Monday, December 03, 2018

Karmic Impact


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For a moment the clouds were an unsullied white, 
even shadows... a silver brightness.  
Too, the smell of sweet Earth promised looming rebirth—
if rushed, so before, "Karmic rightness."* 

These too early timings of scents and Earth colors... 
...bespeaks to an arduous future discovered? 
A "physical" non-mystical?  Some "impermissible" statistical? 
...Made worse by self-interested—importuningegotisticals?

Still, birds fly in twos all a' squabble, absolved—
What's real for them is enough.
On the strength of their genes,
they don't find it obscene 
to revel their feelings. Real *stuff*.

The sky is a veil, the deepest of blues; 
washboard-like clouds are as harp strings
they're listening now as these clouds moan and sing. 

This song of the Earth who has watched come and go 
many traces of life—truly more than we know! 
...A song with its "treble" so deep in our "bass"? 
It's as "over your head" as it's "up in your face"!

This is the world some pretend *understood*. 
This is the world that we're "taught" is not *good*. 
This is the planet we sully in ignorance; 
this is a planet we treat with belligerence. 

Why... this is a planet infested with parasite; 
ignorant memes with an odorous blight! 
Small in all memory, ever shorter in mind, 
contriving to cheat hapless folk it's consigned?

Call me crazy, lacking relevance ... but there's "stuff" in our skies 
that the man is disposed from! He demures; wonder why!
Consider the man who officiates "muckery"
and sense a salvation well-masked by his ƒüÇk€®ý!

Whenever that's happened? ...From our dimmest hoary past? 
Then there's something he's been hiding, and we find out at the last
...Like "fossil fuels" to help him keep your neck beneath his foot
See, forget the "better battery," it's preferred you're "underfoot."

It's the corporate boys at Burger King, 
in need of fresh lucre—to live like old kings— 
though millions will suffer producing the beef... 
that are "burgers and fries" for your Friday night's *treat*.

These are the guys, then, befouling the temples 
they've built from the sweat of your brow. 
These are the guys who've hidden real secrets 
recovered at last, about now?

These are the guys who can look in their skies 
and *know* they're the "favorite of God" to survive! 
These are the guys who are living sweet lives 
while producing their jealous God's nod I despise!

These are the guys, I entreat, I implore! 
These are those threatened ...by our own Johnny Ford!

***
...And the sky gives up no warning of a coming time of strife 
for those who think John rabble... ...bet your money—bet your life! 
John Ford is not the charlatan; he's a "straight-up dude" instead, 
and in truth, he's lost just everything …likely wishing he was dead.




"Heat a frog in water…"
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They miscalculated with John—John started to hop before the water got too hot! They had to spank him. This is an easy accomplishment for those without a conscience, those too conveniently conflicted by a misunderstood Machiavelli or misinterpreted Darwin... ...those at the receiving end of a cultural largess they become accustomed to as a right. An errantly justified imposition of the divine right of kings... wrong then, wrong now.
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See, "Devine Right" is bat cack! Devine right is by no means a right! This is because it is NOT right, bunky—shallow klasskurtxian swine! Beslubbering cant-monger. Infectious ill-breeder. Clown of intellectuality! Stop any internal dialogue. Don't dare to defend a divine right to me! 
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I'd live to see the last *priest* twitching at the end of a long rope made from the entrails of the last *king*! Precious little hyperbole there, reader.
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...See, you just don't get to live in a manner enjoyed by the *nobility* when there is just one person you have to impose upon, unasked and mal-informed, to maintain your *lifestyle*. Who pays so you can play? 
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The heeded answer to that question will get your mind right again, pilgrim. Hell, it's all evil from bananas to soccer balls—through running shoes and a bogus food pyramid. It doesn't have to be that way. It matters. It all matters. You should have to pay to play.
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Living a lie takes its toll, doesn't it. Physically, mentally, spiritually... "Satisfactually" (sic). Don't pretend to argue.
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Unappreciated tolls of extreme insentience include the obligatory "driving away" (the reader would be driven away!) of *those* who are suggested by Dr. Drake's completely shocking, but illuminating equation. That equation makes us suspect! That equation suggests it's us so repellent. That equation implies we're quarantine-able? 
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Truly, our complacent denial of that equation makes us unworthy of the tiniest concern or remotest consideration by *those suggested*... What would we do with regard to a confrontation with ourselves, one wonders. Our history as regards our encountering one another is something less than optimum.
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Finally, our complacency will most certainly lead to an eventual despair as we are reviled and left alone to stew in our own toxic, ironically self-inflicted, juices... ...you know? That hell on Earth we seem hell-bent upon legislating for ourselves?! Verily, we won't be ALLOWED off-planet given our psychopathic monkey-behaviors! 
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Truth revealed? Sarcastic circuitry meltdown is narrowly averted, at last?
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"Bother," said Pooh... ...they may even steer a big asteroid down the throat of our greedy gravity well just to put us out of our obnoxious misery!
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Restore John Ford! It'll lessen Karmic impact later on, I suspect.
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*Spring came early, and it was unsettling for that... like it feared the coming summer...

Sunday, November 25, 2018

Frank Feschino: The Incident At Strange Creek!



"Almost heaven, West Virginia,
Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River."



The Incident At Strange Creek!
by Alfred Lehmberg


A new year looms. I'm reminded that the now long passed 2014 iteration of the New Year got off to a fast start for "Saucer Summer of '52" researcher, Frank Feschino, Jr! Engage!
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See, he'd received a phone call from still another witness in West Virginia who claimed, and convincingly so, that he had perhaps been an additional person to see the so-called "Flatwoods Monster" in Braxton County, way back in that very mid-century and non-apocryphal September! Verily, and some meat appears to be on that bone! 
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For Feschino, it was the latest first-hand witness to personally come forward and speak to him in several years. Feschino had called me almost immediately to communicate the bird's-eye on the low-down. Buckle snugly!
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He began that this current "Monster" sighting report, according to the eyewitness, did not occur in Flatwoods. Moreover, it did not even occur on the night of September 12 in 1952 as had the well-regarded May's!
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Foreshadowing the story, Feschino said the witness claims to have seen a, now familiar, tall "metallic-looking" figure in an atypically small town of "Strange Creek" during the early morning hours of... September 13, 1952, the day after Friday! This was about 3:00 am EST the day subsequent to the day history now knows only too well... when it cares to! ...Care warns of other days... I digress.
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Strange Creek, West Virginia in 1952. A town named for the stream running through it, and the stream named for one William Strange, a renowned hunter of fox, buffalo, and bear, who became lost, or otherwise FUBARed, in the forest, and died at the foot of a large beech tree, it's said, 1792 or 1793 or thereabouts. A few years later his skeleton and gun are found, the man to be seen again, some hyde and trace of hair... Carved on the tree, it is reported, was the bizarre ditty, "Strange is my name and strange the ground, and strange that I cannot be found." This then explains the aforementioned atypicality. ...Weirdest town lore for provenance this writer has ever heard.
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Here was where our witness is a small boy in a tiny unincorporated little township located just southwest of Frametown and Glendon, West (...by God!) Virginia. These are quaint little towns nestled along Route 4 and the Elk River in southern Braxton County, near the Clay County border. This Strange Creek townlet is about 21 miles southwest of the somewhat larger Flatwoods. 

From Flatwoods (Upper Right) To Strange Creek (Lower Left)...

Feschino went on, "At first, as with any stranger or witness, I was cautious and apprehensive about the man and his testimony. There are a lot of hoaxers, pranksters, and skeptics out there who would try to put one over on a guy, so as to ruin hard-won reputations." 
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Feschino is informed of the caller's name from the caller ID. It comfortably matched who the caller said he was. 
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Feschino reports, "...After the first few minutes of shaking hands in our conversation, I bombarded him with a lot of additional questions to flesh or flush him out." There's a nice turn of phrase.
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Feschino then said, 
"The man told me that he grew up in Strange Creek and went to elementary school in Frametown. I questioned him pointedly about the Frametown area, nearby territories, several small landmarks in the mountains, and assorted territorial what-nots. I also had questions with regard to some of the people from the area, past and present residents—their historical lorethat sort of thing. I really grilled this guy and as it turned out, he knew many of the same people I did! He actually dated one woman I knew of when he was young man. Additionally, he also worked for a guy I met in Flatwoods, who has since passed away, as well." 
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Cutting to the chase, did this witness know a lot of personal stuff that an outsider or stranger wouldn't likely have known! Yes, this guy seemed to be genuine and he really knew the area better than Feschino did, Feschino would report. Bona Fides seemed to pan out and musters passed! Due diligence was given its obligatory nod, reader.
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Encouraged by the seeming legitimacy, Feschino took some copious notes during their subsequent conversation, asking many questions about this remarkable encounter one early morning back in that strange September of 1952, checking and back-checking. We won't cover all that here.
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Rather, and buckled as noted earlier? Now for a distillation of the encounter, itself. 
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The witness, who was a young boy at the time of the sighting, remember, had disclosed his ID, location, and experience to Feschino, but asked him not to reveal his name. He said that even his own family didn't believe him, and he had been ridiculed by his friends and classmates for decades about what he saw on that early Indian Summer morning. He didn't want to stir, inordinately, all that up for another unpleasant go with friends and family... but he had to "self-actualize," for himself, eh? Nice twist, near the end of a conjectured highly ordinary life, to find out you might be wrapped up in the history of momentous events. I'm reminded of Earl Fulford , and myself, frankly.
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The witness exclaimed to Feschino, 
"It was frustrating to know that I saw 'it' and no one believed me. After all of these years, they joked about it and poked fun at me! I don't want to go through that again!" 
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Feschino respected the man's wishes, of course, but asked if we couldn't retell the story publicly without putting him off. The witness said he didn't mind if Feschino told the tale... as long as his name wasn't used. Posted.
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Feschino reports to me that his conversation with the man lasted for nearly 2 hours and the guy was sincere to the high nines about what he said... 
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...Hold up a moment... A digression called for.
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Let me take a moment to qualify these assertions. I've known Feschino for over 20 years, myself, and never observed an untruth or an uncalled for "stretch to truth" from him. He's been straight and discounted or poo-pooed by no one serious in the field currently living, this writer says true, and his few detractors at any time were ill-informed a result of a publishing betrayal and deliberate cost-cutting cock-up... completely apart from Feschino. 
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...Or imagine if you will, reader, the book that you laboriously researched and then painstakingly wrote was torpedoed by your own named West Virginia publisher, a publisher you'd chosen largely, anyway, to keep the investment in a needy West Virginia... ...is not the book submitted that is published, oh no, but is instead a book replete to FUBAR with well over a hundred disqualifying errors nearly ruining a decade's work, forgetting reputation...
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This writer watched it happen, encountered the persons concerned,  and did his own due diligence. Feschino was sorely wounded, a torpedo amidships below the waterline from a ship in his own fleet! One would presume the literal end of Frank Feschino, Jr. and the Flatwoods Monster.
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To the contrary, Sir and Madam. Feschino would struggle back to legitimacy and reputation buoyed by the facts of history as witnessed and recorded. He would be redeemed. For reference, his luminary celebrators now include Dolan, Friedman, Hastings, Robbins, Strieber, Schmidt, Birnes N & Birnes B, Salas, Guiley, Andrews... and a list goes on...  I've no reputation as a liar, for my part. One can do the math. Feschino has his bona fides, and he can bestow them. 
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We come to the end of this qualifying digression. ...Back at the ranch...
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...Feschino observes, "The guy was a little kid at the time of the sighting but he actually described a true likeness of the so-called Monster, regardless." Feschino added, "It never made sense to him, of course, because the "thing" he saw was in Strange Creek, not Flatwoods, and he saw it about seven hours after May and the boys saw their (?) monster."

What Was Seen In Flatwoods

Feschino added, "To complicate matters for the witness, the 'thing' he saw in Strange Creek didn't look much like the original drawing depicted by the days later television coverage via the We the People artist's rendering... which was, of course, drawn all wrong."
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Feschino said, "To this witness, the odds were stacked up against him, he felt; the location of his sighting wasn't in Flatwoods, the time of his sighting didn't fit the timeline, and the description of the huge 'thing' that he saw wasn't exactly the same as the one people saw on TV..." Ironically, all this would support and not detract from the witness' credibility. 

Feschino added, "...See, nobody believed him because his sighting in Strange Creek didn't fit the pattern or report of what was publicly known at that time."

Inaccurate "We The People"
rendering for TV...

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Years later, the witness was given a copy of Feschino's book by a family member, which he had read voraciously, not-to-be-put-down, over the holiday season. After the reading his experience started to make sense to him. He began to connect the dots within Braxton County like Feschino had, and he soon realized that his terrifying encounter in Strange Creek WAS perhaps linked to the "Flatwoods Monster" incident!
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Subsequently, the witness was excited about his newly discovered findings. He decided then to come forward and contact Feschino about his own affair occurring that early morning in 1952. 
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Let me explain, briefly. During Feschino's exhaustive research, he used several documented sources and plotted numerous location points of the "Flatwoods Monster" craft after it departed the Fisher Farm in Flatwoods on September 12, 1952, as has been pointed out in previous treatments
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From Flatwoods, Feschino was able to establish the craft's flight path trajectory as it flew southwest over Braxton County, flew along the Elk River and eventually crashed in Frametown, about 17 miles away, atop of James Knob Hill ["Flatwoods to Strange Creek" map view above].

Snitowsky Affair In Frametown...


Now, reader, like most people in 1952 Braxton County, this "Strange Creek" witness was totally unaware of the George Snitowsky incident occurring in Frametown on the already noted night of September 13. Snitowsky's story was not revealed until 1955, when it appeared in the July issue of MALE Magazine written by Paul Lieb. 

Upon reading this article years ago, Feschino located, phoned, and then talked extensively to George Snitowsky, himself. Feschino tells the entire story about George's own alien encounter in his Braxton County Monster book. Feschino states, "The Snitowsky incident was a lost part of the aggregate Ufology and was forgotten by most. The story was told one time in Lieb's article and only edited pieces of it appeared in print later... until I wrote about it in 2004."
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Here, Feschino's research into the September 12 and 13, 1952 Braxton County UFO incidents revealed a solid timeline and tighter story-line showing how the so-called "Monsters," sighted in each of the Flatwoods and Frametown incidents, were actually the same entity, it can be reasoned. Yes, friends and neighbors; there is a plausible connection! The new witness, moreover, would seem to firm that connection up, somewhat.
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After the "Flatwoods Monster" landed on James Knob Hill in Frametown on Friday night, September 12, George Snitowsky, his wife and baby... encountered the hovering "Monster" in the same Frametown area on the following night—about 23 hours later! 
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According to Feschino, during the September 13, 1952 Snitowsky encounter, the being was also only partially clad in its hovering metallic-like mechanical spacesuit, the upper torso portion and helmet conjectured as removed.
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Feschino informs, "Now Alfred, we have this new witness who saw something in Strange Creek, which is only about four miles southwest of Frametown along the same Elk River and only about two and a half to three miles from James Knob Hill." Feschino goes on, "After my initial questioning and grilling, I talked to this new witness for nearly two hours and he was hugely excited about a possible three-way connection involving his encounter in Strange Creek, the James Knob crash, and the Snitowsky incident in Frametown!
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Feschino said, "He'd wanted to talk to me to see if I might have the same takeaway as he did, which is that some connection concerning the new witness' encounter was falling into the timeline of events as those other Braxton County UFO cases." It's no real stretch and a reasonable one, if so.
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Feschino then explained what occurred in Strange Creek at about 3:00 am on September 13, 1952, according to the witness. Feschino states, "I gave this guy my word that I would not disclose his name or even a partial name. He has a very unusual name, you see." He wouldn't even tell this writer.
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Feschino adds, "The encounter occurred on a property of this man's family, and, because he wants to remain anonymous, I even chose to leave out some of the explicit details of the land's layout. It would easily pinpoint the location or the name of the family in Strange Creek." Feschino then narrated the incident as told to him: 
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"The witness said the family house was a two-story affair set far off of the road from the Elk River. There was a long driveway leading up to the house which was bordered by trees on the left side but cleared on the other. A wood fence bordered the right of way, and there was a car-port at the end of the driveway, near the house."
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Feschino adds, "The witness, a young boy, reported that his bedroom was located on the second floor of the house and situated over the entrance of the front porch overlooking the driveway. He said the front porch was enclosed as well." 
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Feschino continues, "The guy told me that he was suddenly awakened about 3:00 am in the morning. He didn't know what stirred him out of his sleep. He quickly got out of bed, went directly to his window and looked out. To his horror, he saw a 'huge figure' he described as being 'about eight or nine feet tall, floating' up the driveway toward the house.' He also added, the driveway was 'gravel.' " There was no sound.
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"The startled witness told me, 'It was coming up the center of the driveway and heading to the house! It was about 40-50 feet away when I first saw it.' "
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Feschino asked for a description and was told, "The overall impression of it was that it was cone-shaped and it flared out at the bottom." 
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Subject reports, "It looked like a machine—it was metallic-looking." He also said it was, "gray in color, like metal." Feschino asked, "What makes you think it was a machine?" The subject answered, "It's like seeing a car, you just know it was something that was made or manufactured, and it looked like some type of metal." 
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Subject reports that the upper torso area was cylindrical and fluted, "...like a garbage can, but the lower area flared out." Subject reports that the bottom, "Had to be at least four feet across."
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Feschino said to this writer, "Alfred, the witness was very adamant in telling me that the thing was floating. It was floating a few inches above the ground... the driveway. It was raised over the ground and coming straight at the house." All this certainly rings a bell regarding similarity with the other cases...
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Feschino asked the witness, "How did you see it so clearly at night?" Subject answered, "'The front porch light was on and I could see it pretty good, but the thing was also luminous. It was glowing and had an aura of light around it." As an adult, he explained how he had worked in the electrical field. He fully understood what an "aura" was. 
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Feschino asked the guy if he'd been scared and inquired how long it was that he'd watched it. Subject reports, "A few minutes... I was looking down on it from above the porch and I felt safe being on the second floor of the house... but as it got closer to the house, I got more scared." The witness told Feschino, "I saw it float and move up the driveway for about 15 more feet before I stepped back from the window."
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The witness went on, "When I looked back out the window a few moments later, it was gone." Feschino asked where he thought it went, subject reports, "It must have moved toward the carport near the house. That's the only place it could have gone. It disappeared that fast." 
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So, in other words, it continued up the driveway and was getting closer to the house when the subject stepped back away for a few moments, to which subject replied "yes." 
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He also said, "It wasn't moving that fast and I would have seen it moving away from the house. The way our property was laid out, I would have seen it moving away in the other directions." Then he said, "I ran out of my room and into my parent's room and yelled and woke them up. I told them what I saw and they said, You must be dreaming—go back to bed." Heavy sigh, eh?
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Feschino then asked the witness if he saw the head area of the floating subject. This was to be key.
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The witness reports that he did not see a distinct head shape but he said the body of the "thing" looked like Feschino's book cover illustration and interior drawings, otherwise. Subject reports that he did not see the red round head and black exterior helmet as correctly portrayed in Feschino's illustrations. Feschino observed, "The subject would have noticed that big black ace-of-spades covering above it." ...Interesting to note that the witness, less than earnest I think, would have confabulated that well known big hood and red face... 
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The witness offered, "Maybe the helmet was taken off at the time I saw it." He'd add, "The body of the figure was glowing and that is what I was fixed on—the aura around it... but it was metal-looking." 
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At this point, Feschino told me he was impressed with the Strange Creek incident and its corroborative value.  He chatted with the witness about other points of the incident... and then rehashed the story, over and over again looking for confabulation. Throughout the conversation; however, the guy stayed true and repeatedly stated, "Thank you Frank, for writing your book and vindicating my story."
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Feschino agrees with the Strange Creek witness. He probably had seen the "Flatwoods Monster" about seven hours after its craft crashed in Frametown at James Knob the night before. Moreover, if this scenario is correct, then this indicates that the "Monster" was moving throughout the Frametown, Glendale and Strange Creek areas, escaping and evading, for nearly a full day before Snitowsky encountered it, and perhaps an alien rescue ship, in his affair on the night of September 13, 1952. 
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In closing, Feschino told me the witness stated to him, "Frank, you nailed it—you are right on!" He's kept me interested, this writer reports. Verily, unlike some other UFO events which tend to evaporate the closer one gets to same or farther away in time from same, Flatwoods only gets more substantial and fleshed out. No flush. here.
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A teasing buttress, then, to a startling conjecture, and the ETH just a little further up one's nose, am I right? Something highly strange, which shouldn't be there at all, if you listened to the mal-informed naysayer, but that it is right where it would need to be if it was going to be there at all! From a reluctant first-hand witness, reader, and fewer and fewer of those all the time, eh?  
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What's the bird's eye lowdown on this caper... Feschino's still looking and will keep us informed. Read on!


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Monday, November 12, 2018

Don't Call It Obsession

Left or right... choose.

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I digress to observe—don't call it obsession—I have few regrets, and I make few concessions... but I'm leery of those—unconstrained and contrary—who hide in a blind, then define... arbitrary.

These are men from your shadows that you don't know to fear. Their lives are a secret; they have the reins, clear? Wielding keys to the kingdom ... no concessions to guilt; they're the *man*, understand, and these *own* what you've built!

They obfuscate due process, put "fairness" on the run, and they "know" our jurisprudence as the means to use a "gun." They're traffic cops for bad guys—they maintain that "status quo." They have written all the laws for their convenience... ...don't you know?

They write the laws to favor only ways they'd make their call, so we find laws written, plainly, saying nothing much at all. Justice is illusion for the mass's rank and file—sneers their patronizing message fairly dripping smirking guile!

See, Ford now sits, sedated, in a washed-out, pink-walled room. A victim of indifference, he's remanded and entombed. He's living in a hell on Earth for those who wish him quiet. They say that he's a killer, friend, but don't believe; decry it!

It's true John Ford asked questions. It's true that he would write. It's true that he got up your nose; it's true he'd "fight the fight"! He made the toughest queries, and he squeezed the "story" close, so facts aren't clear on why the *man* has got him mal-disposed!

Near incommunicado... if he "speaks" he's barely heard; this man is in a silenced cage—the "man's" captive silenced bird.

It's true he may be guilty of this thing they've said he's done... but I'd lay you odds it's bat-squeeze, friend, and I'd bet the summer sun!






Maybe someone in our tres-honorable community can explain why that self-same community is so ominously quiet on the subject of John Ford. No?

Do you think he's guilty? Really? ...How? Why? When? Where? If the minimally interested person tries to fill in these gaping holes of alleged guilt? It doesn't happen... verily reader! It just doesn't happen! The suspect "man's" strident admonitions with regard to Ford's guilt... dissolve like a night-fog in the light of summer's sun...

Moreover, the facts of the Ford case do not strike you, Sir and Madam, as ridiculously contrived and smolderingly convenient for known criminals with long traditions of systemic corruption? True enough, these were Ford's opposition.  Official Criminals and Miscreants in a New York county famous for official criminals and miscreants!  Such is Suffolk County. Look it up.

You don't think Ford got so far up someone's powerful nose that they surgically removed him to a place where they could casually but inevitably, and then thoroughly ... discredit him or, in other words, snuff him out like a guttering candle without killing him? Their way was worse.

...You're next, pal, or pal-ette! Search your heart; don't take my word for it. I say true. Even if you're a good Nazi; there's no fair play with that lot. There is only "weak" and "strong."

Throw me a bone of concern if, suddenly, I become quiet, reader... appreciating, well, the reverence to which I would not be held. John Ford is in demonstrably worse straights... endured now for well over 2 decades...

Know this: I love life; I'm having a ball; depression and failure as reasons for my *alleged* suicide...? They will be completely ludicrous.

The same applies if I am accused of putting radium in an imagined adversary's recreational enema bag or if I end up on Pee-pee Dondi's puddin' & pie's, very punitively prosecuted, "...no fly..." list!

Know that John Ford loves his own life, as I do mine, somehow believing still that he will be vindicated... You can hear that in his voice... More on that later.

If I become quiet? Begin to wonder; begin to be more afraid. But, get mad ... now. It's time.

Write some letters, make some noise, talk to friends... ...stay within the confines of our *laws* and *constitution*, as useless as that advise appears to be... ...at present.  Read from the forbidden index.  It writes factually where opposition only insults its, pretty sterling, astonishingly and ironically, character.  We all know what THAT means...

Consider... playing by the rules didn't seem to provide John Ford any protection. Real irony there.

Verily, Ford stood exponentially taller as an innocent grassroots American than have his prosecuting persecutors! His persecutors are scurvy knaves and psychopathic cads. They are, one begins to discover, irresponsibly rich and injudiciously free after committing egregious crimes. Ford rots so that this criminal rabble can breath... ...unconstrained... non-restricted, and well off their well-appointed knees!

Nothing is safe from the powerful arbitrary when he perceives a need to reach out and crush you like a bug in a bit of soiled tissue. Search your heart.  You concur. Power corrupts absolutely, always. 

Oh—by the way as the crow flies? I noticed a peculiar light low on the eastern horizon one predawn morning. 

It traversed a soundless single line flying due north, jet fast, off the usual airway (recall that I was a master military aviator of 23 years). It flashed like a bright white strobe-light, but in a random fashion, though I saw it flash, once, a bright bluish RED strobe, then back to random frequency white. It appeared to jerk back and forth in a thumb's thickness as it traversed this single line, even accounting for false auto-kinetic movements, atmospheric refraction, or optical physiologies.

After traversing this single line for about forty-five degrees in my field of view? The light, inexplicably, blinked out...

There have been other revelations, reader... It's all a matter of putting in time watching the sky and doing a little of the old non-imaginational heavy lifting... you know?

Yeah. On my honor as a deacon in my own church of "It Ain't What You Think...", the same as any elected, pointedly non-installed President, trusted friend, honored relative, Principal, or holy person?  Well, maybe not holy...

Read "ordinary"? Yeah, that's right. I am ...who I am... saying what I see while you're seeing what I say... ...like so many, many others as overproduced, overexposed, and even overweening as I am seen to be by some... meh.

Yeah yeah yeah... I hear the internal dialogue.  Restore John Ford!  Then we can talk.

Read on.

Wednesday, November 07, 2018

The Saucer Flap's Map

Once upon a time last Century...

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MASTER MAP OF THE SEPTEMBER 12, 1952 
UFO FLAP ("The Summer Of Saucers"


The Saucer Flap's Map
by Alfred Lehmberg


This is a short discussion on a map depiction of West Virginia illustrated with a timeline of cited UFO sightings in the State over a specific period of time. What will be so astonishing about this initiative is the following, taken in steps. 

See, reader, were the illustrated map above to be a depiction of UFOs comprising their activities over WV for the past decade... it would be impressively compelling enough! It must wholly shock surprised sensibilities to discover a single year is depicted!  A month's depiction and it's near impossibly difficult to get your head around, at all... but a single day is simply incomprehensible...! How about, reader, an hour and some minutes in change?!  Such was indeed so...

There is, as has now been ferreted out, that historic flurry of "highly strange" activity here signified, reader. Verily, this writer suspects that were the facts all known, one might feel compelled to put their heads down between their knees for some swooning faint-headedness... or even crash positioning!

Beginning, now, to dispel the hoary myth of your reflex debunker's "conventional wisdom" regarding the Flatwoods affair, and according to September 12, 1952, Project Blue Book records, the flaming UFO to fly west over the Capitol as reported was the "well known Washington area meteor." Yeah, we'll just put our tongue in a smiling cheek on that... red herring as that was. Remains, the Akron Astronomy Club report stated that this so-called "Washington FIREBALL" was sighted at "Approximately 7:00 P.M. E.S.T."  Noted!

This same report also stated the length of time it was sighted. The object was recorded as having a "Duration: 5-6 seconds."  Note that, reader!

Discover that contrary to the Air Force's suspicious evaluations and convenient findings on this alleged and "all explaining" single "Fireball meteor," (Rather like Kennedy's "magic bullet,") Frank Feschino, Jr. would reveal some new wrinkles in their "too pat" with his own research's "obvious otherwise." Gravy must be for goose and gander, stuff has to add up, and Occam demands it. A thesis can be complicated, of needs! That's Occam!

See, That "duration of 5-6 seconds" was to endure quite an impossible stretch of its short time, remembering a vast surface area covered by the sighting of same; that area almost including all three coasts and our border to the north! A magic meteor, verily, and defeating time and space!

No, it was going to be a busy night history would record, and it would be a night shaken in the teeth of a complete unknown! Some consummately intrepid souls, reader, would even disappear (with their craft!) without a trace! This was not a singular event! This would happen with some regularity during 1952s "Summer Of Saucers"!

For many years, Frank Feschino, spelunking soberly and diligently, searched tirelessly for and then compiled Sept. 12, 1952 UFO reports from various documented, if disparate, sources. Feschino also worked laboriously with other researchers, archivists, historians, and librarians to this end. 

He was to find a wealth of information contained in obscure national and regional newspaper articles from which named Newspapers were quoting at the time of the weird affair. These articles gave information about the numerous... just a plethora, reader, of UFOs and their witnesses! 

...Sky objects, flying saucers, mysterious lights, or so-called "meteors." These were unquestionably seen on that day... and especially in that hour and scant minutes, remember, in some helter-skelter of a ufological hurley-burley over Flatwoods where witnesses would be scared spitless, folks got sick, and one dog died!

Amassing other, near archeological finds, Feschino continued his research unearthing several all-but-lost magazine articles containing valuable corroborating information about the mysterious Flatwoods UFOs of September 12, 1952.


First person witness Donald Morrison with Frank Feschino

Throughout this investigation, Feschino unearthed even more first-hand UFO witnesses from around the area of interest. These were credible witnesses who sighted UFOs that night in the Flatwoods area. Ivan T. Sanders found these Flatwoods Folks similarly so.

Furthermore, some of the most abundant UFO information Feschino was to find was actually contained in the heretofore unsifted civilian and military reports of the September 12, 1952 official military Project Blue Book files. More corroboration comes as a result of Feschino's careful sieving!

Feschino compiled his data and then separated all of the UFO sightings from around the country into categories by State. This was an arduous task. 

Painstakingly, he then plotted all of the location points of these UFO sightings. By using the reported times of the sightings and their witness described flight path trajectories, Feschino was able to determine a series of definite patterns. Patterns perceived indicate, perhaps, the patterns of revealed new intelligence.

See reader, by piecing together a meticulous timeline of documented events occurring that night, Feschino was able to discover that there were actually several different UFOs on several different flight paths, all flying in various states of reported damage and distressed disarray across the United States! Note that Feschino's timeline told a very different story than the "single Fireball meteor" explanation as rather fatuously touted by Project Blue Book officials.

On September 12, 1952, several UFOs were sighted over nine eastern states during 21-hours of sustained UFO activity.  Down where the weird rubber meets the even weirder road?  Most of the ufological activity occurred in and around Flatwoods for just over an hour

These sightings CANNOT be attributed to a lone Fireball meteor only "said" to have passed over Washington D.C. that night at 7:00 PM. EST. for a duration of 5-6 seconds!  Meteors don't hang in the air, at different places and times and at the same time, reader, for almost a full day, eh? The reflex debunker would seem to over-fluff his debunking "explanation."


Pursuit!

Feschino plotted 102 locations—yellow stars on the above maps—where credible witnesses sighted and reported different UFOs flying directly over the following eastern region States of the country:

1. Delaware
2. Maryland
3. North Carolina
4. Ohio
5. Pennsylvania
6. Tennessee
7. Virginia
8. Washington D.C.
9. West Virginia

...Additional states where UFOs were sighted on September 12, 1952:

10. California
11. Illinois

...Curiously, and with Feschino wondering why, the Project Blue Book records did not include the sightings occurring over Delaware, Ohio, or Tennessee. This is curious given credible reports from other sources.

Documentation also shows that on September 12, 1952, credible American civilians and Military officials in those nine eastern states reported UFO sightings to the following agencies and offices:

1. The Pentagon
2. USAF Bases
3. The Air Defense Command Headquarters located at Ent AFB, Colorado Springs, Colorado.
4. The United States Navy
5. State Police Headquarters
6. Local Police Headquarters
7. Airports
8. Civil Aeronautics Administration
9. Newspaper offices
10. Numerous "Lettered" Government Agencies
11. The FBI

Moreover, Feschino's documentation also shows that four of the UFOs passing over the United States that night had displayed different "characteristics" than the others. This is to come of note when one remembers that a not so secret *war* had been all but formally declared on them just a few months before

The reporting pointed to four UFOs having pieces falling from them, frankly. They were "exploding." They were on "fire." They displayed sparkling showers of strange glittery matter, all while flying, erratically, at treetop level and making distressed whooping noises. 

Yes. Quite the whirling dervish of a garden variety "meteor," eh? 

Furthermore, it was documented that a commercial airline pilot actually reported a meteoric UFO nearly clipping the wing off his passenger plane near Wheeling, WV that night!  Feschino's map would show that this particular "meteor" was actually one of the four "damaged" UFOs.

Furthermore, it is worth noting that even though these objects were flying quickly at very low levels, not one sonic boom was recorded anywhere that night!  See, this fact also discounts a meteor. Like jets, transonic meteors boom, and crackingly! It sounds like popping corn in a quiet night and can rattle a window pane. This writer has heard them himself. 

Though, all four of these UFOs shared, additionally, one major common factor.  All four of the objects made crash-landings and then took off again. Combined, these objects crash-landed a total of twelve times in two different states! This writer has had his craft shot-up and down in combat and commiserates with it being difficult to remain in the air even shot around!

In conclusion, these four objects were more appropriately conjectured as heavily damaged UFOs and definitely NOT meteors. Occam is satisfied given hoof prints and reports of zebras. To date, NO meteoric impact pits in those areas have been found.

See reader, the "well known Washington area meteor of 12 September," was actually one of the four damaged UFOs that night, I repeat again for emphasis. That UFO passed over the Capitol on a western heading at about 7:00 P.M. EST.

It continued west, flew over Virginia, passed over West Virginia, redirected south above the State and then flew over Flatwoods, landing there as described. The craft was sighted by a group of boys who went to investigate its observed touchdown...

The rest is HISTORY...


Unbelievable, but true.


Thursday, October 25, 2018

Obscene, Unjust—But True.



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Write this off as wallowing a bleak naiveté—still preferring the Sympatico might hear—though, ever are there those of whom I'd likely never find... ...I reflect that these are used to—ruled by—fear.

Likely way beyond "experience," and served up all contrived, this "fear of things" addresses what we're not. See, it's absent in the actions of the ones who make their living with this puzzle, they're not showing, we've all got!

It's everybody's puzzle, and we all should get to question gravid mystery that lies—or cheats and teases. The ones who are researching are the ones so often hurting for the 'one' who's always done... just what he pleases.

Remember, then, John Ford, to be reminded his confinement is a black mark on the labors we perform. "…Into UFO research? Then you might be like that 'loon': the 'flying saucer killer' named John Ford."

See, let the 'man' grind down on him without a single peep from you? ...And that deed is quicker done on you and me! If they cap off Johnny Ford, well then they've drawn their threatening sword, and they slash and hack at chances you'd be free!

Some of these are wolves who prowl a "land" they think they're owning, and are pissing on its corner's stems and twigs. These are vaulting over tick-turds so distorting apt researches!  They're dismissive as a swine farm full of pricks.

The *glee* that they're displaying when they vilify subjectives: It's a game the meanest children always play.  See, it's children they're revealing while engaged in doubtful dealing is what the field has evolved to? ...Hard to say!

Too, suffer wrongful take-downs with indifference at your peril!  It won't be long they've made their way to you. What salvation will appear, my friend, when you're the one who needs it! Recall John Ford is languishing! Obscene, unjust—but true.




*Machines* exist—likely, always have... Still, we pretend, superficially, to eschew our criminal machines opting, in all pretense, for a more evenhanded efficacy in society. It remains, we tolerate our *machines* and pretend they are not there... when they appear to do our bidding or provide an illusion that they're staying out of our personal business while doing those "other" people's business... there's a load, well defined, eh?

The "cooperation" alluded to is short lived at best—likely, it always is. They don't have that requisite respect for individuality, remember. Respect for "individuality" is contrary to a fat profit margin and a corpulent—forgetting a thoroughly reptillian—bottom line...

John Ford's discovered such as this, n'est ce pas?

Verily, we must blow our horns now and again lest they are presumed to be funnels, friends and fellow motes!  Sometimes your horn's—even timid—music dispels its antithesis, I've experienced.  Why?  

Because music, an under the RADAR communication, is compelling language after all! Consider rock n' roll, eh?  This language helps you "see" what is "meant."  That's why poetry will always have a relevance.  Also, in addition to the preceding: this musical language can be said to say things that could not otherwise be said, it's been said.  Poetry "says," reader!

A song: it's repeated to an efficaciousness, potentially, or not repeated at all.

Restore John Ford!

Read on.

Friday, October 12, 2018

Soaring Cleavers






Giordano Bruno
 
Soaring Cleavers
By Alfred Lehmberg



From a quote by Giordano Bruno... On soaring to the infinite: 


"I cleave the heavens and soar! What others see before them I leave far behind me."
  
...Said upon looking through a telescope for the first time...

Naturally, his capering and less intrepid detractors burned him alive for it. He was perhaps the first to consider that we were not alone in our universe of ever-expanding and unknowable vastness... vastnesses beyond sense, space/time, and surface area... ...senses, space/times, and surface areas not even restricted to the universe currently inhabited or endured, eh? He got his "just" rewards. No good deed goes unpunished.

See... similar to anything else happening in the universe (like humankind), even the universe doesn't happen only once! No, there are multiple universes. That's the confident math. Truly, beyond the grift and draft, it's the soaring cleavers to make any constructive sense of this apparent outré, at all.

Soaring Cleavers...

..."Soaring Cleavers," the likes Frank Feschino
, Richard Dolan, Robert Hastings, and Stanton Friedman, among significant others... for instance. These are persons for whom this writer is reported to employ a "shameful sycophancy"... but for whom any of my glad support only comes remotely about, anyway, a result of my intellectually insulted sensibilities for these intrepid persons, and so my provoked defense of same. The real problem? 

Words... words, reader! Words sentiently said. Words sufficiently cited. Words standing times test then dismissed as what? Alternate truth? Inconvenience? Intellectual sloth?

Words. Here's the thing with words. Words are manifested thought, thoughts thought out loud and in print, mind you, but an altogether different entity than that which may later be manifested in the real world, reader, as activity.  See, the exploration of the idea is required to see if that idea manifestation might be required in the existential, at all! This is why "free thought" is required at all, this writer offers.


Stone's Quadriga: Friedman, Feschino, Hastings, and Dolan...

No, my ufological quadriga (née Rushmore!) above, is more than a vanishing conduit for unfiltered words of, not just free thought... No, they are that rarest conduit... ...a conduit for all thought, well... all thought fit for same. Did you hear that? The difference is that subtle. 

Thought (or lack of same?) precedes action, only, and cannot legitimately be said to precipitate it. That decision is made on the spot by the person on a blame line. It's the individual, after all, puts words to action... ever... always... even a mob. The individual has to buy in. They have to "wanna."

However; when you do believe words must precipitate action? ...And then feel that you must censor (deride, defile, and discourage) to preclude that activity? 

Then, it's an EASY slip to the "triple T's" of totalitarianism, tyranny, and terror, or maybe the legitimately distracted reader has not paid attention. The aforementioned "Rushmore" is not the one facilitating such, folks. 

No, these are a "cultural filter" (a societal distillery) left behind after all other filters have disgraced themselves and clogged themselves to non-usability. Hail our sentient heroes and paranormal sieves! A multiverse remains to gape and draw the consciousness a result of their initiative! "Blinders" shouldn't even have to be used on horses!

This is to say that I suspect they do not nurse serious drug or alcohol problems and they know the difference between a Belgian waffle and a bath sponge in America's burgeoning and increasing popular psychological rape culture! My quadriga could clear the higher bar than is provided by an unethically beholden and corrupted mainstream! 

No, my favorable evaluation of these men only seems kind when it is has been strictly observational and based over a period of a couple of decades. Reader, you will read only later what you're reading from them NOW... if you read it at all... and this is forgetting that *Everything* you're reading now isn't "accurate," "reflective," or even remotely "fair"... (one cannot equivocate merely "flawed" with full-on "FUBAR" for example, though many will certainly try).  Still, it's the quadriga aforementioned grinds the lesser, much smaller ax, is my take, if one is even ground at all to begin with... 

...See? People are thinking *it*, whatever *it* is. ...And you must have the opportunity to value *it* for yourself... Sincerely, has the reader ever heard the story regarding the devil "known" to be preferable to the devil "not" known? Our lauded gentlemen (and ladies!) understand the cautionary tale even as their scurrying and ideologically constipated detractors cannot! 

A clear picture of reality is not necessarily pretty (...is it ever?), but it is a picture preferred by a sapient being who'd prefer to live in a real world ... make an individual contribution to it more personally satisfying and socially efficacious as a result of same? Perhaps. 

Looking at the world this way... warts, evils, genitals non-pruriently exposed, and all... taking an Alien View, if the reader will allow... allows the aforementioned sapient being an opportunity to see the proverbial forest for the freaking trees; see what works and hang on, perceive what might be better and reach out, discover the larger reality, and then bravely meet its constructive embrace! 

We were built to individually "soar and cleave", reader. My friends above allow for more of that, that is to say, less individual ignorance, in my view. 

...But I'm not being kind. I'm callin' it like I see it, takin' responsibility for it, standin' by it... and will be the first to abandon or report the antithesis of it the MOMENT that that is perceived. 

'K? ...'K. 

Sincerely, I don't have a dog in the fight that is a discussion on whether these should be encouraged to do what they are doing on social/ethical/scientific grounds (that's ground they're on in this writer's view), but that what they are doing is a necessary thing, the preferred thing, the braver thing...  I must believe. 

I want exposure to everything, reader, fit to be exposed to! I need to make informed decisions upon those things still allowed me to decide, myself. I suspect you do, too. This writer won't be reflexively proscribed by a suspect officiality oozing faux-reverent and hyper-religious irrelevancy

Yes... consider Jehovah, Christ, and Mohammed (Sectarian Father, son, and grandson... and all crawling with ufological close encounter references!)... The three major Religions of our day... all codified, outlined, and frameworked in a pre-Copernican time, back to a day when the interested and educated individual "knew" that the Earth was at the center of everything (...whatever that was...), that it was flat, and that the stars around it were little holes in the firmament to let the light of *God* shine through... cosmic lamps nightly lit by same... 

Trusted advisors advised anxious kings that UFOs were these "lamps" blown around in the stormy breath of "He who is most high." ... ...Right... 

Our codes, texts, and fundamentals might deserve a re-look and a make-over given our more current discoveries. Ya think? Moreover, the universe loves novelty and hates stasis or the status quo, after all. It's changing, gaining complexity in the face of entropy... and accelerating as it does so! 

Back at this considered rant's ranch, codes, texts, and fundamentals won't get that re-look and make-over in a world without the likes of the good men above (and women!) to facilitate it... truly. That's this writer's intuition. 

Verily! Whatever the cause of the ongoing egregious struggle, there are sociopathic people-hating human beings at the center of it... and those persons are decidedly not of the heroes iterated, put your bottom dollar on that. The rest of us just heat the former's oligarchic water for an ignoble non-admitted task facilitating them. Informatively, we only read about our miscreant social monsters as a result of the bravery and courage of the latter. Hail heroes, again! 

My boys are not the credulous villains in this piece. No! They're the anti-villains! 

We might read about those aforementioned "bastards of reflex debunkery" at the stables and sites of our quadriga. I'm saying... we certainly won't from the hijacked, fully corrupted, and so illegitimate "mainstream" for which canted klasskurtxian detractors shill... and are always added to the televised discussion by this "mainstream"... for balance! Squirty giggles!

No, the members of the quadriga are quintessential AlienViewers in my estimation. They would try to stand apart from that which is unfavorably considered... and attempt that selfless consideration. As would I. As might you, reader. Is "reportage" an endorsement, as the aforementioned "scurrilous" maintain? 

Well, Yes! ...But only over at FOX News and other Fascist Lap Dog media services! Associated Press? No. Rather, "Affected" Press, reader. ...Another not so subtle difference. Our quadriga's "Rushmore" refrains from same. This writer aspires to refrain, too. 

No... Reportage is NOT necessarily endorsement, by definition. True journalists retch at the concept, I'd presume! 

I'll let the reader know the moment, though, that I have a contrary thought on these matters. I've a history of same. When I'm found wrong I say so. It's a step up, still. The admitted error always is

The preceding is gladly shared but pointing out, too, that it is obvious to a balanced observer that I'm still at arm's length, to a degree, from the aforementioned! Those are the lonely wages of the true loose cannon, which I aspire to be, in spades! This writer is not an easy friend or a flawless expert. That doesn't even exist where the reader thought it did!

Verily, so many "experts" have betrayed the aggregate trust around me I'm compelled to stop listening to them, now, pretty much, and aspire to be a humbler "expert" myself. How about you, honored reader? In the "summer of your winter," like this writer? One loses patience for tediousness even being ironically tedious themselves...

...Or maybe this is a function of being well passed the summer of my winter, age-wise, and at that point where you just can't tell a guy like me anything anymore or expect him to fall right into line... Guilty! 

Maybe, at that point aforementioned, though, a tide turns... you gain the ability to look back more... where before you were consumed with the activity of looking forward. That backward look can improve the acuity, ironically, of that forward-looking one, if you let it, I've discovered. One must know a past to understand a present or predict a future, eh?

This is in regard to magic if unsettling moments where one feels a new ability to be a mentor, himself... rather than be mentored. Many may achieve that. You shall. I will, of course, continue to aspire to it. The perspicacious person remains a student; however, to some extent... I digress... 

Verily, all my mentors had their chance. That time, for better or worse, is done. I salute them all!

In closing, let me say that I am revolted by a world that would gleefully, gladly, giddily, and even gaily discard intrepid explorers  like the quadriga above as a clear and present danger to sense and science... but continue to lavishly praise a pompous Plait, or a noisome Nye, or a Slytherin Shermer, or a wooden Nickell... or any of the other too fulsome and cognitively insipid, spewing arrogance and intellectual cowardice as from a reductionist crotch-couch in cowardly Klasskurtxia... 

...I'd continue, but the gorge gets too high in the throat. Time again to again drink from braver waters! Onward!


Read on...