Thursday, February 11, 2016

The AlienView


The Alien View
by Alfred Lehmberg


...The Alien View. The view that takes the "you" out of the equation. Oh yes and verily, fellow traveler, it'll put a *spell* of sedition on you! ...And you know what it is about sedition!
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Right! That an "alternative" offered is an attractive one or the sedition could not be able to seduce!  Why, it could even be intelligently preferred to one's culture extant as a "choice of better practice."  Though that's not the point... even as it is exactly the point, confusingly! This alternative remains to be contrary to the intestinally impacted status quo presently endured.  This is the nadir of things... whatever that status quo's inferiority, malfeasance, or duplicity... howsoever obvious is same!  Are we not obliged to criticize disingenuous culture?
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Of course, we are!  That, or we'd still be tilling three-field rotations on land we could never own while waiting for the stingy largess of the manor lord and his arrogant sons to ride down and make sport with our daughters!  Stow that!
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Concurrently, compared to the rest of the world the US sucks up a *share* of world resources that, by far and away, exceeds what it gives back to... well, anything, or anybody, frankly, even its own, lately... but for the aforementioned privileged few—that ironic vast minority
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The world pays so we can play! Why, we Americans should incur more rank enmity, pay a higher and higher price for complacency as that goes on, and have. ...And shall it would seem.  It's time for a new approach.
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Indeed, we must likely, if righteously, pay a premium—remembering benign leftist Governments in Central and South America the United States usurped to favor true murdering monsters of the right-wing—for disrespecting the rest of the world as much as we have. Verily, by any sensible measure, we have so disrespected.  
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I digress further, but that the disrespect parlayed for the third and fourth worlds, now prosecuted for decades, creeps back even to our own sovereign shores to the least of us: we the, even thrifty, aged, the destitute young, the vast majority of the chronically unemployed, the uninsured, the unquestionably ill and infirm, the walking wounded precipitated by thirty years of unbridled corporate predation, thievery, and craven psychopathic soullessness.
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Back at the ranch, though at the root of that soullessness?  Try not to laugh. See, that's really just a whistle passed a graveyard.  Take a deep breath and remember that the reader is but filthy rags as viewed by one's even trivial "ideal."  He who'd hang the stars like lamps in the night sky is by no means remotely impressed with our finest works.
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The readerand this writerhave earned the right to laugh at nothing... given the aggregate expression of the average alluded to resembles so many monkeys having carnal knowledge of footballs.  That's being fair.
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Resolved: America should be leading humankind's effort in the matter of "ufological disclosure," (howsomever expressed even that it might raise one's bile) but remains, in fact, its biggest hurdle. We provide other hurdles to the rest of the World's... ...exsqueeze me—"ufological disclosure"?
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Do I detect a smirk? Remember it; that is my sole admonition...
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See, if you lived over a guy with a bad headache, would you continue to practice your tap dancing or jackhammer sculpture? The Alien View observes that many of us are doing just that. Indeed, even presume a right to continue to do so... Don't pretend to wonder what I'm talking about; just answer the question.
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I would just as soon, not, for myself. See, I do know that misery shared is decreased where joy shared conversely performs a most joyous inverse... that might mean something at the end of the path with jungle beyond.
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Is that the reason for a pretty thundering silence on issues I've raised... Inviting any C& C, excluding, of course, any discussion on the subject of  "end rhymes" (...heard that one.)...
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Ultimately justified poetic jibes at the arrogance of  the intelligence used by others like it was their own if psychopathically employed, weapon, alone… You'd begrudge me even that?  There's to be no justice?  
. Matters not.  It's a song, and that's what songs do.  ...Some of them have serrating teeth of end rhyme.  It cuts a little deeper each stanza and can continue to cut for centuries, remembering Byron. 
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Consider, these songs aspire to be a song for the greatest denominator—hence the end rhymes! They are songs, folks. Don't be snotty or trifle to sneer at their proffered sincerity.  It's deconstructive. This is forgetting I'll eat your literary face for it when I can...
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These songs are ironically the result—not, I challenge, a cause— of mechanisms I believe in stealthy operation to the detriment of us all. These are a psychopathic's employed mechanisms of "trust betrayal" and "crimes of obfuscation," it would seem, perpetrated against humanity by an aggregate *officialdom* cited in the prosery alluded to, to delegitimize UFOs so stubbornly perceived, still! 
. My songs are merely one self-aware individual's reaction to these mechanisms and the psychopaths making use of them… I make no apology, even double down on my assertion. 
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See, my songs are provoked chronicles on dangers associated with these suspected and obvious the inconsistencies of officiality I've outlined above.  You know who they are. 
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My songs are a sincere poetry critical of self-serving institutions perpetuating their heinous authoritarian inflexibilities on those not believing in the default status quo.  To protect corrupted officiality's imagined exceptionalism of positioned privilege, they denigrate and are disingenuous as regards key aspects of the highly strange, to live with a god's auspices, themselves, but denying a true first category civilization: real medicine, sound social efficacy, wondrous tech, and instantaneous communication for the rest of us.
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A kingdom to be had, at hand, but for their niggardly denialism. 
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My songs aspire to be disciplined "raps" regarding the courageous acknowledgment that there is, in fact, an awareness of those cowardly auspices alluded to... and the prevaricating education systems, among other errant support systems, facilitating them... A pox upon them, all, eh?
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These are devices and mechanisms manipulating the sensibilities of deceived persons falsely believing they make informed consent regarding the content of miserable lives unsuspecting that their trust is, and has always been, betrayed... ...Though, don't get me started. LOL!
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...That might have seemed a little maniacal. I can't (won't) apologize.  In an insane society, it might be that the insane are sane.
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...And now to obliterate one's laughing smirk alluded to above with that admonishion to "remember." ...Release the hounds on unearned hubris where it was observed, as it were...
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See, I'd read recently from one of the more obliviated (TM) "juice-suckers," bagged and cognitively boggy, blogs... (whew!) ...that there were "some things more important than UFOs"!
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...Some things... more important... than UFOs...
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He (she, it... they?) suggested this seriously asphyxiated and unthinkingly pompous clunker... even as he (she, it... they?) intimates or self-propounds themselves as "the epitome of logical balance and educated sensibility"—not the dilettante mooks crippled with unearned hubris like these actually are.
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...These mumble protestation, whining ironically about "morons in need of attention."  There's a squirty giggle for you....
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Let's "shift into high but fly by the stingray to wave bye bye."  Yeah!  Hang a big shift of change course, understandably, and take an embracing reasonable leap of interrogative conjecture! Let's test the soundness of the preceding idea... a thought experiment, if you will...
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Resolved: ...that there are some things more important than UFOs.
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Well then, presume for a moment that there actually were intelligently occupied UFOs in the skies above, after all... What if?
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Yeah yeah yeah... Just go along you tedious CSIcopionic-klasskurtxoid stooge canoe (TM)! Even for you, an imaginationally challenged, fearfully lurking, and intellectually constipated cogni-mooker... your *evidence*, such as it would have to be for you, is in your hand... ...go with me... ...Your Warp drives, alien heads, ray-guns, alien pot shard... or whatever it takes to stop the receding horizon of your shallow-draft evidentiary boat!  ET is extant...
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You have your "evidence" such as it must come to be and so you must now "believe," to observe your own dictates if you have any backbone or integrity at all!  The fallacious "extraordinary claim" has, and at last, its mythical "extraordinary evidence," in hand.
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...Uh, if you can't do this for the purposes of the argument? Then we can stop right here because we have already defined your problem while proving my point... and please to run, don't walk, to the nearest clinic and get yourself sterilized so we can preclude the continued potentiality of your dodgy contribution to even the shallow end of the gene pool... and thanks for playing!
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Back at the ranch... UFOs "are real," then, for the purpose of argument. Just the way a host of lettered and credible persons has found them to be.  This is given. They are real. Real as death or taxes, in fact, more real than death and taxes, actually. Therein lies the problem... but I won't digress, again.
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Real UFOs conjectured, landing on the White house lawn, abducting citizens, sharing their choice of technologies, buzzing our military bases... ...or eating our heads...
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...What remains in our "previous affairs" more important than the occupants of those UFOs?
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Which of our previously presupposing concerns remains to take its prerequisite's precedence? What imagined slight between Catholic, Protestant, Moslem, and Jew does not wither away to irrelevance in the cold hard light of a ufological reality?
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Given UFOs? It's everything ELSE must come to individual adjustment. Love and hate, War and peace, God and the Devil. Everything else. Everything. 
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E V E R Y T H I N G...
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I think that's GOOD news, forgetting it also, sadly, keeps the *mainstream's* giggle-bumpers up... s'ok... verily these bumpers fray and dissolve away!
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See, we're like a bunch of BCE (Before Common Era) south pacific islanders of early generation on the cusp of our discovery by *others*.  Their (our) island is abruptly surrounded by elder civilizations of a—we can only hope—refined sociality and seemingly magical technology? They (we)... slowly begin to realize that they (we) are going to have to take a different path... to self-esteem and self-actualization than they (we) had heretofore presumed. Eh?
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They'd (we'd) better!
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A lesson learned from the Matrix film series? Harsh reality is preferable to pre-programmed sky-pie that won't pay off in something "real"... something that pays the aggregate rent, for your trouble, in a system where the individual has an informed consent!
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Experiment over. What did you discover?
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Now: consider the legion of sincere and intelligent persons who have already made that aforementioned ufological leap and are waiting with dwindling patience for the ardently inappropriate "sea-anchor pelicanist" to make the leap himself (...herself, itself...). No.
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...Uh-uh....
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...Nothing, no thing... is more important to humanity than a resolution of the ufological issue and a statesman-like, of needs, political approach to same. No thing. Everything else is mere reaction and distraction to that, I'm compelled to think, everything else is smoke and mirrors to insentient inculcated drones who could be much better advised and informed than they are or have been.
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Too, the rewards for our bravery, I suspect, are greater than the risks—which are inevitable anyway whatever we decide or do! That's good news I feel, still.  It's honesty and self-respect on the way back. ...Feels good and smells better!
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This resolution is necessary even with a seemingly unlikely opposite outcome! The truth... though heaven falls, after all. Solid ground, then, of informed consent on which to build is to be preferred.
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Truth, though heaven falls? There are better heavens, I suspect, ones we could make for ourselves right now if we wished, if we but chose to. A kingdom truly at hand.
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Not a "believer", remains I can believe. Additionally, "I can think, and I can wait." ...See you there!

Sunday, February 07, 2016

Odd Observation #7



Hide Not Seek
by Alfred Lehmberg

Well, what is it about Sundays?  It it Angels airily flitting about in pursuit of their heavenly tasks & errands?  Ah... mmm... no... 

Demon's minionsor Satan's spawnbusily prosecuting their, perhaps justified, hatred for God?  Again. No.   

UFOs mysteriously engaged in activities all their own, and just like us, good and evil?  That's more likely, eh?  We humans are but an example of others in the fractal corporeal, or real world, that appears to be the expanding universe where any discussion of size is a profound understatement.

These are ideas or positions of mutual exclusion, reader, remembering that the vast, vast majority of individuals who don't have a ~clue~ what any of these 'positions' or ideas really arethis writer included.  ...But I saw two "Manifestations of an Indeterminate Type" (MITs?) on Sunday morning during my routine night watch, and I was neither saved nor was I possessed... so far as I can perceive...  

I was transported, mind you, but that's an explainable result of getting a quick (albeit fuzzy) look at the larger reality... and not the conflicting realities of the over-pompous and predigested pap we get from our corrupt institutions.  ...But whoa, friends and neighbors... that's a digression too fertile to look at right now!  

I don't want to talk about that, and I'll get to my sightings (mere, but eerily performing, NLs) in a moment. But right now I want to talk about HYPNOTISM.

Hypnosis has a strange history shrouded in chicanery, smarmy humbuggers, and a little something extra one can't but put a finger on. That little "something extra" is what keeps it around, makes it sometimes useful, and so then justifies a harder look by science...

...Sometimes it works.  Science says so.

One hears the word "hypnosis" and is overcome by images of stage personalities suggesting to people that they can be transformed into barnyard animals, dance a grand ballroom fandango, or be compelled to quit smoking... lose weight... but the program can be more insidious than that.

If two-thirds of the population can be affected by phenomena which science can quantify (if not qualify), it  seems to be a ready mechanism for control by manipulative forces and their convenient programming "suggestions"... autocratic manipulations delivered via a daily sensory bombardment from a very tightly controlled medianewsprint, radio, television, and the internet.  

An individual buying into the unceasing manipulations of this contrived, distorted, and corrupted mainstream might even take the next step in their own "control" by hypnotizing themselves with self-suggestion!  In effect, rendering themselves incapable of perceiving what is there, plainly,  to be perceived, and NOT, conversely, seeing what is not there to be seen.  It's all about suggestion, rationalization (ever rational lies), and a prepackaged excuse to avoid critical thinking...

A story...

While on active duty many years ago, and before I developed a ~keen~ interest in the ufological, I had a barbecue at my home, one evening, with five or six couples and a few singles in rowdy attendance.  I was standing away from the noisy group with two other men, one AH-64 (Apache) instructor pilot, and the other a fixed-wing driver who was a rare Army candidate for the astronaut program. These were two quality guyshaving to otherwise demonstrate a rare degree of intelligence, competence, and skillin the kick-back mode. The sun had just gone down and dusk was washing out to the blackness of the appreciated night. 

There was a lull in the conversation, and one of the men looked up and said, "That's odd..."... 

Pointing at the sky with his beer hand, we all looked up to see a black strip about as wide as a little fingernail held at arm's length and flying diagonally through the air, left tip forward about 45 degrees, supplying no hint of fuselage, nose, or tail!  As it flew, one of the men remarked that the craft had very peculiar position lights.  These lights were white strobes that ran from wing-tip to wing-tip, and then back again... additionally there was no evidence of the required red and green (left and right) tip lights, and no flashing anti-collision light... whoa, eh?

"Well ... it's got to be something..." someone said... and, with that, the object was all but forgotten and otherwise erased from our short term memory. All three of us returned psychologically to the spirited party.  More beer was had by all and the festivities continued into the usual drunken mini-brawl for which Army aviators with Cavalry experience USED to be famous...

I didn't remember this occurrence again for almost a decade.  I was only reminded of it later by seeing a similarly baffling object in California... after  I had developed an aforementioned interest in UFOs. 

Back at the barbecue, I would suggest, now, that my two fellow aviators and I followed the programming hypnosis of "polite" society and ignored a sighting that should have been VERY interesting to two professional military instructor pilots and one candidate astronaut, one would have thought!  We reflexively and very neatly self-hypnotized ourselves with the calming mantra:  "It's got to be something... It's got to be something..."  Meaning, of course, It's got to be something prosaic.  I remember doing it.  At the time it made perfect sense... there were "bigger" (hah!) fish to fry.

So, we were less than interested, and we astonishingly ignored a genuine UFO as a non-event... behavior on this end of time that now seems wholly inexplicable to me.  

We hypnotized ourselves (followed our social programming) and rejected the unsettling enigmatic for the comforting mundane.  We ignored what our eyes were reporting to us and replaced it with an "accepted" pre-programmed routine.  We turned our back on the unexplained, likely occurring around us all the time (unseen), and made it fit into what we are trained to find culturally tolerable... Adjusting cultural blinders, we returned our eyes, not so bravely reader, to the ground.

I've watched this process of denial (through self-hypnosis) at work twice now.  Another occurrence manifested itself at a rubber~powered model airplane flying meet in Northern California. Dozens of us watched a UFO fly by five times, over a period of a few hours, with fewer and fewer people looking up to watch it fly with each succeeding pass that it queerly made!  ...Tell yourself enough times that "something's" not thereand it's not there!

Recent scientific research gives every indication that science believes the human brain is capable of convincing itself to perceive what is not there to be perceived.  I would suggest that it can also do the inverse of that.  It can also mask what is there to be seen, as plain as shining day.  We won't pay enough attention to that, given that we have to overcome so much programming from our myopically conflicted, and, therefore, suspect, culture... but I hazard the same digression I just walked away from earlier...

 ...We MUST pay a new attention, ultimately, if we ever expect to see anything really there, at all.  Presently, we stumble through our lives with social bags over our heads that we would not tolerate if we had a suspicion regarding that larger reality mentioned earlier.  Look around under the lip of your bag, reader, and see if you can't agree.

I've looked beneath the lip of my bag and had sightings of my own like the ones I mentioned earlier. Sunday morning these fast-moving nocturnal lights clipped by collectively overhead at over five degrees a second!  Also collectively, they were of equal brightness and color, a couple of magnitudes dimmer than Sirius and pearl blue in color.  No field glasses that morning (the wife had moved them... argh!). 

The first was noticed when it was due West at about 60 degrees in elevation, about 04:50 Central, before moving like a tracer-round into the body of the great bear, tracking due North until it was lost in the distance.  The second occurred about 05:00 hours and was first noticed above and to the left of Polaris (about 70 degrees in elevation). It tracked due South until lost in the distance.  I don't know that they were the same object, but their appearance and speed were identical.  I have to allow that it is possible.  

It's suggested by the larger reality, cited in the forbidden index, and proven in the heart of the individual.  
Such is so.

It's "got to be something" for sure.  The "new" wrinkle is that I no longer self-hypnotize, or otherwise allow myself to be hypnotized (where I can help it),  that it has to be something... "prosaic."  Though, it does have to be... something.  Something, indeed.

I remain watching our skies.  Read on! 

Tuesday, February 02, 2016

Bad Neighbor


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As I shan't defend the Luddite and his hatred of machinery, I won't besmear successes found this scientific century.  I can't provide an argument for a flaw in science method... I only hope to point out, friend, its reach is mal-extended!
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I've lived passed half a century ... heard consumer sirens sing. I know that we’re conditioned, friend, to buy the "trendy" thing. We're beat up by the media to consume the current *soap*. Our *joy* is keyed to genitals, where they tie a silken rope. I've been around the block, myself, and see the trick pursued. It's a con of arbitration to corrupt your attitude.
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...Yes, they stroke you as they choke you, folks, and they milk your hapless glands. See, they'd help you smoke their cigarettes with a lie that "YOU’RE the man"! Tobacco prosecutes your RIGHTS, or "liberty’s erosion"... then jacks up on the nicotine to hook you on that notion!
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It's disrespect to all worth holding! That's spit in honor's eye. They would profit from your misery, live in luxury while you died. They’re thriving, still, while hapless folk float dead on hopeless chance! These trip their light fandango, friend! These prance their rich man’s dance!
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I heard a judge, a federal one: in confession he was dirty... telling C-SPAN just how hard it was to support his dear wife's hurting. His kids had "needed college," and his cost of living, dear! "Folk’s just don’t know how hard it _is_... ...on only *90 thousand* a year!"
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At present, now, are Christians who must now stand against the *peace*! None sees the sweeping irony, that their ethics are diseased! Saying. "The peace will come from devils. 'Cooperations?' — Leagues with Satan!" or "It's a sinful demon's work... to have a one world nation!"
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"The end times are upon us; look down, turn back... but pray!" "The beast has now arisen; so, the end comes any day!" "I’ll send my gold to Jesus, to he whom I'd call friend..." so, "I’ll give my wealth to that cute Ralph Reed... or the likes of Benny Hinn."
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"Yes! A 'PEACE' COMES FROM THE DEVIL"! This is their senseless cry! It's their platform, though not level... They don't think to wonder why! So if "peace" is mad contrivance and the brainstorm of the "Beast"? Then WAR is "blessed effort"! ...And that is just diseased!
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Up is "out" an near's "away"–we must "erode the trust!" We must end this "false endeavor" of a "search for peace" ... "we must"! "See, if peace comes from the devil, then that peace is God forbidden!" ...from the mouth of Ferry Falwell on the Christian *mount* he'd ridden.
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If I’m wrong on this, please say so, ... and I’ll hear your outraged shout... but that’s profoundly specious... crap... that they go on about! ...Clear to me, religion is, at best? Catastrophe! A tree is known by fruit produced... ...this fruit is blasphemy!
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...Consider now, Race *purity*... or my Cocker Spaniel canine! Official papers in a stack, rare beauty... highest stanine! Though, that superficial *beauty* had the "highest" kind of price. She was ill and ill afflicting; she was seldom ever nice.
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Moreover, she’s epileptic and neurotic in her turn. She was mean and was a biter! All her chromosomes were burned! So, this ahead for *purists*! What the *skinheads* really want? To make genetic monsters... so their kids can howl and grunt?
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It's diversity's the answer! It’s there must lie salvation! To "understand" begins right there... accommodate toleration! Tolerate what’s different, and find your irritation... "Left Behind" with all the sins... of religious aberration!


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alienview@adelphia.net
www.AlienView.net



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Have you ever thought of the complete and utter disrespect that human beings must have, apart from fellow human beings, for animals in general? Genetically teasing them into the arrogant preconception of an ultimately unhealthy caricature of what that animal is supposed to be, they would prosecute this arrogant disrespect out of clueless insentience and wanton hubris.
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Now, with all the historical evidence on sex-linked genetic disease, plus the evidence that he can see around him in his purebred animals—who CANNOT remotely live without him—the garden variety skin-head can't readily see that his racial *purity* is a myth, a joke, and a tragedy?
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Whither the UFOs in the face of such cluelessly arrogant, and ironically facilitated, ignorance? What's their take? Human: somewhat interesting if presently bad neighbors behaving badly like a troop of mawkish monkeys, flinging feces and making seemingly meaningful mouth noises?
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If an Extraterrestrial, would you introduce yourself to such idiocy as *humankind*... creatures so wrapped in self-involved denial they'd pretend they were, in fact, alone in this crowded room, free, though wrapped in their own toxic chains, and informed, even as they perceive "Faux News" as fair and balanced?
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I suspect not.
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Read on.
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Thursday, January 28, 2016

Gray Is The Word...






A revisit from one victim of "The Official Record" is begged...
Gray Is The Word...
UFO Magazine, September 2007
by Alfred Lehmberg


Major Jesse Marcel, a principal made patsy at Roswell, is a clueless doof and blustering confabulator based on an "exhaustive" review of the "official record" according to the late Robert Todd? Crap-cakes.

I'll have the whole story, thank you. A single conjectural swag concerning tortured interpretational stretches of alleged facts, reader, is not remotely enough to sway this writer. Especially true, friends and neighbors, when what Mr. Todd cow-floppingly propounded about Jesse Marcel is an "ostensible" officiality only. That's right, ostensible, only.

That's not enough to secure this writer's agreement, enlist his support, or command his respect. Eyes askance. Arms akimbo.

To wit: Robert Todd's presumptive, ungracious, line-crossing, and CANTED attack on Jesse Marcel is without validity, lacks sentience, and is finally a non-progressive journalistic profanity. In other words? Robert Todd's "man of straw," additionally, had "feet of clay."

Though, it remains Mr. Todd may presume the unquestioned veracity of "official" records—even as these records have a strong potential for being flawed on many levels. I may discount the veracity of records which have that same strong potential for being flawed on many levels ... The reader sees how this works. Gravy for goose and gander should have a certain similarity or consistency beyond mere taste. Todd's overreaching and self-aggrandizement, therefore, shall not escape this writer.

Blithely, reader, and with a degree of uncalled for rancor... as if capering gleefully like a demented imp before that acrid-smelling bonfire made of a hero's memory... Todd propounded additional assumptions I would be cautious of at the least, and am, in fact, scandalized by!

See, Todd assumed a flawless integrity of "official government records," mind you, from that self-same government clearly riddled with a lack of critical oversight extant, anyway, and wasting millions of dollars every second to kick-back, scandal, or gross inefficiency. That's before, during, and now, reader. I suspect all that's really beyond debate at this point. The Military recently lost track of ... trillions, was it? Absolute power corrupts absolutely, always.

Moreover! Todd assumed a lack of integrity, an abundance of gullibility, and the questionable mental health of anyone who suspects UFO's might be piloted by an *outside* intelligence, at all! He assumed interpretations of fact in a cold harsh light of a "black" or "white"... indeed casting more shadows than he is willing to admit, for, drowning in errant presumption, he allowed not the tiniest shade of ubiquitous gray to feature his misrepresentations. Let's explore that a little bit. Why?

Plainly, Todd's presumption is not remotely realistic then or now, follow? See? One has to allow gray, reader. It's required, essential, and logical. Everything is "gray," reader, Color, indeed, is just a more fully featured *gray* on infinity's color wheel.

Watch! Pure "black" and "white" is a myth, a fantasy—fulsome shadows on the walls of Plato's cave! The extreme outside rims of Bell curves. Personified, shape-shifting monsters themselves in actuality! They are Concepts and Ideologies not existing in a real world except as ideas!

Watch! There are different KINDS of even black and white in the real world, 180 degrees out from one another! Consider the "black" displayed on a computer monitor against the "black" of a traditionally printed page. Consider the "whites" of same? ...Kind'a twists your head off, doesn't it! ...To get to the same place doing opposing things... curious at the very least!

Unmistakably! An informed and sensible or imaginatively flexible person acknowledges and appreciates "gray," reader! She has a gray *basket* that is expansive and open-minded... friend. He is organized and objective in complement to she who is constructive and comprehensive, folks! Alternatively, they are flexible, acceptable, and specific, fellows, and together are we not made more thoughtful with regard to an infinity of varied grays tinged only by every combination of an ultra/infra!

Gray, not grease, is the word.

Mr. Todd, as it turned out, will endure as none of the preceding! Indeed, he will be remembered, I suspect at best, as a kind of ufological Ptolemy, insisting on an Earth at an errant system's center! At worst?

He was a minor priest of a dark discipline and given to turgid and reactionary reductionisms—thoughtless supports of corrupted cultures. He was a facilitator of the passion destroying "information void..." ...like co-facilitator Kal K. Korff, a booster of the deceased Mr. Todd, without the remotest qualification, I add, but I digress, distastefully.

Coming up, then, is an example of the way our Mr. Todd worked. Revealed, reader, is the *wonder* that was Robert Todd's singular investigative acumen:

Let's say I unblinkingly report to you that I had "...more than 40 Air Medals," earned as an Army helicopter pilot flying combat missions in Vietnam circa 1970.

These "Air Medals" were awarded for aerial combat operations, ostensibly—though rules changing slightly (in interpretation) between units..., again, for all the procedures clearly outlined in awards and decorations regulations for the time... and from which our Mr. Todd's purloined a copy — considering it hammered into non-errant stone! Anyway, these regulations established, generally, that for every 5 hours of combat flying, or every 25 hours of flying in direct combat support (my recollection now) an Air-Medal was "awarded."

My very sloppily kept official records of the time were maintained by the admin section of the 135th Assault Helicopter Company (EMU). This was a half Australian, half American aviation hybrid, an experimental unit engaged in daily combat directed operations since its inception. My very hastily maintained "official" records of this international aviation mash-up indicated that only one Air Medal was ever awarded! One!

Remember please that my documented hours flown in a combat zone are recorded to be 1086, and by definition the hours flown in a combat unit in a combat zone are "combat" hours or hours flown in "direct combat support." See how that works? ...Pretty cut and dried.

Flying ONLY in direct combat support would net 43 air medals, follow? I flew in combat, too, reader... I had more air-medals than 43... My *Official Records*; however, indicate only the one.

Ah-ha, Mr. Todd triumphantly concludes! His impish capering begins! Alfred Lehmberg, it is reported, is a craven liar, a person not to be trusted, a person without credibility, and a person beneath the concern, consideration, and contempt of all who behold him or remotely consider his explications and expressions! Whew!

CSICOPian darling... klasskurtxian commando, and Crap-shooting bastard! No respect for dead sons of bitches here. It's the evil lives on and on; the good is interred with bones, remember. Todd erred in judgment, spirit, and injuriousness. There should be consequences and the preceding is such.

Back to Todd, his unjustified and narrowly conceived character assassination begins in earnest, then, and is unrelenting for the remainder of his days. Forget that I EARNED over 40 air-medals by the freaking book! No, Todd's myopic and self-serving narrowness... his "square peg" forced into a "round hole"... his insistence on an inerrant "Black" and "White"... has inflated facts facile to begin with and scourged another otherwise spotless reputation! Why? For an unjustified feather in a simplistic klasskurtxian cap? He misrepresented the facts, such as they were, and spun them to discredit UFOs in the aggregate with his hatchet job on Marcel, astonishingly, as a... confabulating boob.

But to the contrary! Major Jesse Marcel was a man handpicked from hundreds of qualified individuals for his courage, intelligence, and unblemished record; he was chosen to do a job of critical importance in the interests of the HIGHEST levels of a National Security, perhaps even justifiable at the time! Forget all that!

Robert Todd would!  Robert Todd did!

Revealed, exactly what Robert Todd did to Jesse Marcel, reader, and a pelican-pumping "peanut-gallery" celebrates him for it, still! Todd thoroughly ignores the fact that Marcel's integrity, character, and reliability must have been appreciated quite highly at the TIME of his erstwhile paranormal involvement... as the top kick intelligence officer for the worlds ONLY aviation group capable of delivering the atomic bomb!

That's right. Reader, do you think a cluelessly inexperienced doofus had the tiller on that very high-profile / high-visibility job? We're otherwise so fond of evoking a too often bowdlerized Occam, eh? Let's do it here!

As to criticizing "bravely" when Mr. Todd can't defend himself; that's so much klasskurtxian crap — shat sloppily slung at par! Let's count among the conflicted amongst you, shall we, who would criticize me for criticizing him. Step up!

There's no lack of defense, is there, against my presumed errant disparagement of the right honorable Mr. Todd's legacy such as it is? That defense would be, I submit, Todd's aforementioned evil living on and on, remember. No apologies here.

By the way... that son of Jesse Marcel alluded to earlier? ...Active Army Bird Colonel, Aviator, Medical Doctor, and a military flight surgeon, just returned from combat operations in Iraq! He held a bit of starship in his hands, too, perhaps. He's written a book in that regard, in consideration of his "hero" father, and in consideration of the truth; a truth though heavens fall!

Perhaps some of the damage can then be repaired. Perhaps destiny is to make a true hero of Jesse Marcel, once again. Perhaps some good lives on after all.

Restore John Ford... and Jesse Marcel! Read on!

Sunday, January 24, 2016

The Denial Guy


The Denial Guy
By Alfred Lehmberg


I used to delight in publishing my otherwise non-publishable "odd" odes at the, now deceased, UFO Magazine Blog.   These odes, aspiring to hyper-dimensional uniqueness, are an impassioned poetry sometimes dedicated to errant pelicanists and other fatuous cack-wits—fulsome multi-media talking-heads in other words—fallacious faux skeptics aping company flotsam cum corporate jetsam... ostentatiously prohibiting, as a result of their suspicious activity, our necessary experiential growth regarding UFOs... a bothersome observation...  It had to be said.

In these jeremiad Odes, I was allowed to paint, from higher up and more freely and expansively, effusive protests regarding oft-employed "mainstream infidelities" prosecuted by these paid agents of our corrupt "dominator" culture.  My literary saber was used liberally in the defense of any lack of imagination or unwarranted hubris perceived.

This poetic commentary is prosecuted even as I remain betrayed and wounded by that culture—as we all are to one degree or another—for expressing it. See, I find it difficult to enjoy any success, security, or leisure my individual silence on an unjust matter might provide. ...Something about "what's a gain worth in the full knowledge you'd lose your soul or self-respect to secure it"?  

Stand silent on Frank Feschino, "Emma Woods," and John Ford? When I know better?  Not easily or at all, and not at this station.

No, Injustice provides for its own lack of toleration.  If I can take satisfaction for an exposure of that injustice, lacking imagination, or unwarranted hubris, do some good, then others can along with me.  It's a reason to keep living and fighting the good fight!


Verily, cussed existentiality provides that select individuals remain to fuel my aggregate irritation which is entirely justified, reader!  Assessed, then, I assess.  Because I was able to express same, a satisfaction was to be derived, thereby, for us all.  A blow against the skeptibunky craven, the glib narcissistic, or the blinking unjust... providing for its own relevance and worth.  It's enough for me.

No more, sadly.  UFO Magazine is in regretted stasis.  No longer able to avail myself the high ground of its truly multinational audience I'm denied the opportunity of singing the righteous contrary song to greater numbers, spurring, I guess, the production of those songs in the first place.  I shall abide!

For example, without the aforementioned paid agents and pecunious pundits spurious attacks behind and on the scenes regarding the character, sincerity, and sanity of the valorous persons consummately interested and constructively involved with UFOs, this particular piece of critical prose would not have been produced to have a stage on which it might more brazenly stand. 

Hungrily, then, as the "analogous maladroits" and "Denial Guys" identified in this article utterly fail to explain what interests and involves we, the curious rational, about UFOs, I look forward to any subsequent larger venue, "analogous maladroit" or "Denial Guy" provoking similar expressions from me in the future.  ...Make.  My.  Day.  

"...Feel lucky?  Well, do ya... punk?"

No apology here, but the irony amuses me that these pompous pundits are themselves the engines of their own ongoing and embarrassingly negative critique.  I won't spare my literary blade, reader, as you will see.  Even a knock-off literary "Excalibur" is only strengthened, righteously used.  Like Thor's hammer, Mjolnir. Check the primary references.  It can't be used but in a righteous cause or be destroyed.

The aforesaid critique?  Well, a consequence regarding efforts of the previously mentioned malfeasant and klasskurtxian cack-wits, the skeptibunky craven aforementioned?  We are 50 years, plus, down the ufological trail, timewise, to disciver that we've been standing indolently and fatuously at the starting gate that whole time!  Why is that, do you figure? 

I reveal the "analogous maladroit" as a probable cause: the "Denial Guy."   This is an entity wearing a legion of sneering faces and prosecuting the same unwarranted hubris and unjustified arrogance.  

This issue? We'll examine one.

Consider first.  Attendant to the ufological contributions over that half century plus are such fine accredited persons as Jim MacDonald, Donald Keyhoe, J. Allen Hynek, and Edward Ruppelt to start!  

A ufological humanity would initially take magnificent forward strides!  We were indeed poised only to advantage ourselves of their far-reaching attitude, reader, to ask what these UFOs were and how we, a lay humanity, might employ them for ourselves... [cue the startling hyperspace music!]

Invariably, though, we'd ufologically slide, slip, or otherwise slither back further than we were when we started... wouldn't we, when the three fine gentlemen previously mentioned were obscenely countered by the likes of Condon, Menzel, and Klass.  ...Sounds like a firm of evil litigators, eh?  Not far off the mark on reflection!

How does this "second thought" mechanism of dis-intelligence work, do you think?  How is this mechanism of evil litigators somehow the preferred considered behavior?

Genuinely, in an examination of both, where the arguments of each camp are weighed and sifted, which shows more depth?  Which proves to be more inclusive?  Which demonstrates more intellectual bravery?  Which uses more science of best practice?  Which is more consistent, reliable, and dependable

Contrarily, which one uses mockery, ad hominem, character assassination, intellectual fallacy, and obfuscation?  Which is the dimensionless and dogmatic ideologue, and which is the inspired idealist?  Which hounds and which is hounded?

Further, which is deliberately abusive and which is sarcastically accusative?  Which won't address the points already made, and which will concede the point well made?  Which one follows the data and which one cherry-picks it?  MacDonald, Keyhoe, and Ruppelt, reader? ...Or Condon, Menzel, and Klass?

The individuals to choose from fall on either side of this divide and the difference between them is like the difference between sulfurous yellow clouds and clear blue sky. Too, this is for the observer working to be as dispassionate as he can reasonably manage.  See, anger is appropriate given the magnitude of needless intellectual loss.  Anger is justified.  Revulsion regarding cowardice provokes it!

Truly, in the face of the clueless arrogance of some it is difficult not to jump well past the deciding centrist fulcrum from them.  Even if only to provide some balance for their fraudulent intransigence and their flatulent proclivities!  Sorry for the big words... I'd already used the word "cack."

See?  This writer understands that if the evaluator has an "ax" to grind, one way or the other, the view of that divide is skewed and distorted—a lot or a little—forgetting that it is the person who is not a "believer"... but who can believe... will have the clearer view, this writer suspects.  More Plato.  Less Aristotle, eh? 

Though, a difference in aspect between the two will be determinable, regardless... so ...already examining self for same?  I cut to the chase.

Bill Nye, in unctuous particular, is a nascent example of the ufological "flat-earther" decried here.  Look upon this analogous maladroit's works... and despair.  Not name-calling... reader.  Assessment!  First judged at huge cost*, this writer now judges, for cause.

To put it directly in the street, Nye's the guy who ironically burns a gagged Monk Bruno at the stake or makes Galileo the castrated subject of the ignorant intellectual inquisition!  He is an example of the noisome negativist laughing up his damp sleeve at that which he allows himself no capacity to more fully understand, no aptitude to graciously accept, no ability to productively incorporate, and no skill to even  recognize.  The existentiality of UFOs.  Why?

With respect to Mr. Nye as a fellow human, his contributions are a heedless boil on the righteous ass of a real science—a mal-investigator working very furiously to confound, obscure, conflict, and deflate.  See, Mr. Nye's unstudied, uninformed, and reactionary work tilting at UFOs is a fine example of the reason we seem to take two and a half steps back for every two steps forward as a society and he—among significant others—should be recognized for such!

Frankly, "Denial Guy" Nye, et al, is only an enemy of real progress, ever, with regard to UFOs.  He is an obstacle to our advancement towards it. How?  

Well, he fraudulently lathers an alleged failure of proponents to provide evidence for UFOs with his gloating malfeasance in a dearth of discussion in their regard! Evidence abounds, reader! 

He revels, I'm betting, in the dissolution and the obfuscation he would deliberately cause!  That, reader, is despicable.

...Nor, reader, is Mr. Nye particularly organized, remotely objective, or in any way constructive on the subject of UFOs.  Ironically, he is not comprehensive, he is decidedly not flexible, and this is forgetting that his views on them are intellectually unacceptable.  He only pretends the specific and is in no way thoughtful.  He is bereft of creativity, he is astonishingly mal-intelligent, and he is patently disrespectful...  

In his presence, he'd earn the back of my hand for his treatment, on one notable occasion, of Moon Walker Edgar Mitchell on the Larry King show. Mitchell holds an earned Doctorate and has his "right stuff" documented.  Nye has no graduate degrees and proselytized easy science to children.  He should stay in that wheelhouse.

The preceding points aspired to are a teacher's (leader's) attributes, and if one expects to function effectively as same, intellectual or otherwise, then the majority of the preceding attributes must be positively addressed.  The above paragraphs could easily be an essay map for a cited paper on his mal-appropriation of the title of "teacher."  No, Mr. Nye is the "deficient guy" in every category.

Still, he would "guide."  He would be the "go-to" guy!  He'd presume the mantle of teacher, leader, and holder of the guiding ufological light!  But, not unlike one who shall remain forever reviled*2, he doesn't appear to have a clue about the responsibility of real leadership and is dangerous in the extreme to the sensibilities of individual persons afflicted by his aberrant application of it!  He's not performing a service, reader, against all appearances of same.  Some irony there, eh?

The preceding notwithstanding, he might still be a great guy to sit down and have a beer with given his politics—I know I am—one is tempted to forget that his smirking authoritarian and uninformed ufological attitudes suck pond scum... and that alone makes me want to drown him in the broccoli water... (long story...).  Maybe I should take a rain-check on that beer...

Seriously, don't Nye's own words damn him to a shallowly fatuous intellectual mediocrity?  Too, don't his ironic celebrations of what is not actually wrong with Ufology —blithely ignoring that it is very likely controlled, manipulated, and otherwise programmed by a soulless corporate mentality worshipping position to the exclusion of everything else—become increasingly impossible to ignore!  The face eating Reptoids are preferable to the person just described, reader! 

I recall Ellen Ripley (in "Aliens") commenting that she didn't see them "screwing each other over for a percentage," but I digress...

Sprung from the Condon, Menzel, and Klass mold of anti-ufology, Nye prosecutes an unconscionable treatment of honest researchers, celebrates the malfeasance and intellectual cowardice of these fatuous if moneyed pelicanists opposing them (a gravid nightmare slow from which to wake), and continues, then, to take the narrowest view imaginable with regard to the responsibility "leading" individuals have for intellectual fidelity, ethical behavior, aggregate consistency, and a spiritual, more platonic and inclusive, bravery!  

Know it; study it; live it.

In my opinion, Nye's only a sub-standard knock-off of the similarly slack-jawed who have preceded him!  Shostak, Shermer, Nickell, and MaGaha are more evil litigators out of their league, if similarly credited still. Too, true to form, he'll likely end up whining about imagined persecutions, and for the same reasons, as many called to account for themselves seem to do. A scoundrel's last refuge, am I right?

Coal to Newcastle, this is not the time to continue outrageous intellectual retreats, practiced by Nye and othersout of convenient spite, I add, not the only one to think so—when we already have such an abundant wealth of infedelities and "retreats" around us, already!  Look around.

It is "badly themed," I offer, because the repressive and repellant nature of his manner discourages the rational interest of sincere others persuing an "alternative ufological constructiveness" with more potential and optimism for potential gain.  Likewise, this applies to any other out of the box thinking.

It is "disrespectful," finally, because it does not provide the observer with an accurate assessment of either human capability, which, I think, Nye characteristically rates much too highly, or contrarily, possible alien capability, rated much too shallowly, simplistically, and one-dimensionally, if at all!  Honestly, reader, one only has to look at even the debated psychological, technological, and cultural strides we have made in the last 100 years!  

Begin, friends, to get an idea what *others* may have accomplished in a thousand, ten thousand years, or a million of them.  Even, reader, a billion... Gods on Olympus; we're the anthill off the freeway.

Yes... as "Gods" even, eh?

Onward, Nye is a clever instrument of ufology's dismissal, a facilitator for its senseless derision, and a catalyst for its hoped-for demise!  Too, he is the worst kind of errant klasskurtxian, an assignation at which he had already arrived.  This is like a nineteenth-century cowboy employing outdated 19th Century "scientistic" mores used currently instead of performing as the remotely cognizant would, employ an open-ended science letting the data lead him to the conclusions as he follows, humbly!  He'd say he "respects science," indeed.  He worships it.  

That's the problem, actually.

Too, that *conclusion* he proselytizes so gleefully is to, one: the lowest of "low common denominators," two: panders to what is reptilian in all of us, and three: sells humanity short in two additional venues. The first is where we are more "being" than he'd give us credit for, and the second is where his efforts provide where we are not recognized as the kind of beings who could get along a lot more fruitfully if he and his desultory fellow imps were absent or otherwise excised from our cultural equation!  Time to hit a system reset on these spring-butted and too-ready deniers, folks.  You think?

It is abundantly plain to the reader, I hope, that some strangely canted imperative steers Nye's ill-informed, overt, and reflexive ufological denial.  Truly, this is as his easy "psychosocial" cant does not advance the cause for vigorously serious investigation of the highly strange extant and, in fact, performs the exact opposite function!  It does this in a manner so unctuously "reasonable" that it a tragedy it performs that function at all.  All of the preceding seems pretty clear to me.

I bring this up now because Nye is lately so cleverly but misleadingly mal-informative with regard to the imposed mix of his non-informational and sneering appearances on Larry King and other places, which are unwelcome (to me), but his ax-grinding Disney ones elsewhere, which are even more so because they help qualify the former to young people. 

50 years, plus, down the, decidedly not so happy, ufological trail... and we find that we've been standing indolently and fatuously at the starting gate, still, as I wrote above.  Why is that, do you figure, good reader, I'll ask again.  I think I outline a prime co-conspirator et sig al.

That's right, I submit that it's not the woo-woo buffoons and public whackos keeping us at the gate; they only evolve to fill the informational void created by the likes of Mr. Nye, et al! No, it is the insidiously contrived mechanizations of persons typified by Mr. Nye and other so-called "science guys" as apart from real science, I'm betting, as deep night is from blinding day... authoritative-like, and so disingenuous, contributions to our missed mark! There's where the blame comes to rest.  That's where our indolence lies.

The Analogous Maladroit stands revealed.  Despair his works and rejoice apart from same.  It's the brave thing to do.  Read on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~
*2 Jim Mortellaro

Disclaimer: UFOs are ill served by Mr. Nye who is almost magnificently uninformed and so misinforming in their regard to the point of a terrible malfeasance.  In this area, he is to be deplored. His politics; however, are acceptable, and in the matter of the "Debate" betwixt Science and Religion, he is without parallel a force for progressive good.  The Earth is not flat and Jesus did not play with dinosaurs unless you count chickens.  Mr. Nye understands the dangers of a rigid intellectual insipidity inspired by faith which must, by religious definition, be untestable.  A pity he can't apply a smidgen of that to UFOs.  Drake has shown they are.  Fermi points out they will.  Seven categories of compelling evidence show they have.  We're not alone, and that may not be a bad thing.

Friday, January 22, 2016

Jacobs' Ladder, Epilogue

On the matter of the abuse of "Emma Woods"


Reply:




Mr Aweezy13 hours ago (edited)


+Alfred Lehmberg get over the fact that you're wrong. we all have to deal with that unsavory taste a few times in our lives.




Alfred Lehmberg12 hours ago


One might wonder what you've been tasting, eh?





Mr Aweezy12 hours ago

+Alfred Lehmberg... i only say this because i've just reviewed the comments and you're totally and utterly alone on your "opinion". at one time, it was the opinion that the earth was flat. i know im wasting my time, but why the hell do you care SO MUCH to argue for SO LONG with like 5 people? i don't think you even read the comments that are sent to you.




Alfred Lehmberg5 minutes ago


Mr Aweezy... At 67 I don't need confirmation to know right from wrong, weez, one, and two? Giving a damn about your fellow man is likely the difference between a being a psychopath and aspiring to be a sociophile. "I am she and she is me and we are all together"; you may have heard the song. "Emma Woods" was egregiously abused by one thought wholly responsible, in my opinion, and my individual silence in the matter is worse than your thoughtless, insentient, and misinformed celebration of same. I'm not a do-gooder, but I try to do good. Hope that helped.

Monday, January 18, 2016

Odd Observation #6




Night Tech And The New Existential
by Alfred Lehmberg


I had a sighting one Sunday morning.  Sure, and it was hardly anything to write home to Mom about, as sightings of the tres' weird go, and I wouldn't call it the start of a "wave" exactly [g]... but I'm pleased to have something strange to finally report [g]. I'll get to those short details in a moment, but let me tell you about something else first.

I'd been out the Saturday night before to a cook-out at an old friend's home, and I'd had one more beer (or three) than was entirely good for me.  I'm sure that's happened to the reader from time to time.  If it hasn't, it should (assuming informed consent).  Moderation in all things includes moderation.  "Immoderation," if I may coin a word, is sometimes appropriate. 

Though, thank god the Australians weren't there, or I might have been well and truly lost [g]!  Those folks are entirely serious about their "moderation"...

Be that as it may, I was a little worse for wear the next morning when I blew off the alarm set for usual 2:45 Central and slept in 'till four.  To me, it felt like noon.

I looked outside, blearily, that following Sunday morning and was almost disappointed to discover the best visibility I'd seen in about two weeks!  Rats!  I had to go outside now... 

A little disgusted with myself that I had blown off the lion's share of an excellent visual opportunity, I made my steamy cup o' ritual java ("Al's liquid quickening" I call it) and stumbled out the back door, making my way to the usual spot next to a waist-high retaining wall.

I looked up into the sky miserably with a dull headache for company and was just depressed enough to wonder what the bleedin' point was... when I abruptly remembered a conversation I'd had with a fellow aviator at the party the night before.  I perked up a little. 

He'd caught me looking up into the sky over the fire. Knowing something of my interests, he said quietly,  "I... ah... I saw something weird under goggles on Guard drill last weekend..."  

He was apologetic, as many are when he related the rest of his, obviously uncomfortable, tale.  A small digression... where, when, and why did we learn to feel shame at having a truth to tell?

...but back at the ranch, *Mike's* story, and the subject at hand...

He and a brother UH~60 (Blackhawk) driver were parked out on the Fort Rucker military reservation waiting for a night training mission to kick off. They were on standby from flying simulated combat sorties for the Alabama National Guard.  They were alone.

"Mike" (not his real name, he can't afford to associate himself with this twitchy UFO business, like most professional people...) is a highly experienced military aviator and civilian GS-12 working as an instructor pilot at aforementioned Fort Rucker, the sun source of  the World's professional helicopter flying effort.  Like most of his ilk, he is not given to "wild blueberry horse feathers," and besides, no one who remotely knows ME is going to disrespectfully rattle my chain on the subject of UFOs.  They know I'll eat them.  Sincerely. [...no "smiley face"...]

Anyway, while he was out there in the darkness under the strictest "light discipline" (it means lives) he used his night vision goggles as I have used them when I can infrequently get my hands on them.  Like myself, he looked (perhaps "too" deeply?) into the near moonless but otherwise unbridled potential of the night sky.  Even without the UFOs, it's still a dazzler as I've written before, and quite a "show"!

It was also very quiet out in the "field"; colder temperatures silenced the insects and the middle of the reservation is a marvelous buffer from the road noise of even distant highways.  As I said, it was very quiet ... a 'quiet' so deep one feels they can float in it.

Around midnight, abruptly, he noticed a "V" formation of seven or eight dim lights moving across his field of vision overhead. He flipped up his goggles to see if the highly strange lights were visible without them.  They were not.  

Puzzled that there would be an unplanned formation of "mystery" aircraft (running without position lights!) flying over the military training area in the middle of this highly canned and orchestrated exercise, he alerted his co-pilot to have a look!  Both pilots were goggle equipped.  With perhaps thirty years of piloting experience between them they watched, mouths hanging open, as the puzzling lights traversed the sky.

"Why don't we hear anything," the astonished co-pilot whispered.  That seven or eight aircraft flying overhead in formation at any reasonable altitude is going to make a significant "sound" is a laughing understatement. There was no sound from the formation of lights overhead...

As Mike and his co-pilot watched these highly peculiar bogeys, both men were astonished to see the lead craft break off insanely and abruptly from the formation and dangerously fly the "long way around" the formation into a trail position on one of the alternative wings of the "V," instead of falling back and sliding over from the inside, which would be safer and more appropriate change of the lead aircraft... The manner in which this maneuver was accomplished raised the hair on the backs of their necks. 

The procedure just described would take 45 seconds to a minute if the pilot was ~hurrying~ unsafely, and even then he'd likely get a reprimand from the ASO (aviation safety officer) for cowboying the aircraft in a hazardous manner!  Turns at night in training are kept to standard rate (three degrees per second) or less, as a safety measure insuring lives and millions of dollars worth of high-tech equipment. 

Helicopters in formation have a singular hazard potential... but this craft made the transition from lead to trail, around the ~outside~ of the flight in under ~three~ seconds...!  That's just not done! It's negligent and irresponsible! This is a protoplasm smearing turn if not near to same!  

Moreover, it's torturous metal stressing and aerodynamically impossible for aircraft of human manufacture! Mike and his co-pilot then watched the formation of lights continue on their way until they were too far away to be seen, even with the goggles.

He asked me, then, what I thought he had seen.  I told him that he had likely seen just what he had thought he had seen, and welcome to the beginning of highly "interesting" times... and my monkey house... here-have-another-beer!

Fascinating, huh?  It's all in the looking up at what is there to be seen.  Of course, sixteen thousand dollars of high-tech assisted night vision between them helped, too.

As I considered Mike's strange story I was idly looking West, just to the south of Ursa Major (about five points to her left) when I had my own sighting.  

About 35 degrees in elevation and almost due west, a bright amber colored light about the magnitude of Sirius blinked on as I watched, and began to transition to the North at a steady rate of one degree in six seconds.  Tres slow!  There was no sound, and the rate of speed, color, and magnitude of the light did not waver.  I watched until it moved behind a large pecan tree in my neighbor's yard...  I watched it travel for several minutes starting about 04:35 Central.

...Just a point of light in my field glasses, an amber star that blinked on as I watched and then inexplicably began to move.  Real enigma on the half shell, boys and girls, dull throb of a lingering hangover or no, and finally, something newly substantive to report. 

I remain watching our skies.  Read on.