It's True!

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I am pilloried for passions as provoked by unbrave cack-wits. Still, you can count on me to fight a poet's fight. See, my rhythms are discomfiting for some, perhaps contentious. Still, the song it sings aspires to truth and light.
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See, what's there is only there because I sing it in a song. What I would express, expressed... made righteous, clean, and strong. My points have different aspect, and these points that should be made (?) ... in SONG they have a quality crossing flowers with grenades!
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Now how much should I have to "pay," to say my words my way? And what's the price exacted for expression?  What becomes my "crime" that's just too "heinous" to allow! What justifies my purging and suppression?
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It's true I have a conscience that I wear upon my sleeve. It's true I'd split the heavens; it's true I'd "soar" and "cleave." It's true I find "religion's" thrust a cop-out and a drag; it's true there's only guile been implied by ANY flag!
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Yes, it's true I seek autonomy and the freedom it suggests, but a freedom from the likes of such as "you." Self-important men and "artless," blessed by errant gods conniving... They insure themselves their future. We're their tools.
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Their clever orchestrations are abstruse, not plainly seen. They decide intolerance, so it's them defines "obscene." They would write your script and they would tell you what to think; you're just for their "utility." Too, behind? They nod and wink.
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It's true that I would, just as soon, NOT live my life their way. There's just no honor in it, it would seem. Based on lie's invention to manipulate control, it's a "carny-pitch" divergence from my dream.
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I dream of satisfaction efficacious and complete. I dream of the forthcoming, and the loss of all conceit. I dream we fill the emptiness with the wealth of what we know, and that SECRETS wrongly hidden are exposed to flash and glow!
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It's true what I surmise, my friend, that WE ARE NOT ALONE, and thinking thoughts like these gets hard to bear. So, I rise up every morning with some coffee for my spark, and I fix the starry skies, if there, and stare.
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What would you expect from me? I've eyes, and I can see; too, well read and educated, I perceive that I'm not free. With ears to match and listening, I've found a cosmic road, and on that trek I'm finding out:
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I won't be cowed or bowed.
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...Distrust of rhyming verse is not my problem, do you see? A song's a "weave" of rhythm and some verse. It seems to me that problem rests with others who would dictate how I tell you what I think, and that's perverse.
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Everyone can take the time... to see a different way. Everyone should have their choice to double, put, or stay... Everyone's enhanced anew with choices they could make... to, then, fertilize progression and improve a person's "state."
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Yet, I must fill your mold been pressed down, HARD, upon my soul; too, it doesn't matter what "perceptions" are? A universe, before me, stands ignored in their indifference which would smother up the outburst of a star!
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Too, I'm supposed to pack my brain in cakes of "social ice" and validate hypocrisy to go along... be nice? If yes? Be disappointed. I'd be true, at least, to self—to have respect for others, one must first respect oneself!
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I am a poet-warrior... my blades drip dragon's blood; I'm not apologetic; I'm obverse. All that I would wish for is the simple honest insight that I'm chanting here, to you, to lift my curse.
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That curse? It is *unknowing* that we labor with, you see? The curse is the erosion of the stuff that makes us free. The curse is persecution of divergence we all need... to aerate potential, be not bored—improve the breed!
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Now I'm expected dutifully to make a place for you, except you as the "standard"—how it's done... But where are all your colors and your levels or your richness? Where is beauty? Where is learning? Where's the fun?
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Your thinking's all peripheral, and bereft of any depth. Your focus is too narrow, and it seems you're scared to death. Too, to make me pay your sordid freight for all those fears denied, proclaims your lack of bravery, Sir, for which you're well despised.

alienview@roadrunner.com
www.AlienView.net

You know who you are.

Links In Chains

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I'd called myself a patriot when I didn't know its meaning, but I've discovered much since then, and much is contravening. Oh, I'm still a patriot, and fought my country's wars, but I'd been sold a bill of goods... down primrose paths was lured.
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See, there's never been the "balance," then, that "they" proclaimed we'd had; that heroes were real heroes, and the villains always bad? Black was *black* and white was *white* and ne'er the twain should meet! Gray's inconsequential? Only "dim-bulbs..." errant freaks! Too, UFOs are foolishness, and "science" has a right... to its campaign to "lead the way" to fight that "wacky blight"!
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Yes, their "evasions" they self-justify, their logic's bent to suit—the facts are misdirected and the data? Rendered moot. Plus history's obfuscated, so our character's destroyed; our rights are then suspended as injustice is employed!
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There's "too damn many people," so respect is parsed too fine; we lose the individual and must worship at a "shrine" (or at least its self-appointed) while the *classes* are proscribed... ...We're betrayed to psychopaths is what I would confide.
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And there is class, make no mistake; it's lurking in our schools... schools "train" those fated "service work", to *good* employees—tools! The upper class won't truck with that so places privileged kids in academic luxury denied to those dismissed!
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That's the rhyme and reason for a warfare based on class. The rich get ever richer, and the poor pay more for gas.
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"What's this to do with UFO's?", the purists have to ask. Well, an errant class is in control! Too, it's blowing off its task! It's them who owns the moldy key to black vaults, underground. It's them who holds the reigns they own through graft which... must astound! It's them controls the "scientists" with "the best place at the trough," it's them controls the doctors using drugs on kids! Enough!
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Everything is UFOs, I point out yet again. They parallel our culture. They're woven with it, friend. It's them outside your eggshell which has just begun to crack. They redefine your futures lately tyrannous and daft.
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See, theirs is but the status quo they're happy with... one can't but know, and to that end they've raised an army: politicos all smiles and charming, talking heads of any gender—more slick-mouthed, smoothly groomed pretenders—...grifting lawyers in platoons who wear you down, then suck your juice....
.There're judges in elitist pockets, soldiers with atomic rockets, and all the cops who taze you down for taking, but, your wallet out...
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You could bet that UFO's are better for you, then, than those. UFOs? You're off "the meter"? UFOs? Some brakes on cheaters?
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This could mean that you'd get juice to feed yourself and be set loose? Do they point to that free lunch that 'rightists' scold is "minus lunch", but really lets one reach far higher if "lunch" is not their top desire?
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See, we eschew our "priests" and "kings"—the dogma those create and bring—and point to futures born in space where Humans have a point... ...a place! They're the reason we're controlled by those who'd keep their "status quo." They can access cleaner power, help us raze our flimsy *towers*, lead us to a state of being existing in our better dreams?
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That's the thread of my suspicion and the root of my ambition,. I've a feeling that we'd share the same concern that must be there. ALL are born of star stuff, friend, and that's a fact we shan't contend, forgetting that we don't admit... ET exists in spite of it! It may be that we're mere fruit—our genes, in fact, are facts of truth!
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...Yes, from "someone else's" test tube, nothing special... think of that.  We are a crass experiment, a failure—worthless scat.  It may be that we are NOT—and never really were—the sun source of creation, but a common backyard cur!
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It may be the gods we have... are shadows on the wall, things but cast  from cosmic light that we don't "see" at all.
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It may be we live like apes to screw for the percentage, and do so with a soul too weak to make our line of scrimmage...
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It may be that we don't earn the arrogance we feel. But, ALONE in all this cosmos? I would chance some better deal.
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We don't have to pay the freight for those who WON'T believe, who are comfy in their towers at the center of their *needs*.
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See, given common 'druthers, please try to understand, but over one who blithely "won't" (?), please give me one who CAN! Give me folks who aren't afraid to reach beyond themselves... to an efficacious future that disclosures must foretell! Let the secrets all run free, and through the clearing dust... we'll find that we're set free, at last, to a freedom we can trust.
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Then give us just a decade! See? The asteroids are ours, with plenty left to share on out to others from the stars.
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We are individuals! We've talent all our own. Yet we are subjugated by an arbitrary throne.
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That "throne" rewards intolerance. That throne's a shallow line. That throne would have our thoughts proscribed by those we should despise.
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Now teams are all important, where the bigger weave gets spun, and I can see utility from stuff that teams have done, but I point out a truer truth that an upper class forgets: the weakest link defines the chain; It's strong links are the best.
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These "links" are individuals, and if needs be?  Stand alone. It's best they be autonomous for the thoughts they can compose.
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Do this sans all worry's... trepidation, I suggest.  See, people still need people.  With this you can't object. Stronger links still link right up, but then a CHAIN they make! The individual's KEY my friends, or teams are rigged and fake!
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Remember I'm a patriot... whose reach has gotten wide.  I've embraced a renaissance including "space" and "sky."  My country is the whole of Earth, the moon and NEAs; my land includes the moons of Jove, the "belt," and Mars I say! My home is where I'm conscious, and my bed is deep in space, my table is civility, and new settings are in place. My world is the multi-verse, this place where we must dare... where life evolves to teach itself the treasures it can share.


 alienview@roadrunner.com
www.AlienView.net

Wealth beyond imagining...

NEAs are Near Earth Asteroids, our ascending steps to the stars... Hello.
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As regards that—only arguably—maligned upper class, they could have it their way, painlessly and above board, riches beyond their most sociopathic imaginings... They could realize their dreams if they but demonstrated the most minimal respect for the instruments of that wealth. Individuals. You see, some regard must be shown to those who provide, for another more privileged than themselves, such grand largesse.
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It's this aforementioned "the disrespecting" standing in the way of space exploration, cosmic disclosure, and respect for the common person, make no mistake. They've a bird in hand and wouldn't even consider a cornucopia in the very achievable bush. That's no mistake either.
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As regards "individual autonomy"... It's not anarchy and the end of polite society. Those autonomous and so well foundationed individuals just have a more secure spot from which to lever a greater power than that presently enjoyed and are able to contribute even more to the positive synergy... of an efficacious team. Individual Autonomy, one might discover, won't drive teams apart as much as make a team even MORE productive, intelligent, and far reaching.
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True, there's no "I" in team, but there is a "me" iff'n you're not picky about letter order. More responsible people, astonishingly, not less... should carry concealed weapons, even. Anything contributing to more individual autonomy should be busily encouraged. It adds quality to the contribution an individual can make to a team of similar individuals. That makes the care and feeding of individuals key, and NOT of secondary importance.  The individual IS key to the efficacy of a team.
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Right now, we don't have a lot of respect for our individuals, and as the population goes steadily up, less all the time. There will be no profit comes with that.
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As regards UFOs being everything... Well, the fact of their existence would change everything in the same way occurring were we to abruptly discover that there were other civilizations in the unexplored region across space's metaphorical river—if we discovered that we had powerful witnesses to our arbitrary crimes of convenience and our practiced serial sociopathy, eh?
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The kids in Golding's "Lord of the Flies," unfettered by any mentoring and adult leadership, ran hot and rampant until the grownups showed up at the end of the novel to sort them out and re-civilize them... hmm. "Adult supervision" would settle some errant hubristic hash, eh?
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Restore John Ford!
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The Callous' Fodder

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Yeah, it's true. I see them in my early morning skies—perceived because I'm looking with an open-minded eye.
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Too, not indifferent to your scoffing—a little wounded by your scorn—remains that, yes, regardless, they're a truth that's been suborned.
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See, we don't deal with them! We push them to the rear. We're cloaked with our traditions, and we're frozen by our fear.  Religiously we're "counting beans," use science for excuse, and disavow conspiracies acute with the abstruse!
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The stuff I see is present to a witness I might have. A friend whom one might count upon, like ones whom I have had. ...But these are few and far between, these few who'd go along—exploring outer darkness after midnight's "sung her song..."
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...To *be* up... so damned early that the dogs are still asleep; to stumble in the kitchen and chance whacking unshod feet? A lot to ask of one not blind to disbelief one has inside... a disbelief that one's force fed to clutter up ones mind, it's said.
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Yes, you'd go out in the morning after, early, getting up, and you'd rise up with the lights off so rhodopsin has a shot. You'd take a cup of coffee for the stuff that sharpens skies, and you'd watch with me, the UFO's, we'd see with our own eyes.
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It takes judicious looking with the head well tilted aft. People watch you looking and pretend it's YOU that's daft. It pains the neck a little bit, but try to persevere. It won't be too much longer 'till you start to see them clear...
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Lean up on a hitching rail, or a low retaining wall. It makes the watching easier as stars wink out or fall. ...And sometimes skies are fervid with a movement of their own; the stars then "wondrous wanderers" sans a spot to call their home!
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I've got some good binoculars, and rigged a steady stand; the images resolving are unmoved by shaky hands. They are clear beneath the star-field. I can zoom them in quite close. They ARE, not merely pelicans... ...but they might as well be ghosts.
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They're like the stars set moving to resolve as orbs of light; their movements are of magnitudes which vary, left and right. They wink with strobe-like brightness in a random pattern dance. They'll glow like worms, unevenly... then out they blink, like chance! They slow to almost stopping, then they'll speed up to a flash, increasing in intensity, but then "dimming" like they've crashed!
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It's plain these things are out there so it's not that fight I seek (fights about *existence* are all specious, thin, and weak).
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Though, scan the implications! It's there one finds the nub... of graft which has corrupted us, so a few would have "enough."  See, if UFOs infested skies the order would be NEW! It does, in fact, change everything! All outlooks change! It's true! That's still and all, a good thing with a future looming down; something unpredictable, a concrescence come to town!
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Too, bet on more autonomy as the value to be gained. "What's the profit in it," ask corroded selfish brains. Their cat-bird seats are up for grabs because they have no value. Everyone is self-contained—self-reliant—so... revalued. That's my intuition; it's my optimism friend, that reach, indeed, exceeds its grasp, or what is heaven then?
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See? They can't co-opt the aliens or it would have come to pass! ET would be among us—begging questions—hauling trash! ...But UFO's are individual, they are personal—up close. They'd know the "individual," and it's that approach they chose!
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...And the "manor lord" won't have it, as his meter must be paid (!?!)—inconvenient and contrary are the "beds" that he'd have made! So "reigns" are jerked too sharply by tradition's hands—which smell! These "rich" will live like "people" ...sans "contempt" that they'd once held!
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And that's the problem neatly. It's our culture on its ear. ...But don't think we don't deserve it!  We have earned it? Face new fear!
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Values that were values "then," before our new "admissions," might be found to be the agents of our cowardly ambitions! Relieved, all bets are cancelled, and the "debt" just goes away. We'd find a brand new card game is the deal dealt that day!
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Too, you bet a *cosmic* card game with the deck all "strange" and "new." The face cards are peculiar... @nd th3y'r3 num83r3d str@ng3ly, t00...
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What is left within us when the future comes to pass... when we've made our fates transition and the future's here at last?
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...All that's left is love and fate... cleaner power we all have... power more expansive—a cosmic "kingdom" here at "hand."  This is my intuition; optimistic, I prepare. ...Comes vast accelerations; I contend concrescence glares.
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The sooner we all cop to this... the better off we'll be... as there's "much more to 'heaven' " than a "top-class" has, you see?
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That there's that clear autonomy to be found at "zero points." That there's, in fact, a "free lunch," and that's hemp not "smoking joints." That there's respect which we don't have when we're the brunt despised, and mere fodder for the callous and their psychopathic lies.


alienview@roadrunner.com
www.AlienView.net

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We're much better off and much better served by a vast marketplace of unruly, conflicting, and divergent ideas. Conformity is a cloying death subtle and suffocating.

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It's like the biological reproduction issued from the bigger gene pool: more diversity equals more potential for success... more stuff to try.  More not being less.

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More ideas means more thinking can be done out of the box, thinking done of needs. Thinking out of the box leads historically, almost invariably, to some kind of useful elevation or progression.

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We would be as the gods... and why not? Weren't we struck stupid at Babylon by a collection of jealous gods for similar aspirations? ...Means it's possible, eh?

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We could be as the gods... ...though, do we risk another spanking? If so, I'd say God's pretty chicken-shit, all respect to God.  Why burden us with aspirations forever disallowed.

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I would aspire to "new things done in an unpredictable way." You, reader?

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There are rewards to thinking outside the box precluding unfortunate consequences, I'm betting.  All our insights and high flying accomplishments come from confident leaps of justified conviction (read: a tested faith). There are punishments, too, sure. Today, people are still persecuted for ideas that they have, and they are further pilloried for the lawful expressions of those ideas. Here is your real blasphemy!

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The irony is that there can be such egregiously shortsighted enmity in a nation that would otherwise (and so stridently!), pride itself on its appreciation of free expression... that there could be, then, such a gleeful suppression of same. If not gleeful then arbitrary. If not arbitrary then unethical. If not unethical then just plain wrong, and wrong minded, eh?

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Not too long ago, less than a hundred years, we lived in an era of a current Republican's dream... it was a reality of unbridled and unregulated capitalism. It was an era without unions, workers rights, social security, product safety or individual justice. It was hell on earth for the garden variety human being; "Everyman" lived, injuriously, under the perpetual sword of an overly harsh social Damocles, even in our nation of nations... especially in our nation of nations!

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The moment we began to allow (even grudgingly) for the free expression of ideas (and embrace an efficacious humanism) is the moment when we begin our aspirations into a 21st Century of productive individual self-determination and self-actualization. Not science! Sociology! Secular humanism open-minded and self-aware, if dwindled presently, using our compelling Cartesianism like a tool for the betterment of *Everyman,* not just the stockholders.  See, it's the vast majority who can't afford "stock" given the chicanery of the corporations issuing instruments of bupkis!

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That's what Walt Disney preached in the 50's. Anything was getting ready to happen! It did, too. New things executed themselves in unpredictable ways.

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Look at the advancements of the last fifty years and thank a barely tolerated cornucopia of secular renaissance ideas. The suppression of any idea in this context is illogical and corrosively contrary to that continued rise. I suspect that this assertion must be universally accepted. Death seems the only alternative. To whom are the dark ages laid but to the proclivities of the non-secular.

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In the historic bible, God(s) whacked us at Babylon for demonstrating the potentiality to be as *they* were, not one wholly omnipotent God, mind you, but many, shall we say genetically superior and enlightened BEINGS—or just from where did 213 genes come from not accounted for in our genetic record?

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Should we keep faith with a God who whacks us for thinking outside his box? Sounds like an abuse to me. Additionally, have you noticed how much less respect each individual has to be paid as the population goes, steadily and invariably, up—while our religious leaderships say, and do, nothing? ...And I mean no thing but that which facilitates themselves or their scurvy priorities.

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Ideas...

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Somebody knows.

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Restore Ford... Read on!

...Letters...

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What seems plain as virgin day: Agencies in disarray! Remember, it's a glad elite, said circumspect—and très discrete—who keeps real knowledge from us all with clever dodges, tricks and stalls. Facts and figures are distorted—"covered up"; it's well reported.

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UFOs they've hidden, friend, so we can't know what these portend.  Nameless lights are highly strange and... they are there to rearrange the feelings that we have for leaders we've elected—dull mouth breathers! 
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They don't work for us, you know? Though, "we the people" front their dough! ...And they're the tools of corporate masters; what's good for them spells our disaster!
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Their beginning's fraught with "stain." Hoover was a monster, plain. A wolf, and in his own employ, he lived a life that few'd enjoy.
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He kept these "records," massive files, though these were used to keep defiled... men who might have been courageous—sociopathy's contagious! Streets and buildings named for him hide God knows what contained within!
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Ruby Ridge and Waco show that Ed lives on, though, from below, burning in a hell he'd made while innocents lose lives betrayed.
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The FBI's just what we know, but other letters hide! Hello! Projects black as pitch or jet are busy with a work that's "wet..."
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We're informed it's "for your safety," but that's a road not traveled safely! Much that happens this way now... if we but knew we'd disallow! People suffer, families fall, and unknown secrets make us crawl, dancing to the tune of those... who keep those secrets, don't you know! We shan't have control of these. Our *letters* keep us on our knees.
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The CIA and ATF, are programs tacking right, not left. We don't know what they have done. We can't guess what tales are spun! We don't see their covert purpose. An oversight shall not alert us!
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Fed manure, plain and stark, we're just mushrooms in the dark! ...Only here to pay the bill for services they don't fulfill!  Kept in chains they've manufactured, we're depressed and broken—fractured! We're neutered, and then kept dependent; while some maintain a GRAND resplendence!
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It's all about autonomy, and how they covet it, you see? Aliens—the craft they fly—show cleaner ways to do things, Clyde!
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We might stop with "fossil fuels," and package food with stuff "reused." This information—perhaps obtained—contributes to our freedom's gain!  We shouldn't want to cheat and steal; folks deserve a better deal. ...But some would have us on their meter (Tesla could have done it neater) paying taxes that provide... the corporate welfare we decry.
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We're not kept abreast of things! Why? It complicates the toil of "kings." These are kings too arbitrary; rule of law's, to them, contrary. They infest our institutions, make the rules and constitutions, but use these as their mechanisms... puppets for their canted schisms.
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To buttress their autonomy, they'll treat you like an enemy; using *letters* like a club, they'll obfuscate the issues, bub!
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Anything can hide in there, where *letters* work; expect despair. A people's interests have no hope if they are but a "chosen's" joke.
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NASA is a strange pretender! The CIA? A black contender! The FBI we've just considered, so meditate we're not delivered! Don't forget the NSA as you can bet they've feet of clay! These have kept us in the dark; they're *letters* aping eel and shark. All our armies have their shops; they have their share of black ops-nauts.
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The OSI and GAO play cards precluding what we'd know. The SAT and ICI just muddy water—cloud your sky. The SBI and OSS, well, we can't know... ...It's your best guess!  We're beholden, on a clock, working—sweating—common stock.  On a treadmill, in a wheel, these preclude a real deal.


alienview@roadrunner.com
www.AlienView.net

Created specifically in 1952, the NSA was an agency approved, and justified only, to accomplish the following: it was to house and consolidate all the other agencies, bureaus, and intelligence shops efficaciously and with efficiency! It was conceived to facilitate oversight, engender accountability, and save money... even protect the garden variety American from the military industrial complex that Eisenhower passionately, if futilely, warned us against... .

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The new umbrella agency was created... but not a single other agency was dissolved!

In fact their number only increased. Additionally, there is inadequate... no, I'm sorry, I mean... NO oversight, and there is more money spent now than there ever was — sinister augmenttations by an unknown but certainly considerable factor.

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Regarding the FBI, well, it's always written a check its ass couldn't cash, and it has improved little since its first director used it to make himself an arbitrary king in this land where there are not supposed to be ANY kings... by LAW.

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...God, but what must hide in some of those black vaults!

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Somebody knows.

Restore Ford! Read on.

...Out Ommm A Limb...

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It's with no small trepidation that I go out on a limb, that I let what disappoints me... get the best of me again. That I rake the past for clues constructing "fabrics" that I find... might make some sense of things I see... which fester in my mind.
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See, we're all fed a dusty gruel: contrived manipulation. We're a *programmed* hapless populous! We are plagued by infestation.
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Lo, that's us—so parasitic—on the skin of Mother Earth. We'd pretend "dominion"! Lack of "stewardship's" our curse! So, I would find some nourishment in a "cross-grain" look I'd glean... from cognition which surrounds me in the flesh of our *machine*.
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Like, the history we're taught in school's a "feel good" fabrication; invented for convenience, it's a stark confabulation. Written by the winners in a bid to stay on "top," the truth is then forsaken as is often, then, as not.
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The kids, now, sense the senselessness of what they learn in school. They can't articulate it, but they won't be played for fools. This is why they don't like books—why history is boring; they don't LIKE the lies they sense their *teachers* are exploring—teachers train employees of a type as dry as dust, while they punish "different drummers," like it's THEM who breaks the trust!
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See, they don't want a teacher who will teach what's plainly seen, they want a reproductionist who will teach tradition's meme! This is that tradition which supports an upper class, supporting less the rank and file as those these list as "crass."
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Conspiracy? Well—It's LIKELY... given profits which are paid, given "those who take advantage" in a world they degrade. Given sociopathy... to sell the status quo... which wounds the vast majority while elitists lift their nose.
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Conspiracy is certain when the record's balanced out! When one begins to cop to what it's really all about. When one begins to see the CIA as "fronting business", but doing NOT for which it's paid... a drug-lord's guile and glibness.
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UFOs? They're wound up in the taproots of our lives! They do not go away and frankly fill portentous skies. Too!  They're well apart from what's portrayed on—corporate—TV. They're OUTSIDE law, and they advise? We're on our bleeding knees!
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Evidence presumes, of course; that we are not alone! This Evidence is parchment, ancient glyphs, and carved in stone!  So, we forget the photographs, forget the "ones who see," just queue up to be utilized by the shark with *greater* need.
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Something is, yes, out there, but we shove it from our minds! We make it into "make believe" and we don't look—or find. And this an inculcation from a culture almost dead... which is run on old ideas that look back... and not ahead!
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Christians? They're a scary lot who sell a suspect view. They maintain that UFOs are demons, through and through. But, the politics of hatred is the stock with which THEY trade; divisive and egregious, it's the cloth with which they're made!
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Oh, worse than many Moslems, and exceeding any Jew, they've made their creed intolerance, and they threaten freedom, true. They've done this from near onset; their history is rife. They did not count on reasoning, but proselytized the knife. They create, in fact, the Moslem so threatening us today. For well upon a thousand years they've nurtured hate, I say!
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They're (in fact!) the reason that the "dark age" did ensue... when Constantine made up his mind to *use* them, we were screwed. Retreat from *Christianity* was what saved us from that "dark," a Renaissance had intervened; new questions made their spark!
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So, if one's to be a *Christian* and one really wants to try, make the Christian "fundamentalist," then, the *beast* they would deny!  If one would follow Jesus, then the "fundie" is decried! It's not for them that Jesus bore his cross, and nailed, died.
.
NASA? Crap! Foul agency; it's WE who've paid for IT. It's not a club for good old boys with sneers upon their lips! It's not to act out petulance and whine because it's crossed, and it's not allowed to dictate who'll ride or who's the boss!
.
Frankly, I'm embarrassed at the attitude they cop! They act like snotty rich kids, yes, whose ears we should have boxed. But that's the foolish fallacy that NASA's long maintained, that space's club's exclusive and a jealous tight domain.
.
Crap! Anyone one who pays his way should have the shot desired. That's what, in fact, contrived machines, provided what's required! We pay our "servant agencies" to do the public will, not psychopaths with checkbooks who contrive our bitter pill!
.
That it takes a *special* person of a type who stands *above*, forgetting for a moment how they work, come push to shove. Still and all, horse feathers! If you pay the freight, you go. It's GREAT that real "outsiders" have a chance to get to go. They have a fresh position, and they're well outside the loop; we've got a brand new insight in perspective on the truth!
.
...And THAT'S the bone's contention, eh, that an outlook's fresh and clean? That Tito might return to Earth... and tell us what he's seen...
.
We don't get, too much, respect... from ALL our institutions. COPS make themselves the enemy by subverting constitutions. The LAWYERS look for loopholes to accomplish much the same, and this is not forgetting that they sell themselves in shame. REVERENDS and MINISTERS would steer you to the right, and front for corporate funding through indulgence sold outright!
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See, this is a reminder that our planet's overrun; it's these the cause that most live bad, or under unjust guns.
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The MEDIA'S contrived itself as of the "middle road." Though, it's offensive to real journalists with its instincts are a load. It won't approach the useful stuff, it won't report the news. It fronts the corporate party line and sings the corporate blues. It DEFINES "conflict of interest." It protects the "bottom line." It acts like it has honor, but that's more fishy shrimp and brine.
.
They've NEVER been the "fourth estate," that's just a mask they've made, since "Hearst" it is so obvious what they're made off—how they're paid. The preceding, worked in concert, would entail our demise, but for things... egalitarian—and those UFOs we've spied.
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A Renaissance is coming, and in fact is almost here. It's worldwide—the internet—and its freedom's ringing cheer...
.
It's unfettered information, it's to go *there* real time. While *it* happens you're a witness, and you see *it* unrefined. See before it gets its spin. See what has been hidden. Read the folks you'd never read because they've been forbidden.
.
Think the thoughts you're thinking; "find the others" thinking too! Think those thoughts you're warned against, and find a few ring true. Some must dream they have their lock on what they think they know, but there is more *philosophy* than one can dream, you know?


alienview@roadrunner.com
www.AlienView.net

The Comedy Channel [tm], once upon a time... John Stewart's coverage of the Disclosure Press Con... well—it got no laughs from me. I was channel chasing specifically with the intention of finding some coverage on that event from the mainstream... I got my wish.

• 
  

After a momentary flash of hopeful expectancy provoked by the appearance of Dr. Greer's leering and not entirely welcome head in the CRT, I quickly noticed the CTV watermark in the bottom right corner of the screen. ...Profound disappointment, followed by the keenest sense of outrage I've felt in many moons... this mainstream's burning the sense of humor right out of me.

• 
  

Somebody knows!

Read on.

...Once Again, Again...

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.

.

Illinois's a placid State for folks who "know their place"? They've "jobs, and crops, and families" to keep their lives in pace? They've got to "make a living"—keep the wolves from worried doors—so they've got to be pragmatic...Still, ...don't they need to know the score?
.
See, stuff infests their nighttime skies, and they won't care a wit? Blaming *jobs* or *farms* and *weather*, they blame *family* and *thrift*? Rather, giving in completely to the DICTATES of their day, when it is in FACT those "dictates" that pervert and lose their way!
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Illinois hosts UFOs that obviate ...the man. They fly aloft, huge arrowheads, like buildings, understand? Too, all lit up with beacons from sharp corners all aglow, they shimmer with a crimson light that pulsates down below!
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They waft along majestically, bereft of any stealth. They make themselves available for inspections of themselves. Then, they rattle chains of status quo—indifferent to the style... of a "mainstream" so mendacious its whole cloth's a toxic guile!
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So, they're like a big "pink elephant," but one that's really seen! How could one report these facts—expect to be believed? Though, how does one belie a tale, so fleshed-out, straight and true, by so many trusted persons who communicate that view?
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The eerily anomalous does fly northeastern skies, and "nine one one was called upon" by sober men: no lie!  The cops dispatched would see it too, and photos they were making... were hard to see and indistinct but minus any faking! Philip Klass was quick to crow that "it was only Venus." All scholarship would blow that off as thinking which demeans us.
.
Four town's police would see this thing which flew without a sound, which blocked out all the planets and the stars Phil gassed unsound! Yes, professionals of diverse types, from teachers up through truckers were witnesses to strange events demanding something from us!
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The craft was huge but danced the sky and spun upon its axis. Devoid of any commonness, there was nothing to relax us. And lit up like a Christmas tree it sped up now and then... to *shoot* to the horizon, trained observers tell us, friend.
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Real towns in Illinois report this UFO: Lebanon and Shiloh and Dupo, don't you know! And yet the word does NOT go out, events were just ignored, and we are left to ponder what credulity implores!
.
Once again authorities have proved they've missed the boat! Once again they demonstrate they'd rather sink than float! Once again they demonstrate the "courage" of our race to a plethora of visitors we're yet too dumb too face! Once again we lose out... on the living, breathing stars! Once again we're petrified, and while more near than far!
.
And still these sneer and chuckle like it's *us* bereft of clues, when the world is in RENAISSANCE and potential's bright and new! Worldwide we come alive and cop to where we are: a tiny globe on beaten paths, and shining like a star!
.
Stanton Friedman makes the case: it's "folks" more near than far who have cluttered our real history and might hint some "higher" bar. That we aspire to this bar, our struggle of the past—to free ourselves from priests and kings who strangle us at last...
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To be free of all their ad-men—manipulations they contrive... to sell a short term world view that we can't or won't survive.
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...So what about that "NON-EVENT"—going down in Illinois? Why don't we hear the furor of some people making noise? Why don't they make DEMANDS of them who makes demands of us... as they squander our inheritance and betray our future's trust?
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Why are we less than knowledgeable, why would we just deny... what people—who are good and true—have reported in their skies? Why would these honest persons, who have everything to lose... why would they, then, report these things—to such as me and you?
.
Something flew in Illinois. This, at least, is clear? Mainstream "blithe indifference" should be blamed; they're Sellouts, hear?
.
It could not be a "stealth-craft" of some type to "spy" on us, or why in hell'd they advertise, and light the damn thing up?! The thing that was reported, then, was too damn big to make, and suggesting that it's Venus? That's a fulsome Phil Klass fake!
.
So, why the hell ignore this and be something less than free? Do hapless folks in Illinois just like their bleeding knees?


alienview@roadrunner.com
www.AlienView.net

,

,

,

Humanity secures another victory for those with dirt in their hair. That's not a good thing, eh? The dirt? It comes from the reflexive move to shove ones head into the ground at the first sign of the, oh, let's call it the "irascible and inexplicable but paradigm changing inconvenient." IOWs, when they're not otherwise flexible enough to make hats of their own prolapsed anal pores, it's dirty hair. C'mon! You know what I'm talking about... ...New things done in unpredictable ways, you know?  Work with me.

• 
  

Christ, but aggregate humanity is like a fetus who won't leave the freaking womb! Not good for fetus or womb, eh?  ...Something else you know is true!  Rack 'em with the ass-hats!

• 
  

Too, consider what the distractions of family, farm, and job are really distracting us from... when the family is an invention of this century, the farm is being phased out for the monolithic agro-monopoly (in the interests of efficiency of course, an efficiency made necessary by a population insentiently doubling every twenty years or so), and "the job" is generally a nonproductive futility, for most, contributing to the general environmental degradation and disintegration. Heavy freakin' sigh, eh?

• 
  

And people wonder why there seems to be so much depression and suicide!  Intimating a very tantalizing set of expansive potentialities, it seems preferable to cop to the obvious reality of UFOs and try to get an idea of what they seem to be so furiously pointing at, eh? This seem to gesture to the attention of something, perhaps themselves.  Hey, they're there but that we're here, you know.  Humanity is its own proof that the "other" is real. 

• 
  

Honestly, are we doomed to live harrowing real lives beyond the, only imagined, terrors of the otherwise ignored alien visitation? Are we doomed to be led to a sick society's self-righteous slaughter by the hyper-privileged few who feel they have the divine right to profit from the exertions of we, the dues paying deluded... destroying the very homes of we deluded in the process?

• 
  

If those few who profit from "we deluded" feel compelled to protest, well... it may be that their protest is fueled more by justified LOSS of prestige and position enjoyed unjustly for too many years, than for the sensitivities and sensibilities of those who produce the prestige and position for them. The catbird bemoaning a threat to its seat. Pity.  Fuck 'em.

• 
  

I pause for a sneer of my own.

• 
  

In other words, it's not to our aggregate benefit that these protests (or ufological denials) are ever —and have ever been— made. Certainly we're better off knowing truth, presently completely denied us, whatever the price or consequence. We do ourselves no favors by hiding from what most of the hyper-educated propeller heads ADMIT is out there... somewhere. Far, they can just as easily be near, eh?

• 
  

See, if *they* are somewhere, they could be anywhere. And, that means most certainly even HERE.

• 
  

What happened in Illinois on January 5th, 2000? Then, what continues to happen over and over again in an accelerating cycle of the highest strangeness witnessed by hundreds or even thousands of credible persons?

• 
  

There have been flaps in and around in the interim. Can anyone remember the Phoenix Lights in Arizona 1997, O'hare International in 2007 haunting a seemingly over-represented Illinois, and the most recent full-bore and brass-jacketed Flap in 2008?

• 
  

Indeed, how many times can one strike this ufological flint, get a good productive spark, and it all not just burst into flame, finally?

• 
  

Somebody knows.

• 
  

Read on!

• 
  

Restore John Ford!

Errant Clocks...

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.

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I'm logging in a sky-watch for the stuff one finds up there; I won't pretend what I have found—report what isn't there. Too, I don't mean to scare you or detract from your beliefs, but we're beset by bastards with the ethics of disease.
.
See, it's "winners" write a history clearly missing all its thorns. It's how they've kept posterity on the UFOs suborned. It's how they've lied to spare themselves; it's why we don't look up; its why we ask no questions of these men we know—corrupt.
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This is why "they" can ignore us. This is how we're so insane. It's where we trod the paths we take—or shriek our shrill refrain.
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We call that cognitive dissonance, how to think when "up" is "down." How to justify what doesn't fit; turn "crap" to sparkling "crowns." ...Can't keep it up for very long; the spirit won't abide. One makes oneself irrelevant.  It makes one sick inside.
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See, still the lights traverse the sky, and strangeness DOES abound! Their speed is slow and variable. Their appearance is profound. ...And yes, they "flash" and "tumble", and they "vanish"—"reappear." They cannot be mere pelicans—too peculiar, odd, and queer. ...And I mean that in a good way, as produced by massive stars? It's an infinite diversity we've just trifled with so far!
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The "Christers" call them "demon's spawn" of "he who dwells below." They haven't copped to Enki, or Enlil, don't you know. See, assigning errant histories to a label they've constrained... just moves control to human hands from that which they've ordained!
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It's all just razzle-dazzle of a *faith* that they abuse... with Gods to "love" and "hate" folks so the flock will stay confused!
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"Skeptics" are a valued lot, but "bunkies" stink with fear. They've got a lot *invested* in a *future* they hold dear. "...The crown of all creation, we're alone..." these would maintain, and "reports of flying saucers come from crazy—misled—brains." They're like an errant clock which measures time, I would presume, as a chronicle of wishes for a world-view they consume.
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"Pundits" bury tongues in cheeks and sneer up ruffled sleeves. They front for corporate interests who would do just what they please. They've sold their souls to Mammon, see, would dissemble on the truth, so they're the part and parcel of control in disrepute!
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They're slick and coiffed, articulate, and too well dressed it seems. ...And THESE maintain the status quo composed of shallow dreams?
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It's true the "colored lights" portend, for them, a non-event! Yet, Folks report real UFOs... take pictures they present! We see them all across the world; we see they've been recorded... ...in the paintings of the masters who'd reveal what's reported!
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We see them in the photographs—to old to have been faked. We read them in the written word the sages wrote for fate. We hear them on the radio. We see them on TV. Content, we're sold a bill of goods, contained, betrayed—you see?
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So, I'm logging in a sky watch. I report what I perceive. I'm not a crass believer OR a skeptibunky... ...please.
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I have my own possession. I'm beholden to myself. I'll make my observation as I will for mental health.
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I'll "strike the Sun if it offends me," but let its fairness rule my soul. I'll move towards the evidence, and then where it leads I'll go.


alienview@roadrunner.com
www.AlienView.net

Though the "heavens" fall...

• 
  

Hey. If they fell at all?  Then what's their value?  Trust in "The Lord," sure, your fellows will kill you if you don't... ...but tie up your freakin' camel!

• 
  

The last few days resulted in four of "them" providing sightings of the previously described type. Nocturnal lights, tumbling, flashing, shamelessly stopping and starting, appearing and disappearing in flight-paths to the West, so highly strange.  These are observed in clear skies to vary speed and direction across an inky star field... What Dr. Hynek might have termed a CE-1... all you have to do is rock your head back and refuse to forecast what you might see; they're THERE, damn it!

• 
  

Somebody knows...

• 
  

Restore John Ford. Read on.

Remaining...

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I look into a starry sky... with length, and breadth and depth untried, and question—to perchance achieve—what these things ARE to soar and cleave.
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They are there, there IS no question... dismissing any protestation that I'm quite mad or just mistaking.  Or worse: that I've been lying... faking.
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Oh, I see them. No great feat! I've proved them to myself, at least! Should I respect what one might think... who ISN'T looking? Specious fink!
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...Sucking on our wounded sphere—mere parasites who breed in fear—our "specious finks" would make "pronouncements." They'd spout denial and denouncement!  These proclaim their "dead-lock nut," to prove in fact their minds are shut, that they are sans imagination... and must court their own damnation.
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Keeping council with their "favorites," pretending they're alone (the flavor!), they would turn their eyes away from that which haunts our skies today.  Oh, they're fearful. No mistake. They're throwing on their drags and brakes! See, new ideas threaten those who keep their process... undisclosed.
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They're braking to arrange "distraction," provide for our INSANE inaction, but keeps the subject tongue-in-cheek so they can sully errant leaks. ...Remaining is the ink and stone—which they discount with heads of bone!
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...Remaining is the anecdotal: weighty, plain and calmly totaled. Remaining is the photographic: ponderous and enigmatic. Remaining, there's the evidence that one perceives with no pretence — no axe to grind, no bill to fill, but has a brain and knows the drill!
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And, yes, sometimes our *science* friends—those filled with same to length and brim—prefer their *method* and *assessment* to live *proud* lives of glad detachment ...
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*Light* shan't dance and caper FOR them, speaks a language MUCH too foreign, so safe beyond their instruments *it* charms and glitters its pretense. Stanton Friedman makes his case, but most who look will earn disgrace ... Science is not BAD—or friendly—science is a tool, comprende'? Though, it can—too fast—be misused to further evil ends abstruse!  Consider scalpels spreading butter, or cleaving bolts with paper cutters.  "All Science" dulls humanity provoking an insanity and we're the lesser for all that if science dictates tit for tat.
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Still, others think some ...won't... conspire to make their short term goals transpire, when survey says it's one in ten would do what they will DO, my friend!  If their gain can be attained they'll do the worst—they won't abstain!
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I've studied them, they know no bounds, to them "we" are as dumb as hounds; we're shackled to our rules and codes made ethics bound to bear their loads. We're mere *objects*—we're their CATTLE—they keep us buying, taxed, and addled while they write their tickets free and freeload from our pockets, see?
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What we lack's the "real deal" that psychos covet, grift or steal!
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What we lack's a base respect that we have lost for their neglect!
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What's we lack's the cop to truth that's been pretended, lost—refused!
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What's we lack's that money spent to educate our future, friends!
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Still we waffle and get lathered... endure elitist double standards—puling prayers that just PRETEND to hold the high ground we don't win!
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Look around, begin to *see*, and sense a new reality! Stealthy wizards find new ways to fleece their flocks and make Y O U pay. They would trade your soul for power; holding court, they build your towers on these special "clouds" they'd claim would keep you *whole* or *safe* and *sane*.
.
TV Preachers whine and pray from billion dollar pulpits—crazed! They PRETEND their persecution (spewing saccharine elocution), all the while sowing hatreds they condone (to which we're fated!).
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See the *moral* politician, whining goals or mad positions, wearing mantles of correctness she contrives to cloak her excess? He fronts the "un-elected," sells YOUR soul (you're unprotected) ...lives a life of privileged power—cruising restrooms sans his trousers!
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Still, the sky's alive with lights (which act most strangely in my sight), and these belie pontification, discredit all the obfuscation, and keep in me alive the ...need... to ask hard questions, watch, and bleed.
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Finks pretend, "alleged weirdness... warrants 'special proof's' coherence!" Claims that are *incredible* demand that *proof's* infallible (?) ... but then RETREAT becomes the norm! It's cloaks like these are used or worn! The proof's horizon just recedes ahead of fear... we do not need!
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No, I see them—that's a fact. They don't conform to aircraft, Jack! See, I'm a flyer too well versed for wishful thinking, last and first!
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What I see will fly big circles, glitter like a flash bulb hurtled, then slowing to a crawl they'll glow... to bursts of speed—away they go! I'm out there with my Mother, friend, and I'll not lie, distort ... pretend... that they are there if not—you hear?
.
I'll watch the skies. You face your fear.


alienview@roadrunner.com

www.AlienView.net

Former Air Force "zoomie,"—one stunningly shallow nay-sayer, and default klasskurtxian cur-curmudgeon—James McGaha has exposed himself, recently, as the public face of an "on-the-run" CSIcopia. His current too-cautionary mewling—as regards an all but smashed Aristotelian crystal sphere of caustic cluelessness (or scientism as brittle as it is dull)—has been heard on numerous Larry King Live shows.

• 
  

McGaha occupied the post previously held by Dr. [immaterial] Michael Shermer, an oilier, more smooth and practiced representative of the dying CSIcopian meme.  Shermer abdicated his position when it became obvious that he could not make his "case" to a public he wants to buy his skep-dick's (sic) books.

• 
  

Shermer is to McGaha what Pat Riley is to Bobby Knight. Though, IMO, Shermer is much more the regrettably craven sum'bitch because he's smoother, more lettered, and seemingly derives a lot of personal comfort from his practiced duplicity.

• 
  

Problem is: he can't make his case on this stuff to an audience getting a little more informed every day, and he risks his cottage industry of nay-saying literature, as I said above, to come on TV just to look like a fool—as McGaha seems only too willing to do... the zoomie gerbil!  He figures to sell his own book, I suppose. I'll lay odds it's published by Prometheus Press... waddaya-bet!

• 
  

That's enough.  Read on.

• 
  

Restore John Ford.

Letter Of Resignation

TO:  Barbour County, Alabama Board of Education

FROM:  Alfred Lehmberg

              Enterprise, Alabama 36330

RE:  Letter of Resignation as Special Education Teacher for Barbour County

October 2000 

Sir and Madam;

I've never quit anything in my life. That I retreated from this opportunity so abruptly is a testament to the dauntingly apparent practical impossibility of the task. Regretfully, it is also an indictment on society for forgetting its own, damning them to their squalid perditions, and even willfully encouraging them to take their eventual places in prisons of low wage subservience or very real prisons. Finally, this letter is more than a letter of simple resignation, it is a regrettable report from the field on the state of public education as it is served up to poor black American citizens from a state very near the bottom of a total educational effort.

I embraced this opportunity to teach wholeheartedly, but as I continued to look to the near, mean, and far term, I could forecast neither a positive student outcome, or even the most minimal personal success for my absolute BEST effort. Indeed, I was fearful of becoming embroiled in a subsequently discovered ongoing legal entanglement specifically with regard to special education at Clayton high school. But I digress. My unfavorable conclusion to quit was based on a careful analysis of my limited experience, the tools and materials available to me, the lack of a knowledgeable, and in my opinion crucial, special education coordinator, and the quality, serviceability, and acceptability of the facilities and equipment. This only begins an incomplete list of contraindicating qualifiers.

Additionally, the incomplete IEP (Individual Ed Program) records were in abominable condition on receipt, left in a cardboard orange-box in an unlocked room, and (in my admittedly limited and inexperienced estimation) did not match the reality of the student concerned. Moreover, the numbers of students, well over fifteen in some classes to begin with, were an unending flux of changing behaviors as students seemingly wandered from class to class with confusingly abrupt schedule changes. This suggested a lack of any clear plan or consistency, and a complete lack of individuality for the Barbour county special needs student. Lastly, the transit time, while rather long at over two hours, was still a pleasant country drive on nice roads with the news of the world piped in by National Public Radio as an added educational bonus, and so was not a real factor in my regrettable decision to leave.

My experience as an educator is limited to the military platform, a recent college education I took FULL advantage of, and a successful internship. My public education experience, admittedly, is nil. It may BE that I assess my Barbour county experience harshly as a result of it not living up to some rose-colored view of education, in general, that I may have had. But that, Sir and Madam, would not serve accuracy.  I believe I have a clear understanding of what is required for the successful outcomes of students in public education. I believe I have an effective grasp of the prerequisites entailed in the production of successfully useful young adults. Moreover, at a world-weary advanced age I have very few comfortable illusions that I would even WISH to continue or maintain. Hardships and challenges have been my stock in trade for many years. This was not my first time at a rodeo, not even one of this type.

The tools and materials available to me were, frankly, a humiliating embarrassment to the sensibilities of this *junior* educator. Reluctant to even handle the foul moldering mounds of immaterial, tattered, and outdated books in a TRUE fetid pile, I discovered, amidst the roaches, candy wrappers, and rat excreta, that no collection of irrelevant volumes was younger than twenty years. By all educated accounts, most of these books take a step forward only to take two or even three steps back with regard to engendering stereotypes, incorrect information, and corrosive bias. Besides, how can we expect students to find respect for books so OBVIOUSLY disrespected?

In addition to their stridently bogus relevancy these *books* also stank like old sweat and vomit—further increasing their ironic lack of appeal. Echoing this astonishing lack of simple relevant textbooks was a complete lack of even murky field-specific curricular guidance... far beyond the wishes of a new teacher to have a clear idea and understanding of *what* to teach. 

There was NO established curricula—only the chance *finding* of skeletal documents explaining (tersely) the occupational diploma, and a vague pamphlet regarding the life skill portfolio, pointed in the area of WHAT I was supposed to teach—at all. Given a supreme or even superhuman effort perhaps an experienced teacher could manufacture (certainly have already funded) a complete curriculum of some relevant quality... but whatever it was, it was clear that it was to come from ME if it was to come, and this was a condition (subsequently discovering the ominously ongoing lawsuit) that THIS new teacher found particularly unsettling and disquieting. Finally, I found the worrisome lack of forthcoming-ness from Barbour county regarding these matters outside the bounds of what one could call a zone of minimal comfort. This worrying development did not contribute to a desire to stay.

Every school system that I have visited, observed ...where I have volunteered or interned—each has had a "hands-on" special education coordinator that knows the system, reviews the records, assesses their quality, and generally (I would imagine) saves these institutions of public education thousands of dollars in avoidable due-process imbroglio. 

Barbour county does not appear to have one, or having one, is so fractionated and overburdened with other duties that this oversight of crucial auditing is just not getting done. Moreover, this oversight is so critical to the first few years of a serious special education teacher's development because so much of the process is EXPOSED by the records! Its quantifiable results are measured by them. It is in fact the very curriculum, as I understand the process. The lack of respectful attention to the records I examined was daunting to this new teacher at any rate and certainly contributed to my decision to leave.

I arrived a week early to prepare my classroom and found, on the floor, a pile of outdated and unserviceable computers (Trash 80 and what-not). The room smelled like a pile of soiled clothes (the lack of a serviceable air conditioner would have made the room truly uninhabitable), the bulletin board was gouged and almost unusable, and there was, inexplicably and astoundingly, NO WAY TO INITIATE communication with the front office!

The vice principal was in the next room behind two doors, but I had to leave the classroom to get him, and he was often away from his office. Add to this a broken desk, and a chair too large for the space, and one has the beginnings of the less than ideal classroom. I cleaned all the surfaces of the room with my own materials, cobbled together the best of the computers, and begged, or otherwise appropriated, the rest of the equipment from fellow teachers: a broken lectern, an overhead projector older than I was, and an old Macintosh (the rest of the school is PC) I was never able to get to work... 

The classroom was regularly used (over my protest!) as a shortcut by school personnel and casual students. On one occasion (and right in the middle of my class) it was invaded by a crowd of chattering students and the school nurse who noisily wheeled a screaming young woman (who was having a baby) right through my classroom as if we were not even there.

Indeed the classroom was a maze of meaningless and even bizarre interruptions—two of my most socially useful and crucial senior classes were both interrupted midstream for breaks or lunch. The breaks were especially inconvenient as the kids spent the time loading up on candy and soda to be burned off non-productively in my classroom. 

When I asked the beleaguered but valiant principal why this was so he embarrassedly reported that it was one of the few ways to raise revenue for needed school supplies.  God but it all seemed to be such patent disrespect to the students and the spirit of the school. 

Finally—there was no room to physically manage the overpopulation of students... contributing to a powder keg that was predictably eventual. The classroom was, as already mentioned, infested, and many times provided disruption to the class. At this point I am beginning to feel DRIVEN away.

The IEP's themselves were on the way to being in the same condition as the textbooks and classroom, left (as already mentioned) unsecured in an unlocked room. I did not have a record for every student. The information I got when I asked about their whereabouts was that they were, perhaps, in the counselor's office, or even in the offices of the Barbour education board. Regardless, these records were not current, relevant, or readily available to me, making me feel like I didn't have the tools necessary to drain what was becoming my own ever-increasing swamp. 

The records I DID have also seemed decidedly inaccurate, making impossible demands of students who did not demonstrate to me the requisite skill to accomplish the demanded task. Asking one student to pull main ideas from a passage that in reality the student could not even read, is an example. The professional anguish this suggested was daunting to this educator of limited experience and made me consider at this point even graceless retreat!

It is an understatement to merely report that there are too many children in the classroom for efficient special needs teaching. There were too many total, too many exceptionalities, and these were too capriciously changing. The classroom was packed for critical instruction with no room, potential, or capability for isolation, or any kind of physical student management. 

Isolation is CRITICAL to reduce stimulation in a conflicted or challenged young adult, to provide for meaningful individualization, and to keep an unwelcome and inappropriate exuberance from precipitating to the rest of the class. There was no room to physically manage these children but to take another child who may have been on task from that task , and move the offending student to another location. In many cases the students flatly refused to comply, anyway. My only recourse was to eject them from the classroom, and away from the task, to a largely ineffective meeting with a large wooden paddle from the vice-principal. Heavy sigh...

Additionally, every day another student or two would arrive, unannounced, with an incomprehensible schedule change—providing another distraction to a classroom condition already well over the line into the wholly untenable. The number of the children, lack of comprehendible records, and their high sugar distractibility made individualization—teaching—laughably impossible. Advice from my "mentor teacher" included teaching one subject to the class and individualizing the evaluation, and adding an addendum to the *records*. 

While seeming to address the problem this method is a likely waste of the education dollar already so jealously spent, and does not have the desired outcome of drawing everything possible from the individual special needs student, anyway. Besides, it contributes to meaningless social promotion, and, I'm convinced, only fills prisons later on. 

As a sidebar, not spending a dollar now to save perhaps a hundred dollars on black hole institutions of incarceration, later on, is not what I am in the teaching profession for. I want to teach a kid how to read, and do long division. The field that I am in requires a high degree of individualization to accomplish that, especially necessary with the bafflingly changing population of students. Barbour County makes this extremely difficult to achieve.

Add to this a frustrating lack of real communication that irritated the kids—many times I could just not understand what they were saying (a predictable result of defacto segregation). Additionally, there is a huge capacity for violence (likely sugar-fueled) that had me constantly avoiding fights in my classroom—becoming physically involved with them outside, and hearing about others involving, even, the student leadership of the school. All the classes on my last day were noticeably depleted as a result of one morning brawl, for example. It was an interestingly busy first three weeks, but interesting only in the manner of the Chinese curse (may one live in interesting times), and sadly, not suggesting that I would be effective were I to stay on. Finally, it only contributed to my decision to leave.

The harshness of the kids was expected, I hasten to point out. They did not contribute to my decision to quit. It was the seeming disrespect that the county had for them that finally did. I could not be a supporter of this inexplicable and ironic (certainly ultimately disastrous) de facto segregation. I could not be a member of that kind of team. And, what could it be but the clear and demonstrable disrespect of Barbour County for the sensibilities, moralities, and realities of its rural special education population and, indeed—entire student body. One wonders what well-hidden old southern aristocracy or outdated ideal allows this unfortunate and cross purposed educational conundrum to continue. I mean no disrespect, and then I mean every disrespect!

I gave Barbour County its money's worth. I demonstrated such and was prepared to devote the focus of my life to an educational effort for the special needs kids of Barbour County. I arrived early; I worked late. I financed its production from my own pocket. The experience personally cost me about $500 dollars. 

I felt MY responsibility to the county was honored, but Perhaps Barbour county feels that its responsibility to the teachers of its children stops with its inappropriately tiny paycheck. This may be symptomatic of the conditions at Barbour county schools. Plainly, it is disrespect personified to be in alert status, playing an educated game of moving selected students from the forth stanine to the fifth stanine, a practice of other alert schools, but a practice gratifyingly condemned by Clayton's principal who would prefer to "educate ALL of the children ALL of the time," The best, and likely only, ethical alternative.

Solutions to insoluble problems are largely a matter of showing respect, I've discovered in the winter of my old age. This high school needs an infusion of it in the form of facilities, many more teachers, and in as much as I saw as much as a sixth of the entire student body in my class (and I was one teacher in twenty-four), many of them should be special needs teachers.

These kids ARE getting their education, sir and madam, but it's coming from their group of peers, "HOT" 105, TV, and gangsta' rap—not from the classrooms of Barbour county. Seemingly, Barbour county is where the student's society demonstrates contempt for them—driving them into the arms of the former.

The lack of respect demonstrated for them in their classrooms with regard to educational materials... that smell (as if they have been splashed with urine and vomit) is returned exponentially in the smoky contempt and disrespect that Barbour county students generate, display, and shed reflexively, automatically, and with regularity. 

This is not restricted to the special needs population but is rampant from its "top" students on down. Please be advised that these are not the piqued and offended sensibilities of an old soldier used to (a largely mythical) military discipline. All allowances that can be made allow for that. My observations try to carry minimal bias. All I mean is to give these kids something to respect, demand that respect, and usually get it! Fill real schools now, or tragic prisons later on . . . right now I perceive Barbour in a tragically avoidable actualization of the latter.

I am reluctant to contribute to that, and so I am regretfully compelled to withdraw. My apologies to the County for any inconvenience I may have caused, but, in all honesty, sir and madam, the fault was not mine.  

...Remains, finally, the advice of the County's administration to "go ahead and sign" a fraudulent contract I'd already refused to sign because it indicated too much salary based on degrees that I did not have.  That was one straw passed the penultimate, eh?  So, not why did I quit, so much, as why was I driven away?

I suspect that we can in turn suspect an answer to that question...

                                                                                 

Alfred Lehmberg

Failed Teacher