the interests of balance, some would say that there are good people in the CSI, just like there are good doctors, priests, cops, and even lawyers... with but a corrupted few getting the all the negative headlines... yeah-yeah-yeah...
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Well—I've a hot flash for the reader!  There are few good doctors, priests, cops, and even lawyers... or CSIcopians... who, if they don't stridently condemn, in furious prosecution, those in their institutions who make the transgressions alluded to, are every bit as bad.  They should should be condemned as equally guilty. They are!
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As a consequence they'll smell of the same filth as the more active perpetrator. Sorry, not—the CSICOPian would be as generous with me, and gravy is gravy for goose AND gander.  Balance requires that I'll allow him no less.
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Restore John Ford
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Read on.
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*A word meaning skeptibunky or faux-sceptic coined by mashing two noted mal-skeptics names, Klass & Kurtz, together into one word.  Onamonapia is given the nod to foreshadow the sound made when a big glass urn of hissing snakes smashes to the floor of a CSI Commissary and shatters.  These are the hubristic and intellectually bigoted men (and fewer women) purporting themselves as warriors at the ramparts of rationality but insulting the spirit of that every time they reflexively announce the current crass denunciation of that which they have nit even examined.

Saturday, December 20, 2014

Ink And Stone... ...Part I


I don't "believe" in UFO's, and I'm not splitting hairs, but *something* haunts the skies above, and shames us well down here.
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...And not just now, but way back *when*... when flight was just a dream. Yes, well before the pyramids that began it all, it seems...
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...Back before we sailed our seas we prayed to brutal gods—gods as thick as errant fleas who gave their *needed* nod. Back before... when just a few, we wandered plains in bands askew, and we were almost innocent then... ...an uncorrupted kith and kin.
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Back before we wrote in books? We scratched cave walls with paint and soot, and we recorded saucers, flying—scaring the observers spying!—pulsing inner lights in waves that we, then, chipped in stone, OK?
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Kings of fearful ancient times would see them hover there, and scurry to their *high* priests, their witchdoctors, and sayers.
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Pharaohs of old Egypt ran, but raised up armies who would stand in fearful awe of flying craft which, silent —days long!— flew on passed! They could, even, smell strange odors—acrid smelling alien motors!
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This was taken down—though hidden—by a man of staid *religion*, though the papyrus is real and good translation's solid seal. I say this and forget the Bible—how all its stories make it libel as a record of abduction, UFO's and piqued destruction!
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...Consider Alexander as he strides his *conquered* planet, as he crosses raging rivers to secure some grip upon it. His elephants and horses and, yes, most of all his men were panicked by two UFO's that dove upon them, friend! These drove them from their crossing—why?—these craft that sailed air; they flew like massive birds of prey who owned the sky up there!

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Described as silver shields spitting fire to the ground, they danced and burned and threatened, but they did not make a sound.  Squealing like Ned Beatty, and (yes!) scared beyond his wits, Alexander *wrote* it down, perforce, so we'd remember it!
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...And sober (pre-Christ) Romans were observers, then, as well. Of skies, well nigh, INFESTED are the tales they would tell. Spectacles of "fleets of ships" would course through troubled skies, they'd wrote it down as point of fact, and not as *charming* lies.

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They would HEAR terrific noises, and the "sky would turn to gold"! Men and women trembled like they all had gotten cold! Globes of fire fell to Earth and landed on the ground!! Taking off, they'd go straight up and flash their lights profound. Described as "brighter than the sun," these terrified plain folks —who'd run!— to hapless priests or scared officials! They'd write it down, and sign initials. Pliny wrote of burning shields that danced across his eyes, annealed!
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Others wrote of missiles, then, which cleaved and soared their skies, good friend!  These were not a science fiction.  These were truths of explication!
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The birth of Christ won't "cure the air" of errant flying craft, no Sir!  Josephus wrote of phantom ships, and no one thinks he's daft. He's pips! Respected as a scholar, and revered as circumspect, he wrote of flying chariots, and of beings WITHIN them yet! He wrote of armies of them that would course their way through clouds! He wrote "surrounded cities" so there really is no doubt. He wrote that all this happened in fullest light of day
he wrote of frightened peoples who went down on knees to pray!
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This wasn't errant fiction, but was well beyond his scope. He wrote it as he saw it. All agree that he's no dope!
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The Byzantine were not immune to unknown *flying* craft, of course: they wrote of ships called brilliant, more like "burning globes"—it's sourced! These hovered over cities (!), and presented beam-like swords 
(!); folks looked up and cringed in fear for judgement from those lords! 
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Nobles watched the pagans as the dark age was to end, and "reddish brown in color" flying saucers flew again! They hovered over churches, and they scared the people blind who ran in "bugged" confusion from their castles if inside. They had never seen the like! They cowered in their awe! They survived and wrote it down. It sticks, now (!), in our craw!
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...And what is seminal history, but Saint Gregory of Tours who reported on one Alcuin, a biographer of stars. Charlemagne's assaulted by a light-fast glowing globe! It flickers inexplicably like a psychedelic strobe! It's so damned strange it spooks his horse, which rears in the attack! Charlemagne, in armor, is then thrown right off its back! This injures him severely; he's dead in four more years, and kingdoms fall to ruin as the Vikings bring their "cheer"...
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The Japanese saw their fair share and so shall not be excluded. Yoritsumi saw his "flying lights" and so here will be included. Yoritsumi was a general with his army in the field, saw the saucers looping circles in the sky like hurled shields. They swung all night to morning light and then some hours still, so he, then, asked his *wise* men... who would shuck their jive and shill,
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"Be unconcerned, most gracious lord. Let smiles adjourn your frown — it's a typhoon, heaving mightily, to blow the stars around."
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This takes us from — "way back" BC . . . to about the thirteenth century! There's more to say another day —eight hundred years of saucers— hey!
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Forgetting tablets Sitchin translates, UFO's remain debated. History's a smoking gun that people did not write for *fun*. It was, then, too damned expensive; they only wrote what *common sense* was!
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Written in the words they had in concepts they could understand, they wrote that we are not alone. They wrote that down in ink and stone!


alienview@adelphia.net
www.AlienView.net


No. I don't believe in UFO's. I believe UFO's. The difference is NOT that subtle. And what is there not to believe? Sincerely, I believe in UFOs the way I believe an apple falls from a tree. The simile is also unsubtle...
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Seriously — UFOs crawl all over the written record, and yet collectively we continue to laugh inappropriately up billowing sleeves... who are we fooling?
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Why laugh up our damp sleeves about that which is more real than government, which is, itself, a complete prevarication?
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Because we can't let it disturb our future plans? Rofl!
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Future plans...Filthy rags to he who is most high and known only as "I am who I am"... filthy rags anyway... right? These aforementioned investors are to discover, I suspect, that the only "investment" one should have ever been concerned in making was the investiture required in loving the people around them as themselves... ...certainly not as a function of some coercive church or manipulating dogma, punishing code or psychopathic Pope... but what comes out of every individual when they have the minimal expectation of having their good will remotely appreciated.
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Individuality, then. That's the key to the kingdom at hand.
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What is it but our dogmatic belief in a phony-baloney, and very likely unjust, *future*—awarded to us if we stay our *profitable* but world sodomizing course?—an unjust future which allows the shimmering scales of a court jester klasskurtxianism to be glued to our hapless public eyes in the first freakin' place?
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Yeah, that's right! Phony--baloney!
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The conservative establishment smirks knowingly and continues to celebrate a conservatism that is born out of the *satisfactions* it has discovered in having *things* remain... ...just as they ARE, reader. Does everybody get that?
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It doesn't matter that you can't buy a tank of gas, or heat your home. Dig? ...And I mean, it does not matter.

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Further—it is an establishment that periodically finds itself needing to demonstrate some reinvention of itself as a *compassionate* party... astonishing proof of it's sociopathy!
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Reader! If they are only interested in playing the game of compassion or wanting to appear compassionate... ...they are not compassionate! Follow? Is that so hard?
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Moreover, that future that we hope for (and that they promise) is a red herring (for a carrot) on the end of their long stick. ...And even IT evaporates (as a red herring is wont to do) the moment they feel they HAVE to have another platinum fixture on the downstairs bidet of their Autumn home... nick-named "Serenity." What price their "Serenity" to you? What do you pay so these can play?
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In a contrived and manipulated
denouement that too few are availing themselves of... ...these few are very comfortable indeed.
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We are embroiled in a gigantic and pyramidal ponsi-scheme for a sociopathic minority, folks, for a dwindling piece of even the imaginary pie. Moreover, this corrosive minority believes that they will be able to insulate themselves from the very worst of what you are going to be expected to endure as a matter of course, FORGETTING they are in a position to elevate the whole of us to truly cosmic levels, is my gut feeling.
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...Way cheap power, as example, has such a *problem* NOT because there is nothing to it, reader. Oh no! Rather, a huge amount of old (and new) money feels it has a lot *invested* in the early, fossil, twentieth century concepts presently employed, and which they have clear control... ...They are... ...reluctant... to switch over... and... ...oh... save the planet!
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Reluctant? ...
The bastards!  Energy problems in this country could be eliminated with an incentive to generate power and supply it to a grid, presently, enslaving us, but I digress...
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This group (of the, ah, uh ... ...conservatively minded [when nothing could be further from the truth!]) This group is the self-same bunch who fills the trough for our news media and mainstream science impetus... propagandistic crapulation contrived to steer us around our best interests. It is also the major proponent of a campaign to keep ufology in the under-funded-court-jester status it presently enjoys.
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UFO's suggest change! This is a change that may not be compatible with the present ease of luxury and control now enjoyed by selected persons... ...persons presently disrespecting your individuality and quality of life to facilitate their own, I suspect!
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How much control do you have, reader? Friend, in this day and age you, the individual, should be damned near self-sustaining. Yea and verily!
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Sincerely, your roof should be supplying all your power needs and you should be getting 250 miles to the gallon of ... ...water. Your food shouldn't be trying to kill you and there should not be a plethora of institutions, agencies, and governments lining up to take squabbling turns sodomizing you.
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No, most of us hang by threads.
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At the complete whim of a clearly criminal arbitrary, we are song and danced by a cloying and egregiously dissembling appeal to suffocating tradition and soulless ceremony by those with neither. Real irony there folks!
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These traditions of Aristotle, or these ceremonies of elitist convenience, do nothing but beg the inevitable question; however, a question largely unanswered but for a smirking retort from those jealously maintaining their status quo... ...leading to your increasingly exclusionary and suicidal dead end, reader.
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Somebody knows? Oh, yea and verily... Somebody knows.
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UFO's are, by definition, change reader (the ultimate sedition, remember), and this change points to worlds of much more breadth and scope ... horizon-less potential and effusive expansiveness! It gets no easier to maintain a façade of normalcy for the smirking denial of these few... ...so fearlessly — ask your own questions though the answers (or the suggestions of answers) offend you, shock you, or shame you.
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There is joy beyond the shame, satisfaction beyond the shock, and fellowship beyond the offense.
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...And it's real.
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Read on...

Friday, December 19, 2014

...Alien Invasion Never Looked So Good...


There's always been idle talk about "them."
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Them.
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They.
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The proverbial "Man."
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Though, just who ~are~ "they"? Who or what is "them"? Who is the Man?  Does this nebulous entity even exist?
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Risking the sneering of those "bought in" around you and wondering if the unsettling concept even begins to hold water... the disconcerted reader can begin to suspect that the aforementioned concept as regards "the man..." ...must hold an ocean of water.  ...Ocean systems of water, reader.  See, this is all merely a function of which side of the bullhorn you find yourself; the side in control of same... and the other side.  The 1% (?) ... or the 99, eh?
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So no, "They" are not "aliens from space," if that's what you thought I was on about today. Uh-uh. Today I speak of the "they" that is "us"... ...I'd only be hoping for aliens from space... ...given the flip side is Dick Cheney and his psychopathic lot.
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Yes, *They* exist as sure as "intelligent designers" put spots on little green apples and then buries real news behind a tabloid dross of Runaway Brides, penis moles and whoring Secret Service Agents... Conservatively? Three of these persons in a hundredmore of your fellow citizens, reader, when under duress!—will bleed you out, dispassionately, for the laces on your shoes... that's right.
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This is the "them" of which I speak.  Truth.
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More truth? Less than one of these aforementioned three will be a woman. Much, much less than a fraction of that will be a person of color.  More Truth.  White people, it would seem, have a special proclivity for psychopathy, but I digress.
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Back at the ranch, "Ideal Society" is—and always has been—a means to protect the other 97 Human Beings from being abused, too egregiously, with regard to the self-serving activities of that terrible, even if necessary, 3%...
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Briefly in required digression, sociopathy becomes *necessary*by way of necessity—because we require an ongoing inoculation from these sociopaths or we get weak as a species... ...and it is the rare occasion—because of our prosecuted complacencies, contraryness, and inconsistencies— that the sociopath's way way is the *survival* way—the only way—a ballast-cutting "forward escape" from disaster; it is what happens after the asteroid hits, perhaps. Sorry if you're on the "ballast," but "Survival" at any cost. ...Remember when our darling Tom Cruise had to kill Tim Robbins in "War Of The Worlds"? There's heat where the rubber meets the road...
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Lately, that society accelerates AWAY from its responsibility to—at least minimally—protect its citizenry from the aforementioned, reader, even to the point of recently letting Americans rot in the sun... ...to be eaten by rats, abandoned pets, and alligators for a full week as a result of Hurricane Katrina...?
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...We're not getting our money's worth? You think?
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Did you ever believe that this would be America, reader? I'm over 60, remember. I'd endured Viet Nam and Watergate.  I'd foolishly thought we'd been made more immune to Graft, Conspiracy, Corruption, authoritarianism, and irrational war. I was wrong. I never would have predicted this. ...How bad we would let it get... It's bad...
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I'm a retired soldier and a certified school teacher who has ever only tried to be an asset to my group of fellow humans, reader. I'm no radical even as I have a mind of my own and prefer to think out of the box like any good American...
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...What I thought was a good American at any rate...
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I've a wife and family and quality friends... they deserve a better society than what is presently (and illegitimately) being served in a corporate driven administration's crony-istic insider's prosecution of creeping theocracy and blooming fascism... ...a criminal society of Democrats—and worse— prosecuted in a predatory and insensate culture... ...a culture by which innocence and decency can eventually prove fatal?
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What hides in there? We shall see, I suspect.
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Who are "they." Who are these persons, fellow human beings who blithely disrespect us so, who steal our savings, corrupt our faith, lie to our collective faces, murder our children, infect us with disease, direct us to pollute our food and air... ...even destroy our planet?
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Sadly, I'd have to say "us," ultimately... every individual who buys in, supports, and facilitates the status quo... but we're just piccolo players in the vast orchestra, reader! Who's conducting this mess? That's the issue! The short answer?
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Them...
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Well, forgetting for a moment that the insidious "THEY" are handily expressed in the persons around you... ...those who DARE to sneer at you from their dodgy castle ramparts of three parts jingo-istics, two parts reflexive ignorance and one part canted citation...? Not these so much... ...these are more to be pitied...
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Who are... ..."they"?
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Well...
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"They" are... ...the privileged arbitrary, the stealthy unelected, and far too many of the fraudulently elected.
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"They," are those who have, and having had, would keep on having... despite an aggregate detriment to the common good of those who "have not."
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"They," are in possession of information that would credit or be to the advantage of anyone who knew... ...specifically...outlining why most know not.
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"They" are the secret keepers.
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"They" are the jealous manipulators of the hijacked mainstream.
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"They" are the ardent covetous who encourage bland employees while they discourage ones who might think more critically.
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"They" are the ones with hidden agendas, duplicitous plans, and secret programs.
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"They" are the -few- willing to profit at the expense of the -many-.
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"They" are above the law, outside reasonable ethics, practice a sociopathic amorality, and hold the many enthralled... but beneath their privileged contempt...
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...Not to put too fine a point on it, eh reader?
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Folks -- As I wrote before, don't credit or enable that which disrespects you; don't reward or compensate that which fails to satisfy you. Withhold your vote, your sympathy, and your dollars. Deny it your essence, your support, and your consideration. Refuse it your concern, your regard, or your facilitation.
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Know these by the fruit they have produced:
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... A destroyed economy ... a shrinking middle class ... a degraded health care system ... a diseased environment ... a destroyed military force ... a degraded Bill of Rights ... a degraded quality of life ... Fear and loathing ... Increased Crime ... Pederasty ... Incompetent Cronyism ... laughable ballots ... the rape of our republic ... death ... torture ... unrestricted sociopathy ... tyranny ... a complete disruption of the rule of law ... the list could go on and on as you know it must...
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Know them by their fruit... distruction and degradation... ...and such is the fruit?
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Believe me, we don't really want a fraction of what they're trying to sell us, not really. We are enthralled with EVIL presently, reader... faithless, covetous, gluttonous, jealous, murderous... ...gibbering and capering evil, kind Sir and good Madam.
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Indeed -- hold "them" beneath your contempt, concern, and consideration as you would any soul killer. The soul you save will be your own.
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...Alien Invasion from beyond the stars never looked so good... you know...?
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Read on...
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alienview@adelphia.net
www.AlienView.net
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Sunday, December 07, 2014

...Trust The Night... Defense Of Poetic Commentary: Round II


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How is it allowed at all: this *thing* called "late night radio": programs we have beaming in... ...'fore Sol provokes his *day* again. Sure, it's proffered in the *dark*, when most are sleeping, minds in park... marshalling small energies to match their mainstream's tyrannies... though lately shows pervade the day awash with weirdness, one could say.  Now?  It's "dark" at any hour; at any hour you're empowered.
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See, a plethora of MP3s, in no way censored, charm and tease.  They are accessed any time, and accessed by inquiring minds.  These stimulate that challenge made upon our mainstreams put and paid... See, we need more to fuel us than what Church and State pretend and plan.
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So, many listen late at night to spite their days consumed by fright—days cheapened in the glare of that... well... distracting one from "where it's at"! "War"s and "cars" and football "games" (and Bill O'Reilly's murky claims...), bells and whistles; smoke and mirrors—mainstreams, plainly, nowhere near us!
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See, there is more than is "prime time", but cop to that? You might do time.
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You shall pay an unjust price if you discover "prime's" *device*, or find its *content* somewhat lacking or something more than just distracting!
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So, how do Bell and Birnes survive espousing "what we know are lies?" How are Art and Bill allowed to say the things they say out loud? How can Marrs produce his books, or Stan report enigma's nooks? How does Strieber tell his tale, how do others pierce their veil?
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It's been claimed that these are "agents," the *mainstream* uses as their agent, keeping what the "man" wants "hidden"... what's been deemed proscribed—forbidden! When *these* report a truth, by golly, that truth can be dismissed as folly! Then, in fact, the truth can hide! The best of places, in plain sight!
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..."They" tease our bruised credulity, contuse our incredulity, then leaven fear with glad distraction to lead us to our sad inaction? Then the *night* comes yet again not like a thief, not quite a friend, you're reminded yet again—if you're awake to hear *strange* men— that there is more to light than "day..." to have your confidence ripped away! Then you're programmed for the sun, where "pretty lies," to sooth, are sung.
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The folks of late night are but "tools"? A question begged to prove a rule: that folks of "late night's" *party line* pretend for "cold percentage signs"? That they are slaves of corporate masters (?), covering all their bets (the bastards!)? Making like they're "all tuned in"... to truth and light and current trends... just to keep us off our guard—so faking they have truth's regard?
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...Just another entertainment facilitating our containment?  Denial's ever plausible wrapped in what is possible, conflated "truth-ness" then corrodes what truth is there... ...a mother's load!
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Well—not from light that I'm perceiving; there's little proof, Bell's double-dealing. These are folks who just like me would want more truth.  It sets us free.
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These have honor!  They have heart, and just like me would take their part... embracing wider paradigms with courage and an open mind!  They're not all "agents"—set against—most what's squeezed 'twixt finger's clenched.  All know those fingers that I mean, fists of fascists!  Cruel and mean...
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Were we to be relieved of such, and petty persons bit their dust?  We would be released from that which cheapens spirit: toxic rats.
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Such sights and wonders we'd perceive with senses newly grown one sees... We might live beyond ourselves to transmute into stars, one tells!  We would know non-speakables cast in wonders thought unreachable from "reduction's" squinty sight and from which we might outrun light!
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...Are we conscious of abuse... from grander schemes, unseen.... abstruse, which fan the bottom of our streams to hide in truthless murky memes? Larry King's not ridiculed reporting saucers, or thought a fool; see, he was "prime time" and *prescribed*... to keep the status quo alive!
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Now we would take our part in "this" and turn up what we find exists. There are heaps and gobs of data, evidence beyond errata; SCIENCE more than meets the needs of going where the data leads! Still, giggle-factors hold their sway, liars figure, figures play, so most are mushrooms, fed mere crap... which "daylight" passes off—for fact!
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So, now it's "night" with more folks listening, skies detailed and stars all glistening, going on in time and space belying *daylight's* false embrace! There are truths outside the box that we perceive; They've picked our locks. We have peered behind the curtain; we are not the least uncertain. Still, there is more to this than us! ...Seems now it's *night* that we must trust!
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alienview@roadrunner.com
http://www.alienview.net/





I defend that which should require no defense.
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A defense of poetic commentary, then, qualifies artistic need and justifies desirability, use, and appreciation of same.  Soon poetry becomes requisite as the oldest and most meaningful expression that one can know.  Poetry is the frame of language and expression... poetry provides an expression its provenance and support.  Poetry is what first makes a monkey's small mouth noises more meaningful and memorable.
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I called Art Bell twice in the mid nineties. The first call, on an April Fool's day of one of those years, seemed well received.  I'd briefly detailed a thumbnail history regarding what "April Fool's Day" was really all about. I even made Art laugh at one point.  This encouraged me a few days later into calling on the wildcard line requesting I read this very short poem I'd written (like four lines) about something currently topical... I don't even remember what it was, specifically... perhaps something to do with not having to search for answers about UFOs, but facing ones there and extant.
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It seems poetry was a wildcard not allowed on the "Wildcard Line."  Art's attitude became unexpectedly irritated, dismissive, and cold... so cold...like I had wanted to read the gooshy parts from a serial killer's personal diary or something... seriously, his revulsion was plain.
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His attitude was, in fact, so coldly abrupt and even hostile that I mumbled a shocked and humiliated "Sorry to bother you, then..." and hung up.
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Later on, after the show was up in his, then free, archives, I heard my phone line click dead in his ear as Art explained to his listeners words to the effect that "we don't do *that* on this program," like poetry reading was a known mucoid slime on a hepatitis "C" sufferer's cheap chromed door knob... ouch.  One would think I'd stood up at a Pope's funeral to tell a lame dick joke and tried to wave my own around like it was a prop.
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Well... OK.  ...Hey! It's -his- show and if he won't have poetry reading that's where the "program" bear goes through the "content" buckwheat... and I wrote it off for the most part, but it bothered me, for all the obvious reasons humane, philosophical and cultural, still...
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Much more recently on Art's now long defunct weekend show, a very pleasant sounding young woman wanted to do the same thing: read a few lines of poetry (about the current harmonic convergence I think) and a previously affable Art assumed the same coldness with her that he had with me, and abruptly hung up on her. "We don't -do- that...," he said, after his rejection!
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Do what, really?
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What is his rather hyper offended reactionary behavior all about? What is its genesis? Just where resides its hostile provenance?
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I won't even attempt to answer those questions. They are beside the point made in this piece except to say that it is regrettable behavior walking hand in regrettable hand with the deplorable loss of art, music, and the humanities in our equally regrettable school systems.  That's bad, reader, badder than we know.
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Here's my concern. ...The utter and inexorable exclusion of poetry and the arts by an obtuse authoritarian authority.  Its suffocation.
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Sincerely, consider the unreserved and absolute lack of toleration for same.  Is it not the same inescapable and unchangeable finality reached regarding erosion of the 21st Century soul?  What's reach beyond grasp, then, for?  It is in Bell's "obviously prejudiced conclusiveness" that my greatest concern is revealed. He seemingly feels good to be in a position to put poetry down.
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Frankly... that behavior seems too reactionary. It's too intransigent. It's too uncompromising. I think an alternate "cognitive boat," accessible by more—and more readily employable by most—is being missed at at our eventual peril remembering the dire historical consequences of a prohibited reach beyond grasp.  Seems that soon even grasp is avoided.  Republicans in 2014, by way of example, seem to typify "avoided grasp."  The boat alluded to is appreciative understanding of what "beauty" is, and so behaving then in a way to encourage it around us.
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See, what's being missed in a reflex rejection of poetry: that first exposure to the creation of an expression about "new ideas," difficult expressions that very likely could be not be made initially—or easily said—any other way.  Metaphor and simile leavened with meter and rhyme affixing memory, assuring transfer, and inspiring understanding.  SONG!  Citation becomes unnecessary when one remembers the power of song.  Whole revolutions have been carried on the shoulders of song.
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All words are paint... consider the pictures they compose in your mind, but poetry is the canvas and the brush and the initial human intent. A poem can broach feelings, attitudes, and ideas a lot harder to express effectively than mere prose... or popular songs as alluded to above don't define decades and Shakespeare has no relevance to our modern age. Which of course they do and he does...
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The act of compelling mere words into disciplined meters and rhymes gives a creative expression an immediacy and authority it didn't have before, attaches meaning not as clear before, and provides for a meaningful repetition that wasn't encouraged before. One is encouraged to sing a song more than once if it's got a good tune...
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The act allows for something more endurable, more memorable, and more intimate—something more compelling... something more personal... something more communicative... Poetry is the mechanism for the articulation of difficult ideas, and so, back on topic, is handcrafted for a ufological use.
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There's more.
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There's something extra normal about poetry, one finds, many times. It makes reality focus in a way for both the writer and the reader elevating both in a lasting symbiosis, a symbiosis fortunately not required for success.  The mere aspiration to it is enough.
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The writer writes to be read of course... the writer is an artist and artists perform... but there is a deeper imperative occurring if the writer is not writing so much to be understood, but to himself under-STAND, to make sense, or provide a history. Then understanding gets done regardless, perhaps.
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Poets, and from the hoary start where articulation was new enough to be only poetry, were ever in touch with something useful that is creative and out of the box—instructive or informational just for that!  Poetry is not a frivolity or needless icing on the verbal cake to be shunned and discounted or arbitrarily dismissed; it is the cake in fact!
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Poetry—that well turned if not necessarily rhyming construction of sounds—is the thing to reach beyond the mere word! The requirements of metric discipline or the rhyme itself is the device that reaches further and grasps more... is more significantly penetrating than other literary forms.
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Poetry is that first exploration of unknown worlds. Prose comes in later after poetry to document and provide for an explicit record, but loses something, sometimes, to become even the more inaccurate record, missing spirit for the letter.
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Verily, boys and girls! Poetry is the literary form that all other literary forms humbly follow and from which other expressions issue forth. An essay won't ordinarily inspire a creative painting, or a painting a creative essay, but a poem might. It's no surprise where it does.
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Poetry has a value, a seriousness, and necessity that is forsaken—forsaken, I add, by notable persons like Art Bell who should know better—and forsaken in the easy dismissal, uninformed intolerance, or the unenlightened prejudice against it by persons who should be paying it more respect, of needs!  All our needs.
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Poetry takes one where one's never been or where one wants to go again...
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For example, where else but in a poem could you suggest the truly heretical and live to produce a subsequent writing? This is why snarky jesters kept their heads if critical in Court.  Where else but in a poem could you propose that the sparkling night has usurped the occluded day... usurped it in spirit, in letter, and in deed ... in fact...
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...as the current champion of the greater truth!
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Postscript on effect:
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When I write one of my odd odes I am absolutely taken to another place, self-abducted if you will... if I am... to a parallel world (or dimension) where cold words take on living attributes—personifications of truth, justice, empathy and enlightenment. They line themselves up into forms and meters, provide rhymes for themselves and then deliver themselves whole and at once to be banged onto my computer's keyboard as they swim in and out of focus in my short term memory.  It's like I'm not writing them, initially. It's like they suggest themselves to me. Like someone or something outside myself is speaking to me... just so. Not from me so much as through me.
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When I am writing—or thinking about writing, what I'm writing about, or thinking about thinking— the world around me, many times, is a transformed world where perception has a translucent transparency as if it was made of crystal or some strange new glass/metal alloy.  Frankly?  I get high.
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Winding up... at 2000 plus words this piece is not as concise as those demanding such prefer, I'm sure.  I suggest that these print it out, roll it up in a tight tube, and poke themselves in the eye with it, hard and repeatedly, for the intended effect. For the un-conflicted and more appreciating reader, then, "I'd take you where you've never been or where you'd like to go again."
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You, reader, understand that there is a place for words as paint... or there better be. Words are paint.
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Oh, they're weapons and tools of immortal magic, too, you see, as they can be in more than one place at the same time and they even travel in time... they can be two places at once when they're not anywhere at all! ...But first they are paint.
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They create pictures in the brain with brushes moving faster than light—at the speed of thought—to take the reader where the reader's never been, or where the reader wants to go... again, eh? Every word is a drop of color. Sentences are brushstrokes, paragraphs are portraits, and pages are the considered landscapes of our flotsam-ed and jetsam-ized Sea, Land, and Endless Mental Sky...
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Why might that be?
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There is a general feeling of complete satisfaction, accomplishment—a sense of contribution and connectedness—the senses feel truly quickened... sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell seem enhanced and extraordinary!  Sixth and seventh senses seem a distinct possibility... They confuse themselves one with another in a kind of synesthesia. I hear a little color; I see a little sound; I taste a little touch.
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Sometimes pleasant and exotic odors waft inexplicably by perhaps enhancing a thought just had. Notes and chords not heard before are heard in a chance bit of music playing—the whole body feels like a finger tip non-salaciously but appreciative tracing an outline of beauty's face... time and space are eternal and I (we)... part of that eternity... ...and then the piece is done.
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It's a little like a death, I think, or a seasonal fall suggesting the (not so) inevitable spring that has come back, every time so far... Still, whenever I finish a piece I wonder if this is the last one.
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Will a tyrant's society provide me with one too many duplicitous distractions to achieve whatever it is that is required to be inspired... to even produce a new one... re-enter that hugely satisfying adjacent universe of beauty and creation as different from the everyday world as eight bit color is to 64... and a universe to be shared as the universe aspires to share, free of charge to anyone sharing an expanding connectedness!
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I likely disclose too much... compelled though I am to disclose in fact... still, welcome to my world... facilitated, ameliorated, and conjugated by poetic commentary and critical prose.  It abides as do I, with it and in its service.
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Restore John Ford...
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Sunday, November 23, 2014

Good News Guy


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I guess I'm not a "good news guy" to most of you on square! Though that's my aspiration, so the irony's still there. And, yes, there's real irony given truth that I would share is the "perspicacious" poetry I compose because... I DARE!
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I'm rolled up tight and in your eye if you are unrepentant, if you are proud or arrogant—a "maladroit transcendent." If you would use just science, and but 2% of that, then find me charging up your nose ...or mashing it quite flat!
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...I've got flaws and errant foibles same as anyone who breathes. I aspire to the Boy-scout, though I'm way up off my knees! So, I can't stomach little men who hear without an *ear*... who are wrapped up in themselves—too much—or ruled by what they fear.
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These are dead before me like they never even were, if well beneath concerned contempt one feels for snakes or slurs! Yes, kicked at when they raise their heads, or round-housed with a board, some slights cannot be tolerated or egregious crime's ignored!
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Too, I'll cleave from that which plays me false, be it creed or God or man, and cleave to sensibilities flying higher... understand?  I'll eschew the "business man" condoning tricks and traps; he's known for what he really is... a prick in heaps and stacks!
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...Corporate greed is killing us, destroying all we know, and I can feel its fingers as they close around my throat! They are gain for *sake* of gain, all power and control, and they don't hear the bells, I think, which for them peal and toll! They are so last century, and embrace a sordid past! They are loath to lose those reins which keeps us at our bogus tasks!
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Labeled a "believer," I'm discarded to the fringe. I'm banished to the nether realms of the "psychotic" and "unhinged." Though, I have said before, my friend, that "I do NOT believe"! "Belief" is NOT my problem, folks! From "belief" I have reprieve!
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Belief is not the issue! It won't satisfy my need! I heed the "fact's" complicity I've extracted like a seed!  See, I don't believe duplicity and the issue of that breed... Like...I don't believe in Gods men made to cater to their needs! ...And needs of a *minority* I hastily would add, who practice cloaked perversities contented, safe, and glad!
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See, I don't believe in preachers who would speak in tongues of guile while they robbed the fearful hapless of their money, hope, and style! I won't believe a clergy who would prey upon our kids. Perversion's been the stock and trade of... monied fakes and squids!
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I don't believe in Presidents appointed by a court... or because his sibling Governor can provide corrupt support... I don't believe in agencies without an oversight which operate without regard to "decency" and "right."
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I don't believe "security" is found in errant "secrecy"... and I don't believe a wrong can make a right—that's pure indecency!  See, I don't believe "best practice" is in any way conserved if it comes as a result as what we know does not well serve!
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...I can't believe the journalist as "talking pretty head," a mere mouth piece for complacencies the mainstream spoons instead, and I can't believe Republicans who shan't pay down a debt they've encouraged by the rules they've made to suit the corporate set!
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I can't believe the smaller men who condone a narrow view; so hobbled by false paradigms they've lost their sense for truth. These generate consensus to facilitate their ends, to whatever weak agenda they've contrived and... just pretend.
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For these putrescent "pleasures" they have done egregious "things."  The wage we're paid is terror and the loathing that must bring!  We are not well served, we know, the fox in charge of hens, pretending—then—that such is so propounds a foul pretense
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Because some are befuddled by the way they think things are, because some are insentient and so cannot see their star, because they have but disrespect for any but their own... ...well, one lost himself a "Paradise" he once could call his "home"...
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Too, this is why I can't conceive a person so malformed... he must toady up to rich men with his honor rent and torn; he must beg for fickle favor without sickness in his gut, and then parrot propaganda that just keeps him in his "rut..."
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.,¸¸,.»§«,¸¸,.·´¯`·.,¸¸,.»§«*¥*»§«,¸¸,.·´¯`·.,¸¸,.»§«·.,¸¸,.

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Rather... ...we were built to soar and cleave... even strike the face of God... of needs, if he would practice some offence, or used us in some unjust sense!
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We are what we make ourselves! We stand or fall alone... ...ourselves! Freedom and our self-respect is all we really crave, I've read!
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Now some would say "...that's not good news"! We tempt God's hand!” These cry, bemused! Still, I maintain we're "self-aware" and that's the message better shared!
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We would make the things we need from models we ourselves decreed! *Gods* have kept our nose to stones while "priest/kings" know we're NOT alone, and not of passion for our gain but for themselves, and at our pain!
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I sense, somehow, a better way than what's contrived: their price we pay. Sad, we are better served in doubt... than what our status quo's would spout.

See, we are ageless stardust laid... across the cosmos put and paid, deserving more respect that's real than what is tendered now, I feel. 

We must try, so then decide, what kind of world we'd abide.  Dog eat dog and Manor Lords, their sons who rape and make cruel sport... or take some pains to pay fair taxes, choose a life style more relaxing: living wages, single payer, safety nets... an ozone layer!


alienview@roadrunner.com
http://www.alienview.net/





It was once broadcasted (SDI #255, 8/30/03) that I lost credibility in the very educational if ironic Mortellaro affair of years past.  Educational because what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and ironic because the very name Mortellaro loosely means "death's overseer."  How is that not the Devil?
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Still, lost credibility?  A continuing consideration shows that I can must reject that observation handily, with all humility, and in total finality... if with all respect for the broadcaster, Dave Furlotte.  Credibility with others does not provide me the motivation suggested as alluded in the prosery above.  It's preferred of course, still, it remains unnecessary.
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Besides, to my mind, in my estimation, and through my filters I should have only gained credibility with the honoring interested as a result of my experience.  My behavior and honest sincerity never wavered.
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Mortellaro—also sucking in Budd Hopkins and David Jacobs, men passing for top tenure in Abduction research—was the presumed psychopath and certainly exposed charlatan. I can't allow it to be thought that I agree with Dave Furlotte's off-putting assessment as broadcast lo these many years ago.  Silent, I seem to agree.  I do not.
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Forgetting the corresponding lack of necessity and so questionable value of a predicted, if tedious, self-defense, here's why at five disparate levels:
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In the first place I showed some courage of conviction to swim against the angry tide in defense of a perceived truth and even (arguably) bit the hand that had been feeding me (so to speak) at SDI.  Strange Days Indeed, helmed by Errol Bruce-Knapp had, since 1996, considered me a fellow in the ethical pursuit of that perceived truth as regards UFO's.  I was on Errol's team, I'm on Errols team still...We both stated regret of those proceedings at the time. ...Glad that's behind me.  Errol, too.
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Still, I demonstrated that the truth (such as it is, was, and shall be) has more value for me than the comfort and exposure of belonging to convenient venues even increasing in relevance and a substantive popularity, as SDI certainly was. I would be compelled to do the "right thing" (as perceived), first. Recent significant others could bear this out, I'm afraid. All respect is there, too.
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In the second, I explored that *truth* pursued under the microscope of a consistent philosophy of some stability. As I've written, that philosophy assigns more value to tested faith than the untested variety even as Aristotle is benched, of needs, for the more multifaceted player, Plato! Plato understood that Chaos is the mother of any Cartesian reductionist's "order" and it is inappropriate to forsake one for the other... immoral even. Neither Yin nor Yang, reader, it's the edge between them defines us, all and one.
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I made a written record regarding the substance of those evaluations (and experiences) to substantiate that *truth* discovered about Jim Mortellaro. At the end of the evaluation I let the chips fall where they fell. They fell decidedly foul for me. It was, in my opinion, a foulness of wasted time and other regrets.  Still, that's the way it rolled. Heavy sigh, eh?
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Still, I stayed true to a philosophy expressed consistently since 1996. I'd wager that few—who know me at all—are remotely surprised at the actions I took in defense of a perceived truth. Then and now, reader, at my peril with regard to significant others, too.  Conscience does not abide infidelity.
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On the third, I have demonstrated that I can admit error—even when not under duress to do so— as the ongoing "evaluation" indicates and so demands it. Consequently, an aforementioned consistency was maintained.
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I've always counseled that the admission of an error is, still, a step up (philosophically), so I could do no less given my clear error as it regarded that wholly scabrous and disingenuous scourge Jim Mortellaro. I don't perceive it as a "stretch" that this fact, alone, is worth the price of my re-admission to a modicum of trust if it is lacking. I'm not afraid to make a mistake. I'll make more. I'll own up to those, too. ...An effort will be made, of course, to keep these to a minimum.
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Of the fourth, given the same real-time circumstances? I would do all the same things I did—say the things I said, write the things I wrote—over again because it was in accordance with what my non-conflicted beliefs were, at the time. I can make no apology for sincerity, earnestness, and the authenticity of my actions—which remained ethical and above board—only the eventually discovered lack in efficacy of them. Hindsight is 20/10, nes't ce pas?
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Regarding a final fifth I would aspire to do the same thing again in the future if similar convictions manifested themselves in my spirit... because I aspire to bravery, conscience, integrity, intelligence, and free thought or expression of same! No reader worth a flying joust at rolling doughnut could expect me, or themselves, to do any less. Capable of shame, I am in no way ashamed of myself. The reader, on reflection, may find little reason, themselves, to be ashamed of me, or to speculate adversely on my credibility.  I've taken pains to be true.
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I think the accuracy of this tedious self-evaluation on the state of my ufological "credibility" can be measured in the guileless attitudes and open-armed behavior of both Mr. Velez and Mr. Knapp upon my return to SDI. These two gentlemen welcomed me back with such warmly uncomplicated and immediate friendliness that even I—who might have expected collegiate behavior from them given my mea culpa and genuine innocence in the turbulent affair—remain astonished by it! Not a hint of I told you so, folks. Richly deserved... ...Not a peep.
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If these two of the most inconvenienced (per se) of my *critics* (per se) had little problem with my (aggregate) credibility then perhaps the interested reader should re-evaluate any problem they might have with same. Just writing the report, folks—compelled to such and so.
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With all respect to Mr. Furlotte, then, who honestly calls them as he sees them and who I'm certain aspires to the same qualities of bravery, conscience, integrity, intelligence, and free thought as do I... in this instance? Well—he's got another "take" coming. [g].
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Closing, here is the unheralded reason for account settling in this manner about an occasion where I gladly admit my arrears. I would sing the praises for tirelessly credible UFO researchers and other contributors of significance: Feschino, Friedman, Hastings, Dolan... and Dave Furlotte among significant others, but of that ilk. I would not provide for that service to them if I was unwilling to first qualify myself as stronger and more credible exactly because I have endured the attentions of psychopaths and charlatans, eh? These didn't "kill" me, and I am stronger.

Read on.