..On Topic...

"Your writing's off topic on matters of politics"!
"Your subjects distract and, at best, just annoy"!
"What do you gain as you bad mouth our Nation"?
"Where is your loyalty, and where's it employed"?

It's "political" matters that bear obfuscation.
It's your sullen disgust where the UFOs hide.
You'd feel much different were you born in Burundi,
I'm loyal to self.  With the self, one must ride.

"What's all this blather regarding 'conspiracy' "?
"Why do you brood on old history gone passed"?
"How do you qualify "others" from space"?
"Why do you dwell on the miserable past"?

ICE/GOP/RNC fill the papers!
Our history's GONE, *we* don't KNOW what occurred!
Life from some stars are conclusions of science,
And I "dwell" so the "past" will, at last, be preserved!

"What is your profit, if what you say's true,"
"And too few have the rest by the balls"?
"Your success is deterred, as you gain further notice,"
"Even death's more 'assured'—can't you hear its dark call"!

...Not in it for profit—I write what I feel.
I don't want you confused that your care's in their heart.
It's the writing itself that provides me a wage,
And my death will become them that, each, take their part!

"Work's more impossible, the word will go out."
"How shall you teach to a classroom of kids"?
"How will you square all the 'lies' and the 'dissonance'
"To collections of young minds who don't know what's been *hid*?"

I'd be teaching in classes of kids who "don't matter."
My students don't read, or divide, or subtract…
I'd have tought them the truth as I felt that they grokked it?
But the point is now moot, folks. In all truth, I was sacked!

• alienview@adelphia.net
• http://www.alienview.net/

Very highly trained militarily, a summa cum laude college graduate (Did you check that, RRRichy?), I'd taught in "special ED" classrooms.  While I did teach... (heavy sigh) ...I would go to bed, every night, knowing, unquestionably, that I was doing a GOOD thing!  

The obligatory shaving the following morning was never a problem like it was on active duty. In a self-mending mode, perhaps I was on the way to forgiving myself for my participation in Viet Nam...

Viet Nam? Let me tell you about Viet Nam. My participation in opposition to that nation of people was a rook, a farce, a sham... and a complacent atrocity.

Since the beginning of their time, I'm betting, those unarguably astonishing people have beaten back every attempt to subvert or enslave them. And with success, reader! Success!

Decades ago, right after the first world war, Viet Nam (believing our own press releases?) came to us for association and aid. Wilson, Truman, and then Eisenhower rebuffed their every extenuation... ...fueled by callous, indifferent, and inhumane racism when the period is read to!

It figures. The United States is legendary in racism's regard!  Where did Hitler get the idea for his Final Solution?  The answer's not comforting.  See, the US was hugely successful clearing out its own native population of "undesirables."  Quite an endorsement for an observing extraterrestrial, eh?

Back to Viet Nam, the French tried to continue their exploiting and unethical colonial imposition, ongoing for decades, until the "little brown men," tired of the abuse and disrespect, ran imperialistic Frank's fat froggy bottoms from their Asian soil like squeaking white roaches! In a pique of punctured euro-centric pride, read "white pride," the United States tried to bring Viet Nam to heel... and was in turn driven from the land squealing like Ned Beatty in "Deliverance".

Once we were gone, the Vietnamese let the Soviets know where the bear went through the buckwheat, and then, not to be outdone? They kicked Chinese BUTT, friend, when Peking started to make its incursion from the North. Verily, Viet Nam has resisted ALL historical attempts to treat their sovereignty with anything but the most profound respect…

These people beat back the late 20th-century WORLD, and SURVIVE to tell the tale, reader!!!

...Too, left alone? They seem to be leaving their neighbors, and the rest of the world... astonishingly... ...alone! That's raw idiosyncratic credit right there, yea and verily!

...It rather paints them as UBUR-MENCHEN—doesn't it!

I respect them.  Anyone with a sense of fair play should.

Again—years later... after decades of misery, tragedy, and recovery from destruction... the people of Viet Nam are once again making overture for association and aid. Hopefully, this time, we will bind ourselves to them with bands of honesty, trust, evenhandedness, appreciation, and the love of respected brother/sisterhood.

Why, we should try to mix our essence with theirs ... the only people to squarely beat us in a war, we better make them friends! Hell, if they'd have us? We'd do well to offer them a Statehood!

We tried, stridently, the alternative, and it blew up in our arrogant faces. The people of Afghanistan and an outraged (because we scare the hell out of them) middle East will likely serve us up a second helping for our arrogant effrontery...

For my part, forgive me, people of Viet Nam, I knew not what I was doing… I do now.

Know that you have my support, my admiration, and my respect. To the survivors of those lost on our side—read a new book, become informed, cop to our hideous, unbalanced, and contrived nationalistic blunderbuss of purposeful shortsightedness... ...the utter waste of the lives of husbands, brothers, and fathers... sisters, mothers, and wives as grease for the wheels of an entirely unrestricted corporatism! COP!  Then we can move on.

We were "beaucoup number ten" and "tres dinky-dow" to the Viet Namese et al at the whim of reptilian corpocracies! Let's admit, and get over it! Demand our government give Viet Nam the recognition deserved.

It's just the way to get UFO's to come out of hiding—probably the only way, and an illustration why I always write on topic. You have to drain the swamp (excuse the metaphor) to even SEE the corporate alligator shredding merrily at your butt-cheeks.

Why do I "hate America"?

Why, you witless hypocrite and flatulating gasbag! I love America to a depth and breadth you have forgotten or have never known... I'll bet EVER known! Moreover, you scurvy wing-nut bigot, I've proved my love with decades of volunteerism and real service while you have likely sent others off to fight a war YOU started... but wouldn't fight yourself! Coward! Hypocrite! Swine!

You can kiss my unwashed ass right after you tell me why YOU hate America!

You know who you are!

I'm just getting warmed up...

Read on.

The Binnall Initiative

Binnall's America

The Binnall Initiative

by Alfred Lehmberg

Tim Binnall, host of the hugely popular Binnall of America, is sadly winding down in excess of a decade's worth of stellar initiative regarding what future times could celebrate as a singular achievement in popular, if arcane, culture. That's the gist boiled down to the fecund succinct.

This initiative alluded to would be Binnall's massive, if credible, aural observance of what sleeps in paradoxical shadows, lurks beneath unkicked stones, and haunts our dreaded self-aware with truths more real than the more conventionally held comfortable ones... "truths" allowing for one's sleep and their imagination's relieved succor.

See, Tim understands, I think, that human beings are not well served allowed to be too comfortable. Wise.

The cognitive discomforts provided by a Para-existentiality, that science beyond a mere reductionist science, real things bumping in inky stygian blacknesses of the avoided and prohibited teachings found in hoary and forbidden indexes... and other things... these serve us by preparing one for a regard of a revealed stygian blackness alluded too. He really is the best at what he does...

What Binnall does is introduce first-time voices or far-flung accounts of fascinating discussion/instruction one has never heard before. A rush continues.

These are subjects regarding insights on matters one likely doesn't understand they might need to know... or even be interested in, but find they are and with regard to the former, do, reader... I did and have!

Secondly, he intelligently expands on the fields of those already well introduced. These are thought well known and understood, but due to an incisiveness missed by even your more competent garden-variety podcaster, the listener is disabused of that notion hearing Binnalls interview with same. If you've heard the interviewee to the point of nausea everywhere else, Tim's interview shows you didn't really know the person, at all.

Stanton Friedman waxes beyond the contents of his classic suppositions to a new synthesis. The late Jim Marrs blooms outside the wheelhouse of conspiracy to breathtaking cosmic reflection. Jacques Valle expounds past statistical analysis to analysis of things remaining unidentified but observed for what they do: crippling human hubris!

Three dimensions become diminutions for four dimensions... then five... six? Hyperspace is explored to a degree. One wonders where this all comes from.

Indeed, explanation evolves that Binnall is a self-made man cognitively leaving far behind what most others see far before them, still. He indeed soars and cleaves in the tradition of a Monk Bruno. Like Bruno, sincerely, in a less enlightened time of the past (or a looming future one?) Binnall would likely be burned at the stake.

See, Binnall, well accoutered with a Bachelor's in 21st Century Communication, actually read the material, completed the "insinuation flow computations," did the professorial homework and "evaluative para-chi-square," and then grokked the subject in requisite fullness... before the interview. Competence... what a concept, eh?

He'd ask his efficiently fulsome questions and then get the hell out of the frame! I never heard him get in the way. Rare skill that (Bell lost it and Noory never had it?), and a skill key to his effectiveness actually, because he did what is so hard to do when you get to his level or make his achievement. He never acted like he was part of the story or over-filled with himself, just a person as interested in the subject as the listener might be. George Knapp has it. Ian Punnett has it... intelligent earnestness, infectious and compelling... Ego and hubris well checked and oozing professional affability from every pore. A true genuineness abounds.

...And revealed, the lore! UFOs are real! Bigfoot interests anthropologists! Ghosts abound! Horses, reader, are NOT the animals you thought they were and a few of the persons associated with them harken from a different age!

What weirdnesses prevail in "prohibited areas" and in the depths of our oceans and the reaches of our National Parks? Dive and stride forcefully to find the surface of the Binnall experience remains untouched, much less scratched. Untouched, if wholly available in those aural pools aforementioned, are ten years of infectious oral history from some of the greatest talker/tellers of our time! There for the taking! Touch them!

I've taken them all! It was always good. It occurs to me I might send Binnall some more cash... and shall! I digress.

I'd mentioned that Tim did the research, on hundreds of guests, perhaps absorbing a synthesis of his own with regard to para-science, the esoteric, the unfathomable, and the occult. Seems like that could be a good book... I digress again!

Still, moving back to BOA inter-spliced with the preceding iterations of abject conundrum and worrisome mystery were documentaries on the natural world, the fabric of society... the history of history... What strange and otherworldly parallels must he have noticed?

What has tracked truth or signified silliness? What serendipitous conclusions can be drawn? What can be readily dismissed out of hand? What can he tell us regarding that fruit gathered from his industry of a singular research?

...But all this may be over is Binnall's disappointing intimation. What!? I owe him too much: a decade of intelligently decanted arcana and esoterica, a strange aural wine allowed to breathe as imparted pieces of information oft-ignored for cause and cowardice. I drink deep. Finally, Mr. Binnall is owed for serendipitous contact with persons the caliber of Lesley Gunter and Reagan Lee, just to start, a living library of hope and hopefulness that there is more to heaven and Earth than is dreamt of in a Trumpian religiosity dry as fetid fish food...

Fear not! This is not the end of the Binnall initiative, only the end of the beginning, this writer gathers. One would hope there is a nationalization of the slow-burning Binnall phenomenon in the works. Verily, we would all be well served to become interested in what interests Tim Binnall. Listen for him. Read on.

Tim Binnall

Mal-Inculcations

Mal-Inculcation insured our compliance.

To question their "truth" was dishonor.  

The reality was a dystopian rod: 

predation and compromised honor.

Distracted by football too early to care, 

I was distant and coarse to the feeble. 

I hadn't the courage, bereft of a pair, 

then I killed, or had killed, *ethnic* people...

Now?

I'm insulted by *patriots* ...most manner and stripe. 

Conveniently placed... divine rightists. 

Wattles all shaking, awash in their tripe, 

compassion is where they're the lightest.

"My country's right if wrong," 

assert these rich behind their walls. 

They're making all the rules, of course, 

so they're using all their stalls.  

See it won't matter "right" or "wrong"

—Democracy be damned. 

You have it and they want it, friend?  

Then you're the one gets jammed.

And I bought it, wrongly thinking, 

that the States could do no wrong. 

See, the word I got was missing massive chunks! 

I was flushed with "founding" fathers 

who were steeped in "golden" glory 

when research was clearly showing 

some were glad psychotic skunks!

There are oceans of difference 'twixt primary sources 

and the textbooks you'd hope not deride them. 

See, textbooks produce only fatuous heroes... 

and, few of these worth any worship or diadem.

Our textbooks are PAP! These degrade human spirit. 

The kids are aware of the con!!! 

Their mommies and daddies have bought in regardless... 

or such "crap" would dissolve and be gone.

The UFOs hide in this cognitive dissonance!  

They soar free as birds... where we will ourselves blind. 

These watchers must wait for a moment of incidence, when, 

at last we achieve individual minds.

• lehmberg2002@gmail.com
• http://www.alienview.net/

Read on.

UFOs And Causal Motery...

Borne of needs for any of us;
there is no "we" without "me."

UFOs And Causal Motery...
by Alfred Lehmberg


Individuality! It is penultimately required in regard to even the beginning perception of what came to be called "UFOs." Other, less brave, appellations would be employed, later on. That and the ability to endure neck pain... passed these it's only time necessary looking up, out... and in. Crystal... seems ya gotta be "free" to be able to "see"? 

Individuality; however, remains a trial, a travail, and a toil, worse than mere neck pain because it is a resumption of individual sensibility and a return to personal responsibility lost a result of flowing with a herd on the salient issues. It's a shock, yes, but a productive shock because it encourages individual accountability and corporeal sensibilities accommodating an efficacious social web, base shelter, reader, a social web absolutely required to the stewardship of 350 million odd human beings, just in America. 

...Faith is hardpressed to feed the faithful, sustenance coming, or not, only ever of themselves, by this writer's watch and warrant. Salvation, too.

Also, it encourages a certain singularity of what this writer suspects might be a constructively efficacious spirit, it's further pointed out. "Woke," in the current colloquial. We'll table for now how it is the sun source of all novelty and our only salvation... but briefly, if we have respect for the sensibilities of one another we have our salvation, soup to nuts. Any God at all may have been a zero-sum function in existences equation... perhaps even an invalidating one.

All of the preceding, it's submitted, is preferable to entirely living off the cues of  "compromised (and compromising) insiders" and slavishly going against one's own more innocent and humane personal intuitions... and best interests, again by watch and warrant.

This, the reader's individuality, is the final target of the "manipulator," or "society," or "culture," the reader might presuppose. It has always been thus. See, the coveted object of any culture—not remotely your friend—is ...You, reader!  Isn't that ironic?

"YOU"... that which you make, and the water that you, metaphorically, heat and carry! Their institutions evaporate away in their own imaginations when YOU withdraw your support... your work... your initiative... your money! It's why they try so hard to keep you... if they think you may be valuable to their "cause."  With 'em, ain't agin' 'em!

You're valuable if so much as... warm... but compliant.  Though, always be prepared to fall out of their inconsistent, wayward, and fickle favor. Buyin is required at 100%! Life turns on their dime, and they keep the change.

This explains all their rage and retribution as they too easily begin to accept that you may have slipped away from them in some way, provoked, it matters not, by their thoughtlessly practiced and self-serving psychopathies. The reader's value (now measured in their open mendacity because they have knowledge of the reader's potential as an obstacle regarding their deleterious and self-serving agenda) is ironically confirmed, if in reverse. Be proud!

This all begins to occur, I expect, when one starts to listen, not to the one mal-inculcated for each of us in support of the few at the expense of the many, but to their individual conscience, the little voice inside... The one asking, "Were it me?" 

A necessary digression, one must always ponder, "Ok, it's me I observe. What, then, were the observed... me?" Turn, then, as the observed, and observe the observer. Become the observed, observing. Much, faced, is learned.

A person compelled to self-evaluation of conscience is why the reading in a forbidden index is forbidden... the known unknown exists... and what about that unknown unknown?  Nes't ce pas? The idle mind is not a "devil's playground." No, it's that it is a "playground," at all! The Forbidden Index won't fill the passed plate, legitimize the tithe, or get the Deacon's office furnished. 

Apart from the math, the peer-reviewed science, and primary- reference history? Forget everything you learned in school.

The purpose of their *school*, then, is to promote their concept of a *reliable* citizen. Read instead? 

Read "malleable" and "easily intimidated" employee, reader... tool/beings with rotted souls dry as chalk dust pushed around without difficulty... spiritless robots... What does the reader's intuition say with regard to that? This writer stands on the shoulders of Giants reporting same.

To that end and culminating in crass manipulations from our groomed psychopathic society, then, there are grievous distortions made to the TRUE histories of each bit of consciousness in the society or culture, and that aggregate consciousness, therefore, inhabits, as a result (!), contrived castles in the increasingly polluted air! Look around you! Currently, it's OK to dump coal tar in stream beds. UFOs must fade from view.

These inconstant castles evaporate, by the way, the moment that it is convenient or profitable for the non-elected privileged autocrat and his eagerly grasping minions to evaporate them. I digress.

Very little has actually happened the way You (and I) thought it did... remember. The way we were taught it did... The way we were told it did. Trust betrayed then. Trust betrayed, still.

A walk on a summer afternoon beach at Panama City, Florida—in July when MTV is there—is to be surrounded in the purest hokum of precancerous skin, conspicuous consumption, and contrived presumption. Suntan oil, ass tattoos, and balloon rides from flashy corporate rock productions...immutable chaos in the corporeal, one would think... then it pops like a soap bubble.

Contrast it with the same stretch of beach on a deserted day in a coldly blustery November to see how tenuous reality really is. Move in time 1000 years past and future and see surface areas change, the withering then blooming skin of a living thing. 

One comes away somehow knowing that the gray November day alluded to is vastly superior to the July one... and on more levels... even if empty and tortured, hounded by the sea, and threatened by the sky... ...but it's real. The one in July is a wasteful fantasy of meaningless personal risk, alcohol poisoning, and even a fatal venereal disease...wind's dust.  Undistracted, though, one can perceive the real chaos of the cosmos! Let your cometary blaze mean something for your fellows. There is a reality! It's just beyond the grasp of talking monkeys... currently. Future looms.

That was the lesson of the Matrix series, eh?  Lice, bald heads, and ultimate sacrifice were a magnitude better than thinking that the matrix was the only reality and that it was not able to be manipulated by the informed user like an iPhone or an iPAD, you know? I suspect that lesson is plain, and very much so. Is what's real, really real? Well, just my neck pain says that sometimes, it is.

Regarding the aforementioned UFOs (another probable reality without regard to conjectured provenance!), I am amused how every "name" authority worth academic salt can pontificate his relative surety of intelligent life *anywhere else* in our ever-expanding multi-verse, but will not cop to any potential that that astoundingly already admitted intelligence is peering down un-guessed at instruments at us... this very moment! Is, in fact, standing inside our *closet* with us as we furtively and hypocritically grope our "detested" cultural genitals, abusing same... ...or that we shan't feel hot alien breath on our embarrassed cheeks even as we begin to listen quietly for it in our culture-imposed darknesses.

The 'other' exists as sure as an itchy nose. ...itchy nose ...itchy nose ...itchy nose ...itchy nose ...itchy nose ...itchy nose ...itchy nose ...itchy nose ...itchy nose ...itchy nose ...itchy nose ...itchy nose ...itchy nose ...itchy nose... It is the ultimate sedition... Feel its breath on your reddening cheek, and be elevated.

Read on.

UFOs!

Seven Categories so massive they must give pause... 

UFOs!
by Alfred Lehmberg

UFOs. Yes, there is quality anecdotal evidence. It is compounded with well-vetted photographic evidence. Ladle after lurid ladle of documented historical evidence is stirred in...

.  

...Just the preceding gives every indication that a ufological contention regarding observed phenomena must be more real than not... Yet, we tarry, mope, twitter, and futz.
.
Verily, we strut and preen our too-casual corporeal happenstance in the universe as alone, inviolate, and immutable... Only, we are hugely complacent where any thaw-released bug or loose cannon asteroid, the merest exhalation, even, of our uncaring star, reduces us to a stone age of hapless suffering and cruel despair... on a good day. 

.
Life turns on a dime and keeps the change. I digress.

.

UFOs! When the preceding is framed by the serious historical artistic evidence, then qualified by the available physical evidence, and then compellingly buttressed by any conclusively personal evidence—if you have some... I do... thousands have—I can only be annoyingly astonished by the continued reluctance of some to face the highly strange music that just cannot be forever marginalized...

.

UFOs! Six stunning categories in an almost un-language-able churning urn here iterated. UFOs, even as it's seriously admitted in the mainstream media that the military has recently spent secret millions studying... Yes, studiously studying what is and had been "skeptically scoffed" and "scientistically (sic) dismissed" by the suspiciously braying and wholly uninformed negative nay-sayers among us functioning as vested system shills. They've a dog in the hunt, one can discover.

.

UFOs! A seventh category can be considered concerning a hard mathematical conjecture suggested by the famous Drake Equation, an equation but fleshed out by the late Amir D. Aczel (Ph.D.) in his book, Probability One.  
. Simply put, the odds that we are not alone in the universe are so close to 100%... (99.9 ...on into a marching line of unendingly fractional nines...) that there is finally but one chance in one that such is so. Certainty then, and "certainty" more so now given the "universe" seems to be found to be orders of magnitude bigger than we thought it was when Aczel wrote his book!

.

UFOs! McKenna, Vallee, Strassman, and Hancock et sig al are quite clear that *Others* truly abound... without regard to where or how they manifested themselves... and not for the reader's convenience. See, we're not alone in our little hubristic closets of cultural squalidness—closets we regard as secret and unobserved. Ha! Every infidelity has a witness, reader!
.
UFOs! Friedman, Dolan, Feschino, and Hastings are profound on the subject of obvious others manifesting themselves in interactions with our most powerful weapons, conflicts with our air forces in secret air wars, involving themselves in secret agreements with break-away civilizations and perhaps even contributing to unadmitted technologies alluded to. None of us has a clue what's really going on and the best we can do is vote the lesser evil every time so as to become a lesser evil over time. Hope's supposed to be eternal... "faith" may our greatest self-disrespect.   
.
Watching UFOs! Observers observed! 

These conjectured others are appalled witnesses as we socially defecate in our societal beds and push it down with our graceless and uncaring feet. Disabuse your nose of its less than valid "elevation," eh? We are not alone. The suggestion is ludicrous. Can't that be seen?

.

Feel the acceleration? ...And per second, per second! Hyperspace looms!

.

One recalls that Lightspeed and Singularity of Hyperspace were to have happened around the end of 2012, friends and neighbors. Perchance to soar and cleave beyond the parameters of a mere dream... We didn't fret, though, that 2012 would come and go without a visit, proper, from hyperspace elves... there was no small relief I'm betting. 
.
No. The asymptotic curves of existential reality remain to be what they are and a piercing of the existential veil seems imminent, still. ...And hasn't a veil been pierced, reader? Explain the chaotic state of the world recently.

.

That's not entirely from the aggregate "woo-woo," eh? That's the feeling of the high-domes and prop-heads of a jealous mainstream *academentia* (sic), fellow droobers... and so, this writer's considered suspicion. UFOs will have occupants, and those occupants merely fractal alternatives to ourselves!

.

 UFOs. Buckle-up, fellow travelers!  All vetted measurements of a rational prognostication on the state of affairs are straight up and asymptotic as alluded to!  Medicine, technology, going small, and looking large are other masses becoming infinite! The hyperspace gates swing open to, well, "infinity and beyond" if you'll pardon a prescient Buzz Lightyear—doesn't make it any less descriptive, but... don't take my word for it. His is enough. We are not alone.

.

...Read on.

..Observer's Burden...

 It's a labor to peer into fathomless skies. Call it work on any level not reviled or despised. Still, it's toil observing—a pain in the neck—and a chore to keep watching as you crane the head back...

...Too, regret is a bitch ever lurking the wings. No bells on her toes and she carries a sting. She appears near the end of your time on the stage; despair, then, more possible... inured against rage...

.,¸¸,.»§«,¸¸,.·´¯`·.,¸¸,.»§«***»§«,¸¸,.·´¯`·.,¸¸,.»§«·.,¸¸,.
...Will I regret wasted time badly spent
ever searching a fathomless space?
Will I admit and despair "wasted moments"
to a mirror I hold to my face?
Will I shake my head sadly
if I find I've been "tooled,"
and the evidence is in...
I was wrong, so daft... a fool?

.,¸¸,.»§«,¸¸,.·´¯`·.,¸¸,.»§«***»§«,¸¸,.·´¯`·.,¸¸,.»§«·.,¸¸,.

I'd worry more that this was the case, but our story's distorted; this is plain on its face.  From "Reconstruction" to "Viet Nam", distortions are recorded.  "History" is mystery! Revision is supported!

What's gone before? Their fantasy... ...their contrived catastrophe! Too, what comes after? Outraged screams... ...I reject their "hopes" and "dreams"!

What must I respect while at the bottom of their food chain? What am I to do as I resist my culture's brain-drain? What am I to be when given air so thick with lies... ...then perceive an ...inexpressible...  I have watched attend our skies?

Admonished to think critically ... an ironic bottom line. When you "lays your money down"—when you read the print that's fine?  Well, find your leg well hosed with piss! The pisser calls it rain!  Too, find their fingers in your pocket when they're not inside your brain!

When you string it all together and the pieces rather fit… Well...  you've got yourself a model, friend, and you see this might be it!

Society's contrived dispair is what we feed upon. It's something less than nourishing and the premise is all wrong. The premise is false heroes that support a status quo, where truth is out the window as it's counter to the show.

See, it chaps my ass, and steams me good—their take on... "Founding Fathers," or, believing that you're standing on their "giant's shoulder"! Bother!

Doesn't Mr. Bennett know... or read his own damned books? These 'god-like' MEN were psychopaths... ...malfeasance working crooks!

These were men who raped their slaves conflating swindled dollars! Sure enough, I broad brush! Though, the truth should snag some collars! Congress was a "den of thieves," a place for knave and coward! And Presidents were Klansmen, friend, old "traditions" cruelly powered.

Don't sanctify, or deify, or sanitize it, Bennett! You scurvy dog, inconstant swine... you liar... my opinion!!  It's you who keeps our eyes from where... they'd likely get their fill. It's you who keeps us in our caves... ...for darknesses you shill!

So, it's hard to keep on looking into starry, starry skies. The deck has been, then, too well stacked by a *privileged* I decry. Their ridicule is painful; our patience cruelly stressed. Observe: it's asking questions makes a man a "dangerous pest."

I'll still look up, my neck in pain, what else am I to do? There are answers in this vastness, friend, belying what's construed. It's the price of unbound thinking, then, to know the lies been told? And when history is suspect... all bets are off!

Behold!

It's the church, unlawful government...law enforcement mal-entrusted, where media's controlled and their lawyers should be busted. We're at the beck and call, you see, of the hyper-richest's mercies... and these affect life's quality in ways a mite too cursory!

It's beyond the mere repressive how our culture eats its "young." It pretends it's higher minded, yet mendacious songs are sung! See, I disregard its bogus claim it's held the higher ground! See? It can't spawn the "new idea." It attacks... ...to smash it down!

Not to "test," or "exercise", or "to get to murky bottoms"! But "distortion" and "denial"... for "blind eyes" and "ear-hole cotton"!  For dismissal of all novelty, a shift that's gaining power—an asymptotic reckoning, too, yawns while brave men cower—these provide to insulate themselves from what they wrought, though the humans of a lesser god be damned to die and rot.

Most don't know they're blinded to our starry, starry nights! Their will, defined by ignorance, precludes they know their rights!  We are more than fodder for elitist swine exposed; we don't deserve crass disrespect or that rain that I proposed!

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...Will I regret wasted time badly spent
ever searching a fathomless space?
Will I admit and despair "wasted moments"
to a mirror I hold to my face?
Will I shake my head sadly
if I find I've been "tooled,"
and the evidence is in...
I was wrong, so daft... a fool?

.,¸¸,.»§«,¸¸,.·´¯`·.,¸¸,.»§«***»§«,¸¸,.·´¯`·.,¸¸,.»§«·.,¸¸,.

• lehmberg2002@gmail.com
• http://www.alienview.net/

My intuition says no.

Conversely, many of our founding fathers would most likely be in jail today, put there for egregious crimes against humanity, or strung up by their heels as radical... an ironic result of the egregiously repugnant bunch providing them the most hero worship today…yeah… a broad brush ... but enough paint sticks to illustrate the point.

Regarding what one looks into the sky to see: Why the "other"... or even AN *other*?

Unsettlingly? It can't not be there!

Oh ... I've seen 'em in the morning… ...seen 'em in the evening… seen 'em at supper time! The skies are filled with strangeness! Let 'em stiffen up your spine. [g].

...Why Rhyming? Well, to know I've tried! To stick a finger in the eye of those whom I decry... ...those who'd blithely choose... to rape and plunder. I protect myself from them with my "foot" and "metered rhythm"... ...to hide, in sight, from them, to make small thunder!

See, they can smash you like a bug, shove you, broken, under rugs... make you cry and moan and grieve their impositions... They are soulless, psychopathic, and bereft of any magic. And they funnel fascist fortunes in transgression.

...See, I can't abide their crap. It's as simple, friend, as that. Too, I shan't abide the "dim-bulbed churlish sneerer". I'll eat his face for brunch, and then kick his ass for lunch, then I'll burn his bones for warmth in my December...

~~~

...This'll ooze out anywhere, folks, even in the prose section... unrepentant prosery... no apologies... ...It's what I am—how I insouciantly roll.

...For that face cocked in a reflexive sneer? Gag, pilgrim, on my vinegary bag!

Read on...

Italy!

Who is the person in Italy lately so interested in Alienviews. Can the person or persons share their motivation, for many weeks now, in comments? Thanks in advance!

Chi è la persona in Italia ultimamente così interessata ad Alienviews. La persona o le persone possono condividere le loro motivazioni, per molte settimane ora, nei commenti? Grazie in anticipo!