Wednesday, March 30, 2016

He Held A Starship

Marcel at breakfast on Day 1... 18, March, 2011

He Held A Starship
by Alfred Lehmberg


Dan Lauing was worried and fretting as regards Colonel Jesse Marcel... It was late morning on the third day of Lauing's OZUFO conference in Lawrence, Kansas, and two full days of trying to herd ufological cats was taking its toll.  The harried impresario needed someone to walk the Colonel a block back to his hotel from the conference location after his presentation.  From initial introduction I'd found Colonel Marcel to be as approachable as he was agreeable.   I quickly volunteered.

The Colonel, by no means necessitating a call to 911, had had a toll taken, too.  He was presently the Prince of Lawrence, Kansas, usually surrounded by a glut of people competing for attention, all of whom were demanding individual time and dwindling energy on ufological subjects largely unutterable and exhausting just for that.  

Two full days of this were exhausting and his fatigue was plain. Couple all of this with the slings and arrows endured in over three decades of arduous service to his country and so double down on that to which flesh and time makes heir. 

He was truly the walking wounded suffering, perhaps, the self-criticism of a suspicion that he might have been ill used in pursuit of an unethical and overweening pecuniary foreign policy.  A sane man takes his atrocity pretty hard... quite apart from buckling down and getting on with what is necessary for God and Country, eh?  A toll will be paid.  

He was slow walking and even shuffling, sometimes.  I had to assist him up and down curbs.  Still, and not at my urging, we chatted.

On the way, I reintroduced myself with my credentials.  He relaxed.  We were brothers of the same service sword right down to the same Aviation Badge, after all.

As we walked and talked, he wanted to hear about me and "summer of Saucers" expert, Frank Feschino, which illustrated something about the man.  The Colonel was an MD, a rated aviator, and a flight surgeon.  Called back, after his job was done, he served in the Middle East, long in tooth even if tall in saddle.  I'm reminded mildly of Roland Deschain

He didn't need my adoration; he showed too much humility and guilelessness for that. He was a family man beloved of subordinates, by report, and revered by superiors.  He was, without doubt, a fine man of impressive caliber and sterling record.  

He didn't need UFOs to give his life meaning. Duplicity would have meant that he had forgotten the face of his father.  He was not complicated in that fashion. He saw what he saw.  He knew what he knew.  He'd touched what he'd touched.

As we slowly made our way, he spoke weakly if authoritatively on the unutterable aforementioned.  He regarded inhabited planets orbiting distant stars.  He regarded the character of beings extant upon them.  He regarded what form they would take and what their priorities would be.  

He wondered upon the inevitability of war where there was war and the quality of the peace where there was peace.  He wondered on the length and breadth of a vast universe known and unknown and beyond any knowing at all.  

He considered the memory the alien artifice he'd held and turned in his trembling hands that dark summer night in 1947 New Mexico when his father, Jesse Senior, woke him to witness the unnamable, his highly respected and capable father's eyes dancing as he grinned widely with astonished delight at a pile of flying saucer parts he thought to show his son.  To their dying day the two of them maintained that the material they'd held in their hands was, "...not of this Earth..."


We arrived at his hotel then. I helped this proud gentleman, this decorated soldier and hero of foreign wars, this stalwart witness to the unknown... up that last curb.  

We entered the lobby and I escorted him to the lift, his hand on my forearm, and as he shuffled into the elevator he thanked me warmly for my assistance.  The door closed on his smiling face, and the Colonel was gone.  I'd never see him again.  Rest in honored peace, Colonel.  

Jesse Marcel, Junior, 1936-2013... he'd held a starship in his hands. 

Saturday, March 26, 2016

Change Time

  • Mars! Strange planet! 

  • ...Too, a planet of unsaid strangeness entirely apart from the "understandable" strangeness that our Never-A-Straight-Answer NASA boys ladle out like unnourishing pap. To wit: the too reflexive dismissal of the Cydonia "Face," real or imagined! 
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  • Every word I read expressing an unbridled and smirking glee at the NASA produced—massaged, spun, and otherwise filtered—"conclusive proof" of a discredited Cydonia Region on Mars, for example... ...is actually a stealthy argument to stop looking for ANYTHING strange, altogether! See how that might work?
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  • Discrediting UFOs "one step at a time," with no corresponding effort to credit same, is to push oneself away from a reasonable ability to just go ahead and accept the inhabited UFO as a reality which must exist, reader, because we do

  • An immutable law of the fractal universe, again, seems to be that what undergoes the formality of actual occurrence occurs then, yet again, eh? This is plain in even casual observation.
  • Not one tree, reader, millions of different kinds of trees. Not one fish, millions of different kinds of fishes... Not one self-reflecting and tool using hominid, five or six that we know about right on our own planet! 

  • It follows, not one self-aware intelligence, but millions of different kinds of self-aware bits of intelligence! Not one humanity in a universe we can't begin to see the end of... millions of "humanities."  More or less.

  • We won't complicate the affair. Intelligent birds, a myriad cetacea comprising dolphins and whales, and dozens of octopoid species more related to clams than human beings further buttress the issue of plentiful intelligence.
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  • See, this is to illustrate that one demonstrably hoaxed photo of a UFO is not an authorization to stop investigating UFOs, altogether. In a rush to discredit an honest search for physical evidence of an ET society and culture, these intellectual and spiritual cowards forget conservatively applied implications of the Drake equation and buy into the arrogant, and I think moronic, false assertion that ET's are not HERE, because WE (ha!) don't know how to get THERE!

  • Pause for squirty giggles!
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  • This is an obscene hubris, and its ultimate price will be dear as our population ignorantly increases, decreasing the respect any one individual has to be shown. See how that works? See, also, why we can't seem to, or won't, get our populations under control?  One baby chick can be cute and precious.  Put five thousand of them underfoot and pretty soon you're stepping on them and smashing them underfoot, unmoved.
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  • All this is so, so "the man" can maintain a "disrespected" talent pool of scuffling self-interested enablers and leaven those enablers with his own brand of self-serving manipulability! The Dark Ages again! Kings and Priests prosecuting self-rewarding authoritarianism to the individual's detriment... benefiting only a few at the terrible expense of the disrespected and abjectly discredited many. 

  • True Hell on Earth...
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  • Just one hundred years on this planet have seen the difference between a veritable Utopian MAGIC... ...and a rough, primitive agrarian authoritarianism! A similar pontificating pomposity of the perpetual institutional *elite*, one hundred years ago, wanted to "close the patent office," remember!
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  • Why? ...Because "everything that could have been invented had been invented...".  What an appalling hubris!
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  • Any wonder that we're not the dangerous clowns in this sector of space? A conjectured Cosmic Quarantine imposed on humanity is not remotely beyond the pale and decidedly reasonable...
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  • Looked at rationally, if with an alien point of view, we are a few tens of thousands of years of the most insentient tribal warfare, abject misery, tragic squalor, insensitive elites, and sociopathy as a cultural strategy... ...ironically interspersed with inspired music, inspiring art, and literary proseries written to inspire. The seeds of our salvation are going to, of course, be found in the latter... in the "agape"...
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  • That hot breath you feel on your neck is alien, Skippy, patiently waiting for you to wake up, turn around (raise eyes from which you've raked the scales), and SEE!
  •  
  • Yeah-yeah-yeah... Some whine faux-knowledgeably about the damage world society would suffer in the aftermath of a "disclosure," a ufological glasnost... ...a paranormal perestroika. ...That government, church, and institution would tremble precipitously in the after-shocks. That's a bad thing?  Why, they've even been the author of our every misery!  Humanity rewards itself with the realization that it may be the smallest fish in the biggest pond!
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  • Indeed, look around, readers! Religion is corruptdiscredited, and disruptively hate mongering, already. Governments are increasingly corrupt, inept, in turmoil, illegitimate and tragically short-sighted, now, and getting worse! People are already terrified by egregious physical and intellectual threats real and imagined and then further corrupted by a culture insisting that individuals be treated as infants without respect, in ignorance, and without an informed consent of these things!
  •  
  • Culture has never been the friend of the individual.  That's what keeps us locked into a cycle of tribal warfare where the few benefit at the expense of the many and where every day thirty thousand children starve to death by design

  • This must be to ensure greased wheels for fat-cats and their equally psychopathic enablers and lickspittles! Economies are already holding bated breaths, and the tiniest prick could bring these air castles of pecuniary nonsense crashing down around our deserving ears...
  •  
  • See, the world is already in the state feared good reader! Now is the time for change.




Saturday, March 19, 2016

...Out To Lunch...


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I'm compelled to a detachment when imbued by an enchantment, as the multi-verse seems frozen for inspection. With an inner eye now seeing, I sense shadows are retreating while the "skeptics" moan and whine their glad detractions.
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True, "mad schemers" are in evidence, and their "fakes" have heavy precedence, but for 2%? "True strangeness" goes ignored! We're idle, inconclusive... while the truth's well nigh obtrusive! Folks, our comfort and our safety's not restored!
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Too, I find it better critical to dwell on what’s political; a leftist, I support a leftist's Party.  And I decry its "tax and spend" as invention rightist's spend; it's their system’s gone all dark, insane, and warty.
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Self-fulfilling prophecy seems the flesh of our hypocrisy. It permeates our lives on many levels. Like, we’ll drug an errant child and we'll "treat" him thus a while, but "jail-fodder" later—costly "rabble."
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We’ve prisons, see, for them, or chain gangs hard and grim, or work-houses, sad confinement... harsher labels. Too, locked up altogether, they would hardly get much "better"... refined: the psychopathic's higher level.
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Yeah, put old Ollie North on a "chain gang," now! Henceforth! He's surely trashed our treasured Constitution! With his criminal convolution, still, he’s received his absolution from the blackest of those "closed-off" institutions!
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Remember "Jake and Elwood," of that mythic "Blues Band Brotherhood"? What was it, friend, their quest, then, all about? In a governmental "twister" to get some money for the "Sisters"? A little rock and roll? ...Some twist and shout?
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No, it was Kafka's mad abstraction and a porcine mal-reaction . It was guns, and missiles, police and National Guard! It was the weight of all oppression so much more than mere suggestion. ...Overdoing... just what should have been... assured!
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...And there, arriving at the "offices" where they'd pay their final "auspices"; after Jake and Elwood won the day... prevailed? You had a prescient hunch that the gub'mints “out to lunch.” And yes! At the top of soiled steps, that note was nailed!
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It’s plain that torpid “G” men... (who would make us all "un-free" men) ...if they had their way and motive? ...And they do! They obtrude their subtle 'secrecies' which depart, so, from Democracy. They would have us under heel! This is true!
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And if you think this "bad idea" is 'salvation' and can save ya’? Then have another "think," you crap *conservative*. The police will go to EXCESS where you don’t have right's "due process"!!! See, they'll frame you as their porcine will's prerogative!
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We see it all the time, and it's that should blow your mind! It’s seen in every time, and place, or province. There’s been no "revolution", where the 'ruling institution'... is, well, generous with the wealth produced, for instance!*
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In compensating places it's a "loyalty" replaces that hatred for "the man of 'high' position." The man who—flat—has nothing, finds existence not worth flushing... with the torture of his soul in inquisition? He'll burn you down and giggle, then, without a guilty jiggle, and feel righteous for his effort's imposition!
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So come on "secret sam," give it up! You understand? Let the legendary chips fall, justly, where they may. Don’t be the senseless *stall* guy, it’s your job to be the *tall* guy. Best level up those fields where we'd play.
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A future looms, I feel, that's rewarding, grand, and real. Your reluctance to accept that is too bad. You won't preclude it, friend; it approaches, comprehend? Your reluctance is just cowardly and sad.
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lehmberg2002@gmail.com
http://www.alienview.net/
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UFOs are authoritatively touted dead by the turgid clueless and other Recalcitrant if Rabid anti-ufological neoReactionaries. Indeed, the aforementioned only typify their blossoming irrelevance, inaccuracy, gross hubris and incompetence.
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...See, a recent Gallup poll says UFOs have not gone away. They remain to be an evolving sales meme of the trans-global commercial media, if nothing else, and their absence is ever suspicious from the 'news' media running more on them, actually, than it was to juice their audience numbers for "sweeps." Indeed, Governments more apart from the U.S. seem to melt into ufological disclosure like dirty glaciers.
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The subtext?  Put UFOs on TV... and people watch!
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My guess is UFOs shall not go away, are not capable of going away if they could, and yes, most assuredly should not go away. See—but for the UFO what else is going to hold a too proud Science to any appropriate humility at all?
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Reader, we need UFOs to whack Science's moldy underpinnings, or Science starts getting too comfortable with regard to pronouncing so authoritatively on that which it knows nothing at all.
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Besides, not only there, UFOs are here, eh?  Drake has very conservatively shown they are.  Fermi says they will, and we would see them.  Seven compelling categories in an evidential forest say we do see them.
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They're here. We could look for ways to profit efficaciously from that.

*That's even in the history, allowed!

Friday, March 11, 2016

Inevitable Alternatives And Key Individuals



Inevitable Alternatives And Key Individuals
by Alfred Lehmberg 



Many of us in a ufological C-list rank and file are dismissively chided by the experienced, recognized, and "legitimate" researchers in our community as "armchair Ufologists": persons apart from being taken seriously because we have not done any credible field research. 
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Klasskurtxians or Pelicanists, on the other hand, plus other skeptibunky ax-grinders (knee-jerk debunkers by any name or stripe refusing to responsibly investigate what they initially dismiss) accuse our alleged (if mythical) "woo-woo credulity" and too eagerly impugned intellectual openness for our incompetence. That openness alluded to was a result, ironically, of doing that same (and responsible) field research—a research which is reflexively, and by definition (according to these hubristic scolds), dismissible! Our "unbiased," "fetterless," and wholly "skeptical" investigation, these sneer, would then ultimately indicate to us that UFOs were so much bunk, as this lot has decided at the start. 
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Heavy sigh.  Damned if don't or do, eh?
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Upon conducting a "small research" of my own, I discover, rather predictably, the inevitable alternative!  Such was so "on my watch and warrant."
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Verily, my personal experience reveals a path untold by the preceding factions, whatever the provenance of their "aisle side." I found something altogether different. 
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The aforementioned aisle separating the former from the latter  is the farthest this discussion will go in the latter's revolted consideration. We individuals—the sincerely curious and genuinely truth-seeking—coupled with those aspiringly efficacious persons the lay, but intellectually honest "rank and file" should read and watch respectfully... is the whole of our consideration

This discussion excludes the latter and is appalled by their hubristic and stubbornly maintained polar antithesis to sense and sensibility... those reflex skeptics: those who should be reviled, despised, and wholly loathed for the intellectual cowards that they are, out of hand!  The latter—refusing to responsibly first investigate that which they propose to condemn—recuse themselves for a consideration of any stripe.
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I'll leave it to the reader who's who.
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This writer observes that the former could be more encouraging to the interested rank and file and that the latter are just unbravely and self-servingly wrong, in heart and mind...  See? Your individual "investigation," reader, can be positively taken and to a degree the reader can determine for themselves.  Remember that the only ones who really need to be dissuaded or convinced as regards the ufological "such and so" are the individual readers... themselves.  

The individual, one discovers, is key!  The "idea" is the thing provided by the single individual.  Creation is not a committee action; this does not require citation.  It's but one, remember, who can keep a thousand employed, for good or ill.  There's a partnership there, or should be.
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Back on track, an investigation is not as unusual or as difficult as one might believe.  Moreover, the results of one's personal analysis may not prove to debunk UFOs, and more importantly, the occupants of same... without regard to how this *other* is manifested in a conjectured "real" or existential world.  Flying saucers remain real, eh?  Drake shows they are.  Fermi says they will. Seven imposing evidentiary categories say they have.
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Provenance is not the issue and may be misled conjecture anyway.  "Actuality" of the body's felt presence of the moment is the issue. Felt presence of the moment is witness to provenance or there would be no felt presence.  Reach always exceeds grasp.
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That said, the lauded former might provide a short if comprehensive syllabus outlining a process whereby interested persons might more successfully perform their small research. Presently it's all about making a useful report to a principal, that person not the individual with a few moments felt presence or direct experience alluded to above.  Top down, then and usually corrupted, never bottom up which, presuming deliberate malfeasance is not in the equation, tends to the incorruptible.
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This is forgetting that the aforementioned can be accomplished merely answering the questions who, what, where, how, when, and for the angle "why," when possible, to the best of one's ability. This has been done to a degree, true, but suspect mainstream opposition is an implacable foe, and those initiatives are frozen and scattered in that opposition's wind.
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The latter? These can just settle in with a nice steaming cup 'o "shut the f__k up."  Where truth is told in a manner to be understood?  It will be believed.  That's on good authority, I cry your pardon.
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As I said... I've performed such an individual "research."  Oh, it's a grain of sand compared to Frank Feschino's 20 plus year old, very assiduously documented and cited... then illustrated research regarding the 1950s military vs. UFO "Flap," to be sure, but it was a research, nonetheless.  It provided convincing personal answers to... Who.  What.  When.  Where.  How.  And lastly, that angle with regard to a "Why," even outside the parameters of diverse real persons observing a bona fide UFO and then having the supply of sacked stone to report it.   
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Here's what happened to me.
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I was looking around in some old "UFO Report" text files late last century that I'd downloaded from a BBS.  I'd come across an episode highlighting the name of a small town within proverbial spittin' distance from where I resided, once upon a time in southeast Alabama.  I have promised the key person involved that they would not be implicated, so I will not directly ID the town, just give you salient details of it.
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Several people in this small Alabama town observed a UFO.  I have the text of the article concerning the whole incident plus other documentation, but there is no requirement to believe this ol' ex-soldier, I'm doing this for me, remember.  You're just welcome on the ride, is all.  Buckle up and extinguish all smoking materials.
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Anyway, intrigued by the proximity of this event, I called the local town's newspaper to see if there was anything to the news article I'd found in those text files—and wouldn't  you just know it?  There was!
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In fact, it was quite a little tempest in a teapot, for all that, and I do not mean to diminish it. Not at  all, for what it really was, reader, was a story about courage, integrity, and standing up in the face of authority when it belittles you... or, suggests that you are misrepresenting, mistaken, or mentally ill... when it's you compelled to make a report to lawful authority after observing the highly strange!    
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The original story was, of course, doomed to go nowhere.  
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I digress to say that I suspect that there are stories like this happening all over the United States, every day.  These are stories dying as a result of being too close to the "informational bone" and challenging of our "slack cultural relevancy."  Moreover, these stories cannot easily be confirmed by the reader and are more easily filed away under amusing occurrences, belittling their importance... for unjust cause!  Still, this was a bona fide ufological tempest, close by, even if it was in a teapot...
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...Besides, at that time, I was between quarters of college.  I had time, motive, and opportunity to play investigator (folks, I'm no Hercule Perot); as I said, I called the editor at the local paper. 
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It turned out the fellow I reached was a talkative sort. Too, imagine any chief of a small town American rag; a hamster couldn't pass gas in his town without him knowing about it!  
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He talked about the  witness, at last, and I am actually a little chagrined to report... that "X" (the person of provenance in the affair) was a long-standing and respected-pillar-of-the-community type further showing historical stability with a responsible hi-level job in State government! 
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The Editor went on: apparently "X" was driving with a friend at night and had seen a UFO in the sky, a banana-shaped object spinning like a crazed boomerang or dervish!  The object (...not a bird, bolide, booster, or balloon...) had swooped back and forth in front of their moving car while utilizing unfeasible speeds and impossible direction  changes... and then it just disappeared! 
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The editor added, further, that there were other reports that night from other credible witnesses at similar times.  Multiple sightings of the UFO would be reported along a path which could be traced on a map! 
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Then the editor talked a short time about the rest of the story... regarding an amusingly satisfying related  situation precipitating some police embarrassment over their not taking  "X"'s  UFO report seriously enough when "X" made it!  A-ha!
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Apparently,  the police had mildly ridiculed "X" about the incident, and "X" went through the small-town roof as a result.  The tempest escalated to a reported verbal melee at the county police level, but with the mayor of the affected town brought into tow, "X" secured a complete retraction of the ridicule and a public apology from the police officers involved. This elicited more newspaper coverage, in turn, and a cartoon was produced illustrating the chagrined police chief being dragged down the street by a UFO, saying into a cell phone words to the effect that he had every future intention of taking UFO reports seriously!
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See, reader?  You don't have to stand pat for a load of crap from a smirking authority!  
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Well, "Great Story," and I thought that was the end of it, but then the editor abruptly added that if I "wanted" (!!!) I could talk to "X" myself, and here is "X" 's  home phone number!  I asked him—after I got the number—how he could do that, and he said that "X" did not say not to. Ok!  Works for me!
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Well, I called "X", got a machine—left my tale of explanation, credentials, number, and sincerity ... I even said "don't feel bad" if you don't return the call. 
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I got no return call; embarrassed, I have to report I hoped "X" felt bad... 
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I waited a couple of weeks; I didn't want to be the *obnoxious* media—if I wasn't getting paid for it!—and I was just getting ripe to phone back and see if the message was even received... when "X" finally returned my call! 
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"X" wanted to know "how in hell" I got the number!  I ratted the editor out (he didn't say not to), then countered with a barrage of apology, quick assurances of sincerity, and that I would make no trouble.  "X" cooled out. 
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After making me promise that I would not identify "X,"  "X" confirmed a large, crazily wheeling boomerang shape that zipped hither and yon in front of them like something "X" had never before seen! "X" said it was a CRAFT!
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Additionally, there is something that you have to  understand about "X,"   "X" lives right in the middle of some of the most intensively flown uncontrolled airspace in the known universe, and has lived there the whole of a respected life. 
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Anyone who has heard of Fort Rucker, home of Army Aviation, knows that the World comes to Fort Rucker to fly helicopters, day, night and all-weather.  "X" had cut generational teeth on aircraft of all types and knew the difference 'twixt something identified and something "NOT" in her familiar Alabama skies.
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"X" went on to say that the police apology story was overblown; it didn't happen as stridently as the editor had said, but that it was irritating not to be taken  seriously by someone who's salary "X" helped to pay.
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God bless  "X", eh? 
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Closing, "X" expressed appreciation if I could provide no further bother on this subject, as it was kind of embarrassing—but that I seemed like a good sport, and I had "done America so proud in the (first) Gulf war..."...
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I had to allow that I spent the duration of that war at Fort Rucker itself,  teaching the men and women preparing to participate themselves how to fly in combat.  "X" said that that was OK, I'd done my part—my whole point being that this person was a credentialed, reliable, and respectable person.  Moreover, this was a person able to communicate to me that something incredible was, in fact, witnessed by that credible person, and that real UFO's are existent to one more person I know.  For me, incredible!
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See?  Quality persons all over the world are having these encounters regularly, reader!  Not happening to you, you can bet that it is happening to someone around you... perhaps even to someone close to you. 
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Eyes peeled for such, you can investigate same!  Yes!  ...Perform a valuable research, and tell the story. 
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Moreover, you don't have to swallow crap from authority when you do the brave thing and report an anomaly.  Consider, a small bravery now precludes, perhaps, that consummate bravery required later on!  Live on your feet or die on your knees (sic)!
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Lastly, the result of your courage will be an ability to hold your head up in a substantively understanding way with the honored "big dogs" of ufology, plus, avail yourself the corresponding pleasure of serving up the "steaming cup" alluded to earlier for those *others* wholly deserving it!  You'll also get a leg up on the future accelerating inexorably towards you... regardless, but that's a story for another issue.
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Less is more, eh?  Read on.

Saturday, March 05, 2016

Odd Observation #10

Somebody Knows...


...Once upon a time, there was another of those UFO-filled auspicious Sundays!  The sky was, again, alive with them, forgetting the stationary strobes of flashing white light and meteors that left glowing trails for breathtaking seconds! 

This is forgetting unseen lights flashing brightly from the southern sky behind me!  These  lit-up outside walls to my front so that I could see them reflected indirectly off the house sides much like that unknowable light casting equally unknowable shadows on the walls of Plato's cave.  

What were these unseen lights?  Meteors or mother-ships, one or the other... It wasn't triple"K"* flicking his tedious ufological BIC; of that, I am (reasonably) certain.

It was a little on the chilly side also, putting a break on any insect noise, still dense air made the sound of over-flying aircraft very plain.  There was one of those, too, but just one... everything else conformed to the unsettlingly exciting anomalous (!)—silent glowing orbs in my field glasses or wandering stars perceived with the unaided eye.  Breathtaking stuff.

All were of varying warmer colors from dull red through golden cream to hot bright blue-white.  All the objects maintained sundry speeds and only general tracks in their characteristic meander through the very clear and moonless night. …Better than "Coast to Coast", forsaken this night for National Public Radio… as it happened. Coast to Coast was just not coming in readable that morning, at all.

How many satellites was I supposed to be able to see this Sunday morning?  Well, by NASA's prediction I was supposed to see exactly, uh... (let's see... add the first column, carry the one, divide by two, subtract the result... and the final tally is...) none! Truly!  

J-Pass predicted exactly none in the 24 hour period beginning 12 hours prior and ending 12 hours after the time of my observations.  Curious. The reader can begin to see what I mean about comparing data sets and finding them unsettlingly dissimilar, mentioned in a previous report.

What I am seeing should be  predicted easily by NASA's J-Pass given the magnitudes of their individual brightness—one would think.  After all, NASA informs us straight out that we can use it for that purpose, and they're the "scientists"… But, nothing is provided... which is predictable and typical of the contrived and myopic mainstream science community undured. 

I had eight sightings this morning between 04:30 and 05:30.  To start I saw one of those stationary strobes I've seen infrequently over the years.  A single strobe light flashing once very brightly (or dimly) every fifteen to thirty seconds, or so.  It is stationary or makes random flitting movements in a single one or two-degree area of the sky.  I've written about this variety, previously.

The strobe flashes occur at varying intensities, too.  As bright as mag. -6 (!) or as dim as mag. 2, or so.  This morning's strobe was high in the east, stationary, and flashed a similarly varying brightness.  Blink and you miss it.  An unblinking stare is required with one of this type, and it is, therefore, a mite uncomfortable to bear.

From then on I'd have a sighting every five or ten minutes, and on one occasion two of them together, though I don't think they were together (they were on dissimilar meanders).  At 04:40 the first headed south at a degree a second, about a magnitude zero and bright white in color.  It was followed by a subsequent similar light five minutes later which performed in the exact same manner and in the exact same place. A third light appeared while the second was still visible!  It was the same as the first two, but on a slightly different track. All lights reported were tiny orbs in my field-glasses.

At 04:55 a brighter, redder orb moved slowly from the south to the north, directly overhead (as all this morning's objects had) at about one degree in three seconds.  At 05:10 a dim red light appeared to the east as I watched, traveled very slowly to the left for 10 degrees of arc at one degree in six seconds, and then blinked out.

Turning to the East just after the previous sighting, I was rewarded with a meteor that split the sky in a brilliant flash about 15 degrees long and so bright that it made me wince.  In its silent wake, a white-hot plasma lingered, churned, and glowed for several seconds.  I listened hard for several more seconds for a transonic report I'd heard before but heard nothing in the cool quietness.

At 05:15 a light of zero magnitude traversed the entire sky in a steady march to the north directly overhead.  It was followed at 05:25 by another of the exact same type.  I wonder, again, how many satellites I am supposed to be able to see?  How can I see so many at once?  Where do they go in the weeks when I don't see them?  What kind of craft crawls the uncovered sky like a tiny glowing insect, makes no sound, and continues to be so baffling?

Somebody knows.

So ends the litany of sightings for this iteration of the ongoing observation.  I would likely have seen more, but I had been outside since three and I was ready for some house time. Consider, even a whirling dervish speaking in tongues and spitting green fire should get an eventual ho-hum if I saw it every morning... but then it's been years, now, and I've yet to get tired of looking at these peculiar objects plainly visible in a guileless sky and then writing about them.  Perhaps the odd reader is not getting tired reading about them, in a similar fashion.  What is there to be seen, truly, astonishes. 

I wish I could point them out to you.  I may yet!  I'll give you an earful.  The satisfaction is in the new "knowing." The perception that you're no longer being duped, priceless.

And that brings the conversation around to us... what about us, the patent and facilitating uniformed?

We must be more than mere pond scum (if self-absorbed pond scum at that) to the conjectured watcher of our schizophrenic species. These "Watchers," who could be less than forthcoming with the masses of humanity (explaining their part in the obvious secrecy) only because the "mass-drivers"—the "intrepid" human leadership—of our aggregate human culture, are less than forthcoming with us, themselves?  They only follow, perhaps, the lead of our "fearless leaders"?  Perhaps they have their own brand of "The Prime Directive?"

Somebody knows. 

Understandably, I perceive a reluctance by these, something-less-than-altruistic "mass drivers," to give in to the greater reality only because it bumps them from their ill-achieved cat-bird seat.  That's the long short of it.  They're pond scum (make no mistake!), but they're high-class pond scum, damn it... those men and women allowed on the lifeboats first when the Titanic went down—them and their psychopathic descendants.  Who's to miss the "common rabble" but more of that same "common rabble"?  Who will miss you?  Who will miss me?  Them, when we are gone. 

"Galt Gulch, USA," is a myth oblivious to the fact that people wanting to live there fool themselves into believing they can get along without those "socially beneath" them.  "Chiefs" fool themselves that they don't need their "Indians."  Enough digression.

The greater reality ebbs and flows around me, honored reader, as I watch these enigmatic lights conduct busy errands in the infinite halls of space above my head... I am encouraged and inspired by them. I am instructed and enlivened by them.  I am galvanized, motivated and energized by them! I'd suggest that you can be, too.

Yet to be rattled from my lucky perch (I feel like I "know" stuff "they" get you for) I sense I can reach a little higher and grasp a little more of the firmer, more solid reality of a greater multi-verse populated with all manner of divergent ideas and the beings who have created them. Why not? 

Anything else courts hopelessness and the despair of eventual pointlessness.  Nothing else has art.  Nothing else has music.  Anything else is a flashily empty Pepsi Commercial or the reincarnated "wars on terrorism and drugs," where "drug wars" fail profitably and terrorists are created by those making war on them...  

Around me are trusted persons, moreover, convincing me that they are touched more directly than most are by that "highly strange larger reality." The immediacy of their considered positions touches me with the derision, lack of concern, and ridicule that they must endure as a result of a convenient mainstream denial of that "larger reality."  UFOs are real as apple's spots

More than touched I am irritated that so many have to be ground in the gears of a society that eats its young so a few gravid sociopaths can live out their canted destinies and the realization of selfish short-term goals.  More than irritated I am angered that the mainstream can be so blithely indifferent to the continuing reoccurrence of the ufological (and, therefore, sociological!) obvious.  

UFOs are REAL!  Don't we get it?  That we do is shown by the ironic indifference to the same UFOs revealing themselves over and over again!

Moving back abruptly to the subject of "pond scum", we have the ultimate power of simple pond scum, presently, don't we? Like pond scum, we are with regard to the whim of any errant asteroid, sun burp, or virulent bug; we are blown before our weather patterns and subject to the vagaries of shattering quake, rising flood, and fire-belching Earth. 

Are we but fragile insects dreaming that we have sentience, mere dust between the big winds of local chance and happenstance—a fleeting pride before a sudden fall—an ant hill just off an intra-galactic Freeway?  We are all of those things; we are none of those things? 

Still, we know enough to ask the question, and there lies the beginning of our salvation!  It's never been about the answers!  See, it's the questions that resolve the face of God. That's all anybody or anything else is likely to have at the start.  The better question… ...It's a great start...

...And I discover that at least one of those motes of presupposing consciousness would reach out to touch the face of God, embrace the larger reality, or accept the inevitable evolution.  At least one of the mice dreaming he's a man would presume the awful but liberating self-awareness provoked by actualizing the idea that we are not alone—much less the best example—in our backwoods corner of deep, deep space. At least one is self-assured and confident enough to strike the sun if it offends him... me?  I'd like to think so.

Challenge faith! …shake righteous fists at God and demand an explanation?  I suspect that there are a few more with the efficacious temerity—a temerity likely more respected by a conscientious God.  Whiny supplicants piss me off; this I know! [g].

But, that's enough for now.  I remained watching the Pacific skies, presently, for the odd "reportable."  Let it be my contribution, apart from voting, to our Nation's combined civic duty. 

I couldn't be doing anything more important.  Read on!

*Kal K. Korff

Tuesday, March 01, 2016

Tried By Tainted Press...

How was a fair trial remotely possible given the entirely negative spin by
Powell's lapdog media, sans all cause?

Tried By Tainted Press...
by Alfred Lehmberg


I recently got a video disc in snail-mail from a man by the name of Joe Zuppardo. Zuppardo was a friend to John Ford before Ford was hull-breached below the waterline, as has been described before, accused of attempted multiple homicide and conspiracy to commit same.  Whoa!  Serious business!  But wait!

Best not bury the lead! Was this hull-breach above a likely result of Ford's intensive investigation into the personal and professional affairs of Republican Political Machine (RPM) Boss (and alleged target of murder most foul!!!) John Powell? Is it reasonable that John Ford was jailed for conspiring, with equally cretinous cohorts, to murder John Powell, and others, with radioactive toothpaste when he was an injured in the line of duty (so, retired) Officer of the New York Courts, a respected community pillar, and a holder of a Master's Degree!!!  Could this affair be as ludicrous on its face as it sounds?  

A closer look strongly suggests that things were not actually the way they were contrived to look or made to sound, eh?  No, this was a first water frame of far-reaching fulsomeness.  

John Ford was, it must be understood, a Policeman, after all.  He'd spent a lot of professional time in criminal court and was privy to the best-laid bonehead plans of all manner of failing criminal ideas. Radioactive toothpaste as a weapon of murder would have topped that list, yea and verily!

Consider, remember, the aforementioned Ford-initiated investigation!  This was an inquiry encompassing the criminal machine of Boss John Powell and the highly strange activities of Suffolk County, New York's official agencies in Powell's direct and indirect control... to include DA, Fire, Police, and Trash Disposal

Specifically, at focus was the highly strange behavior of the aforementioned agencies during a widely reported UFO Flap, a flap with an abundance of activity and witnesses to same in New York's Suffolk County, circa the early nineties.  Such was so.

Whatever Ford initiated, it was an "investigation." Any investigation was an investigation that RPM Boss John Powell... Could. Not. Bear!  The reader can only imagine how that must be true.

Any investigation, even as left field as one involving UFOs, one might justifiably reason, could reveal Powell's lucrative criminal empire, a massive criminal enterprise for which Powell was to be later indicted and subsequently convicted, "no contest!" "DING!"

I suspect Powell copped to the tip of the criminal iceberg to save the scurvy ice below... Can the reader begin to smell a particularly nasty rat?

The disc I received from Mr. Zuppardo alluded to above contained many, and suspiciously immediate, local area news broadcasts in the summer of 1996.  In those television spots John Ford was tried in the press, found entirely and inexorably guilty, and then sloppily painted as a UFO crazy and gun-nut so out of control of his prejudices and hatreds but that he was moved to commit serial murder with a "stockpile" of near weapons-grade radioactive material, it was implied by the media or one was led to believe, and an "army's arsenal" with which he planned to commit those alleged murders if the radium ploy failed!  All credulity is buggered, reader!    

It would never get better than that.  

How was a fair trial even tenuously possible considering Ford's lawyer didn't ask for a change of venue so Ford could get a fair trial given a polluted Jury pool... and that, Ford's attorney is a Judge today?  

The fix was in... even in the arena of Ford's own defense? Perhaps even judgeships would later be awarded for complicity in Ford's jurisprudent lynching... Yes, the history of the locality would bear out long accounts of just this kind of shenanigan

Day after day these news spots ran.  Tirelessly, they vomited all manner of incriminating distortion as, over and over again, were repeated the busy scenes of the removal of Ford's registered pistol and rifle collection by the "intrepid" police force, the heft of the alleged "stolen" radioactive materials in "multiple heavy lead containers," Ford's "survivalist" literature, his "fringe paraphernalia of the paranormal" and finally, his altogether damning "obsession" with UFOs and its "seditious" LIUFON (Long Island UFO network) organization.  "Imps and devils lurk among us!" the authoritative "sounding" talking heads would intimate and prattle... 

Stuff like this only happens in a bad novel, folks.  Remains the tortured man who rots in confinement, for real, in this turbid little tale...

Yea and verily reader, all the pretty TV-talking-heads of the time looked at once astonished, saddened,  and then outraged at the effrontery of this psychopath Ford, a "craven monster" in their clueless midst, conspiring to cancel the tickets of elected officials who were blameless and innocent of the least provocation and besides, these talking heads would intimate, "Ford's intended victims didn't know him from bunny pants!"

But they did know him; they knew him well.  And?  They were terrified his activity would reveal them! Say that can't be so!

Moreover, it just may be that he did reveal them!  See, John Powell's gross criminal activity was revealed soon after John Ford's incarceration.  I like to think that Ford was able to strike a blow from his gulag, even as there was and is no balance achieved by it.  

Ford, one discovers, has been sequestered in one kind of lock-up or another for... twenty-odd years, reader!  Twenty years... A brave man, an educated man... an innocent man.  An innocent man buried alive... buried alive to succor and satiate scabrous white collar criminals.

Below, the reader will find links to the reportage alluded to above.  Marvel at the canned story concocted from the minds of true criminals to stonewall John Ford and drive him to unjust confinement where he is drugged and belittled for the long haul as psychotic and dangerous to himself and others.  Outrage!

No reader, Ford's plight is a result of sneering psychopaths officiating a criminal machine sporting a long history of criminal behavior with slimy roots in the tradition of the legendary Boss Tweed.  Ford's only "crime" was his threat to the successful criminality of the persons alleged to be "innocent victims."  It is the primary "alleged victim" John Powell, ironically, whose too quickly subsequent "no contest," plea and criminal conviction substantiated this whole tragic tale of Ford's unrecognized innocence!

Ladies and Gentlemen!  Restore John Ford!

Links to the television spots alluded to above:














Read on!