Sunday, January 25, 2009

Cherished Dreams Of Monkeys

~Soundtrack~

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So your mind is more than made up? ...Your convictions hard as stone? ...Your philosophy all laid out? ...Your demons driven prone?
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All *important* questions answered? All the *evils* outlined plainly? All the *angels* in YOUR Outfield? Does the "liberal" mewl inanely?
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Do UFO’s infest weak minds? Is that field all a lie? Think Doug and Dave were "heroes" stomping "circles" late at night?
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Are some folks just *superior*? Are the others doomed to die? Are you yourself all blameless? Do your eyes avoid the sky?
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Think gay men are unnatural? ...Gay women soon to fry? Dismissed from white, elitist heavens when they “slough this coil” and die?
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Do you tithe your church for Sunday’s brunch? Are you driving great big cars? Do you light your home on Christmas eve Like exploding nova stars?
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Think the “playing field” is level? Think “bootstraps” are the answer? Think welfare is unnatural, but a corporate dole’s not cancer?
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You think the fifties were a heaven to which we are returning? Think “God” should rule in Government ... thinking that won’t cause more burning?
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Did Jewish genocide ne`re occur? Occurring, they encouraged what they got? Are you thinking ~hemp~ is all about just growing\smoking pot?
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If “yes” stains just one answer... And you’ll chance a change anew, Then best get straight, take stock ... wise up! Embrace your Alien View!
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Want some truth to all the falsehood? Want to cop to REAL biz`? No thing, and I mean NOTHING... Is a way you ~think~ it is!



alienview@adelphia.net
www.AlienView.net


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See, our agreed upon "cultural fables" means something—means anything at all, actually—because, individually, we make it mean something! We do this just like we do our money. Consider... our money is entirely valueless but for our shared agreement that it is not.
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No, the aforementioned cultural fable is only a best, and perhaps not best educated, guess at an interpretation of how we have told ourselves, instructed ourselves ... convinced ourselves that *the way things are*, are truly, the way *things* are! They're not, you know.
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...Not to be blamed entirely, then, are the unelected governments, non-accountable agencies, and duplicitous institutions we tolerate at peril. See, we individuals still have to buy in, mote by errant mote into "the official reality."
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Moreover, unsettlingly, and with greater frequency, the aggregate fable changes for the observer just for the observer looking at it. Consider the impertinent deconstruction of a W.B. Smith by persons sometimes as canted as they are impertinent.
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W.B. Smith was a quality human instrument in the tradition described by Allen Hynek. He gave us evidence of high government ufological involvement, "quadrature," and the "non-interference doctrine." Observed in the light of homocentric cant his positive effect for future-hurtling humanity is obverted and falsely invalidated. This is so we talking monkeys can hold on to our cherished dreams.
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The truth changes... or does it...
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Government is real? Our loves are real? Our hates are real, and it wouldn’t all just disappear with the first asteroid, consuming prion, or at the first whim of ‘the man’ (?)
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*Reality* is nonsense. Reality... is what we impose ourselves or is imposed upon us. We make it up as we go, and as we go, the manufacture of that reality accelerates. Fasten your belts.
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...And reality is nonsense, good reader, because perception, condition, and situation are different for wildly divergent people all over our planet... Eight or eighty? Blind, crippled or crazy? Walking, crawling, or stinking — sociopath or sociophile...
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What now brown cow?  Over our shoulders yawns the multiverse, eh?
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Is it more than blind luck, good and bad, that you are where you are at present? It’s not what we think! For some, surviving that just conjectured asteroid strike is a step up, and still, the individual is at the extreme dead center of it all … Center. Of. It. All.
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~You~ are the center of the universe, reader. Me too, but that's beside the point. There must be responsibilities, mind, associated with that centrality.
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Cozy America... there are horrors "out there" beyond our contrived borders for which we are liable—consider the production of your child’s soccer ball, or those long fat bananas mom buys down at the store... and these are a couple of the most (seemingly) innocent (...both of the preceding real horror stories) ... Cathy Lee Gifford knows what I’m talking about! "K"-cups?  Don't get me started. Who pays so you can play?
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Once we think we have the deadlock nut on something, we are loath to let that solidity, even ~if~ an imagined solidity, go. We fight for our dodgier convictions out of some weird pride of authorship, or ownership—made whole cloth out of "self-centered convenience," only. Some of those convictions are seen as dead right, others as dead wrong. We end up on one side—or another—of this transient meaninglessness... and despair.
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All too soon, then, we are entrenched in some destructive belief system out of sheer momentum. This is how Christians bury Muslims in swine offal when they fight the Bosnian wars (It happened!). This is how homosexuals are beaten (...stoned? Dragged behind cars?) until they're dead (It’s happening!). Do these persons bring their treatment upon themselves? Do they? Or is it brought upon them out of mean ignorance, intolerance, or indifference to ones more ethical compassion! Not a question, reader... an observation.
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All this dissolves upon a search for the un-stretched mechanics of why conditions ~are~ as they are—the Alien View. When the chips fall as they may, and we all cop to *conditions*, those *conditions* improve real fast... even if it means the, ah... ...*best*... having to give up the *best* champagne ... just for a while! Even if you have to be a little ashamed ... just for a while... one ultimately cops to personal responsibility... or despairs!
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Example: the raw numbers say the ratio is roughly seven to one—working ~honest~ poor at or just above the poverty line, to clear profit millionaires, in these United States. Imagine a, let’s go nuts, $25,000 annual boost or subsidy in that working poor woman single mom's hand for her trouble... 25 x 7 is $175,000... or, the clear profit millionaire only clears $825,000 – the next year, of course, he recoups his loss, plus, in the hotter economy, “but what the hell...” the millionaire now reasons, “...a bird in the hand...”
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This is how he (the man) treats people who build his house, keep him warm ... heat his water... shovel his shit!
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Nothing is the way we fallible humans think it is. This is why we have to detach, move back ... see proverbial forests for proverbial trees; be able to re-evaluate positions in the light of new evidence... and grow. Admitting that you are wrong (...when you admit it?) is, still, a step up. This is where we will find our salvation—in tolerance, hard (at first) uncomfortable truth, and then its incandescent light.
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Sincerely, if you didn’t have *stock* in one position or another, like an alien might not, would you even hold the positions that you hold? Don’t be too quick with your affirmation; it’s very likely wrong.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

When We’re Best


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And what was Hale-Bopp as we write our new scriptures. Assailed we are by the truth in *lost* pictures. We’re alert and alarmed at what we’re ~not~ told! We CAN find the our true heart — we’re incredibly bold!
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It’s true and time honored ... it’s often been said. It’ll keep and sustain you, like mother’s own bread. ...This feeling we feel if culture’s to burst... that life, while it’s easiest, is when we’re the worst!
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It’s the trial of adversity ... the interesting test that makes us all shine! It’s when we’re the best!
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So hey ... Uncle Sam, or whoever you’ve been... Let it up; let it out; let it by; it’s no sin.
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Those who were "raised," well ... it may be they’ll "fall." They’ll twist and they’ll turn, and they’ll find all the stalls... ...but the truth, as revealed, inside, where we’re free — the truth of Hale-Bopp, it was *there*. You could ~see~!
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It’s a light on our darkness; it points to the fact... that the deck we are played is most sullenly stacked! An elite’s been at work, with passionate intensity! We’re beguiled and mislead ... mere sheep sans propensity...
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So what did we do while Hale/Bopp swung its round? Did we wail, or shriek ... or be less than profound? Did we quit or expire... did we undo the web of that which sustains us, and gives us our bread?
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Some may be hung—run out on a rail... stung with a fine... tar stuck to their tails—but for you, and for me, for those who *test* faith? It's for us, not so bad; let us DARE to tempt fate!


alienview@adelphia.net
www.AlienView.net


It was supposed to have been the biggest cometary event of the millennium! It was seen further out then any other comet in human history, and even then it was behaving strangely!
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Throwing off a streaming corona of cometary tail well beyond the orbit of Jupiter (long before it would have been predicted to do so), it sparked early tabloid prognostications as the "world killer asteroid" that has crept into, at least, a national cultural consciousness, if not one for the entire world...
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It spawned a new age of ufological awareness, dragged scale encrusted eyes to fathomless skies once again, and even compelled many of the spiritually hapless to sacrifice their very lives to it.
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As it drew closer and closer there was a contingent maintaining the comet as the "Wormwood" of ancient prophesy, sent by fate to end a world age... poison the Earth with plagues, pestilence and pernicious perdition, or seed it with a terrible new kind of life.
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It was a huge comet! The actual size was the subject of angry debate, but as it coasted by a *watching* Earth (in its odd parabola from beneath an otherwise placid solar system) it spawned from five to eight simultaneous cometary tails.
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I was fortunate to be able to look at the comet with some binocular night vision devises of military specification. The comet looked like a spiny starfish crawling on a green sea bottom of sparkling stellar sand.
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How odd it was that the solar wind would blow off cometary tails of different intensity in such disparate directions. Even the colors of the tails were different in the few tails that could be seen with naked eye. Everything is green in the viewing field night vision goggles.
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As already mentioned, Hale-Bopp was a huge event, causing much agitated sturm and tortured drang... and one would have readily predicted (given the closeness of its approach?) that it would also be a very heavily photographed event.
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Indeed, the photographs that ~were~ taken became the subject of much hysteria, speculation, and distraction... but where were the Hubble, or other big mirror-scope portraits of one of the rarest astrological events of our time! Yes. They become unsettlingly conspicuous in their ominous absence!!
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There are none, none that will even be produced in the face of serious challenge by brave persons such as the late Chuck Shrameck, who photographed an early (and still contested) companion to the otherwise inexplicably ignored comet.
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Oh, there are curious photos at close approach by amateur star hounds like Shrameck of ten inches or less. Moreover, other recent (but lesser) comets were more suitably recorded ... but NO published pictures from the eyes of the big dogs regarding the comet in question—none. None at it's closest anyway. How can this be?
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How can this possibly BE—these pictures MUST exist!
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What is the >>>HIGH STRANGENESS> regarding the comet known as Hale-Bopp?
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Sunday, January 11, 2009

A River In Egypt


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I stood outside with many, there were twenty-five or so, on a Sunday evening flying model planes. Some were gas but few were flying, and were muffled when they were, it was rubber models folks would fly, for time.
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Pastoral was the evening — no alcohol or drugs, a gentle breeze was blowing; it was silent as a slug. The ladies fixed the finger food while the old men flew their dreams; the sky that blue and crystal clear... so sharp it leaped and gleamed.
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I see it (I'm a watcher), but I do not jump or shout—I nudge my nephew Mason. "Hey there, Mace ... what's that about"?
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He looks... his mouth falls open, and he nudges at his Mom, who gets right up, and takes a step, to see it closer, Tom.
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It's flying slow, too slow my guess, to be a jet or plane... It floats along, majestically, confusing watching brains... ...Like a BB held at arm's length, but squash it flat — bright white... It coasted by "cigar like" ...and then drifted out of sight!
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There was general amazement! There was, "...What the hell was that"!?! No one mentioned UFOs... I was silent as a cat. Someone mentioned—"Aircraft"!  Others offered, "Blimp." I down-lowed to my nephew, "That's facetious, scared, and limp."
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The *thing* flew by again, my friend, for the second time of FIVE, and fewer people watched it—it is that I would confide. The third time fewer still looked up to wonder what it was; the forth was even less than that—the fifth, just me... ...because...
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Call them up!  Ask their opinions of the ones who would not look.  I doubt that they'd remember, for their peace of mind it took.  It reminded them that models are contrived to paint the sky with things WE built to fly up there... not what "ET" would devise!
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The craft that flew that fateful day they did not glue together... ...They didn't sand the fuselage or build it light as feathers. They did not spin the prop they bought with rubber they contolled; they could not point out proudly their invention to extol...
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This denial that we face is like a pustule near to bursting, and the cause of its neglect we should decry. Those who push away this truth to save a precious "profit motive" we should vilify—respectfully despise.
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This pustule skin is very close to breaking on its own, and the skin of it is hot and tight and dry. Any little touch could have it blow up in our faces, but I'd like to clean it out—at least... I think that we should try...




June 28, 1996 at 18:00 PST... on a sanctioned model airplane flying field outside of Anderson, California found at 40 degrees 25 minutes 26.02 seconds North by 122 degrees 10 minutes 07.69 seconds West.  Google Earth it.
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A collection of sober professional people plus a few real scientists pushed wonder away and fixed their attentions on their own, more familiar, articles.
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They had forgotten that the simple balsa planes they held in their trembling hands would be perceived as a similar magic not all that far into their own, comparatively recent, past.
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...Maybe Tommy Lee Jones was dead on right all the time. In conversation to Will Smith as an aside in MIB I, he said, "They... (meaning you and me) ...don't want to know [about extra terrestrials]."
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Well, even if "K" crapped out to the conventional sensibility of facilitated denial , Zed and Jay didn't mind knowing—WANTED to know as a matter of fact!  They walked away blithely from "normality" and "normalcy" to know as much as they could!
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Reader, don't YOU want to know?
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I do, assuredly.

Sunday, January 04, 2009

Number And Measurement


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Koch burns as he churns with eternal significance; easily stated but beyond comprehension … that a line without end on a path to infinity... is bounded finitely; this defies comprehension!
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Ideas are shelved by our "egg-heads" for decades! They're shoved to the shadows to hide their weird light.  Ideas digressive, confusing, confounding—but pointing to systems of balance and right.
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Koch pulls at the mind and won't be denied as it's unity being portrayed and described! The model is clear; it's the circle that's dear—the infinite path! What was far... is now here!
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See, Julia gave circles a wave and a lilt. Mandelbrot cataloged the whole of their ilk. The facts and the figures produce a concision; away with your fear and its spawned apprehension.
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The birth of the one is the other's kin portrait, we see them in all of the natural world! The whole of existence is fractal in nature; with time and bright space ... it's mixed up and swirled.
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See? Scale's imbued with a strange similarity. Don't call it "coincidence" or other hilarity. Atoms ape stars, or a star apes it's galaxy, a sameness is harbored... it is that: our reality!
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Chaos is order that's not understood ... the lapping of waves; the growing of wood. It's the ice fashioned crystal; it's a stream to the coast; it's the root of the cosmos—an accurate boast.
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It's the veins in a leaf, or your hand's vascularity. It is that which portends all that is—the new heresy! It's the shifting of markets, the spread of a tree; it's the truth we all sense while a'crawl on our knees. It's what's "living and breathing" or "dead and inert." It's the whole of reality for what it's all worth.
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It is galaxies colliding reflections of light. It is force forming planets, plate tectonics—Vulcan might? It is all that ever was, and it hides beneath the surface of a scary crunch of numbers we can "buy into" for purchase.
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It will put us on the moon and help us "dig up" water. It will throw us to the stars, and it will show us where to wander. It's the lapping and the crashing of a billion, trillion seas. It defines our motivation as we leap from bleeding knees!
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The volume is finite, good friend, and will not be exceeded! The perimeter is endless, ad infinitum I've entreated. Down is up, and black is white... and all motives are in question; chaos is predictable... Feel the elation!


alienview@adelphia.net
www.AlienView.net


Koch's curve—a mathmatical construction with a finite volume, but (and get this) an infinite perimeter! There's some real *magic* in there fellow motes ... Real as we want to be! Real as we can stand!
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Could this be the a message of the non-prosaic circle maker?
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Consider that science as it is presently understood was revealed to its progenitor Rene Descartes by an alien.  In a fevered dream after a day of killing, drinking, and whoring... it so advised:
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"Nature can be conquered by number and measurement."
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I suspect the alien advised that Nature can be "understood" by number and measurement, and a corrupt son of Western Civilization took understanding for an "advantage" to be prosecuted as in a "war."
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Bad Karma I'm betting.

Restore John Ford!