Monday, January 15, 2018

Saving Face

The center of the universe? An angry place to be, and ironic it's the only place to get up off your knees. It's there within one's consciousness—still possible to share—that one is loosed to "soar and cleave" where fewer care to dare!

True—it's likely there without you, that universe you know, plus much, much more your senses miss, as "senses" miss the show. Though it likely works without you—while you never find that out—then you might as well embrace it, and so look, a bit, about.

You might question your CONVICTIONS, or aspire to test your FAITH. The former loves convenience, and the latter's led to hate. See, faith is not a lapdog to support your party line, and convictions could be sharpened sticks to poke you in the eye.

There's plenty to dissuade you if you think outside the *rules*, and the "systems" of coercion are the shame; you're just their tool.

It won't matter that their *rules* could bear the fruit of all injustice, or their *rule* absolve the holder of their shame. Expect no justice.

The "system's" just a lever that elitists blithely use for a purpose that must benefit the few; be not confused! Whilst they pump our population ever higher making persons, and that means much less respect for me and you... so, drop the curtains.

Oh, they HATE the "individual," so they treat her like a witch. A man who's so afflicted is a similar son-of-a-bitch. See... ...and here the irony's so thick it's chopped with knives... but the BEST of ALL ideas come from single persons, guys!

Now, I'll not fault a team that makes "ideas" what they ARE! The difference found between the two's a Nova to a star, but consider supernovas and remember, FIRST, their seed. It's the STAR that marks her center. It's the "star" that we first need.

True, every meat-bag's not this star, irrelevant if fact. Don't leap to that absurdity, as I'm just not saying that. See?  Culture is a jealous beast that works too hard, it seems, to mark the individual as dismissed to be demeaned. This penalizes poor-folks and will punish artful geeks. Homely kids must live in fear—unearned shame upon their cheeks.

These kids?  They're shoved around to suit a "crowd" we should decry, and will rise up, on occasion, when their spirits are deprived. In our *SCHOOLS* they ARE discounted, and they're slapped around in line, so these might take some guns to class... remember Columbine? These are individuals who are pushed to their extremes... by the haughty—inbred—attitudes of that group to "make the scene."

These behaviors are encouraged by a process—hand in glove—that demands the mediocrity it promotes from up above!  It's that "bottom half" of fractions they'd inflated, not reduced, and the smaller that divisor means the more that they're confused. It's a large denominator that they use to damp the breed! It's that huge denominator which objectifies their greed!

Too, skimp that NUMERATOR to a number grown so small... individuals are made meaningless and consigned a graceless fall...

See, too damn many artless knobs *pronounce* on you and me. Enraged and therefore outraged, though, we'd leap from callused knees! We're the ones who like our thinking as a process of our own; see, we've been—too blithely—lied to from the "pulpit" and the "throne."

We're the ones without due process. We're the ones DENIED our due. We're misdirected, disrespected, so prefer a larger truth.

I'm at the center of my universe and I'm not surprised to see... a plethora of *centers* who are (more or less!)... like me! And all prefer the base respect that you yourself would have... but denied—to too damn many—for the lawful thoughts we'd had.

We'd make our contribution but we're driven from our herd! We're dismissed from our society. We're discounted and deterred! All most of us had WANTED was a chance to tuck right in, and make our contribution where we saw *it* wearing thin, but based upon convenience of some *bless-ed* non-elected... we must suffer the indifference of our culture's piqued rejection!

It's their willful self-indulgence as they sell us down the river! It's their xenophobic attitudes assumed without a quiver! It's their penchant for discretion that supports their status quo—which is narrow and short-sighted, and unjust; I think you know.

It's the lack of toleration that elitists would promote. It's the fascist way they dictate terms they shove right down our throats!

How are we to fare then, friend, where "birds" come home to "roost," and psychopaths presume their will to suck your blood for juice?  How are we at all best served, in reflex arbitration, to legislate morality embracing sick religions. 

Well, we can have our "answers," see? Though, eschew the ones thought "sought." Ephemerally self-serving, these are useless, often's not? If production's what's been lacking, and that has been the case... it just may be that we're best served by those, not sought, but faced.

Not a question.

Monday, January 08, 2018

What's Writ 2018

It not Yin or Yang... it's the edge.

What's Writ 2018
by Alfred Lehmberg

Enough is too much! Yeah. I'll write what's writ, written as if to blow a righteous horn from the summary funnel I am levied unasked! 

This aggrieved and resented funnel is via a jealously duplicitous, wholly autocratic, and forlornly hubristic (forget swinish!) society. Society is unmasked, thereby!  Expect no apologies and lesser quarter, eh? That's the way we're going to roll in 2018. So, in the spirit of Festivus, then, it's time to gather around the ceremonial Pole and air a few traditional grievances. 

I'll riff, forewarning, as is my wont. They will be words writ without regard to being read or unread. Extant, I've read them enough for all of us. They mean something to me. They mean something to a shared condition... the inarticulable articulated, at least in aspiration.

To start... Accused of having a "rambling style," I assert that my only defense is that words—to this writer—are but different color paints magically able to change color in association with each other. That's the fact of it. Words are the enlightened thing. Something got right in the Bible...

Sentences are brush-strokes, paragraphs are portraits, and pages are the considered scapes of our experiential sky—the immediately felt presence of the living land and an exciting and unending sky... there can be no apologizing for them. They are all we are and all we can be. Moreover, Wordlessness is the currency of cultural erosion and artistic irrelevancy. I would aspire to constructive relevancy, myself.

What I aspire to write about is the water in which we, like fish, swim. Maybe the reader is not perceiving, as water, the water in which she swims. Perhaps drowning? I'd prefer to try to know it, myself.

...And sincerely, if I didn't have decent credentials I wouldn't hang it all out like this... INVITING society's "favorite-playing" whack with bloody spiked track-shoes! Speaking contrarily UP, OUT, and HONESTLY is an occupation filled with uncalled for hazard, no fooling, I discover. Still, nothing is everything avoiding all but the moments felt presence suspiciously proscribed... what's ignored is missed, regardless. Ours, buoyed by meager senses and smaller cognition, is a very poor felt presence... a humility in that regard is key to a happiness, it is suspected.

Additionally, a loose cannon, even one of admitted small caliber, is a lonely cannon, and all too often a slandered one. I survive.  Artless Arty, Danny Camembert, Richey Red Ridinghood, and one obnoxious little "bastid" from New Zealand would know what's meant by way of allusion, from my own experience. I know of which I speak. Left-handedness is a blessed curse even wielding its literary Excaliber.  Excaliber is not used frivolously... ...It gets colorful over in right-brain territory.

These slanderers, for a record, are the militantly mal-foil-hatted mouthbreathers trying breathlessly to carve out their own craven clout from accommodating backsides. I'll not be so accommodating.  One's victory is Pyrrhic. I won't suffer a trifling. You are what you do. 

An ardent literary if "craptastic" litany of anxious argle-bargles are slanderously iterated by these fatuously homocentric little fish, blithely unaware of their water, even as they push on it pathetically and wholly unaware, I'd presume... swimming in tedious little circles, but illustrating an inappropriate reaction to the stress of an attacking sensible criticism... and a coward's inability to countenance those revolted by your neighborhood mouthbreather's avoidable hypocrisy. You know, attack the critic and not the criticism because the criticism remains to stand.

John Ford, another "favorite" played, criminally persecuted and held in gulag now for over two decades by the elites alluded to, knows what I'm talking about, too, by way of example. Let's remember him in 2018! Bet your ass because it could be! Run even righteously afoul with jealous corruption yourself some time; perceive something in your skies not allowed by an official's officialdom. Life turns on a dime and keeps any change.

John Ford, a genuine intrepid, discovered that the world is infested with soulless serial psychopaths taking great and powerful pains to sharpen the archaic spikes on their "old-world" and archaic track-shoes for sport and profit. The "grinding stone" concerned, in Ford's particular instance, is Ford's obstinately individual and unrecanting backside, betrayed by the bench's rule of law used as a lap dog for the privileged, and its mental health system used to cacoon same, lo these many years! 

Verily, Ford STILL rots in prison for a crime existing only in his accuser's (et al) decidedly criminal mind... to facilitate his accuser's documented criminal agenda. This all happened last century and happens, still!

They hone those smiting shoe spikes to the needle sharpness of a sociopathic shark's tooth... don't they, I've discovered personally, as Ford suffers an extreme first hand, but I'm an old soldier and what's an old soldier to do? Fade away? Mmmmno.

I don't think so. Not this old soldier. ...And it's Festivus!

Thing is, I was good enough for this country when I was killing human beings or destroying property and equipment for it as its convenient cannon fodder cum hired-killer in unending pecuniary wars of aggression, oppression and repression mostly masquerading as a war on terrorism

Retired "with all honors," and a past Commandant of a Singular Service School, I'm good enough NOW to teach its sons and daughters how to be compassionate leaders and critical followers, as I did previously with some success in the real world, followers of that which aspires to the relevantly reasonable, realistically responsible, or reasonably enlightened! That, or what's the point?

I would teach them not to suffer tyrants, by God! Or I would have ... in the Trump fueled winter of a horrendous tumultuousness the Nation has never known ...and in a winter of my own? Likely, it's too late for that now... Love for country unrequited...

See? Arbitrarily and unjustly mash us down "here"... We will only endeavor to pop up over "THERE," just meaner! I say true!

Our culture never cops to that because it's a culture, I suspect, the unelected, only, maintain and facilitate or suit their own self-interested prerequisite, jealous prerogative, and over-privileged proclivity. Anything else hurts their corrosive bottom line and challenges cat-bird seats.

As further example, I was myself, too arbitrarily for my money, ash-canned (fired) from a too hard to gain teaching position for lawful activities, ethical expressions, and rational positions... my civil liberties arbitrarily imposed upon... my efficacious pursuit of a constructive happiness derailed... I want a righteous chunk of some rich right-wingnut's  pecuniary ASS for it! See how it works?

I address an ignored grievance, a grievance shared by too many (or it wouldn't even be mentioned) ...and but crickets are heard. That's with ALL respect to the crickets I have heard from, but let's not get too worked up by a metaphor. It's the ROACHES to chap our ass! I'm betting the reader is or has been harried, similarly. That's the point.

We are wronged! We want redress! This fault... this injustice... this turmoil is not ours! Served better we'd be better! Where does this all begin?

Remember high school. I'm betting it hasn't changed much. 

Graduating in 1967 during the Summer Of Love, I was too close to the forest to grasp the contrived enormity of some very suspicious trees! We were rebelling against the old-growth forest for reasons and of needs, as I recall. The individual trees of the forest in which I found myself seemed so hungry for my attention, and, regretfully, it was so few of these trees that I had the wish to understand—more than superficially—and then it was, generally, the WRONG trees. In winter's autumn, this writer sees that now. ...How to teach the potential efficacy of trees... but endure the forest extant, of needs... I digress.

Back to task, 1967. Prior to that it was a time to have the *right* haircut, wear the *right* clothes, be in the *right* clubs and associations, drive the *right* car, hang with the *right* people—a shamefully wasteful romp to curry the favor of—be accepted by—those who made the "official" scene... them and their peripheral adult facilitators. The Summer Of Love put a wrench in the gears of all that. Revealed! Proscribed activities!

Still, though, those elite... and non-elected even then... too many of the advantaged took advantage. A die is cast. Official molds get hard to break. Still, novelty seems inexorable. Change becomes a tidal force. The psychedelic left goes underground, becomes the internet, consciousness is coined and transferred. Conscescence happens.

I was on the periphery of that elite, never quite accepted, but never quite rejected either. I'm a little ashamed to admit that, both ways, but I have to make that painful disclosure to illustrate that I MIGHT know what I'm talking about when I say that the "marginalized majority" outside an "in" crowd are visible to that crowd only as sources of cheap-shot amusement—or as an out and out expendable resource!  That ephemeral, indomitable, and irresistible elite are bred even in public schools—forgetting private ones. Tiers in tiers. Wheels in wheels.

Beyond that, they—a-hem... we, as I came to find out—are valueless, expendable, and invisible. This is not what we *learned* in high school. In high school, we learned about arbitrary class and connected category in an existential reality of authoritarian injustice, rank prejudice, and tolerated wink-nudge bigotry. Came the evolved times and the nascent crawl to equity and gylany from the slimes of Patriarchy and Androcracy, its reptilian racism and monstrous misogyny, slimes currently trying to pull us back... resist!

Being on the uncomfortable periphery of that treasured elite we allude to, some of the invisible marginalized (who *should* have been invisible to me) were not. These were the *geeks* with pocket protectors, the poets, splash artists, and underground thespians. The weird, whacked-out, and wild... the quirky stoners, dorks, and assorted nervous burn-outs or afflicted nut-rolls—those not associated with rally club and the football team—these were a MAJORITY.

They were the challenged and misshapen; they were sensitive and miserable. They were overweight or bosom-less—had acne so bad you could HEAR it sometimes, eh?  Chance-less motes, otherwise strangely colored rainbows of ethnic homeliness and unsettling diversity—all in stark contrast to the relative few of cherished all white-aspirant Ken and Barbi elite-oids. They (we)... were everyone ELSE.

Almost too late I would detect the very real cognitive magnificence of the marginalized group and realize that the seeds of a wondrous future potential—better or worse—were held in the fresh thinking hands of THEIR marvelous singularity! Fuck the "in" crowd and even their gods.

Bill Gates, Linus Torvalds, and Steve Wozniak would have been worthwhile people to befriend, back in the day. They were individuals, ready examples of the garden-variety uber-geeken, circa 1967... or so I understand...

The in-crowd of my high school? Well, and knowing a few, most of them PEAKED in high school, I'd wager. If they didn't crash on some privileged alcoholic shore, or inherit *daddy's* going concern, or end up as trophy wives for a descending succession of male in-crowders in failed marriages, they moved on to the shadow-lands of the few, the proud, but that non-elected and shadowy elite. THIS was my aspiration? I don't think so. Dust dry up in there.

Luckily, I'd only gotten a taste of those *enviable* environs to see how ultimately "dry as dust" they truly are. So much for the very transitive value of a short-sighted "IN" crowd. They are "IN" all right. They were (and still are, I suspect) "in"—In self-absorbed, convenient, and perpetual DENIAL of their abject corporeal irrelevancy.

Why? For THEM, a "going concern" with momentum

That part of "them" surviving the drug addiction, decadence, and largely DESERVED psychological distresses... even well insulated from those they'd condemned? That's the bunch to take their unearned turn to pronounce, with the psychotic energy of misery, on the rest of us... ...decide our faiths, fortunes, and futures, it would seem. Seems plain since Reagan. 

I'd surmise that all that is from this faceless bunch sniping originating orders from around corners, starting the whisper campaigns, or denying and complicating an individual's very livelihood for the purpose of having control over those individuals... an oft-repeated theme. It happened to me. I say true.

That's the wing-nut billionaire bunch fronting the sold-out but articulate talking TV-heads in their busy campaign to fan the gonads and sensibilities, of your haplessly clueless brothers and sisters, into the frothy mob of pitchfork-waving and torch-bearing meat bags they can too easily become! It's also the bunch turning some of our kids into early suicides or bomb-making homicidal maniacs, but the point is getting pretty fine already...

We're all at the center of the universe and all those centers are packing together pretty tightly. That's design; we could function alternatively! We could eschew oil and coal for wind and solar, for example.  The finite amount of non-polluted space that we are restricted to—by the aforementioned and shortsighted non-elected—DICTATES that that claustrophobic tightness can only increase as our numbers do.

That is not good news. That is glib understatement.

It's no stretch that even the *best* self-interested (if not self-aware... think reptiles and mammals) social system prosecuting an unchanging and dogmatically rigid continuance will fail, eventually. It always has. That swimming fish alluded to is sometimes thrown out of his water... adapt or die. 

Errant flashes of white-hot irritation fly out of control, finally, in that weaponized and flesh clogged human powder keg of ever-increasing social density... density then precipitating the predictable explosion authoritarians would always foreswear so pretend not to foresee. 

Too, we've FAR from the best social system... perhaps part of the plan, it excuses an ever-inflating professional police force and for-profit prison system, after all... presently near one in a hundred of us in prison. Your garden variety mouth breather won't see a connection. More people in prison, if those vested in for-profit prisons (like our USAG Jeffery Beaureguard Sessions III) have their way. Such is the police state of late thrust upon us... a profitable one.

I suspect it must be the eventuality of a tolerant and rational, if minimal, ongoing liberalism, born from the righteous outrage of the late sixties, keeping those self-repeating horrific instances down to the levels which presently occur! ANY increase in the prevailing level of autocratic authoritarianism would only make that violence occur with much more frequency than it already does. 

We can see those frequency increases now. I can only report how I feel as a victim of that arbitrary and autocratic authoritarianism, a crass authoritarianism on the steady increase already noted. Watch the GOP for ready examples of same. "Both sides to blame" is a myth to sell boner pills and reverse mortgages. No... all of it. All Of. It... is at the feet of what calls itself the GOP.

My treatment makes ME angry! Angry enough for violence? No. But then I have a degree of articulation and can jettison pressure in that manner.

...Others do not, howsoever. Maybe it's these going on psychotropic drugs and murdering people in schools, malls, and at musical events...

I suspect I may know how some of these might feel. America's SON in every category except mindless obedience? I was turned out, turned down, and turned away from a needy billet in America's classrooms for specious, bigoted, uninformed, unenlightened... ...age-discriminating and finally inappropriate reasons, persecuted (this writer offers) under the guise of my interest in UFOs!

Reminiscent of serious threats from the arbitrary-autocratic-unilateralists leaping right out of high-school, I have to fight back! Anything else is default agreement with the social forces ignobly aligned against or truly persecuting the likes of me, and more horrifically and disastrously, individuals not unlike me.

I'm on guard to clear my good name of spurious slanders, continue an interrupted substantive—but clearer—contribution to my society, and live a little closer to the truth... though heavens fall... ...If they could, they should, for my money. 

I'll use the Arts as my efficaciously ethical and individual weapon in that struggle. The pen IS mightier than the sword. That's the history.

will loudly protest a perceived injustice in just this manner... directly and without gloves. Others similarly affected will fight back (I'm certain) in their own way using weapons of THEIR choice, but whatever the eventual "weaponry," IF that outraged response is blithely and conveniently provoked by the corrupted arbitrary, THEN the consequences for the arbitrary are, albeit tragically (?), richly deserved. Good news? 

Our situation is always a choice for what we could be. You know stupid's not right. There's correctably flawed with a respectful nod to the bottom rank and file... and then there's the impossibly psychotic operating at the behest of top tiered authoritarian monsters and preying psychopaths! Choose. 

"[I'm] a rambler and a gambler and a sweet talkin' [thinking] man... and I love my lovin', but not like I love my freedom*"! Pickle Riiiick!

Read on! 


"I cleave the heavens and soar to the infinite. What others see from afar, I leave far behind me." - Giordano Bruno, a "played favorite" scourged by the scurrilous and original deplorables.

*Real freedom... not the "freedom" to suffer squalor in a wing-nut's wet dream where the employer is not required to pay a living wage, for-profit healthcare is unaffordable, and the old, et al, die in the street.

Wednesday, December 27, 2017

Aristotle As Prufrock

Once again I make refrains on Aristotle's crass remains. See, he'd RETURN those "crystal spheres"... enclosing our most strident fears. ...And all to fool... convince... ourselves that we must hold the highest ground of grace and strong integrity—"creation's crown"! ...Hilarity...

TAKE ARISTOTLE AT HIS WORD, as churches did—Aquinas hard—and push your woman to your heel; put her through your strange ordeal. Make her work the lion's share, but work for less—or be contraire—to OWN a hundredth for her toils as she reduces, makes, and boils.

Take dominion of your "Earth," to treat her like the bitch you've cursed; beat her if she won't conform to arbitrary wills and norms. Throw your filth across her ground and foul her face, but scar, confound ... too, mess with normal weather patterns—raging storms to flood and flatten ... then drop that polar shelf of ice and raise your wave of flood and fright! ...Scouring Earth from pole to pole, a cleansing facial harsh and cold!

Depending on a moon, they say, or "just so far from solar rays"; seasons placid, and "predictable," water, heat, and food—some victual. All of this must come together, blessed by God and *his* trite measure, plus some luck to mix right in—to make some spark for *smarter men*.

Likely, "RARE!" they have construed! "We're alone," these BALLYHOO (!), then, hustle back to do their "work"... ...sullenly, to preen and smirk!

UFO's are scorned, ignored, or shut behind their screens and doors, then we are told that SCIENCE shows that their "concerns" be predisposed.

"What you want's a waste of time," they're quick to say from pompous shrines, though we have paid, and dearly too, for what's withheld from me and you.

Locked beyond the common pale (and stuffed to tunnel, boom, and rail) there exists the covert record: secrets kept, purloined ... subverted. Secrets signal strident change, and who gets hurt, friend; who gets blamed?

Power settles with a will, and change is rampant. "Take your fill!" This may be what's kept from us ... that *they* lose power, might, and thrust ... that we could be as them, to find ... that we're unbravecontrived ... despised.

Meanwhile, we're a laugh (...God's treasure?), that we INSIST we use OUR measure... holding to our hubris, meanly, so we can coddle fear obscenely. We would dote on Aristotle, sucking on his drying nipple, living at the charmless center he contrived to suit HIS temper! Made SPECIAL when he's alone—to be God's favorite in His home—a "crowning jewel of cosmic crowns" of "loving gods"... ...with angry frowns?

We'd give the space folk their motivation? We'd tell 'em how to DO their mission ... paint their feelings, points of view, tell them how they'd make and do! But that is us and we're not them, so we can't predispose them, friend. 

Yeah, we'd dictate their *understanding*, argue *physics* notwithstanding, tell them what their form should be, and how they'd speak to you and me? What a crock, hubristic wrong, we use to sing our 'centric song...

We'd dictate what we wished was true, forgetting what we always knew, that what we *know* is likely wrong ... that we might sing more humble songs.

We do these things, retreat from grace, and wallow in a pride disgraced! We forget the time and distance ... expanding as we speak ... for instance. We avoid the misty blackness, elude the depths that lead to vastness, retreating to our shallow minds ... in ignorance's grasp confined!

We doom OURSELVES to crass perdition. We MAKE confusionindecision. We won't see the bigger picture, look beyond a narrow stricture, or fund the courage we would need to validate our break-neck speed! We don't look into the sky, except to plant the reason why that puts us at the *point* of *things*—the universe revolves and swings ... around *mankind* so proud and haughty, but like J. Prufrock? A little dotty.

...And like a Prufrock, our Aristotle... ...figures in to "short" and "throttle", forcing us, yes, to a center he'd CONTRIVE, so we're embittered.

We won't know what futures bring if we insist and falsely sing the jaundiced praises of a hubris ... weaponized to bathe and soothe us!

We don't make consistent rules, we shortchange all our children's schools by feeding pap, a tasteless gruel that rots the "gut" and fouls the "stool."

We won't make a lasting peace, we'll struggle where we're challenged least! We'll let the BIG chance slip away if we allow this glad decay!

Fail not to search your sky for that which they'd let slip on by. Challenge ALL your institutions, hold them close to constitutions. There is stuff they won't explain, and this is why one MUST complain!

Believing you're alone's un-brave, and makes you just a *tool* ... a slave. A larger fire only shows there're shadows still... ...but so it goes. You're obliged to make that light, though shadows rule, regardless. Right?

It's on you to realize that shadows grow with fire's size, but fire's light brings novelty and from those shadows?   "What," comes to be!

From the shadows comes our novelty. It ever has... and will... but, be.

Wednesday, December 20, 2017


We The People
by Alfred Lehmberg

The "FLATWOODS MONSTER" was featured on the hugely popular TV Show WE THE PEOPLE 65 years ago... What was up with that? It got weird.

Given Current events, ufologically, it's rooted to an existential and corporeal admission of sorts... including official ones... we must call it disclosure... as to some lack of sentient and self-aware singularity in our dancer's arm of the Milky Way... We are not alone.

We are not alone. Good News! The red pill beats the blue pill every time!

On Thursday, September 18, 1952, "Flatwoods Monster" witnesses Kathleen May and Eugene Lemon was accompanied to New York City by Braxton Democrat newspaperman, A. Lee Stewart, Jr. They'd been asked to appear on the very highly popular television talk show of the time, We The People

The far-reaching Flatwoods Monster incident, which Stewart had broken to the news media, had peaked the interest of NBC television executives, one can understand... it status was entirely viral for that day and age. They wanted the Braxton County residents on their golden era television program highlighting the interesting true to life. This abundantly filled their bill.

Daniel Seymour
The Braxton County trio was flown to New York late Thursday afternoon to stay at the Belmont Hotel... scheduled to appear on the show the following night, September 19, 1952. On Friday afternoon, May, Lemon, and Stewart were driven to the TV studio. They were greeted there by the host of the show, Mr. Daniel Seymour. 

Off the set, the "Flatwoods Monster" witnesses explained the "Flatwoods Monster" encounter to Seymour. A sketch artist sat nearby and drew an off-hand sketch of the "Creature." as they spoke. Here was a primary distortion in the making.

May and Lemon explained some of the details to the sketch artist. He'd questioned them as he continued to sketch the figure during the cold-read interview. After the illustration was finished, the large drawing was handed off to a crew member to be used for the opening of the live TV broadcast.

Mr. Seymour then finished talking with May, Lemon, and Stewart off camera. The crew prepped them all for their imminent interviews. Cue the music, folks! 

Mr. Seymour charismatically strode out onto the set and took his place at center stage. The three Braxton County residents took their seats, set to begin their presentation. The live show began moments later when the camera focused on the master of ceremonies, Mr. Daniel Seymour. There was an eerie silence in the studio and the broadcast went live.

The show opened by setting the scenario with the host's soft narration while the nearby orchestra simultaneously performed soothing background music. This set the atmosphere for a fall "Indian summer" day in West Virginia. Mr. Seymour smoothly began to tell the story...
"Imagine a scene in the autumn dusk, in a lonely secluded spot, which you reach right after viewing a fiery meteor in the sky. This was easy to imagine. THIS WAS NOT SO EASY."
Recently Revealed WTP drawing

Suddenly, another camera cuts to the big drawing of the freshly drawn "monster"! It pounces on the screens of unsuspecting American viewers Nationwide! The orchestra music turns unsettlingly eerie and crescendoes to a feverish pitch! At that moment, history was made as a shocked American public gasped at the sight of the "Braxton County Monster" on their nascent television sets for the first time! Too bad that wasn't the monster.

Verily reader, the illustration of the "Flatwoods Monster" was "a lie telling a truth," but real tragedy on further investigation... enduring cheap-shots for the effect even in the beginning! 

Chief among these tragedies are regretted memories of the unreturned and long forgotten fighter pilots lost engaging those UFOs..., through the wounded pride and sensibilities of the betrayed persons involved with the Flatwoods event, moving on to the ongoing disgrace of a media continuing to misinform us today! Such remains to be addressed.

See, the realistic portrayal of the Flatwoods figure was correctly described to Frank Feschino, Jr. by Mrs. May during his countless interviews with her and was also described to reporter Stewart, as well, by May; it was as a hovering mechanical device! It was not a "Monster" wearing a dress.

Feschino, a college-trained illustrator, worked closely with Mrs. May and her son Freddie. He produced near forensic police-style renderings of the figure to ensure its accuracy. For example reader, in reference to the incorrect portrayal of the figure drawn by the 1952 TV artist, Mrs. May explained the following about the "monster's" arms and claws during an interview with Feschino, "It looked something like antennae sticking out from it, between the body and head." During another interview, the following is transcribed from Feschino and May discussions regarding the incorrect 1952 TV show drawing:

Mrs. May: "They just told me they'd like to draw a sketch of it, and Gene and I together had told him what we'd seen, and he [artist] drew the sketch."
Feschino: "Why did he draw arms on it then, because you told me it had antennae?
Mrs. May: "I told him that, too! But that's what he drew on it. To make it look more like a 'monster' I guess."

The late Kathleen May...

This malfeasance of the media led to the incorrect, albeit enduring, portrayal of the mechanical figure as dress-wearing pixie... and the dismissable folklore of the "Flatwoods Monster" was born! But wait, reader! There's more, much more. Devils in details.

On Monday, September 15, 1952, and, as pointed out above, and preceding the We the People interview (so We The People should have known), The Charleston Gazette newspaper posted an article containing key information about the accurate description of the so-called "monster." This information was actually obtained by A. Lee Stewart, Jr. during his interviews with the witnesses back in Flatwoods, immediately after the encounter happened. You see, Stewart was at the May home shortly after the encounter, led a posse of armed men onto the farm where the encounter occurred to chase "a monster," talked to the witnesses all that night in a third degree, and then later interviewed them in the days ahead. This was big stuff taken seriously.

The newspaper article of evidence explained, "Braxton Monster Left Skid Tracks Where He Landed—(Special to The Gazette)," actually precedes the incorrect portrayal of the TV show "Monster" drawing... by five days! Yes reader, five days! 

The witnesses gave the actual description regarding the "monster," at the start! The staff of the We the People program really can't claim an ignorance when it was this initial report crossing their interest threshold, initially, in the first place!

It "Wore a suit of green armor. Looked like a mechanical man. It had a blood-red face. It sported a black, spade-like cowl which extended a foot or more above its head." Yes, reporter Stewart got it right in his initial reportage.

Five days later in New York, Kathleen May was trying to describe the pipes to the artist and likened them to the rolling pleats of drapes! The artist drew... drapes. C'mon! Given the artist must have been provided Stewart's report... the artist could have just phoned that in on can and wire! Eyewitness Freddie May told Feschino, "What Mother described as the pleats of hanging drapes, were actually tubes running vertically." 

Freddie May added, "They were metal, they were actually metal pipes" and compared them to the thickness of a "fireman's hose." Freddie also told Frank, "I think those tubes were some sort of propulsion system. It was hovering about one-foot off the ground." May also said this of the figure, "It was mechanical; it was not alive. Maybe inside of the thing—there could have been something alive." May added, "what I saw was either a small spaceship or suit of some kind. ...Something it was wearing. It was mechanical." Feschino also queried Mrs. May the following about the body of the "Flatwoods Monster" and asked, "Did it look cloth-like or metallic?" She replied, "No! It looked more metallic." May added, 

"It was just kind of floating. It was about a foot to a foot and a half off the ground."

1952 was a Summer of Saucers followed by Presidential orders to the military to shoot those UFOs down. Full stop.  

Should we be surprised that one was shot down on the old Fisher farm, with others in a very turbulent West Virgina, right about now 65 years ago? Credulity is stunned by implication.

Something else, too.  We the people was a hugely successful program and sold a lot of "soap."  There would be just one more program after Flatwoods and then it went inexplicably out like a candle.  Make of that what you will.



The format of the We the People show, which was first telecast on June 1, 1948, was to interview various guests about important events occurring in their lives. Ordinary people, celebrities, entertainers, and politicians alike were informally interviewed by the host, who would casually chat with them on the set. This informal talk show format made We the People one of the most popular TV shows of its time.

At the beginning of each segment, the guests were introduced with the opening line, "We, the People...speak." Yet, after airing the "Flatwoods Monster" story on September 19, 1952, this popular show was summarily and inexplicably canceled after the telecast of only one more program. Highly strange, on September 26, 1952, the show made its final appearance on NBC TV.

In closing reader, I would like to go back to 1952 and talk about a conversation occurring between Mr. Donald Keyhoe and Mr. Albert Chop, Public Liaison for the USAF. Keyhoe, hugely respected at the time as a retired Marine officer and former close aide to Charles Lindbergh, phoned Chop at the Pentagon and spoke to him about the Flatwoods case shortly after May, Lemon and Stewart appeared on We the People and he saw the continuing press coverage of the shocking story. Keyhoe wrote the following in his 1953 book, Flying Saucers from Outer Space:

"This could get out of hand," I told Chop. Why doesn't the Air Force squelch it?"

"We've already said the object was a meteor," he retorted.

"A lot of people don't believe it. and the way it's built up it's bad. It plants the menace idea ten times more than the Desvergers story did...

"It'll die out," Chop insisted.

"But people will remember it if something breaks."

Donald Keyhoe then goes on to say, "The Air Force hands-off attitude seemed peculiar to me. For the monster story was having a serious effect, in addition to letters from worried Americans." 

Was the frightening nationwide telecast of the "Flatwoods Monster" segment on September 19, 1952, the reason that the plug was pulled on We the People, reader? Well, here we are 63 years later, and still learning about the "Flatwoods Monster" incident. Perhaps more truth looms in the upcoming future. I'll stay tuned.

Read on...

Listen for me! I may go out.

Saturday, December 16, 2017

Mainstream Values

Mainstream Values
by Alfred Lehmberg

Mainstream values. One would expect them to be at least competent and forthright, or, sense, both common and refined. Not to be! There's too much "wrath of God Money" involved right down to who's publishing a backwater town's textbooks, or even who can work at all. This writer is a case in point. Does this wrath of God oppose enemies or manufacture them for the purposes of having an opposition? A distractor fashioned as a mechanism of use for the unelected string-puller...

What unsettling gloom must hang over the whole of our National existentiality, currently, the day-to-day reality lived... felt presence of the moment getting warmer in every news cycle. Nameless fears are abruptly named, impossible threats become possible threats, then probable, and what we thought we knew retreats to the wholly unknown. That's the ride we're on!

We would be relieved of all control of our personal lives.  Our aspirations to truth and beauty would be denied.  Even the hope of some personal satisfaction is increasingly discouraged under the threatened punishment of extreme prejudice.  Few persons of conscience or the remotest lucidity would debate the preceding.  Our liberty, real and imagined, is slip-sliding away. I say true.

Well—let's do what we can to force the issue, eh?  True, cognitive action and engagement betrayed, we've blithely allowed our current plight with our uninvolved and non-voting cultural complacency. We weren't voting. 

That's on us. 

What we perceive now could be something apart from a conclusively informational "mainstream," one stealthily hijacked to do the bidding of a pirating few. Argued is that this seems to be providing a clear and present danger to us, the revoltingly manipulated many.  Still, the harder they squeeze, though, mayhap the more of us slip through their fingers, as a late Princess once accurately reflected, also speaking truth to power.

Remember when Alexander just cleaved the impossible knot with his sword or how Monk Bruno, through a primitive telescope, perceived that he now intellectually soared, surely cleaved to the newly perceived endless heavens... truly leaving behind what others yet had so very far before them... It's not hard to understand why he'd rather burn at the stake than renounce his monumental insight... or how Alexander provided ready solutions to insolvable problems. Nothing's found so much as faced!

Grok this: UFOs, extant across seven categories on a huge evidentiary pathway, are pure sedition against this dodgy "Status Quo," alluded to, full stop. This could be a truism. It's archetype enough to be one for sure!   

For citation, Richard Dolan, credible UFO historian, is among those generally identifying, as the enemy of human spirit and humanity in the aggregate... this "Status Quo." It now serves duplicitous masters only, if it's ever done anything else.  The "privilege" of the few increasingly dictates the "treatment" of the many. This writer thought we were getting passed all that. No.

We may yet! Forcing the issue here, et sig al, are UFOs and their ancillaries... it would rather be like addressing some kind of existential chakra point or overall stress release mechanism... release from the dictates of the aforementioned "status quo"—for the individual, it is surmised.  That's a good thing, I'm betting... and there are other such cultural acupunctural chakras! Science is not alone even as it arrogantly pretends (that jealous function of reductionism again) that it is.

The individual is key, you see; it's the quality of the individual determining the quality of the whole cultural team.  Old Rome, BC, at its rational height, was composed of a middle class of many quality citizen individuals ruled by an august Senate, and they accomplished much... reached far a-field and plucked advancement and novelty out of the air before them... all that was perverted on the whims of tyrants, of course... remains any historical Caesar looking ahead to the quality of many individuals in 2007 would see millions of future citizens, common people... but citizens! All with the clear powers of the gods

...And that's with well-smoking brakes on, reader!  Tyrant Caesar, in the form of Autonomous and Self-involved Priests and Kings, still exists in a barely diminished capacity today, or we would be a HUGE middle class of quality citizens residing in the asteroid belt—a living ring around our Sun like a bracelet on the wrist of a cosmic god... and our mainstream, qualified by sterling fact and noble affect, would be worth more than a mere tinker/tyrant's damn!

Mainstream values? Lapdogs have no values. They do what's required for scratch and cookie. No, make the mainstream reflect the learned, legitimate, and efficacious aggregate that it was supposed to reflect... and the stars are ours!

Read on.

Saturday, December 09, 2017

..Bell Toll...

There's more to life than recreation—
more, perhaps, than procreation!
There's more completing ones whole life
that goes ignored in baseless fright!

Yet, we would cleave to old traditions, 
suffering their impositions, 
and clinging to the lies we're told, 
we fool ourselves we're in control.

See, I don't mean to frighten you 
with what I have to tell, 
and if what I say is threatening (?), 
then I don't mean to ring that bell... 
...but not excused is ignorance of all that comes to play... 
not forgotten in the quietness we need to end our day.

See, I observe these "pretty" lies
we've swallowed down through tides and times, 
as we have been discounted, friend!
That's the sum of all pretense! 
Distracted by mere liars—all— 
bastards sans all sack and ball, 
we succumb to their distractions
and condone their gross infractions!

There's more to life than hate and love.
There's balance, knowledge... ...skies above!
We would find that there's respect
that's been ignored and in neglect,
and in our rush to PAY their toll
we cannot hear the BELLS which toll...

These tolling bells? 

The UFOs which danced across our skies of old, 
and they're behind a sullen curtain 
cast across our eyes, be certain. 
Shilled, the "mainstream's" obfuscations, 
prosecuted obscurations. 
They're the grease for our distraction— 
the lens they use in their diffraction.

There's more to life that we're denied, 
They're not "insuring safety," Clyde! 
We endure manipulations, foul disease—gross infestations, 
all at the whim of those who *know* 
the way the tortured winds must blow... 

These tolling bells include our Earth, 
abused and frankly dying, cursed, 
and if one should listen carefully? 
One hears her moan, incessantly. 
She's running out of patience, friend. 
The planet's sick; yet, we pretend!
ALL her species lose distinction; 
All must face the same extinction! 
There is much we've LOST... ...forgotten 
(cloaked by *science* spoiled and rotten!)... 
...we might've used to elevate... 
...our souls or spirits our fate!

These tolling bells include ourselves and power found within!
We're more than sacks of water held in bags of greasy skin!
...Though, produced like stock or cattle 
we are treated just like slaves... 
beneath concerned respect we've earned... 
PRODUCING... ...but not paid! 

We deserve a new respect, 
a real deal "they" neglect... 
valid info we can use 
to stop the madness they've construed! 

These tolling bells include religion corrupted and contrived, 
that tool of fundamentalists who confuse our facile lives. 
All the Jews or Christians... and the Moslems... are abusers. 
Their faith has gone untested, their philosophies diffusers.

Yet, they are living indecision—
manipulated in precision! 
Too, they are way off balance, friend, 
and stoke the failure they portend!

Who are "they"? One well might ask, to WHICH am I referring? 
The question, asked, is presupposed. The answers are disturbing.
They exist, the ones referred, their affect has been plain! 
So, to even ask the question's to infer that they've little "brain"!

These have ears but they don't hear 
the cries of hungry people here; 
they have eyes but they don't see 
the horror of their specious creed. 
They don't FEEL as we do, 
we're WELL "beneath contempt," it's true.

We're mere tools that they abuse. 
We're "shined on" with a showy ruse. 
"Them"? They are called the "SOCIOPATHIC," 
they are "them": called Psychopathic!
One can't let such call the shots!
We must resist! It's all we've got!

One remembers that you have to be quite sane to be a proper psychopath. ...Ya just wanna, is all. Given opportunity, you will. It may be that, like other behaviors, this is on a behavior on a sliding scale. There's a smear of psychopathy... including even you and me. Remains, leadership sans empathetic and inclusive fairness is not advised. As it's been said: all is is chaos, we've each other, only... kind, be.

Tuesday, December 05, 2017

Ouroboros And Fermi's Hubris

Ouroboros And Fermi's Hubris
by Alfred Lehmberg

I offer that the Fermi objections qualifying the conjectured dearth of ET are as bowdlerized as a misquoted and overstretched Occam. Indeed, these bowdlerizers are the foggy bubbles and opaque fans of klasskurtxian exotic dancers... truly anyone in the camp of even comely reflex denialists. Reductionists, rewarded, will oversimplify.

Remains few of these are comely, internally or externally... one listens to them allaying personal concerns that all is chaos turning on nine cent's change, all we have is each other for the remotest salvation, and we are nowhere being kind enough to each other to secure that salvation. One turns to invented Gods securing, as designed, only one's bidding.

Has everyone heard of Fermi's Paradox? In essence, it's treated as a "we're (essentially!) alone in the universe" justification. It was invented by Dr. Enrico Fermi based on his observation, and I heavily paraphrase, that if *alien beings* were "there," at all, we would "know" it... they'd make themselves known. They couldn't hide from us... humans are too smart. We'll forget hubris trumps smart, eh?

...And pause for squirty giggles. The only lift here is to accommodate an irreverent cheek's unfettered flatulence. Anyway, Fermi pontificates that we don't "know" it. Ergo... 

They're not "there"... simply certainly not "here."

What a cleverly close-looped and wholly fallacious way—or excuse—to not think, I offer. We would "know it," indeed! Voluminous and arcing trajectories of Squirty giggles show an abundant appropriateness. See, that restricted thinking of reductionists may not clarify as much as restrict that same thinking, even degrade the efficaciousness of it. 

Verily, arrogance like this would be laughable... were it not so tragic! No. Their's is only a soothing unguent of unsupported presumption, and it is (along with its opposition, perhaps) well larded by personal fables, presumptive assumptions, and dissonate cognitions... lettered though they may be

Indeed, history might bear out that too many earnest proclamations regarding "such being so" invariably fall short of any mark at all! Verily, moreover, the preceding becoming its own step away from any proposition that such be other ...than that as, laboriously, already legislated to be "known"... even if that academic but "alternative *such as so*," is. ...Especially, if it is, eh? 

Forget the guy who says "such be so." He's most often wrong. Watch the one who says, "Such may be so." She's, most often, right. 

Intellectual cowardice, then, as a life choice or cultural plan. "Personal investment" preferred to and over, apparently, "existential expansion of the experienceable experiential." You can tell how much cooler the latter is than the former, just in how satisfyingly it rolls off the mind's tongue. 

Frankly, the cowardice alluded to provides that our mal-interpreted Fermi is subsequently distorted into an especially turgid hubris and then roundly flogged by the self-invested and self-denying mainstream skeptibunky elite, their follow-ons and fanboys, this writer offers, facilitating this smothering reductionist caul. Not good for anyone as the crow flies. See, sense dictates a living ring above our planet with the ability to fly the 21st Century back down to us in disaster... but we whine and scuffle instead at the behest of psychotic billionaires... 

Indeed consider, forgetting all the obvious canted holes, blithe illogics, and homocentric assumptions of the preceding assessment, the Fermi rubric is still held up as a sacred shield by the fearful skeptibunky—a justification for continuing his philosophically chauvinistic, close-horizoned, and color-desaturated worldview as regards ET. Fermi verily! Fermi, yea and verily! 

If "they" were there we'd know it... as we do! As. We. Do.

Additionally, other half-baked proclamations indicate further "mainstream" assertions to support a "we're alone" hypothesis against all sense and seven categories of evidence. These point to an observation that any intelligence capable of invasion would have invaded us already; we have not been invaded. Ergo... a snake eating its tail, eh? With regard to our conjectured alien, how are we so sure we'd know we'd been invaded?

See? Revealed, the same blithe assumptions, canted interpretations, and disintegrating logics, but a pattern emerges, good reader! A "model" is created for the complacent unbrave; a safe (but cowardly, reactionary, and digressive) mold is formed. In turn, we are encouraged to form to same! Tilt! 

Such is the hurdle, it seems, presented to us by the planned mediocrity of ardent klasskurtxian sociopaths in their jealously coveted *command* of our hijacked culture! A busy sentence, but I do not overstate.

Further... here's another loss-leader *shield* against the other that your garden variety skeptibunky holds prevaricatingly aloft—the smarter ones anyway—the ones practicing a cleverer form of corrosive and back-stepping denial! The aforementioned skeptibunkies will agree (!), almost to a man (fewer female skeptibunkies, not so oddly), that there must be some kind of intelligent life out there in the cosmos (...somewhere!), but then they must irrationally shove that intelligent life so far off into a universe (multi~verse!) of time and space that it is guaranteed... ...never to intrude on their coveted considerations of themselves as, what? A shining jewel in the crown of their God's—favored—creation? 

Likely nothing could be further from the truth... and more squirty guffaws. These slaves to *conventional wisdom* won't perceive that our overestimation of ourselves is most often punished and that our underestimation of ourselves is very often rewarded... but I digress. 

Consider Fermi's, "If they were here, we'd know it," and the additional baselessly dusty rubric, "an intelligence capable of invasion would have already invaded." 

Compare these with the skeptibunky's parallel assertion that "of course intelligent life must exist out there... somewhere"! Does the reader see the disconnect or the dichotomy in these assertions made from a single and very debatable logical ethic?

Remember for a moment that *they* likely have *invaded*... ...and that *we* really do know it! The historical record on film, in ink, and carved into stone, the massive anecdotal and considerable physical evidence (thousands of trace cases!), a mathematical certainty (!) and finally, convincing evidence of a personal nature (if one has it... I do...)... ...provides all the conviction one needs to believe that this is so! But even if they weren't here and invading—which they are, remember, the data are very compelling—would it not make more sense to conduct ourselves with something of a sociological "out" that they were here? Everyone agrees they're out there somewhere; why not here?

Of course, it would. At minimum, reader, we'd be nicer to one another... and what a grand unification we would be...

The answer to why we do not accept the likelihood we're not alone locally is found in our lack of general criticism regarding corrupt social institutions, a reactionary non-elected leadership with a tolerated nature that is decidedly anti-individual and so sociopathic as a result, and finally our own very cultivated desire to, individually, take the most traveled path to the then ~despairing~ ends of our too short and largely miserable (in the aggregate?) little lives... ...heavy freaking sigh! 

What ~cowards~ we are as a summative species! What craven non-bravery we display so collectively! What profound ignorance we cultivate, together, so covetously!

...And all of it while the universe yawns before us like the inescapable future that it ~is~ and towards which we shall ~continue~ to accelerate... without regard to our attention or lack of same!  It might be possible to catch the train looming to run us down. Can't you feel a hum on the tracks? Train's a-comin', boys and girls! 

I must participate in what eschews our cowardly behavior! I must, of needs, ~detest~ our lack of bravery as a species! My understandable revulsion is clearly provoked by the planned and cultivated ignorance of our individuals, ironically, and their complacent dependence on spurious conventional wisdoms that, one, betray them, two, discount their individuality, and three, erode their quality of life! Why would we stand for any of that but that we are trained to do so?

On the other hand, I ~anticipate~ the acceleration to the inexorable future! I ~welcome~ the disclosures of the larger reality! I am ~optimistic~ about that reality as an intellectual force multiplier useful for every individual capable of making the inevitable transition to the next quantum jump in perceivable reality every day! Sometimes, it's just rolling out of bed that is the victory ...when we might be boiling out of churning nebulas and evocative black holes in ships of space and time themselves!

I'd soar and cleave to that future, fellow motes! Soar with me! Choose to cleave

I would aspire to rip the now proverbial scales from our collective eyes like the earnest protagonist character in "Matrix". See, it wasn't about Neo, really, was it. Like it wasn't—isn't—about Christ, really. 

Christ is just the stand-in object, remember, for the individual entreated by the Christ as a reflector. Christ is nothing without the adherent of the Christ, relecting. That goes for any big cheese "G" in the panoply, presently, for my money. The reader is Christ, or closer to Christ than this writer has detected.

I'd opt for the *reality* pill as would the reader, I'd bet. We'd all want to take the pill Neo did. Truth or Lies, discovering what Neo discovered: that the truth can be an improving agent for constructiveness!  The contributing reader could be along for that ride. A ride requiring belts, I add, and an eventual toll paid out of embarrassment. A lie has a short shelf life, conversely, then nothing.

Omar Kyam wrote... "...the moving finger writes and have writ, moves on. Neither piety nor wit can call back a single line to alter, nor tears wash a word of it." Cogent advice from a master, a dead shoulder upon which we are still able to stand. It's your finger does the writing, where it can, actually. Last digression... 

We provide the shoulders on which those who come after us will stand. Do we owe them more than intellectual suicide, cognitive dissonance, and a low common denominator? Do we owe them a solid place to stand... a firm place to build? 

Of course, we do... all those things and more. They are us after all. They are you

That's enough. I remain watching the skies. Read on.