Errant Clocks...

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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.
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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...

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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!

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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!

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Somebody knows...

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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*.
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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?
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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.

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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.

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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.

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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!

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That's enough.  Read on.

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Restore John Ford.

...Reasons To Be Thirsty

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Art Bell is like Von Daniken with the treble turned up high. I mean that in a good way; Art can really make you fly!  He drags the light, perforce sometimes, to places it won't go.  See, most would threaten ridicule—so "looking's" OUT, you know? But this won't stop Art's conflagration—in your earpiece—at his station.  Perspicacious in his way, he's interesting, if flawed you'd say.
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Yeah, the facts aren't checked-out... "to the tooth." Conclusions? Premature. Some's half-baked innuendo, or hammered bull-manure... he wanders into fantasy, and he wants to *rock* you first... but where else would we hear that stuff when we have our kind of righteous, thirst?
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There's reason to be thirsty, and one does the best one can. One hears strange "stuff" one just won't find in "mainstreams," understand?  That's why we listen carefully to the broadcasts of the night, it's there we hear the stuff not heard past dawn and in the light.
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There's reason to be thirsty, where "decisions sans all sight" so profoundly disrespect us as we fight our daily fight.  We're losing faith in government, the church is in arrears. Our agencies all threaten us.  We've lost our star to steer...
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There's reason to be thirsty when one sees without the scales, and our "population problem" is "addressed" by building jails!?!
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There's reason to be thirsty when the world's lacking sense, and one can't see to either side to come down off a swaying fence!
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There's reason to be thirsty as the cosmos flash and glow with all the special portents of the stuff we'd like to know!
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Look, the "mainstream" just won't touch that stuff—keeps its coward's tongue in cheek! It shivers in its ermine boots at the whispers, hints, or leaks.  Disclosure threatens cat bird seats and other seats court side; they're loath to give up power so must opt to cheat and lie.
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Though... foundations yet are crumbling! The money's running scared. The "word" is getting out along with falsehoods they've declared!
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The information curve's straight up! The content's harsh and raw! The better brains are getting out to float above it all.

See, "their" news is predigested pap! So, you pick and choose your own! Perceiving their duplicity? You find you're not alone.  You explore alternatives, look for truths supporting lies; the world is much bigger than you ever knew.  Surprised?
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That's why I like Von Daniken, and the higher pitched Art Bell. These are guys who "soar and cleave" to burst our stifling shells!
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Some argue they're responsible for all the kookish fringe. Some argue they have murdered folks (!)—think of "Heaven's Gate" and cringe!
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Some argue they're both charlatans, and in your pocket, friend—while accepting televangelists as honored kith and kin!
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Too, Art and Erich think out loud—must know there's something there! These are men (like one John Ford), who've questioned, sought, and dared.
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These are men—and women too—

who point it out for me and you! 

These are folks who bring some light 

we otherwise would find denied!

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What has *science* done but hide (?) 

from stuff we KNOW must haunt our skies? 

The evidence is startling—clear. 

*Science* hides a smirking fear.

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It tries to quash the anecdotal, 

all the photographic—totaled; 

all the history is deterred, 

and what we're left's the *bag* we learn!

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Read forbidden books, my friend, 

and come to know or comprehend 

that there's a lot to see besides 

what some might stifle, lose, or hide. 

*Science* wallows in its trough 

and Art Bell pisses folks, yes, off... 

but I'm indebted to a clan 

who asks disturbing questions, man!

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They stretch our limits, walk the brink, 

make us ponder, watch and think ... 

Friend, we NEED those frontiers W I D E 

if we expect to soar and fly!

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I would have my news if pilfered, 

but true to life, pristine—unfiltered. 

I'm offended at the pap 

the mainstream feeds me lap for lap. 

I'll get my news, one might contend, 

from Bell—or Bill and Nancy—friend!

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These are people with the guts 

to look beyond, dismissed as nuts (?), 

but with the access to that *edge* 

that some deny, dismiss, and hedge!

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Bell does not deserve the MUD... 

that's slung around—such *vicious* crud! 

McGaha, Shermer—like detractors 

don't disclose the facts! They're CANCER!

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All they do implores discredit, 

proclaiming truth because they *said* it, 

shilling for their own dark ends 

a status quo that they pretend!

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Toe to toe, Art makes HIS case 

while all the rest project disgrace. 

Cheap-shot artists whine and pule 

to demonstrate that they're the fools, 

but Bell must pay to move this freight 

as other items fill his plate. 

"Other items" undersells ... 

his troubled past does not fare well.

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Perhaps it's that which drove him under, 

...or calling Y2K HIS blunder, 

when (perhaps) it's HIS attention 

kept the *focus* on that mission?

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Non addressed, 2K's a BASTARD! 

Did Art help AVERT disaster? 

Very few proclaimed concern, 

but from Art Bell, of this, we learned.

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Intrepid Art provides a taste 

of what we might then hear too late. 

He's exposed the programs, Jack, 

that haunt our shadows queer and black.

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He allows a venue, friend, 

for different thinking some pretend: 

is specious nonsense made to pry 

the dollars from your pocket—lies!

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Sure and all it's mostly bogus, 

but *enough* is brought to focus—

justifying an alarm 

that MIGHT come up; there's greater harm? 

The harm that's found is secrets used 

to disrespect—yes—me and you!

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So let Art be, and I'll decry, 

for me, what's worst—but I'LL decide!

alienview@roadrunner.com

www.AlienView.net

Excuse this small hyperbole, but compared to his unethically noisy and criminally unimaginative detractors, Art Bell is a towering shrine to inspired ethics and incisive accuracy. That's right!

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He leans further right than I find comfortable... but then hey... compared to me, so does Dennis Kucinich, eh? LOL!

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Forgetting my own small concerns, it remains I have been dazzled by Art Bell like few others are able to constructively dazzle, you know?

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The reason? Art Bell, a default giant love him or hate him, remains an advocate for his listening audience like few others can or appear to want to—or fake—frankly. This is with regard to other giants interviewed or points raised, a point other broadcasters and pod-casters—overawed or trying to make points— frequently miss. What's the listener getting out of it; that's where rubber chews road.

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That said: Bell is 'establishment' and he has a certain synchronicity with that 'entity' establishment writing a giant's checks, perhaps, eh?

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I don't dither, his admonitions have a corporate—status quo-preserving—ring to them. His recriminations of "9/11 wing-nuts," for instance, are illogical and inconsistent imo (Building 7!)... but his sense of memorable radio remains unerring! This is forgetting that what he gets out of a quality guest with seeming ease is providing for the dazzle mentioned earlier.

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Though, it's like the great buzz on a trick liquor you know leaves a hangover because of its impurities, I imagine. But still. Dazzled, in ordeal, but dazzled still.

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Though, what a dazzlingly beautiful child he's recently produced, am I right? How bad can he be?

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Should he come out of retirement? Of course. In his way he's a national treasure. We should avail ourselves of him while we can...

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There is but one caution... [g]...

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Oh, and on the now legendary "Y2K" debacle, where it once seemed that there was to be a real disaster looming computer-wise in the late 20th century because of old machine code trying to conceptualize a year with three zeros in it... a very real problem.  There was a very real potential for catastrophe!

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It is the alarm partly raised by his early attention, I submit, that got enough people working on the problem—early enough—so there wasn't a problem, eh? Or, an admitted stretch, what was "Office Space's" raison d'etre, then?

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Art Bell? Say what you will, but he can hold his chin higher than most network anchors or mainstream pundits. I anticipate his return, forgetting his proud disdain for poetry precludes my complete regard.

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I've been critical in the past and maintain that same criticality. Though, with regard to where he is and given who he's talking to, many times... well. You couldn't ask for better than him. Hurry back Mr. Bell.

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Oh — and on EVD... say what you want about him too, but he sure got us all looking thoughtfully in new directions, didn't he? I suspect a list of who he inspired into their own quality investigations is impressive, to say the least.  That's enough.  Read on.

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Restore John Ford.