Risking Mammon's Wrath

.
Mine's a strident little station who would dare to speak to you; to step out on the world stage with ethos, heart, and clue. To break from "comfy cover," for to play the real blues. To risk the wrath of Mammon for a heartfelt Alien View.
.
I know the message "should" be pleasant... so "the horror" fades from sight. You'd have your "warm and fuzzies" in a "lifestyle" clean and bright. ...Though where's an even break for those who fight a "straight-up" fight? They'd have "warmth" plus "satisfaction," too, terror absent in their night.
.
My "program" plays the "classics", and the music's "implication." Know your fear, it's always here ... but feel a strange elation. The blues are played to curve the will for "valid protestation," and "valid protest" wins its grace; you can feel it at this station.
.
As you listen walk a path with me which covers different ground. We live in senseless violence which happens all around! You cannot hear the crickets who will only make their sound when this madness isn't spraying sullen poisons on our ground!
.
Check out this DJ's costume as it flashes truthful color. Our spirit is effusive. It makes our message even fuller. My straightened back gives breath back so a "faith" leaps even taller; amazing all these thoughts are had for throwing off one's collar!
. 
My signal comes from mountains waving grass grown green in rain. The amplitude is mellow even pushing up the gain. My frequency's a freshness to ameliorate the pain with a pleasure you'd been missing, though you're *taught* that's quite "insane."
.
My message is hard-edged enough—don't dare to call it "quaint." It doesn't take the word of what the privileged call a "saint." It won't tremble for the *mighty*, then go all weak and faint. It's alone its own creation, but sans hubristic paint.
.
My center's hailing yours completely guileless... a little worried... The message has to get out quick; together, we must hurry. Only in the shadows can real monsters dart and scurry. Our light could have them slinking back to darkness in a flurry.
.
Ours? A strident program the 'electrics' pump worldwide. It's that self-made leap of faith I've contemplated, I confide. It's heartfelt appreciation that we help our Earth abide... It's a reach across our differences that must yawn so deep and wide.
.
So I'm pumping up the volume. Indifference? ...Just be damned! I'm smashing out of *boxes* where our spirits have been crammed. Emboldened by your silence, and revolted by "the man"? I'd prefer a kind acceptance, but I'm armored for your slam.

• lehmberg2002@gmail.com
• www.AlienView.net

...And where do _I_ get off, eh? The answer to that is: "...where I will"!
.
...And this just in at the AV News Desk!!!
.
Someone try to tell Mr. Lehmberg that he is misleading, misled or mentally ill. Someone, please intimate that he's witness to mere birds, boosters, bolides, or balloons. Someone inform him he was seeing fairies... suffering vapors... or having an "episode."
.
...Go on! Tell him!
.
Tell him to, yourself, feel steel. Read on.

Conundrums In Cognitive Dissonance "Part II"

Conundrums In 
Cognitive Dissonance ... 
Part II of II

by Alfred Lehmberg

            Last issue we explored why candidate astronauts can't see UFOs, that hypnotism can work in reverse, and how 25 or 30 professional people, some genuine scientists and their intelligent wives, used cognitive dissonance to massage an uncomfortable personal reality back into uneasy control.  We pick up at the Ash Creek flying model field in Northern California located at co-ords 40 degrees 25 minutes 26.03 seconds North by 122 degrees 10 minutes 7.85 seconds West... Find it on Google Earth.

I observed the odd thing in the sky above the flying field and didn't shout or jump, but nudged my nephew Mason... "Hey there, Mace . . . what's that about"?  I quietly pointed out the anomalous object flying languidly South around 45 degrees elevation to our east.

Mason looked, his mouth fell open, and he called out to his Mother, who got right up and even took a decisive step in its direction as if to see it closer, still.

The attention to the first appearance of the object spread like an airborne virus and soon everyone was looking at this apparition of the highly strange.  All other activity stopped. I believe I recall one guy losing his feather-weight rubber model to the distraction.

The UFO is flying slow, too slow my guess, to be a jet or plane. It floated along like a balloon but against the prevailing wind, at first enchantingly confounding those watching. It looked like a BB held at arms length, but squash it a tad flatter—and make it bright white.  Flying south in a peculiar nose up attitude, it coasted by looking like a TIC-TAC rather fat in the middle but tapered on the ends.  Then it drifted out of sight, though seeming to make a very slow, very wide, turn to its left and East. 

Picture the object flying in a huge circle, and some distance outside that big circle to the West the east-looking observer only gets to view a tiny arc.  The turn was barely perceptible.  Big circle.

There was general amazement.  There was, "...What the hell is that"?  No one mentioned UFOs.  Sorrowfully, at that point I was an "apologist ufologist" and still a little embarrassed by my newfound ufological interest. I kept my own silence.  

Someone mentioned—"Aircraft"! Others offered: "Blimp." I whispered to Mason that I thought it was, decidedly, not what was conjectured by the crowd.

Well, the *thing* flew by again, for the second time of FIVE times that it would make its apparent circuit, and fewer people watched it sail ephemerally by. The third time fewer still looked up to wonder what it was; the fourth was even less than that — the fifth, just me, because... how can one not look, I'd suppose...

Interview these persons and ask them why they stopped looking. Most would not even remember, I suspect.  Cognitive dissonance (1), remember, provides for the memory adjustment of those things disrupting one's piece of mind or status quo.  

But there's a problem with Cognitive Dissonance, reader.  While it may be true that a little might contrive to keep one from going crazy, a continued use, or just a little bit more of same can drive a person no-pants and wall-crawling insane!  Our society is psychotic to a degree already, I suspect, because of its decided over-application of the Cognitive Dissonance mechanism with regard to UFOs... and other things.

See, a UFO is an unwelcome distraction  to these people from their "personal fable." This is a fable reinforced with the models they bring out to fly. These are are representations of things we Human beings, only, fly up there in the crystal air... ...This includes everything from lost rubber powered featherweights to aging space shuttles...  The preceding assumption regarding who-flies-what is a likely falsehood.

The ETIs conjectured discount all that, see?  They invalidate a lot of twitchy presumptions, assumptions, and resource consumptions cognitively lugged by infant humankind, too, I'm betting.  Moreover, these intellectual fallacies regarding our corporeal and intellectual "singularity" in the cosmos may prove to be irrelevant and invalidated items of psychological baggage imposed upon our own futures... imposed entirely of ourselves!  Out of that intellectual disjunction must come the imperative to preclude even the memory of seeing a UFO? 

I suspect so.  See?  Even affected perception of our hoped for UFO-less-ness is the default "reality," reader, where perception, howsoever flawed, is the reality.

I'll make my own presumptions, thank you very much.  The craft that flew that fateful day was not contrived by humanity. Human beings didn't sand the fuselage, or build it with thin sheets of fresh smelling balsa or toxic smelling and exotic composites. They did not spin the wooden or plastic prop they bought at the local hobby shop.  Instead, they were threatened by what they did not control; they were unable to countenance what was not their own construction. 

Where do we learn this cowardice?  How do we justify our betrayal of our own humanity... fail to avail ourselves of a future looming with the greatest promise of potential, EVER!  No, our progressive inventiveness in an underused brave science and technology puts us on the edge of forever, reader!  We must embrace that.  We must embrace that... or perish squalidly. 

The conundrum that we face is like a pustule, gentle reader,

And the cause of its neglect we should decry.

Those who push away the truth to save invalidated egos,

We should vilify—respectfully despise.

That pustule skin is very near to breaking, Sir and Madam.

The skin of it is hot and tight and dry.  

Any little touch could have it blow up in our faces,

But I'd like to clean it out—and I suspect that we must try.

What happened?  Self-hypnotism?

            ...Tell yourself enough times that "something's" not there?  Pilgrim!  It's not there!

             I  would suggest that my two fellow aviators, all those aforementioned California modelers, and I... dutifully followed obligatory hypnotic programming of "polite" society, and collectively ignored a sighting that should have been VERY interesting to two military instructor pilots, a host of educated professional people, and a candidate astronaut!

            But no... ...in the aggregate, we were less than properly interested; we ignored genuine UFOs as non-events, reader!  The preceding is behavior that now seems inexplicable to me on this end of my considered ufological investigation!  Remember, even I forgot it for a period of years!

           What strange Hypnosis is this?  Let's look at that a moment.

           Hypnosis, indeed, has a strange history shrouded in chicanery, hum-buggery, and a little something extra one can't put a finger on. That little something extra is what keeps it around, makes it useful, and justifies that harder look by science...

            Many times, it works.

            Distractingly, one hears the word "hypnosis" and is overcome by images of stage personalities facetiously suggesting to people that they can be transformed into barnyard animals, dance the "grand ballroom fandango," or be compelled to quit smoking—lose weight or some other mundane prosaic... like the abuse of research subjects, but the program of hypnotism can be more insidious than that...

            See, apart from coercion and manipulation imposed by anyone else?  You impose your own.  You can't even trust yourself.

            If two-thirds of the population can be affected by phenomena that science can quantify (if not qualify), this seems to be a ready mechanism for control... that's right ...by manipulative suggestions delivered via a daily bombardment from a very tightly controlled corporate media—news print, radio, and television— devices contrived to direct the innocent mammalian individuals to ape a corrupted reptilian mass. I say true.

            Individuals buying into the unceasing manipulations of this contrived, distorted, and corrupted mainstream might even take the next step in their own "control" by hypnotizing... ...themselves! Let that sink in.

            In effect, reader, they render themselves incapable of perceiving what is there, plainly, to be perceived... ...NOT, conversely, seeing what is not there to be seen... See the difference?

            Individuals of the mass, we've hypnotized ourselves—followed our social programming—perhaps, but we rejected the unsettling enigmatic for the comforting mundane! We ignored what our eyes were reporting to us and replaced it with an "accepted" routine!  We turned our backs to the unexplained, likely occurring around us all the time (unseen... or seen and subsequently ignored), and made it fit into what we are trained to find culturally tolerable... "socially acceptable"!

            Where do we learn such cowardice; I ask again? What is that provenance of same?  In concert, why does Culture persecute the individual (Mothman Futility Syndrome) for perceiving reality?  

             Culture is not your friend, reader.  Believe that. 

             I suspect, moreover, that the best, brightest, and most progressive of those contrary true-seeing individuals are routinely "suicided" out of hand or otherwise murdered as a result of contrived mechanisms mendaciously applied by same...  Hicks, Lennon, McKenna... a host of others.  You know it's true, don't you.  Not a question.

            Summing up, I've watched this process of ufological denial (through self-hypnosis?) at work twice now, then. At a rubber-model airplane meet in Northern California dozens of us watched a UFO fly by five times with fewer and fewer people looking up to watch it fly by with each succeeding pass it very queerly made!  Previously, one decade earlier, three high-time aviators at an outside party saw and subsequently ignored same.

            ...Tell yourself enough times that something's not there, reader, and it's not there, even if it is... especially if it is!  Perception, including lack of same, is the reality.  That it's a false reality is beside the point... not germane.

            Every indication is that science accepts that the human brain is capable of convincing itself to perceive what is not there to be perceived. I would suggest that it can also very handily do the inverse of that.

            It can also mask what is there to be seen as plain as gleaming day.  

           We won't pay enough attention to that (another suspicious point), given that we have to overcome so much programming from our myopically conflicted culture to do so. But we must, reader, ultimately, if we ever expect to see anything 'really' there, at all. 

Read on.

(1) Cognitive dissonance is a psychological phenomenon referring to the stress incurred as a result of 'discrepancy' between what you already know or believe... and some new information or compelling new interpretation of that old information.  Seeing startling new evidence that 'black' is really 'white' on any level you care to name.  Good is found to be evil?  Evil, good?  How is that processed?

...Down To You...

The Center Of The Universe

.
Did you know that you were actually at the center of a multi-verse? That all creation moved its mass 'round you? This is not a charming metaphor just to illustrate a point! This is truth as culture knows it. There is no doubt that it's true.
.
"The center of the universe"! Bunkies frown, and smirk, and sneer. "What you proffer is the selfish you've decried "! ...And taken to their limit, then, they'd be exactly right. ...But that's to choose that selfish pathway I'd despised.
.
Everything in culture's writ to come down hard on YOU ... as it knows that you alone can "heat its water"! It binds together billions of these universal *centers* ...but to succor an elite, in turn ... who treats you like a squatter!
.
It all comes down to YOU, you see, and the payment of YOUR taxes. It's down to YOU, and what YOU leave behind. What's YOUR contribution—is it "positive" or its "inverse"? ...And "minus/plus" for who and what or why!
.
Every ad you've ever heard or seen is focused on your brain. And they're crafted with your "singleness" in mind. You're extorted, individually, but then ground in culture's mill ... Reminded on "good teamwork" until used up, tired, and dry…
.
You forget that you're the center where you're never seen and heard, as you're shifted from your center to controllers. "It's God's will you be accursed within an evil world toil!" ...Best get behind their *Jesus,* these Conservative *extollers.*
.
You turn your trusting back to those who'd stab betwixt your shoulders: the man with dodgy ethics who "decides"? The men who have their "history" all pre-writ on blood-stained pages? Where's history? Who suffered, how, and why? ...And there are these, these men not shy to use your faith against you. These men professing gladly they're of God. Firmly anti-science and professing superstition, they're a clear and present danger. They're a flaw.
.
Think about a "lynch mob", and the mob rule there displayed ... where the single man or woman would not play. But together they dilute that "wrong" an ethics makes so plain, and they spill the blood you know's been spilled—today!
.
You're the center of a universe... with many different centers! What you do counts BIG—here's reason why: What you have been doing? If you stopped? There'd be "undoing." Without "YOUR" contribution, then... their culture wilts and dies!
.
You are the center of your universe 'cause it's you who pays the freight! You're the one—on site—with all the guts! Through the nose you're always paying though it benefits the few ... and if asking for the truth? Then, "you're just nuts."
.
But you're not nuts, I must point out!  You're the engine and the fuel to make what happens! You're the stone in freedom's wall, building structures deep and tall; you're all the art and music and its passion!

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

A team is only as strong as the individuals who make it up, Nes't ce pas?
.
That neatly makes the individual key, am I right?
.
The most successful countries have the most respect for individual rights. Discounting the individual makes teams and countries fail. Consider North Korea, Mao's China, and the late Soviet Union... or much of the Islamic world. Notice the weakness displayed lately by our United States as respect for individuals is diminished.
.
Look around you—you ARE at the center of the universe. What's between your meager senses and the center of your head but YOU! Every direction from you departs... from you!
.
My center hails your center. We exist this very day! AHOY!
.
Are you an individual? Remember, it seems to be the individual with which the "other," howsoever that "other" is configured, is interested in communicating, after all... at all.
.
...Down to you.
.
Rejoice in your individuality! Exercise it! Just remember that there's a responsibility entailed. Treat others as you would be treated, eh?

.

Conundrums In Cognitive Dissonance (Part I)

The wages of CD...

Conundrums In Cognitive Dissonance ... 
Part I of II

by Alfred Lehmberg

Apart from new cyberspace?  My old circle of close friends—6 or 8 guys and their lovely, if formidable, wives (one of these wives was a Chief Warrant Officer 5 aviation officer who fought competitively in a couple of female division cage-fights... think of a Kill Bill Lucy Liu, to get close)—were military rated day/night all-weather aviators of considerable experience and expertise.  They were persons on and off active military duty.  They were all Republicans in a red state Alabama. Now, stolidly on their Trump Train, it seems I never knew them at all. Heavy sigh.

Not so much as an Independent!  How did I endure, but that sometimes (Pre-Trump) a shared experience transcended mere political considerations, eh?  I forgave them their psychopath's hypocritical politics. No more. They forgive me my unrepentant liberality. No more. I've become an enemy... and they?Apparent insentient monsters ok with racist fascism and a whites-only America.  

     Such was friendship among those who had trammeled the angry, if hallowed, halls of air, I suspect. It was once. Even through a GWB, it was. Once.

Back at the ufological ranch... Near every man-jack and swinging Richard of this collection of highly skilled persons had reported to me sincerely that they had witnessed weird lights in otherwise sundry momentous skies.  They don't object when I offered that what they were seeing may have been "Flying Saucers"... they didn't encourage me, mind... 

It remains.  They didn't object.  All those guys knew I have a considered interest in same and so had volunteered their sightings to me.  I felt honored, actually. That was then. This is now.

Still though, not so curiously, and contrarily, we rarely discussed those well admitted "sightings" in the full group.  If I brought it up, or if it came up?  There was always a concerted "group" effort to get the subject back to a more prosaic and comfortingly familiar.  All seemed to vie to be "the most scientifically reasonable" person in the room. "Graveyard whistling," for the benefit of group sensibility would be my guess.

No—the subject was more seriously broached and reports shared only when I'm caught alone... coming back from the latrine or caught alone at the bar... on the way out to the car at evening's end... the odd encounter.  Stealth and surreptitiousness seem to be required, n'est ce pas?  

Verily, in turn, these men inform me of others reporting the very highly strange to them.  Conservatively, even among these highly experienced aviators, First Kind Encounters seems more a common thing than not.

To put it lightly, reminding the reader, these are reluctant witnesses.  You'd think these career military people were trying to share with me that they were gay or crossdressers.  Consider: they were compelled to make their careful report, still, to someone frankly not laughing at them!

The stories recounted are invariably told in an embarrassed way with eyes decidedly to the ground or, alternatively, hollowly and unblinkingly regarding me. There was a furtive hope in their unblinking stare that I would take them at their inexplicable word... that here, in me, they might find a fellow who'd take receipt of their strange story and not bust their chops or question their sanity.  

...That they could tell someone at last—unload or unburden themselves to someone who might provide them with some small grasp regarding highly extraordinary occurrences they'd had obvious difficulty processing by themselves. Dissonance looms. 

These men are not cowards.  Did I mention they were decorated soldier aviators? They were pragmatic pilots.  Their wives, more hard-wired by genetics I suspect, were pragmatic, too, only more so.  Wives, and women in general I observe, provide ample encouragement for the aggregate pragmatism, I'm sure.  I know mine does.  I catch regular hell, eh? It's not entirely undeserved.

See?  All know the hard wages of having one's supervisor or superior officer gain knowledge of their subordinate's going "off the reservation" intellectually or exploring too far "down the twitchy rabbit hole."  Careers are destroyed.  Promotions dry up.  Advanced training evaporates.  Confidence is compromised... Advancement is curtailed... Friends laugh...  Friends laugh, reader!   
Hey!  I'm about a half million dollars down in lost wages, myself. Speaking with some experience, I report that reasonable persons are significantly wounded in this struggle for a more validated existentiality. I say true.

Fitting in at any cost?  It has that greater imperative, even if an unethical, irrelevant, and unsatisfying one... a soul destroying one.  Pity.

To forestall these back-stepping and unjust sociological hazards to having your world turned upside down, many persons experience our foreshadowed cognitive dissonance (1).  They intellectually react to the stress of not being able to accept what their—usually trustworthy—senses are reporting to them, and make the imperatives of those contrary reports either go away...(not see what's there) or change them over into something that is acceptable to them.  Imagine an oyster reacting to a grain of sand in its mantel by creating a pearl around the disturbance. 

It won't matter, reader, if this errant acceptability is a falsehood.  Would that the aforementioned resultant pearl had any lasting value, am I right?  It does not.  It powders easily 'twixt thumb and forefinger and exudes toxic fumes provoking madness!  Still, perception, errant or no, is the reality.

Example:

While on active duty many years ago, well before I'd developed any substantive interest in the ufological, I'd had a raucous barbecue at my Fort Rucker, Alabama home one weekend evening. There were five or six joyous couples in carrier-landing-rowdy "CAV-songs" attendance, plus a few guests some of these had brought along with them. All were highly experienced attack and utility branch military aviators plus their wives or girlfriends.  This was a singularly *high-toned* bunch.

I was standing away from the group with two other men, one Tom Boucher, an AH-64 (Apache) instructor pilot, and a, name forgotten, fixed-wing "driver" I didn't know... but a rare Army candidate for the Astronaut Program. The sun had just gone down and dusk was washing out to the encroaching blackness of inevitable night.

There was a lull in the blustery conversation. One of the men looked up and said, "That's weird..."

He was pointing at the sky with his beer hand.  We all looked up to see a decidedly out of the ordinary... black, one unit by five (or so) *strip*, or rectangle, about as wide as a little fingernail held at arm's length, and flying through the air diagonally with its airfoil about 40 degrees from its direction of travel!  It was flying about as fast as a small propeller-driven plane!

We were incredulous, our jaws decidedly slackened! As the strange object flew, one of the men remarked that it had very peculiar "position lights." These lights (seven or eight of them) were white flashing strobes running weirdly from wing-tip, down the strange diagonal, to the opposite wing-tip, and then back again like a Pong ball...

There is no aircraft that does that, reader. ...Looks like that. ...Flies like that. ...Has an array of lights operating like that.  ...Flouts aviation conventions like that... There was no evidence of the required red and green "port" and "starboards," and no flashing anti-collision light... No sound... We'd have heard it.

 "Well — it's got to be something..." someone said... it may have even been me, and, with that... ...the object was abruptly forgotten! All three of us returned to the party and the consumption of massive quantities.

"...Ships and shoes... and sealing wax..."

            ...Ex-squeeze me?

Yes. Confronted with the exceptionally bizarre... more distracting beer was called for, and the party continued into the usual drunken mini-brawl for which Army rotary-wing aviators USED to be famous last century... Let me just say here that alcohol precludes the perception of UFOs reader... not the ludicrous inverse.

I didn't remember this occurrence again for almost a decade. ...Was reminded of it only by seeing a similar object in California after I had developed an interest in UFOs upon leaving the Army.

That aforementioned incident occurred at a rubber-powered model airplane flying meet in Northern California up around Anderson. I attended with my late father after I'd retired from the service in 92.  Dozens of us watched a UFO fly by... five times, over a period of a few hours, with fewer and fewer people looking up to watch it traverse with each succeeding pass that it very queerly made!  What's up with that?

There were twenty-five of us, or so, on that Sunday late afternoon to evening... flying model airplanes. It was a scene right out of the fifties.  A smatter of the aforementioned models flown were gas powered, but few of these were flying.  It was rubber powered models folks were flying, generally.  Very quiet.

The evening was très pastoral—no alcohol or drugs.  Club charter; it kept the insurance down. A very gentle breeze was blowing, and far away from city or town, it was as quiet as country can be.  We were indeed the only people for miles around.  The ladies had fixed finger food and old men flew their childhood dreams.  The sky was blue and crystal clear... so sharp it seemed to shine and gleam...

I saw it because I'd developed a subsequent interest in UFOs alluded to previously, and so was, idly, watching the sky.  Verily, if you look, reader, you see.

Next issue:  more Cognitive Dissonance in action, presumptions, assumptions, and resource consumptions, unwelcome distractions, and a hypnotism of insidious inverse: "seeing what's not there" contrasted with "not seeing what is there to be seen"

(1) Cognitive dissonance is a psychological phenomenon referring to the stress incurred as a result of 'discrepancy' between what you already know or believe to be true... and some new information or compelling new interpretation of that old information throwing all your certainty into question.  Perceiving startling new evidence that 'black' is really 'white' on any level you care to name.  Good is evil?  Bad, good? Remains the question begs to be asked.

...The Skies Admit Your Truth...

Sometimes it's not what you're looking at, it's what's watching you...

.
Bottom line? You're* unconvincing, authoritarian, and use flat thinking! What you call your "bearing facts" ASSUMES your views are valid, Jack, and assumptions are, then, what they WOULD be—that ass that's made of you and me.
.
Your "proclamation with a sneer" betrays the tap root of your fear, that non-admitted holes abound within the premise you propound. Your errant premise, its inculcation, provides for utter degradation, while you distract us from our wounds... that you discount and then impugn.
.
Conspiracy's a monster you would hide or call impostor, but if power and control are there, then there are those who'd TAKE that dare! I'm not your strict "believer," friend, so I won't pay your freight—comprende'?
.
Too, I won't buy what YOU sell, either; you're "Danish fish." I need a breather.
.
See, you prosecute your "tick-turds" gladly, spin the facts and dervish madly—convince us all that what we're seeing CANNOT be what we're believing. Though there is *more* than what you offer, volunteer, propose, or proffer, and I must call your smirking bluff! I'm quite fed up. I've had enough!
.
You don't make the slightest dent in what I'm seeing we must spend... to do real work and NOT pretend... but YOU won't even LOOK! Get bent!
.
In its place your whistled catcalls, errant hooting, mocking pratfalls, your "cheap shot" shooting, faux support and profits made you don't report...
.
See it's you who keeps the lie alive! You fake the truth—you have contrived—and you have stained a strained credulity casting your aspersions (..!.) truly! A living lie is what you use to keep an edge—that you abuse—and all to keep us on your meter, paying levies. You foul creature!
.
Frankly, you're a toxic boor, a cad who should be shown one's door. You embarrass education, you're reproduction's abdication—you won't call a spade a spade; we'd live outside the lines you've made.
.
You sell a soulless, useless brew of sharp derision—glad abuse. Too, what does obfuscation do but compliment your sad excuse! All your aims are systematic, inculcated—autocratic; the status quo is what you've had to keep *your* treasures close at hand.
.
Consider Gingrich bopping pages, but while critiquing Clinton? Nation! *Mourning* "death of all morality," he slides it IN... ...why won't you see? Hypocrisy in leaps and bounds, banal pretense so unprofound.
.
It's YOU, like this, with UFO's! You KNOW that something "flies" and "glows," yet, you find *ways*—pretend it's final ... blow your smoke and make denials. Interpret facts as you would have them, proclaim soft *facts* to keep us guessing—add some shred or bit of truth to sell agendas you intrude.
.
Soon it is that you're found out, and then we'll see what you're about. We will find what you have hidden—take Tesla out of his derision, read the books that Hancock writes as textbooks that just might be right!
.
We would open "hanger doors," we would search your "hallowed" floors, we would see what's been so secret, you've abused your privilege—SEE it! Mysteries interred in churches. Histories bereft of searches. All that's lost and what we'd covet, hidden in "the master's" pocket. We all know how that must end. Piano wire? Well, that depends...
.
We would open wide the shades that keep us stupid, scared—betrayed. We'd expose those unelected scabrous thugs now undetected—living more fulfilling lives, we'd soar and cleave from what's despised!
.
You will come to know you're through, your time's run out and leaving you... ...to stew in juices you once used to torment those who you'd abused. I'm glad to say you'll suffer shame, and more when you're then shown your blame.
.
Plain it is, you better start (to break it loose) or come apart. Do it now, you filthy stealthy, aging *bad* news isn't healthy.
.
Come clean now and save yourself the slings of *fortune* talked about. I'm betting you'll procrastinate, and do "too little" much "too late." There's little hope you see some light, and do your part to put things right...
.
So I await your glad demise, then watch our starry, starry skies. They, at least, admit some truth: that time and space are monstrous, HUGE, and all that is imagined happens—plus the lot that's not... imagined.

• lehmberg2002@gmail.com
• www.AlienView.net

*You know who you are.

Liberal Be

Liberal Be...

Be a liberal.  Most are anyway, actually.  One has to read just a little bit from moderate textbooks to see how factual that really is.  True enough, it is only as a result of individual liberality campaigned for and evolving down through the centuries that we, as I have written many times before, are not, STILL... the ignorant serfs of a tedious redux of the medieval ages, tilling three field rotations from thankless dawn to depressing dusk... gratefully giving up our comely daughters for the sport of our landed manor lord and his degenerate sons Uday and Qusay.  Consider, Newt Gingrich is a classical liberal even as he is, also, an unheralded daughter *sporter*.  Hypocrite in other words.

Be a liberal. For your money, through your lens, drawn through your filters...?  That just means one has some small courage, a sense of raw history, a reasonable intelligence, a degree of empathy for fellow humans, a dash of imagination, an unceasing education, a respect for Earth, and a progressive attitude toward a future bearing down on all of us like an accelerating freight train.  ...Sooner catch that train than have it run you down?

Be a liberal.  Believe an individual should not have the religious sensibilities of another legislated to him, imposed on her, or persecuting either of them.  Don't accept that one should be compelled to validate another's faith at the point of a sword or the withholding of a paycheck.  Do believe in the absolute necessity... for a separation of Church from State; be offended and revolted by even the merest suspicion of theocracy.  Vociferously refuse to be swayed by Gods some have produced themselves to do their contrived and convenient bidding.

Be a liberal. See the steady erosion of individual rights and freedoms occurring now as a clear and present danger to the unfettered individuality that actually empowers a healthy America and contributes to her creative productivity, effortless grace, and cutting edge style.  Perceive these erosions plainly all around you; all are effused with the wretched stench of creeping totalitarianism growing stronger with each passing day, and be very fearful for your own freedom and quality of life... and for the freedoms/qualities of your children and those around you.  Tyranny's rose will never smell as sweet as such.

Be a liberal. Find it problematical that we continue, environmentally, to defecate in our beds and push it down with our abused and disrespected feet. The continued thoughtless, complacent, irresponsible, and smothering overpopulation born of squalorous ignorance, airily encouraged by socially retarded religi-oids and other pathological politicos (et al), is obviously not consistent with our species traveling an upwardly respectful path to individual enlightenment and personal satisfaction.  Verily, the number of paths to God must likely be as infinite as ~She~ is supposed to be.

Be a liberal.  Be naturally resistant (by design) to fatuous spins, preconceived notions, bait and switch sensibilities, duplicitous euphemisms, or conveniently biased cants. Anything the likes of FOX news.  Resent the manipulating lowest-common-denominator approach of a non-elected leadership, its lap-dog *mainstream* media, and its fraudulent and failing system of *education* more interested in producing credulously docile employees (...and their insentient masters) than it is in encouraging critically thinking individuals. Be outraged that Education becomes a euphemism for DE-education and UN-education.  

Be a liberal.  Be worried about a justice system with its tiller swung so far and so hard to the reactionary and religious *right* that our ship of state crashes on the harsh hard rocks of inevitable lost freedoms and easy tyrannies.  Freedom of and freedom from one religion or another is a cornerstone of real social and spiritual advancement (...and quality individuals...), or history teaches us ~nothing~ at all.  History, it seems, may be taught in a manner that teaches nothing, by design.

Be a liberal.  Be convinced that the 'reflective' authoritative trumps the 'reflexive' authoritarian, ~always~. Believe the lesser 'authoritarian' should be pointedly discouraged because it hobbles the contribution of the greater 'authoritative'.  Be aware that because persons used to officious 'authoritarians' take a follow-on 'authoritative' approach for ~weakness~, in reflex, the preferable authoritative's better job becomes a magnitude more difficult to accomplish.  My experience is that this is as true in combat as it is in the classroom.

Be a liberal.  Mourn the elevation of untested and too convenient faith (over a hard-won renaissance rationality...) as a return to the "Dark Ages" that the former brand of thinking readily facilitates.  Every step one takes back into real history proves, only, that it gets more repressive and restrictive decade by oppressive prior-decade.  A return to 1950 is only on the ~way~ to being as bad as it was in 1350... ...and the Earth's two *greatest* religions, Christianity and Islam, would gleefully take us back, respectively, ~exactly~ there to those points in time.  Send them back yourself where you can if you can.

Be a liberal.  Understand that what gets unilaterally mashed down over 'there' only pops up over 'here'... just meaner for the unjust and disrespectful effort and attention.   Feel "reactionary reflex" is decidedly ~not~ superior to "reflective rationality."  Don't believe that dissent is always disloyalty.  Don't believe that divergence is always discontinuity.  Don't believe that diversity is cultural disaster.  In fact, feel more accurately that culture is made more enduring, more fully featured, and more creative with the fervent ~embrace~ of these things! I say true!

Be a liberal.  Lament and resist the shrinkage of the middle class, the expanding poor, and the concentrations of the sociopathic rich.   Grieve for a loss of respect, due process, curtailed self-expression, and a discounted individuality.   Bemoan the new intolerance, refute the reasons for WAR that never stops, and wholly loathe this new *validation* for "black and white worldviews" which sorely limit our aggregate ability to intellectually "soar and cleave" in the tradition of an unfettered Giordano Bruno. Reach exceeds grasp, or there is no heaven, the poets say.

Be a liberal.  Believe that there should be more marriage... and less discrimination, disrespect, demonization, and derision in its regard...

Be a liberal.  Tell your fellows that you're a liberal, up front, and with no small trepidation in this threatening climate... (but with no ~hesitancy~, either).  It is a sorely needed testimony in these trying times that the concept of liberalism is ~not~ dead, ~remains~ in the sensibility of a majority of persons in this western hemisphere (there are more of us than them), and has, decidedly, ~not~ surrendered to the officious and intellectually constipated ultra-neoconservative regressives ... neocons who prosecute their disingenuous and deceitful agendas on a scared, hapless, and credulous populace they manipulate, coerce, betray!.  

These neoconservatives, promoters of an egregiously dire past, would ~return~ us all to those times the rest of us thought long and thankfully over... by any means available to them. ...AGAIN we are relegated to toiling the three-field rotations on land we can't own under the salacious manor lord alluded to in the first paragraph. 

Remain to remind your fellows that when folks wake up to the manipulations of these monsters of privileged end-time sensibility and "rapture worship", the liberal will still be here (even if in re-education camps at Guantánamo) to provide a pattern by which they might return to the unavoidable future they would seem to, so complacently, deny.

Be a liberal.  Remain.  Endure.  Carry on.  Be sense and sensibility. Be of reasonable rationality. Insist on the only future worth living.  

The alternative is to have the sons of Rich men riding down from the Manor House to make their cruel sport with the daughters of SERFS!  

No... Demand the better and more progressive future.

ÆL

The New McCarthyism?

It was just a little while ago... in moons (?), oh... sixty-eight... I promised that I'd let you know if I got stung by *fate*.
.
Most will not remember then... a statement that I'd made—that I was unmolested (to that point) I wrote to say. I'd suffered no indignity. My future still looked bright. I sucked up new ideas and was changing "dark" to "light"...
.
I was still a kind of hero—a veteran of the war. I was still an honored student of the kind that none deplore. I was aimed to be of service in a real world way. So, how is it I don't find work where fewer still would stay.
.
Call it age discrimination (?), or more simply, "I don't fit," forgetting the predictions... I'm "a natural."—that's no sh**. Too, I would think outside the box (and just a *tad*, at that); I'd be interested in learning ... though it turns a white cat black...

.
Learning changes ones *convictions* to a plethora of choices that will bloom before ones eyes like desert flowers! Learning smashes the foundations that one finds were not so solid when one tests them with the edge of learning's power!

.
...Learning changes the appearance some might otherwise project where their shadows were deprived of rising light... Learning tallies the unfairness of a culture tiered with classes so unjust or arbitrary—without right!

.
The GI Bill's a *bad* thing, folks. I'm living proof of that. I studied real history as a grownup (that's a fact), and I discovered *small* details, had I but KNOWN... ...back "when"? Well, things would be MUCH different than they, otherwise, had been!
.
I'd have never joined the Army. I'd have stayed away from war. I'd have seen new ports to issues where, before, they had *two* doors. "Either/Or" would have small meaning; there'd be a plethora of choice... where rights are more important and the *least* command more voice!
.
I'd have never laughed at "nigger" jokes, or judged the girls flown by...as barbi-dolls an industry hard sells to you and I. I wouldn't train for teaching ...would have sought some other way (...there was NOWHERE an acceptance; they wouldn't HAVE me anyway...).
.
And how am I that far off beam? Can someone with some BALLS please tell me what, specifically... what ailed them—one and all?
.
Where am I too far afield? What MUST one, there, pretend? Where are my expressions just so grievous they offend? My expressions are all lawful, and my ethics are discerning. I have tested MY convictions, friend, and continue testing. Learning!
.
Are UFOs the reason? Is it comment that I make? Does your conscience rather scare you, so you burn me at the stake? Do I seem an errant cannon—seen as "trouble" folks don't need? Then I suggest they check their *tools* they've used to make me bleed!
.
I'm exactly what they *asked* for, those who set the "program" up! But this pogrom of rejection... disrespect? I'd had ENOUGH! I've always been of service, and I've done the dirty work... work that many had avoided with their duties dodged and shirked!
.
I continued sacrificing when I thought the cause was just. I'd continue contribution, but *elitists* broke the trust. I'd educate the children who would come up after me! See, I'd teach them the importance of the facts that keep them FREE!!!
.
...But I won't follow party lines to lie and misdirect, or pretty up its *picture* for the scuts who lack respect!

.
That's disrespect in sullen schools where one is disallowed, prejudged without due process, without benefit of doubt.
.
That's disrespect to heroize, or paint the *rosy* pictures. That's disrespect to numb young minds with arbitrary strictures!
.
That's disrespect to drug them when we won't afford the time... to nurture possibility that is each and every mind!!
.
We' re TOO damn *free* to disrespect, manipulate, or charm, then stuff them into cannons... later? Push them into harm!!!
.
This is what's perceived beyond... ...this blade of persecution which I seemingly must suffer for... "audacious elocution"? Though, I sense a grand conspiracy that hides within the system, and it's all about glad dollars and their senseless acquisition!
.
I perceive manipulations of a hapless "working class"... that is trained to all its ignorance and contrived to mock their past. I can see the rape and plunder of the many by the few, and it's all done in the *interests* of that clueless me and you.
.
Consider, Johnny Ford is such a man who pays the *price*. He's the guy who rots in jail for some*toothpaste* "nuked and spiked"! He's surely railroaded by convicted crooks, galore; these couldn't stand *attention* brought a'knocking to their door!

.
Now Ford is persecuted 'cause he opened up his mouth, FORGET his whole contention might be soaked and stuffed with doubt! John was, YES, torpedoed, for a crime he didn't do. He had no free expression; nor do I, and nor do you.
.
...And If I'm across that "line not crossed," than I have news for you. You set the bar too LOW, my friend; there's more in this to view! I was in your bosom and I lived the life decreed. I believed a life of service was the better Nation's need!
.
I'll now perform that service as a function of critique, and I'll better serve this Nation than apologists would seek. Our Nation is the new Rome and it should not be adored; adoration's too forgiving, and there's stuff we can't ignore. So, I am NOT the problem that you'd like to think I am? But I'd expose a problem 'cause I find I give a damn!
.
And I want you to remember what must seem to slip your mind (those who persecute me, sullenly, for my consciousness despised): You will only make me meaner, and there're others meaner still. Dismiss us at your peril; we're impossible to kill.

.
You would paint me as an enemy when I've always fought for you? It's this nation's BEST ideals that I fight for! I say true!
.

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