Critical Prose & Poetic Commentary regarding UFOs and their astonishing ancillaries, consciousness & conspiracy, plus a proud sufferer of orthorexia nervosa since 2005!

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Gray Is The Word...

A revisit from one victim of "The Official Record" is begged...
Gray Is The Word...
UFO Magazine, September 2007
by Alfred Lehmberg

Major Jesse Marcel, a principal made patsy at Roswell, is a clueless doof and blustering confabulator based on an "exhaustive" review of the "official record" according to the late Robert Todd? Crap-cakes.

I'll have the whole story, thank you. A single conjectural swag concerning tortured interpretational stretches of alleged facts, reader, is not remotely enough to sway this writer. Especially true, friends and neighbors, when what Mr. Todd cow-floppingly propounded about Jesse Marcel is an "ostensible" officiality only. That's right, ostensible, only.

That's not enough to secure this writer's agreement, enlist his support, or command his respect. Eyes remain askance. Arms decidedly akimbo.

To wit: Robert Todd's presumptive, ungracious, line-crossing, and CANTED attack on Jesse Marcel is without validity, lacks sentience, and is finally a non-progressive and ongoing journalistic profanity. In other words? Robert Todd's "man of straw," additionally, had "feet of clay."

Though, it remains Mr. Todd may presume the unquestioned veracity of "official" records—even as these records have a strong potential for being horrendously flawed on many levels. I may discount the veracity of records which have that same strong potential for being flawed on many levels ... The reader sees how this works. Gravy for goose and gander should have a certain similarity or consistency beyond mere taste. Todd's overreaching and self-aggrandizement, therefore, shall not escape this writer.

Blithely, reader, and with a degree of uncalled for rancor... as if capering gleefully like a demented imp before that acrid-smelling bonfire made of a hero's memory... Todd propounded additional assumptions I would be cautious of, at the least... and am, in fact, scandalized by!

See, Todd assumed a flawless integrity of "official government records," mind you, from that self-same government clearly riddled with a lack of critical oversight extant, anyway, and wasting millions of dollars every second to kick-back, scandal, or gross inefficiency. That's before, during, and now, reader. I suspect all that's really beyond debate at this point. The Military recently lost track of ... trillions, was it? Absolute power corrupts absolutely, always.

Moreover! Todd assumed a lack of integrity, an abundance of gullibility, and the questionable mental health of anyone who suspects UFO's might be piloted by an *outside* intelligence, at all! He assumed interpretations of fact in a cold harsh light of a "black" or "white"... indeed casting more shadows than he is willing to admit, for, drowning in errant presumption, he allowed not the tiniest shade of ubiquitous gray to feature his misrepresentations. Let's explore that a little bit. Why?

Plainly, Todd's presumption is not remotely realistic then or now, follow? See? One has to allow gray, reader. It's required, essential, and logical. Everything is "gray," reader, Color, indeed, is just a more fully featured *gray* on infinity's color wheel.

Watch! Pure "black" and "white" is a myth, a fantasy—fulsome shadows on the walls of Plato's cave! The extreme outside rims of Bell curves. Personified, shape-shifting monsters themselves in actuality! They are Concepts and Ideologies not existing in a real world except as ideas!

Watch! There are different KINDS of even black and white in the real world, 180 degrees out from one another! Consider the "black" displayed on a computer monitor against the "black" of a traditionally printed page. Consider the "whites" of same? ...Kind'a twists your head off, doesn't it! ...To get to the same place doing opposing things... curious at the very least... even if hugely fractal!

Unmistakably! An informed and sensible or imaginatively flexible person acknowledges and appreciates "gray," reader! She has a gray *basket* that is expansive and open-minded... friend. He is organized and objective in complement to she who is constructive and comprehensive, folks! Alternatively, they are flexible, acceptable, and specific, fellows, and together are we not made more thoughtful with regard to an infinity of varied grays tinged only by every combination of an ultra/infra!

Gray, not grease, is the word.

Mr. Todd, as it turned out, will endure as none of the preceding! Indeed, he will be remembered, I suspect at best, as a kind of ufological Ptolemy, insisting on an Earth at an errant system's center! At worst?

He was a minor priest of a dark discipline and given to turgid and reactionary reductionisms—thoughtless supports of corrupted cultures. He was a facilitator of the passion destroying "information void..." ...like co-facilitator Kal K. Korff, a booster of the deceased Mr. Todd, without the remotest qualification, I add, but I digress, distastefully.

Coming up, then, is an example of the way our Mr. Todd worked. Revealed, reader, is the *wonder* that was Robert Todd's singular investigative acumen:

Let's say I unblinkingly report to you that I had "...more than 40 Air Medals," earned as an Army helicopter pilot flying combat missions in Vietnam circa 1970.

These "Air Medals" were awarded for aerial combat operations, ostensibly—though rules changing slightly (in interpretation) between units..., again, for all the procedures clearly outlined in awards and decorations regulations for the time... and from which our Mr. Todd's purloined a copy — considering it hammered into non-errant stone! Anyway, these regulations established, generally, that for every 5 hours of combat flying, or every 25 hours of flying in direct combat support (my recollection now) an Air-Medal was "awarded."

My very sloppily kept official records of the time were maintained by the admin section of the 135th Assault Helicopter Company (EMU). This was a half Australian, half American aviation hybrid, an experimental unit engaged in daily combat directed operations since its inception. My very hastily maintained "official" records of this international aviation mash-up indicated that only one Air Medal was ever awarded! One!

Remember please that my documented hours flown in a combat zone are recorded to be 1086, and by definition the hours flown in a combat unit in a combat zone are "combat" hours or, hours flown in "direct combat support." See how that works? ...Pretty cut and dried.

Flying ONLY in direct combat support would net 43 air medals, follow? I flew in combat, too, reader... I had more air-medals than 43... My *Official Records*; however, indicate only the one.

Ah-ha, Mr. Todd triumphantly concludes! His impish capering begins! Alfred Lehmberg, it is reported, is a craven liar, a person not to be trusted, a person without credibility, and a person beneath the concern, consideration, and contempt of all who behold him or remotely consider his valor-thieving explications and expressions! Whew!

CSICOPian darling... klasskurtxian commando, and Crap-shooting bastard! No respect for dead sons of bitches here. It's the evil lives on and on; the good is interred with bones, remember. Todd erred in judgment, spirit, and injuriousness... then made it the record. There should be consequences and the preceding is such.

Back to Todd, his unjustified and narrowly conceived character assassination begins in earnest, then, and is unrelenting for the remainder of his days. Forget that I EARNED over 40 air-medals by the freaking book! No, Todd's myopic and self-serving narrowness... his "square peg" forced into a "round hole"... his insistence on an inerrant "Black" and "White"... has inflated facts, facile to begin with, and scourged another otherwise spotless reputation! Why? For an unjustified feather in a simplistic klasskurtxian cap? He misrepresented the facts, such as they were, and spun them to discredit UFOs in the aggregate with his hatchet job on Marcel, astonishingly, as a... confabulating boob.

But to the contrary! Major Jesse Marcel was a man handpicked from hundreds of qualified individuals for his courage, intelligence, and unblemished record; he was chosen to do a job of critical importance in the interests of the HIGHEST levels of a National Security, perhaps even justifiable at the time! Forget all that!

Robert Todd would!  Robert Todd did!

Revealed, exactly what Robert Todd did to Jesse Marcel, reader, and a pelican-pumping "peanut-gallery" celebrates him for it, still! Todd thoroughly ignores the fact that Marcel's integrity, character, and reliability must have been appreciated quite highly at the TIME of his erstwhile paranormal involvement... as the top kick intelligence officer for the worlds ONLY aviation group capable of delivering the atomic bomb!

That's right. Reader, do you think a cluelessly inexperienced doofus had the tiller on that very high-profile / high-visibility job? We're otherwise so fond of evoking a too often bowdlerized Occam, eh? Let's do it here!

As to criticizing "bravely" when Mr. Todd can't defend himself; that's so much klasskurtxian crap—shat sloppily slung—at par! Let's count among the conflicted amongst you, shall we, who would criticize me for criticizing him. Step up!

There's no lack of defense, is there, against my presumed errant disparagement of the right honorable Mr. Todd's legacy such as it is? That defense would be, I submit, Todd's aforementioned evil living on and on, remember. No apologies here.

By the way... that son of Jesse Marcel alluded to earlier? ...Active Army Bird Colonel, Aviator, Medical Doctor, and a military flight surgeon, just returned from combat operations in Iraq and now is late, sadly, himself! 

Remains, he held a bit of starship in his hands, too, perhaps. He'd written a book in that regard, in consideration of his "hero" father, and in consideration of the truth; a truth though heavens fall!

Perhaps some of the damage can then be repaired. Perhaps destiny is to make a true hero of Jesse Marcel, once again. Perhaps some good lives on after all.

Restore John Ford... and Jesse Marcel! Read on!


Sunday, January 24, 2016

The Denial Guy

The Denial Guy
By Alfred Lehmberg

I used to delight in publishing my otherwise non-publishable "odd" odes at the, now deceased, UFO Magazine Blog.   These odes, aspiring to hyper-dimensional uniqueness, are an impassioned poetry sometimes dedicated to errant pelicanists and other fatuous cack-wits—fulsome multi-media talking-heads in other words—fallacious faux skeptics aping company flotsam cum corporate jetsam... ostentatiously prohibiting, as a result of their suspicious activity, our necessary experiential growth regarding UFOs... a bothersome observation...  It had to be said.

In these jeremiad Odes, I was allowed to paint, from higher up and more freely and expansively, effusive protests regarding oft-employed "mainstream infidelities" prosecuted by these paid agents of our corrupt "dominator" culture.  My literary saber was used liberally in necessary observation of any lack of imagination or unwarranted hubris perceived.

This poetic commentary is prosecuted even as I remain betrayed and wounded by that culture—as we all are to one degree or another—for expressing it. See, I find it difficult to enjoy any success, security, or leisure my individual silence on an unjust matter might provide. ...Something about "what's a 'gain' worth in the full knowledge you'd lose your soul or self-respect to secure it"?  

Stand silent on Frank Feschino, "Emma Woods," and John Ford? When I believe I know better?  Not easily or at all, and not at this station.

No, Injustice provides for its own lack of toleration.  If I can take satisfaction for an exposure of that injustice, lacking imagination, or unwarranted hubris, do some good, then others can along with me.  It's a reason to keep living and fighting the good fight!

Verily, cussed existentiality provides that select individuals remain to fuel my aggregate irritation which is entirely justified, reader!  Assessed, then, I assess.  Because I was able to express same, a satisfaction was to be derived, thereby, for us all.  A blow against the skeptibunky craven, the glib narcissistic, or the blinking unjust... providing for its own relevance and worth.  It's enough for me.

No more, sadly.  UFO Magazine is in regretted stasis.  No longer able to avail myself the high ground of its truly multinational audience I'm denied the opportunity of singing the righteous contrary song to greater numbers, spurring, I guess, the production of those songs in the first place.  I shall abide!

For example, without the aforementioned paid agents and pecunious pundits spurious attacks behind and on the scenes regarding the character, sincerity, and sanity of the valorous persons consummately interested and constructively involved with UFOs, this particular piece of critical prose would not have been produced to have a stage on which it might more brazenly stand. 

Hungrily, then, as the "analogous maladroits" and "Denial Guys" identified in this article utterly fail to explain what interests and involves we, the curious rational, about UFOs, I look forward to any subsequent larger venue, "analogous maladroit" or "Denial Guy" provoking similar expressions from me in the future.  ...Make.  My.  Day.  

"...Feel lucky?  Well, do ya... punk?"

No apology here, but the irony amuses me that these pompous pundits are themselves the engines of their own ongoing and embarrassingly negative critique.  I won't spare my literary blade, reader, as you will see.  Even a knock-off literary "Excalibur" is only strengthened, righteously used.  Like Thor's hammer, Mjolnir. Check the primary references.  It can't be used but in a righteous cause or be destroyed.

The aforesaid critique?  Well, a consequence regarding efforts of the previously mentioned malfeasant and klasskurtxian cack-wits, the skeptibunky craven aforementioned?  We are 50 years, plus, down the ufological trail, timewise, to discover that we've been standing indolently and fatuously at the starting gate that whole time!  Why is that, do you figure? 

I reveal the "analogous maladroit" as a probable cause: the "Denial Guy."   This is an entity wearing a legion of sneering faces and prosecuting the same unwarranted hubris and unjustified arrogance.  

This issue? We'll examine one.

Consider first.  Attendant to the ufological contributions over that half century plus are such fine accredited persons as Jim MacDonald, Donald Keyhoe, J. Allen Hynek, and Edward Ruppelt to start!  

A ufological humanity would initially take magnificent forward strides!  We were indeed poised only to advantage ourselves of their far-reaching attitude, reader, to ask what these UFOs were and how we, a lay humanity, might employ them for ourselves... [cue the startling hyperspace music!]

Invariably, though, we'd ufologically slide, slip, or otherwise slither back further than we were when we started... wouldn't we, when the three fine gentlemen previously mentioned were obscenely countered by the likes of Condon, Menzel, and Klass.  ...Sounds like a firm of evil litigators, eh?  Not far off the mark on reflection!

How does this "second thought" mechanism of dis-intelligence work, do you think?  How is this mechanism of evil litigators somehow the preferred considered behavior?

Genuinely, in an examination of both, where the arguments of each camp are weighed and sifted, which shows more depth?  Which proves to be more inclusive?  Which demonstrates more intellectual bravery?  Which uses more science of best practice?  Which is more consistent, reliable, and dependable

Contrarily, which one uses mockery, ad hominem, character assassination, intellectual fallacy, and obfuscation?  Which is the dimensionless and dogmatic ideologue, and which is the inspired idealist?  Which hounds and which is hounded?

Further, which is deliberately abusive and which is sarcastically accusative?  Which won't address the points already made, and which will concede the point well made?  Which one follows the data and which one cherry-picks it?  MacDonald, Keyhoe, and Ruppelt, reader? ...Or Condon, Menzel, and Klass?

The individuals to choose from fall on either side of this divide and the difference between them is like the difference between sulfurous yellow clouds and clear blue sky. Too, this is for the observer working to be as dispassionate as he can reasonably manage.  See, anger is appropriate given the magnitude of needless intellectual loss.  Anger is justified.  Revulsion regarding cowardice provokes it!

Truly, in the face of the clueless arrogance of some it is difficult not to jump well past the deciding centrist fulcrum from them.  Even if only to provide some balance for their fraudulent intransigence and their flatulent proclivities!  Sorry for the big words... I'd already used the word "cack."

See?  This writer understands that if the evaluator has an "ax" to grind, one way or the other, the view of that divide is skewed and distorted—a lot or a little—forgetting that it is the person who is not a "believer"... but who can believe... will have the clearer view, this writer suspects.  More Plato.  Less Aristotle, eh? 

Though, a difference in aspect between the two will be determinable, regardless... so ...already examining self for same?  I cut to the chase.

Bill Nye, in unctuous particular, is a nascent example of the ufological "flat-earther" decried here.  Look upon this analogous maladroit's works... and despair.  Not name-calling... reader.  Assessment!  First judged at huge cost*, this writer now judges, for cause.

To put it directly in the street, Nye's the guy who ironically burns a gagged Monk Bruno at the stake or makes Galileo the castrated subject of the ignorant intellectual inquisition!  He is an example of the noisome negativist laughing up his damp sleeve at that which he allows himself no capacity to more fully understand, no aptitude to graciously accept, no ability to productively incorporate, and no skill to even  recognize.  The existentiality of UFOs.  Why?

With respect to Mr. Nye as a fellow human, his contributions are a heedless boil on the righteous ass of a real science—a mal-investigator working very furiously to confound, obscure, conflict, and deflate.  See, Mr. Nye's unstudied, uninformed, and reactionary work tilting at UFOs is a fine example of the reason we seem to take two and a half steps back for every two steps forward as a society and he—among significant others—should be recognized for such!

Frankly, "Denial Guy" Nye, et al, is only an enemy of real progress, ever, with regard to UFOs.  He is an obstacle to our advancement towards it. How?  

Well, he fraudulently lathers an alleged failure of proponents to provide evidence for UFOs with his gloating malfeasance in a dearth of discussion in their regard! Evidence abounds, reader! 

He revels, I'm betting, in the dissolution and the obfuscation he would deliberately cause!  That, reader, is despicable.

...Nor, reader, is Mr. Nye particularly organized, remotely objective, or in any way constructive on the subject of UFOs.  Ironically, he is not comprehensive, he is decidedly not flexible, and this is forgetting that his views on them are intellectually unacceptable.  He only pretends the specific and is in no way thoughtful.  He is bereft of creativity, he is astonishingly mal-intelligent, and he is patently disrespectful...  

In his presence, he'd earn the back of my hand for his treatment, on one notable occasion, of Moon Walker Edgar Mitchell on the Larry King show. Mitchell holds an earned Doctorate and has his "right stuff" documented.  Nye has no graduate degrees and proselytized easy science to children.  He should stay in that wheelhouse.

The preceding points aspired to are a teacher's (leader's) attributes, and if one expects to function effectively as same, intellectual or otherwise, then the majority of the preceding attributes must be positively addressed.  The above paragraphs could easily be an essay map for a cited paper on his mal-appropriation of the title of "teacher."  No, Mr. Nye is the "deficient guy" in every category.

Still, he would "guide."  He would be the "go-to" guy!  He'd presume the mantle of teacher, leader, and holder of the guiding ufological light!  But, not unlike one who shall remain forever reviled*2, he doesn't appear to have a clue about the responsibility of real leadership and is dangerous in the extreme to the sensibilities of individual persons afflicted by his aberrant application of it!  He's not performing a service, reader, against all appearances of same.  Some irony there, eh?

The preceding notwithstanding, he might still be a great guy to sit down and have a beer with given his politics—I know I am—one is tempted to forget that his smirking authoritarian and uninformed ufological attitudes suck pond scum... and that alone makes me want to drown him in the broccoli water... (long story...).  Maybe I should take a rain-check on that beer...

Seriously, don't Nye's own words damn him to a shallowly fatuous intellectual mediocrity?  Too, don't his ironic celebrations of what is not actually wrong with Ufology —blithely ignoring that it is very likely controlled, manipulated, and otherwise programmed by a soulless corporate mentality worshipping position to the exclusion of everything else—become increasingly impossible to ignore!  The face eating Reptoids are preferable to the person just described, reader! 

I recall Ellen Ripley (in "Aliens") commenting that she didn't see them "screwing each other over for a percentage," but I digress...

Sprung from the Condon, Menzel, and Klass mold of anti-ufology, Nye prosecutes an unconscionable treatment of honest researchers, celebrates the malfeasance and intellectual cowardice of these fatuous if moneyed pelicanists opposing them (a gravid nightmare slow from which to wake), and continues, then, to take the narrowest view imaginable with regard to the responsibility "leading" individuals have for intellectual fidelity, ethical behavior, aggregate consistency, and a spiritual, more platonic and inclusive, bravery!  

Know it; study it; live it.

In my opinion, Nye's only a sub-standard knock-off of the similarly slack-jawed who have preceded him!  Shostak, Shermer, Nickell, and MaGaha are more evil litigators out of their league, if similarly credited still. Too, true to form, he'll likely end up whining about imagined persecutions, and for the same reasons, as many called to account for themselves seem to do. A scoundrel's last refuge, am I right?

Coal to Newcastle, this is not the time to continue outrageous intellectual retreats, practiced by Nye and othersout of convenient spite, I add, not the only one to think so—when we already have such an abundant wealth of infedelities and "retreats" around us, already!  Look around.

It is "badly themed," I offer, because the repressive and repellant nature of his manner discourages the rational interest of sincere others persuing an "alternative ufological constructiveness" with more potential and optimism for potential gain.  Likewise, this applies to any other out of the box thinking.

It is "disrespectful," finally, because it does not provide the observer with an accurate assessment of either human capability, which, I think, Nye characteristically rates much too highly, or contrarily, possible alien capability, rated much too shallowly, simplistically, and one-dimensionally, if at all!  Honestly, reader, one only has to look at even the debated psychological, technological, and cultural strides we have made in the last 100 years!  

Begin, friends, to get an idea what *others* may have accomplished in a thousand, ten thousand years, or a million of them.  Even, reader, a billion... Gods on Olympus; we're the anthill off the freeway.

Yes... as "Gods" even, eh?

Onward, Nye is a clever instrument of ufology's dismissal, a facilitator for its senseless derision, and a catalyst for its hoped-for demise!  Too, he is the worst kind of errant klasskurtxian, an assignation at which he had already arrived.  This is like a nineteenth-century cowboy employing outdated 19th Century "scientistic" mores used currently instead of performing as the remotely cognizant would, employ an open-ended science letting the data lead him to the conclusions as he follows, humbly!  He'd say he "respects science," indeed.  He worships it.  

That's the problem, actually.

Too, that *conclusion* he proselytizes so gleefully is to, one: the lowest of "low common denominators," two: panders to what is reptilian in all of us, and three: sells humanity short in two additional venues. The first is where we are more "being" than he'd give us credit for, and the second is where his efforts provide where we are not recognized as the kind of beings who could get along a lot more fruitfully if he and his desultory fellow imps were absent or otherwise excised from our cultural equation!  Time to hit a system reset on these spring-butted and too-ready deniers, folks.  You think?

It is abundantly plain to the reader, I hope, that some strangely canted imperative steers Nye's ill-informed, overt, and reflexive ufological denial.  Truly, this is as his easy "psychosocial" cant does not advance the cause for vigorously serious investigation of the highly strange extant and, in fact, performs the exact opposite function!  It does this in a manner so unctuously "reasonable" that it a tragedy it performs that function at all.  All of the preceding seems pretty clear to me.

I bring this up now because Nye is lately so cleverly but misleadingly mal-informative with regard to the imposed mix of his non-informational and sneering appearances on Larry King and other places, which are unwelcome (to me), but his ax-grinding Disney ones elsewhere, which are even more so because they help qualify the former to young people. 

50 years, plus, down the, decidedly not so happy, ufological trail... and we find that we've been standing indolently and fatuously at the starting gate, still, as I wrote above.  Why is that, do you figure, good reader, I'll ask again.  I think I outline a prime co-conspirator et sig al.

That's right, I submit that it's not the woo-woo buffoons and public whackos keeping us at the gate; they only evolve to fill the informational void created by the likes of Mr. Nye, et al! No, it is the insidiously contrived mechanizations of persons typified by Mr. Nye and other so-called "science guys" as apart from real science, I'm betting, as deep night is from blinding day... authoritative-like, and so disingenuous, contributions to our missed mark! There's where the blame comes to rest.  That's where our indolence lies.

The Analogous Maladroit stands revealed.  Despair his works and rejoice apart from same.  It's the brave thing to do.  Read on.

*2 Jim Mortellaro

Disclaimer: UFOs are ill served by Mr. Nye who is almost magnificently uninformed and so misinforming in their regard to the point of a terrible malfeasance.  In this area, he is to be deplored. His politics; however, are acceptable, and in the matter of the "Debate" betwixt Science and Religion, he is without parallel a force for progressive good.  The Earth is not flat and Jesus did not play with dinosaurs unless you count chickens.  Mr. Nye understands the dangers of a rigid intellectual insipidity inspired by faith which must, by religious definition, be untestable.  A pity he can't apply a smidgen of that to UFOs.  Drake has shown they are.  Fermi points out they will.  Seven categories of compelling evidence show they have.  We're not alone, and that may not be a bad thing.

Friday, January 22, 2016

Jacobs' Ladder, Epilogue

On the matter of the abuse of "Emma Woods"


Mr Aweezy13 hours ago (edited)

+Alfred Lehmberg get over the fact that you're wrong. we all have to deal with that unsavory taste a few times in our lives.

Alfred Lehmberg12 hours ago

One might wonder what you've been tasting, eh?

Mr Aweezy12 hours ago

+Alfred Lehmberg... i only say this because i've just reviewed the comments and you're totally and utterly alone on your "opinion". at one time, it was the opinion that the earth was flat. i know im wasting my time, but why the hell do you care SO MUCH to argue for SO LONG with like 5 people? i don't think you even read the comments that are sent to you.

Alfred Lehmberg5 minutes ago

Mr Aweezy... At 67 I don't need confirmation to know right from wrong, weez, one, and two? ...Giving a damn about your fellow man is likely the difference between being a psychopath and aspiring to be a sociophile. "I am she and she is me and we are all together"; you may have heard the song. "Emma Woods" was egregiously abused by one thought wholly responsible, in my opinion, and my individual silence in the matter is worse than your thoughtless, insentient, and misinformed celebration of same. I'm not a do-gooder, but I try to do good. Hope that helped.

Monday, January 18, 2016

Odd Observation #6

Night Tech And The New Existential
by Alfred Lehmberg

I had a sighting one Sunday morning.  Sure, and it was hardly anything to write home to Mom about, as sightings of the tres' weird go, and I wouldn't call it the start of a "wave" exactly [g]... but I'm pleased to have something strange to finally report [g]. I'll get to those short details in a moment, but let me tell you about something else first.

I'd been out the Saturday night before to a cook-out at an old friend's home, and I'd had one more beer (or three) than was entirely good for me.  I'm sure that's happened to the reader from time to time.  If it hasn't, it should (assuming informed consent).  Moderation in all things includes moderation.  "Immoderation," if I may coin a word, is sometimes appropriate. 

Though, thank god the Australians weren't there, or I might have been well and truly lost [g]!  Those folks are entirely serious about their "moderation"...

Be that as it may, I was a little worse for wear the next morning when I blew off the alarm set for usual 2:45 Central and slept in 'till four.  To me, it felt like noon.

I looked outside, blearily, that following Sunday morning and was almost disappointed to discover the best visibility I'd seen in about two weeks!  Rats!  I had to go outside now... 

A little disgusted with myself that I had blown off the lion's share of an excellent visual opportunity, I made my steamy cup o' ritual java ("Al's liquid quickening" I call it) and stumbled out the back door, making my way to the usual spot next to a waist-high retaining wall.

I looked up into the sky miserably with a dull headache for company and was just depressed enough to wonder what the bleedin' point was... when I abruptly remembered a conversation I'd had with a fellow aviator at the party the night before.  I perked up a little. 

He'd caught me looking up into the sky over the fire. Knowing something of my interests, he said quietly,  "I... ah... I saw something weird under goggles on Guard drill last weekend..."  

He was apologetic, as many are when he related the rest of his, obviously uncomfortable, tale.  A small digression... where, when, and why did we learn to feel shame at having a truth to tell?

...but back at the ranch, *Mike's* story, and the subject at hand...

He and a brother UH~60 (Blackhawk) driver were parked out on the Fort Rucker military reservation waiting for a night training mission to kick off. They were on standby from flying simulated combat sorties for the Alabama National Guard.  They were alone.

"Mike" (not his real name, he can't afford to associate himself with this twitchy UFO business, like most professional people...) is a highly experienced military aviator and civilian GS-12 working as an instructor pilot at aforementioned Fort Rucker, the sun source of  the World's professional helicopter flying effort.  Like most of his ilk, he is not given to "wild blueberry horse feathers," and besides, no one who remotely knows ME is going to disrespectfully rattle my chain on the subject of UFOs.  They know I'll eat them.  Sincerely. [...no "smiley face"...]

Anyway, while he was out there in the darkness under the strictest "light discipline" (it means lives) he used his night vision goggles as I have used them when I can infrequently get my hands on them.  Like myself, he looked (perhaps "too" deeply?) into the near moonless but otherwise unbridled potential of the night sky.  Even without the UFOs, it's still a dazzler as I've written before, and quite a "show"!

It was also very quiet out in the "field"; colder temperatures silenced the insects and the middle of the reservation is a marvelous buffer from the road noise of even distant highways.  As I said, it was very quiet ... a 'quiet' so deep one feels they can float in it.

Around midnight, abruptly, he noticed a "V" formation of seven or eight dim lights moving across his field of vision overhead. He flipped up his goggles to see if the highly strange lights were visible without them.  They were not.  

Puzzled that there would be an unplanned formation of "mystery" aircraft (running without position lights!) flying over the military training area in the middle of this highly canned and orchestrated exercise, he alerted his co-pilot to have a look!  Both pilots were goggle equipped.  With perhaps thirty years of piloting experience between them they watched, mouths hanging open, as the puzzling lights traversed the sky.

"Why don't we hear anything," the astonished co-pilot whispered.  That seven or eight aircraft flying overhead in formation at any reasonable altitude is going to make a significant "sound" is a laughing understatement. There was no sound from the formation of lights overhead...

As Mike and his co-pilot watched these highly peculiar bogeys, both men were astonished to see the lead craft break off insanely and abruptly from the formation and dangerously fly the "long way around" the formation into a trail position on one of the alternative wings of the "V," instead of falling back and sliding over from the inside, which would be safer and more appropriate change of the lead aircraft... The manner in which this maneuver was accomplished raised the hair on the backs of their necks. 

The procedure just described would take 45 seconds to a minute if the pilot was ~hurrying~ unsafely, and even then he'd likely get a reprimand from the ASO (aviation safety officer) for cowboying the aircraft in a hazardous manner!  Turns at night in training are kept to standard rate (three degrees per second) or less, as a safety measure insuring lives and millions of dollars worth of high-tech equipment. 

Helicopters in formation have a singular hazard potential... but this craft made the transition from lead to trail, around the ~outside~ of the flight in under ~three~ seconds...!  That's just not done! It's negligent and irresponsible! This is a protoplasm smearing turn if not near to same!  

Moreover, it's torturous metal stressing and aerodynamically impossible for aircraft of human manufacture! Mike and his co-pilot then watched the formation of lights continue on their way until they were too far away to be seen, even with the goggles.

He asked me, then, what I thought he had seen.  I told him that he had likely seen just what he had thought he had seen, and welcome to the beginning of highly "interesting" times... and my monkey house... here-have-another-beer!

Fascinating, huh?  It's all in the looking up at what is there to be seen.  Of course, sixteen thousand dollars of high-tech assisted night vision between them helped, too.

As I considered Mike's strange story I was idly looking West, just to the south of Ursa Major (about five points to her left) when I had my own sighting.  

About 35 degrees in elevation and almost due west, a bright amber colored light about the magnitude of Sirius blinked on as I watched, and began to transition to the North at a steady rate of one degree in six seconds.  Tres slow!  There was no sound, and the rate of speed, color, and magnitude of the light did not waver.  I watched until it moved behind a large pecan tree in my neighbor's yard...  I watched it travel for several minutes starting about 04:35 Central.

...Just a point of light in my field glasses, an amber star that blinked on as I watched and then inexplicably began to move.  Real enigma on the half shell, boys and girls, dull throb of a lingering hangover or no, and finally, something newly substantive to report. 

I remain watching our skies.  Read on.

The collection:























Saturday, January 16, 2016

An Optimistic Tune

An optimistic tune for a Saturday night.

Posted by Alfred Lehmberg on Saturday, January 16, 2016

Thursday, January 14, 2016

Dirty Water

Join me in Earth's orbit. Take a moment from your day. The Earth's adrift in starlight... moon and comets holding sway. The stars are bright in brilliant night, as keen and sharp as knives; below the 'man' completes his plan ... if from the dark contrived...
Out here the suns make bracelets for their systems' shadowed form. They outline shapes in curvy norms unconfined and non-conformed. These don’t diminish happiness, they are the stuff of you, and of them lives a consciousness that your conscience knows is true.
See? You are your brother's keeper as you watch a blue Earth spin. You are part of something wholesome... if you question where you’ve been. The Earth is living, breathing–you can see her respiration. The clouds pump living water, friend! ...But that is my perception.
Now to men... the pompous fly-specks who conspire on her skin. These paint themselves creation’s lords but know not where they've been. These pump their toxins endlessly for their programmed obsolescence. They spin their lies to sheeple... who are fawning acquiescence.
They mewl and whine their dogma, these white-bread men of note. Entrenched in what’s *convenient* they have our future by its throat. The Earth is being poisoned, say EVERY ONE of my professors, but still we buy the boat, that car ... and ape our Earth's suppressors.

Go back in time ... 3000 years: the period of "Chuck's comet." Excuse "time slop," it’s not the point ... (...misdirection makes me vomit...). See Earth without that brownish tinge? See her healthy, green... abundant? See the belts of life's diversity, all her biospheres so verdant?
ee how life renews herself? She can spring back from an asteroid! But lately, we have made her ill, become in fact her hemorrhoid. We four-wheel down her shifting sides, we butchered bison herds... We *developed* needed marshlands, our demise seems undeterred!
Others, watching from the *outside* are in deep—dismayed—distress. They continue observation. They record our sad excess. They get it all, and we shall find—when dancing our last dance—how wrong we were, short sighted... mean ... how we blew our every chance!

We’ll know regret, not now... but then... at blowing opportunities... at mixing up priority, and destroying our communities. See... if you’d do unto others what you’d have done unto you? You would, in fact, be smarter and much happier. That's true.
See, because you must insult the Earth with your "single serving cola"? She's struck back with the AIDS, mon fre're, and afflicts us with Ebola! We’re not, remotely, needed for inclusion in her plans; she’d knock us from our perches on our pompous—flaccid—cans!
Man, *big and strong*, just thinks he knows... or even understands, and then believes that he can thwart, or ignore his very glands! He thinks he has, indeed, worked out... the physics of his Gods, but he's, I'd bet, deceived himself—and is, in fact, a nob.

“It’s the age of information”! ...Best be humble...
“Man has found his place ... Creation’s crown”! ...
Oh, please...
“Man’s mastered his environment”! ...
Feel a searing wince of shame!
“Hail the glory of the Human”! ...
Then be shoved to humble knees!
Remember what's below us on this Earth that we can orbit. This planet-ship of water, self-aware. What are we then—no really—but mere motes of "impure" water.  A Water that is hurting... still a water unaware!
Water that is reaching to the blackest inky skies; water that would abdicate its rock. Water mixing oils in a cavalcade of color; water with the talent and appreciated stock!
See? We're naught but dirty water who has orbited her skies! Yet we can do the grander thing—be our Watcher’s glad surprise! Why, we can spend the money used to pedicure our feet to raise folks up respectfully— and improve our human breed!


The entire globe would benefit when incandescent light bulbs, if not outlawed altogether, were nailed with a heavy usage tax...
Move over, completely, to fluorescent... Power availability would increase (fewer brownouts), prices would go down (...the "meter-masters" freak out, the real problem...) ... and 30,000 starving children might get a god-damned bowl of rice with a fruit bar, instead of slipping miserably into their welcomed deaths every day of our pampered lives.
This is forgetting other current atrocities we are abundantly capable of dealing with, and don't.
Heard this on CNN: Americans spend 6 BILLION dollars a year on *diets* that DO NOT WORK. I'm not being funny when I say this is the kind of thing keeping the saucers away...
Mike Malloy (http://www.whiterosesociety.org/) is calling the aforementioned unadmitted atrocities "refugees from genocide." It can't happen here? ...It happened here. It's happening now, you bet. Where are whole populations consumed by starving pets and wild alligators?  Red State Louisiana. Thanks, George.
...Too many lives lost or ruined as a result of indifference, sloth, complacency, sociopathy, ignorance, cronyism, religiosity, intolerance, general insentience, corruption, institutional infidelity, graft and outright thievery... but plain old ornery and spirit-crafted MEAN, reader. ...And that's just in the top tier of the institutional *administration*... such as it is.
Katrina was no accident of fate... rather a clear bid to clear all the "niggers and queers" out of a blue hotspot and turn the city into another Miami cash-sponge. It's ethnic cleansing, folks, for profit, like always. Where has 40 billion a year for 10 years today, gone, with regard to homeland *security*?
...Do we know these men by their fruit, reader?
...Impeach where appropriate and try for treason/war crimes... ...both, without delay.
Lastly, it is just the kind of behavior required to keep revolted ETs hidden on the back side of our own freaking moon. Our Moon? Ha! This isn't even our planet! How do we lay claim to its moon?

Saturday, January 09, 2016

Terminal UFOs

I'd thought I was in America...
Towards the end of 1992, I was nearing the conclusion of a very highly decorated twenty-three-year military career—where I unflinchingly served the best ideals of our country.  I wanted to continue to serve.  

Thoughtfully, I surveyed my contemporaries, subordinates, and superiors alike for ideas regarding a satisfying and worthwhile contribution I could continue to make subsequent to my impending retirement. The response was virtually universal. Teaching, they all said—almost to a man and woman. Teaching was what I needed to do.
Teaching was, clearly, an extension of a successful previous occupation; I saw the wisdom—and the honor—in the advice. Upon my retirement, I immediately returned to college to secure a teaching credential in an area where I determined the greatest need. 

I attacked that academic objective as I would have any military objective—diligently, intelligently, and imaginatively. I subsequently graduated with that degree in education while... receiving the highest honors.
I applied myself strenuously to what I must describe as an extremely enlightening edification rich in the history of western civilization, certainly, as it pertains to the treatment of the *least* of us by the *rest* of us, not to put too fine a point on it, eh?  We've a spotty record in that regard.

My considered specialty was the education of the special needs person from preschool through high school and beyond. The dismissing unwashed and dismayingly uninformed label my very thoughtfully chosen career track as "Special Education."
As I said, I applied myself to the task. In the entire process, I received only one—decidedly humbling—"B".  Along with this exceptionally high grade point average, I can easily say that I had the respect and appreciation of ALL of my instructors and professors, took full advantage of the academic college experience, and derived a virtual Master's worth of value from my Bachelor of Science degree. I reached, sir or madam, and it changed me. My horizons got a LOT wider than I would have predicted.

Not so humorously—I understand why it's the "students" and "teachers" who always seem to start the social riot of revolution ... so please FORGIVE my intensity and passion regarding this matter. I am, after all, the party injured.
Most would argue that I was a shoe-in for a quick position as a public school teacher. Indeed, I was reminded frequently all through college by a cadre of counselors and observing teachers that I was a "desperately needed minority" in a teaching field experiencing an "extreme and continuing lack of qualified personnel." ALL the published figures of their critical analysis pointed to a "wide open opportunity" for a serious and sincere person to involve himself devotedly in a quality public education's service...

...No one seemed interested in early recruiting me, however. Intellectual bigotry, ageism, and arbitrary treatment notwithstanding, I found that admittedly unsettling, but rationalizing it away, I pressed on. I should have seen the handwriting on the wall.

Predictably, upon my eventual graduation (summa) there were, essentially, no "takers."   I was wholly shaken.

I took the obligatory resume and references around to the different school systems, and I entered the local data base; I was treated, generally, like the advantage taking carpetbagger or scalawag (for the exact same reasons, I believe, upon educated reflection). I didn't get so much interest (hardly!) as a call-in for a cursory interview. 

My single substantive parlay (over an hour's drive away) resulted eventually in a six-page letter of resignation for ethical concerns I'd had associated with that system (not my own, theirs) and is available to the interested upon request. I deeply resent my provoked regret for THAT whole affair, but I digress.
Finally—I secured a position at two related schools as a 'substitute' teacher. The children were pre-school through the sixth grade (including, of course, the special needs kids), and I was, at least, having much of the JOY of teaching if NOT the day to day responsibility for it. I was in the second year of the experience, and it seemed to be going nicely. I was getting along well (I'd thought) with  my fellow teachers and all of my academic superiors. I was getting frequent accolades and expressions of appreciation on my attitude and initiative from parents and teachers ... then, by special delivery mail one Saturday morning after a week of inexplicable (to me) inactivity, I was abruptly FIRED.
I was astonished. The admittedly questionable events of the preceding weeks did not prepare me for this eventuality at all. I was completely blindsided.  A combat veteran, master aviator, and military school commandant, I wept.
I won't say I didn't bring it on myself, sir or madam, but then at fifty-one years realizing fully that I was starting (and staying) at the bottom in a new career track, I still have an aversion to someone making water on my leg and telling me it's raining. I'm also keenly interested in UFOs, but why should that matter to anyone?

Justified written expressions of my provoked irritation with an arbitrary system and autocratic individuals include a few record memos of calm rationality regarding immature behaviors on the part of persons trying to deal autocratically with me, or running over me, or just treating me with less respect than I would be expected to treat them. These memos are also available upon request. As an aside, everyone deserves SOME kind of due process, especially those with no other protection, shelter, or recourse. A substitute teacher in ANY school system is in the preceding category.
Honestly, as a well seasoned and highly trained human relations counselor in my own right (involved at all levels in the process of an efficacious transition of psychological adolescents into competent military women and men, individually cooperating in efficient teams) I had a reasonable and experiential basis to work from regarding the utility of ethical treatment and the rewards of fair play in public schools.  I was poised to be an example.  A model teacher.  

I'm not a mean-spirited person and I'm not spoiling for a fight, but you'll hear me if you step on me. I'm not shy. It's the American way.
At issue?  I'd had the opportunity to substitute in one class of the fourth grade for six continuous days. I thought it went extremely well. 

This allegedly resulted in a reported (though completely unsubstantiated) "FLOOD" of complaints, following the experience, allegedly from members of the "school board", fellow "teachers", and concerned "parents." The bone of contention—the highlight of all these converging torches and pitchforks—was my public WEB site, a site devoted to UFO's and critical social commentary.  I suspect, rather, common high school clique-ishness of the piqued arbitrary as a more likely culprit—a memo also on request, but that's another digression.
As regards the offending WEB site ... I was proudly unashamed of my WEB site, which is academically "G" rated, and contains NO references to gratuitous sex, violence, or drug use. I KNEW kids could go there (indeed, been GOING there for over a year)! There is NO need for parental concern—no need for a nanny filter. There is NOTHING on my site that they cannot see on mainstream Saturday morning TV, TDC, TLC, THC, PBS, and A&E, or ANY middle-of-the-road coffee table magazine. Moreover, while my WEB site is, in a literary sense, WAY over the head of the gifted fourth or even sixth grader, it is STILL a splendid display for original and inspiring art works IN NO WAY suggestive or prurient, and a GREAT example of what can be done with the most original and freedom-producing medium since the invention of the printing press! My site was an academic SHOWCASE (I not so humbly submit!) used in the exact same fashion as it was used the ENTIRE previous year without complaint from the referenced parents, teachers, and school board members. Astonishingly, I'd bet my site can be found on some of those classroom computers, still.
That was the thrust of ANY mention of my site, AT ALL, was that it was topical, by the lesson plan, and in accordance with a valid discussion on the uses of computers in everyday life—something the student could do, create on his or her own ... for FREE! I'm not directing the children to my site, so much—rather providing tangible demonstrations for what THEY can do themselves with a technology that is bearing down on them like a proverbial freight train!
Additionally, as convenient enhancement for a teacher's referent quality, it was helpful to inform them that I was an "award winning artist" and a "prominently published" author able to better encourage their appreciation for their own hard work... when they were complaining about their Art curriculum being too academically heavy this year, or what a chore critical reading and writing were, for instance. I was able to demonstrate how knowledge of the scope of computer generated art, for example—depth of field, the effects of light and shadow, vertical position in the field et al, provided them with a new and more efficiently productive way to look at their evolving and accelerating world.
Expanding a young persons horizons, encouraging a self-kindling desire to immerse themselves in the writing/reading process and providing them with an interesting demonstration that counts in the real world—written and oral communication plus good, real world and immediate reasons to get INTERESTED in these things? That's what they allegedly go to school for ... isn't it? I worked hard to make it as interesting as I could. I tried to sweep the individual child up in a self-generating interest.

That's my thrust! The mere vehicle for the encouragement of student interest is my rational interest in anomalous aerial phenomena and exobiology. My WEB site is NOT "inappropriate" for the purpose of encouraging student interest. I bitterly resent and reject any suggestion that it is.
The clincher? Out of clear deference to mom and dad, I cautioned the kids to check with their parents BEFORE logging on for an unsupervised look. I did this VERY strenuously; I always do. I am very responsible about that, forgetting for a moment that there was no need to be concerned.
I am certainly more than willing and abundantly able to rationally debate the courageous parent, teacher, or school board member who has questions regarding the validity or the appropriateness of the massive original contents on my site, contents which would fill several books electronically published in world class venues. This is forgetting for a moment that had I been directed to stop using it as an example to students, I certainly WOULD have—while continuing my rational defense of it to satisfy a simple sense of honor (or wounded pride).

I'm PROUD of what I do, what I have done—what I create. No HIDDEN agendas exist to subvert or corrupt. I stand by the true context of all that I have painted or written. I've got good support for learned convictions—acquired in college and life's experience, I stand by them. Lastly, I'm reasonable. I can be shown an error. I can change.
But—I'm for living and teaching, sir or madam, in a world that is a marketplace of ideas and a realm of ever increasing horizons and possibilities. The arbitrary autocratic was exposed and made useless by the first world war, supposedly, and in the twenty-first century it is the efficaciously strong-willed individual who contributes to a stronger social web or infrastructure! That's what I'm about, frankly—teaching a young person how to be a good leader in the twenty-first century, or how to intelligently FOLLOW the good leaders that they will. I aspire to the authoritative and eschew the authoritarian. I have a lot of successful experience with both the former and the latter.  The former trumps the latter...

I'm good at it. I have hundreds of anonymous handwritten critiques from adults aspiring to the military officer corp indicating only top drawer educator behavior as an encouraging inspirer, steady role model, and rare effectiveness as a teacher. Produced on demand.
To be so abruptly and decisively terminated—without clear warning of any kind—and my career in education, as a result, in sincere jeopardy (all but destroyed) is a source of extreme disappointment to me.  What a colossal waste!
I am exactly what the education system asked for. I have the attendant respect for the process—demand it in fact—an appreciation of the consequences of actions taken, and a desire to promote and encourage a level playing field. I celebrate the intelligence, capability, and imagination of an otherwise maligned diversity, and I know the definition of a bigot. I'd be an effective teacher, sir or madam; I'd BEEN an effective teacher for the better part of two decades.
I teach respect for all people in a manner that will transfer, and my classrooms were a model of civility and purpose when I officiated in them. The children were at attentive dress right dress and at appropriate parade rest in all cases. I NEVER remotely lost control of a classroom. Ironically, the only comments from my superiors regarding the "appropriateness of my classroom management techniques" were ONLY positive comments. I didn't send kids to the office. I very seldom needed to.
Paradoxically, I report that I have received unsolicited offers for excellent written recommendations from the Principal of the one and the Vice Principal of the other schools as a testament to the abrupt divergence I have very suspiciously generated.

As regards the job, I came early and I stayed late. I did much more than was required for the very minimum wage. I aspired only to be the model substitute teacher, to earn appreciation, and achieve that very illusive idiosyncratic credit for more responsible full-time use within the system. It was not to be.
Frankly, I think my non-discretional maltreatment in this matter was egregiously autocratic and arbitrary, a violation of moral due process, and the very possible waste of five years of my time. Indeed—knowing what I know now (I could write a book, and perhaps will) I would probably have involved myself in some other kind of career field.

As it happens, how can I be expected to react upon blowing up in the minefield, of this, so capriciously arbitrary an education *system*, anyhow? Feeling I've been wronged, I speak out. I must. Anything else is an inelegant agreement with the specious reasons posited for my abrupt release and encouragement for similar autocratic and arbitrary treatments to be suffered by persons that come after me!
Finally, I must ask myself how it is possible that a seasoned, well traveled, highly and appropriately educated person cannot break into a career field that, by ALL accounts, no "one else wants" and is crying out for dependable initiative? How can this BE when I have satisfied every requirement, touched every base, and filled every hole? I suggest, perhaps not so humbly, that I am merely standing outside the "inequitable arbitrary" person ... and the problem is NOT mine? It can't honestly be about UFOs, can it?
So why don't I teach? Apparently, I'm not to be allowed. Am I that bad, far off the grid—that much of a psychological threat to children? I don't think so, people who know me (recommended me for the job) don't think so. My guess is that if we sat down over a coffee, you wouldn't think so, either. So what's the real problem? If people can't be interested in the peculiar occurrences happening around them—occurrences otherwise shoved teasingly in their faces by a ubiquitous corporate media—what's the point? Quality life is the INDULGENCE of ones (law abiding) curiosity. Moreover—curiosity NEVER killed the cat! That's another lie. It only kept the cat FED!
In conclusion, how is it that an otherwise acceptable person in this highly principled nation, a person loaded with quality credentials (I add)... how can that person be denied the opportunity to contribute something back to what that nation says it so desperately needs—quality teachers? Is it justifiable that an interest in UFOs and related material can be so damning and ostracizing? Apparently so.  

...And if that's true, doesn't that say a lot more about my society, than about me?

Grok In Fullness


Errol Bruce-Knapp, of UFO UpDates, Strange Days — Indeed, the Virtually Strange Network... ...and the coiner of the expression &qu...