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

Saturday, September 24, 2016

...Ultimate Sedition...

See, you said it! It happened! You only spoke truth! The opposite's unthinkable! I'd held you aloof. You parents, and teachers—my culture, or government; you got my attention—secured my involvement.
You served it all up with the straightest of faces! You believed it yourself; now dissonance faced us. With a primitive sound and occasional pictures, you employed your devices of half-truths and stricture.
I bought into it, fine, as you played with my mind! I believed in whatever you said, you will find! I’m just a good citizen, and I’m paying my taxes to the best of abilityain’t taking no chances.
But, to tell you the truth? You now scare me silly. Your minds are all closed, and your countenance chilly. You don’t look around at the damage you cause, "Who pays while I play...," stands apart from your law.
Why, entranced by the "mainstream," I misread the sky! Thank God for my Dad"UFOs are alive"! Though hard ass, conservative, on Newt’s party line, even he could admit that the system's a crime.
Mistrust of the sky is encouraged by those who are fired from Airlines for telling what shows! "Odd things in the sky must have rational meanings"... It then HAS explanation . . . you pretend you are dreaming!
~You can safely buy in 
to what’s heard on the news!
Too, believe what "good Catholics" 

report about Jews!
The bunkies are right, 
and the Earth needs no healing!
There is an integrity! 

You perceive double dealing!
Blacks are all uppity, 
beyond their capacity,
And women are flighty, 

unsmart... no sagacity!
Chicanos are lazy, 
and Arabs are crazy. . .
Poor white folks endure 

these indignantly lazy!
Rednecks must carry 
a gene for green teeth!
Asians are plotting to 

take over our streets!
The "system" is trustful, 
its honor’s replete!
Any fault cannot lie 

at MY lily white feet!
Well, I've blasted on out with a new alien view, Where "it just don’t add up", and what’s *hidden's* a *clue*. College is hopeful, even filled with old commies These know about books hard to share with your mommy!
Yes, observing your flinching's a touchstone for me! It's where I must look and then be off my knees! Unravel all ignorance! Begone tangled yarn! We'll be weaving new robes where the truth dares to darn!


A literate veteran of foreign wars, a retired military officer, and a teacher with a certificate earned summa cum laude, at 68 I presume the right to bump gums. I'll take it in any case.

To begin, I would have been so much further along, now, but for an, albeit, absent early admission regarding societal warts and chancres on a shared society's face. We all would have.

See, all I got were tediously boring and prevaricating stories regarding an unreachable, so unimpeachable, standard—a standard where America could do no wrong... even as we decidedly were! Wrap this up in an organized spiritual con game of duplicitous untested faith prosecutions, qualified by twitchy authoritarians legislating their turbid moralities, and the societal shine-on is complete.

These contrived cultural stories were woven of half-truths and outright distortions into dissembling garments, I suspect, that never really fit our National psychological profile! Could that be true? 

Not as predators and psychopaths living way beyond our means, by any means, but as that sweet example to the rest of the world. Verily—as without fault as we were was supremely compassionate

These deceptive, disingenuous, and dissembling garments only gave the illusion of real clothing. Lies by another name and smelling, ultimately, as sweet. A cleaning bill comes due.

We’re naked, all of us, only thinking we wear rugged clothes. We hang from a thread, all and one... three meals from savagery and the artless cessation of all our pride and civility. Our rent is about to come due, too, I suspect.

All this "fearing and loathing" comes as a result of the social inconsistencies, institutional infidelities, and phony mainstream inculcations!  These are endured as a result of unending wars for profit, a rubber stamp electorate besotted with self-defining convenience, and stupefying educational practices busily retarding souls and individualities to an idiocracy.  Further fear and loathing are provoked by that aforementioned hijacked mainstream, and in at least two recent national elections 2000 and 2004: wide-spread vote fraud accused by the perpetrators of same facilitating criminal conspiracy fostered by open-faced liars, unrepentant cheats, and hypocritical thieves.  That's a conservative estimation. Time to pay?

Presently, this is a nation leaving its dead to rot in the sun for over a week before the world's revulsion gets a little activity started with regard to addressing suffering people's needs... I worry about our ability to "adapt and overcome" successfully in the looming and inevitable crisis approaching. How about you? Who's paying for lunch?

Me? I’m going to go to the tap right now, draw off a convenient clean glass of minimally potable drinking water, and make a point of savoring every astonishingly convenient drop.

"...And he did, too."

Enjoy your SUVs good people, but know your thought positive and enabling behavior is in the process of insidious betrayal even as you read these words.

UFOs — the ultimate sedition. In other words, ending on a positive note. Hey!  Maybe getting your heads eaten by aliens is preferable to getting your ass sawed off and handed to you in the guise of products you don't really want... or your children murdered, butchered, and then eaten, figuratively if not in actuality, by their own kind!

Folks? In order for that to be the ongoing reality, you're going to have to buy in and continue to enable your abusers. You have to buy in. Your cooperation is required. Billions of bilious bucks are spent every day convincing you!

"Boom's away," folks, for a hard turn to port, 45 degrees to start... err to the port beam side if err one must.  Anything else is psychopathy.

UFOs... The ultimate sedition. Why? Because admitting to them, even if in arrears, brings US closer together and gives us, further, a future of no small expansiveness. Indeed, this is a future where reach extends to grasp... unendingly. That's my feeling, eh? Read on.


Sunday, September 18, 2016

Best Evidence?

Best Evidence?
by Alfred Lehmberg

Even as the producer/director (inexplicably!) eventually did, do I revision entirely, repudiate ironically, or mea-culpa humbly?  I suspect not, reader.  That's against Ufological guild bylaws and conflicts with the poet/warrior charter.  Issues, of course, remain.

Moreover, pushing 70 I've learned there is often another shoe to drop, eh?  Yes, my perhaps too tediously prosecuted and melodramatic multi-media perturbation with the irrepressible Paul Kimball was long, detailed, and easily (if tediously) Googled.  True, we've battled magnificently in the literary sense, if I may, following the tradition of Lord Byron and Bob Southey in "Don Juan" (I'll leave it to the reader who was who), classic stuff, spun up for the 21st Century, seriously! Poetic commentary!  Critical prose! Woooot! I digress.

A review of my disquiet is outlined in "Why I Fight," located at my Weblog. It leaves Mr. Kimball handily free of any personal responsibility for my perhaps... exuberant (?) criticism in his regard over the years.  That's right. 

...Unless there's sufficient "broccoli water," perhaps, but you'll have to read "Why I Fight" a propos of that.  It's all about angle and approach, eh?

The short version?  As always, the proceeding may be taken as a sincere reportage and not a convenient course change currying favor of stars in obvious ascendancy... Nor is it evidence of vacillating conviction on my part, reader.  No apologies required or necessary, eh?  When it's fair you can't call it foul and vice versa.  That, too, is in the by-laws.

All that said?  This writer rather ironically asserts that the aforementioned Paul Kimball had raised the bar, decidedly, on what constitutes a competent film documentary about UFOs. He had produced a work at once wonderfully convincing and thoroughly authoritative... indeed as interesting as it is compelling in every conceivable way.  I bow, again.

Searching hard, reader, bitten and therefore shy?  I find I can be contrary only about the run-time of the piece.  It was too short by a factor of three.

"Best Evidence" in one word?  Simply: More.  There is much more, after all.

"Best Evidence"!  An always unlikely perfect storm of informed intelligence, controlled talent, and vetted support from key individuals, Kimball is able to ask society at large... reasoned, reasoning, and reasonable questions.  These are questions about UFOs, folks, which cannot go unanswered, ultimately! 

Let me purposefully digress a moment and address this concept of "questions," to better qualify Kimball's contribution to the genre.  Consider then a generic root "question."   The simple unassigned "interrogative." 

See?  The interrogative shapes perception and defines reality... where the answer only restricts itself to the question provoking it; am I right?  If one wants the most useful and productive answer available?  One must first ask the correct question, eh?

Moreover, this will be true, I suspect, even when the answers are not forthcoming—as they often are not vis a vis UFOs... remember.  No, it is the question which has always been enough, friends, to buoy an invested intellectuality until that answer is forthcoming.  "Reach must exceed grasp or what's a heaven for," nes't ce pas? 

This is a benefit of doing what it is we do, reader, you and I: indulging our curiosity for the "out of the box" stuff.  Shadows are regularly revealed and novelty begins to increase for us; am I wrong?  The borders are pushed back, our intellectual horizons get wider still, and we discover that there is all manner of potentiality in those heretofore unrealized shadows.  Wishes are horses and beggars can ride, to a degree, I suspect.

"To sleep perchance to dream," eh?  Then, from those aggregate dreams can't we cooperate to improve an individual's actuality?  This is a subtext of Kimball's film I think.  The correct questions, even if asked between the lines, provoking the best answers for individual advancement and elevation?  Yes.

Besides... It's the rare flower should get a little more water, eh?  Good is often interred with bones, no? Evil, conversely, lives on and on, right?  Kimball's documentary seems that rare and an atypical "good," living on for a change?  We begin:

I think the thing I liked most about Kimball's film was the unyielding width of its beam of stark inclusiveness!  It is an inclusiveness not dismissible as merely playing to the "lowest common denominator.  It remains, Everybody can get the point of Kimball's film. 

Indeed, disparate persons could "get" the film wherever they've approached it on the Bell curve, and in as much as the smartest person on the planet is numbingly stupid about some things, proper respect and appreciation gets shown to what has ever been inappropriately maligned, too readily disrespected, and heartlessly betrayed as the dimmer left half... of what proves to be an overworked and inappropriately applied, if famous, "Bell" curve.  

Shortly, Kimball talks down to no one, and is straight with everyone!  Everyone gets respect!

Truthfully, I was all set for a tedious viewing ordeal, upon which I would strafe and pan a review of equal if vitriolic tediousness.  It was not to be! 

In fact, I was immediately delighted, hugely interested, and completely absorbed with the program from its onset.  With a little shame, I'd started the doc prepared to sneer.  Thankfully, I was spared that! 

...And strap yourself down, reader!  The boost's not over at perigee!  Acceleration is ongoing!  Infinity and beyond!  Concrescence looms and beckons!

Like a ten stage rocket for a micro-mini mind-missile, the reality of a ufological profundity is fired so high and hard into the ufological fence-sitter's forebrain, said fence-sitter can't really look at UFOs the same way ever again!  Seriously, for every iterated case or stage of this rocket... given the quality of the persons concerned?  ...The numbers of quality persons concerned?  ...The multi-faceted evidence concerned?  ...The quality of science concerned? 

Well... let's just say that the aforementioned fence-sitter has every right, authorization, and duty to float down from that undecided *fence* and be amongst his or her fellow anti-klasskurtxians or sharp-beaked pelican-hawks... yea and verily...feast on the well invalidated skeptibunky flesh vanquished hereby!  LOL!

But seriously, trees of ufological liberty finally nourished by the blood of harsh klasskurtxian tyrants, no?  That's another subtext of Kimball's film and small hyperbole reader.

...At case #10, even conversant I was, "wow"!  By #5, I was, "Great suffering Zot"!  At #2?  Well, my exuberance knew no bounds, reader!  At #1 I stood and cheered!  You see, Kimball has paid that awful debt incurred by a scurrilous lapdog mainstream in the abortive second half of the infamous "Peter Jennings UFO Special." 

Yes!  Jennings' ABC is put paid by Kimball's Redstar Productions!  No one is more gob-smacked than myself!

Indeed! Kimball's "Best Evidence" is filled with all manner of meaningful and constructive surprises.  One such?  The employment of one Kris McBride, a serious young female actor, as the narrator.

There was some small discussion whether or not McBride was the correct choice to provide the aforementioned anchor.  Based on what I heard consistently throughout?  She was, actually—in spades.

Her unruffled and understated approach to the material, coupled with the calm confidence of her informed delivery, contrasted productively with the youthfulness of her voice in a wide-sweep synergistic sense generational in demographic. She hit all the buttons.  Consequently, her performance compelled and communicated at many levels where a masculine delivery would fall short, I assert. 

Moreover, she shows a rare courage (always guaranteed to blow my dress up) associating herself with even a serious ufology—lest she be painted as a "woo-kookian (tm) or tin-foiler"! This girl is more than the sum of her parts, assuredly!

Another surprise: brief mention must be made of the late Mac Tonnies' contribution; his intelligence, sobriety, imagination, and intellectual bravery are at once capstone and keynote of Kimball's impressive work.  Perfect punctuation.

Finally, the full blown DVD of Kimball's best evidence is predicted to add all the material not entertained by network television, so the work could better approach the run-time wished for at the beginning of this essay.  I submit that it will be a wealth of valid information about not being alone in a backwater galaxy, and whatever the implications of that are, you can bet that it is a great pay-off to a concrescence graphed asymptotically lately and yawning like the greater future...  Buckle up!  The future is inexorable, but I suspect, still, that that is good news.

I wonder... could "Best Evidence" be that "other shoe" dropped regarded earlier?  Time will tell, reader, but I'll keep my saber loose in its scabbard.   There are seasons for poet-warriors to stand firm; however, this is not one of them.  No, Kimball's "Best Evidence" is a sea change, if we let it.  I can only wish it its god's speed.  Keep an eye peeled for it, yourself.

Read on.


Wednesday, September 14, 2016

On The Subject Of ET Crashlanders...

Today is the 64th Anniversary of the 
"Frametown Monster" Incident

The "Flatwoods Monster" Returns?

Not Flatwoods!  Frametown, eh?  This is a whole other fish kettle and downed alien aviator incident, a result of the war declared upon them, perhaps.  

No smiles here.

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the woods of Braxton County, eh?

See, on the night following the "Flatwoods Monster" incident, another terrifying alien close encounter occurred in Braxton County, about 17-miles away in the Frametown area. It was September 13, 1952, about 8:00 pm in the same Indian summer when George Snitowsky, his wife Edith and 18-month baby were driving through Braxton County, on their way back home to New York from a short vacation stay in Cincinnati, Ohio.  

The young couple had decided to take secondary roads on their trip back home and enjoy the great mountain scenery on their journey through West Virginia, visiting many small towns along the way. Upon driving into the area of Frametown, they had no idea that they were about to encounter something that would be more frightening than their worst nightmare and change their lives forever

It was dusk, the sun had set.  As George Snitowsky drove along the darkening and secluded road, the car suddenly stalled for no apparent reason. Snitowsky coasted his vehicle towards the side of the road and then put it in park. The car was completely dead, which baffled him because the battery was relatively new and there was no indication it was draining during their trip.

Snitowsky attempted to start the car but it failed to turn over after several attempts. George was getting frustrated. He jumped out of the car, inspected the engine and battery cables but found nothing wrong with the car, which puzzled him. Moments later, the fresh mountain air around them suddenly became engulfed with a noxious fog and terrible odor that Snitowski likened to a mixture of ether and burnt sulfur!  He thought there must be a nearby business or factory  that was on fire to justify this chemical stench. Only that would account for the toxic fire-odor spreading throughout the area around them. He could see no evidence of a fire! What the hell, he began to wonder.

Snitowsky got back into his car and rolled all the windows up. It was quiet, then shockingly, a dazzling beam of deep purple light flashed across the hood of the car from the nearby woods! George rolled the window down to get a better look. The sickening odor of the strange fog entered the car. The interior filled with the cloudy haze surrounding it and they began to gag from the redolence. The baby began to wail uncontrollably. The situation was getting worse by the second.

As everyone gagged, heaving from the nasty odor, George got out of the car hell-bent on doing something...  perhaps get some answers from the brilliant light in the woods! He walked gagging towards it and as he got closer he was dumbfounded, a deer in strange headlights, to clearly see a glowing UFO hovering behind some nearby trees!  It was ovoid in shape and gently rocking back and forth. 

Nearing the object, George was at once surrounded by electrical charges filling the air around him and penetrating his body. He compared it to a low-grade electrical shock. Stunned a little, he  backed away, turned and quickly headed back towards the comparative safety of the car parked at the roadside

As George neared his car, he staggered and repeatedly fell down. His legs had become rubbery from the electrical shocks he'd received upon nearing the floating object. He continued on; however, staggered against a tree attempting to regain his balance to catch his breath, and then he vomited.   A blood-curdling scream rang out, filling the air, as Edith shrieked warnings from the car of the impending danger approaching him from behind! Terrified, George stumbled on!

Edith, now in a wholly hysterical state, was screaming at George and pointing excitedly to his rear at... a huge 9-foot tall alien hovering in place about 30-feet away to his right! George, clueless as yet to what was now behind him, yelled to Edith to see what she was screaming about. As he approached her, he saw a paralyzed look on her face with wide-open eyes as she continuously screamed trying to warn him inarticulately, blubbering as if at looming demons!  

George Snitowsky turned and looked behind him. Startled, his knees buckled at the sight of the huge reptilian-looking being peering at him menacingly from such a short distance away! He froze in fear at the horrific sight presented as, for a moment, they stared each other down. George was able to describe the alien as at least nine-feet tall, having a bloated body with long spindly anthropoid arms forking into only two long fingers, no thumbs Snitowsky saw . 

Without any warning then, the hovering being moved towards George.  He said the alien figure seemed to glide across the surface of the road at him. Snitowsky  further described the lower torso of the being as a solid mass, a conveyance. A construct. A craft.

Additionally, the lower torso of the figure was the source of the sickening sulfur gas that had tainted the air throughout the area. This being was described as inside of a craft, some kind of a hovercraft, which acted as a mode of transportation for it.

The huge alien quickly hovered towards a terrified Snitowsky and followed him back to the car. Upon reaching it, George fumbled with the door handle, hurriedly got in, pushed his wife onto the floor as she clutched the screaming baby, and then grabbed a big knife from the glove box as their only protection. Shielding his family and huddled on the floor, he hardly dared to look up!  He just stayed on the floor for several minutes hoping it would go away. 

The huge figure then circled their automobile and seemed to stalk them as it lingered in the vicinity of the car. Unbeknownst to the Snitowskys, the huge alien had stopped and positioned itself in front of the car. When George, thinking perhaps all was clear, looked up across the dashboard, he saw the being gazing down upon him through the windshield like the aforementioned demon! 

That's enough... Much more about this terrifying incident and other spectacular UFO events can be read in Feschino's book. Read on, and don't be afraid to go into the woods in Braxton County...just don't take my word it's safe... read on!


Monday, September 12, 2016

Veni, Vidi, Scripsi...

Feschino: Veni, Vidi, Scripsi...
By Alfred Lehmberg

September 12, 1952... today, it's been 64 years...

On the old "Strange Days Indeed" radio program with the late Errol Bruce-Knapp one Saturday night years ago, I heard Stanton Friedman say that Frank Feschino's book on the Flatwoods monster, The Summer Of Saucers 1952, and the documented military involvement with same... air war with ET if you'll have it, would likely never win a Pulitzer. I suspect he's, right-likely, correct.

...Only... hold On.  You'd be taking Stanton Friedman well out of context if you left it, altogether, there, reader.  Endeavor not to leave it there.  It's likely never "there" anyway!

Perhaps that Pulitzer denial would not then come as a result of reasons most immediately thought of, you know?  You know what I mean... 

I refer to those reasons concerning conjectured (if judgmental) mainstream assessments that Feschino's book wasn't good enough. Gifted enough.  Polished enough.  Detailed enough.  Cited enough...

...Appropriate enough. Pertinent enough...

...Important enough?  Right?

I'm betting that's not Mr. Friedman's thinking! Plainly, writing fore and aft in all of Feschino's volumes Friedman seems to have a key understanding just how important Feschino's book actually might be!

Perhaps arguably, a close look at Mr. Feschino's work and detailed research begs the question. Is it good enough?  Is it gifted, polished, cited, appropriate, pertinent, and important... ...enough

Consider, the aforementioned Mr. Friedman is willing to put his name on the book and write within it fore and aft as I've pointed out!  


It's been a long string of decades illustrating the issue that that honorable gentleman has failed... only with regard to disgracing himself professionally, or in any other way! Eh?  I suggest Friedman's studied endorsement is compellingly invested, and a ready tell-tale for your attention, reader!  

Yes!  The reader discovers one doesn't have to squint one's eyes very much, if at all, to begin to wonder that the preceding might indeed be so. That's right!  Feschino's book might be good enough, after all... Consider further.

What's a Pulitzer?  What did Mr. Pulitzer extort the intrepid aspirates of his prize to do, anyway, but:

Unflinchingly study the social, political, and moral realities of fellow human beings.

Make accurate records of the expressions regarding the character displayed by these fellow individuals, and...

Report, equally unflinchingly, on the principles of the aggregate world condition, as it is and has been, reflected by the persons employing these principles.

Unabashedly, I submit the case could be made that Mr. Feschino has abundantly addressed each of the preceding points in turn... and in spades. That's right, too.

...But he'll never win a Pulitzer. No, reader!  He can't!  How does that work?

To recognize Frank Feschino for a Pulitzer is to knock a supporting cornerstone from the edifice of a stagnant, authoritarian, officious, and largely illegitimate and irrelevant "status quo" we all continue to endure at peril to ourselves!  Feschino can't get a Pulitzer, flatly, because the *establishment* lacks the righteous sack it needs to cut its own throat to give him one! 

I won't pretend that this is enough justification for an *establishment's* reluctance to take its own life.  Some throats, very likely, should be cut, I suspect, but I digress...

Be much of that as it may, Frank Feschino took more than 20 years of his life to rationally actualize on one startling set of very unsettling conclusions! How unsettling?  Well... pretend it's something like... "humanity-in-pitched-battle-with-aliens-from-beyond-the-stars...with-a-twist, reader, only to get close!

I won't apologize for that.  Having looked into it myself, I can't be ashamed that I said it.

See, reader?  These aforementioned conclusions themselves were all sensibly kindled by a chance serendipitous interview Feschino had made, in Flatwoods West Virginia, near the start of his remarkable 20 plus year quest!  This interview was startling ...even during a first investigative wash when he didn't know what he had

Ufologically?  Keys to a big part of the kingdom!

After that propitious interview, the data would accumulate steeply over the next decade and change what began as a garden-variety school project, patient reader... into a life's work and consuming occupation!  The interest is abundantly understandable.  

See further!  Thoroughly investigating all aspects of an accident-site which was the result of a UFO forced down in aerial combat operations with the United States...(read that again please) ...can provoke that kind of "provoked obsession."  No shame, reader, knowing how "B"-movie nuts that sounds.

I'm not making this up!  Neither is Mr. Feschino. Relax.  Everybody's cheese is squarely on its cracker.  That's what should provoke your interest, actually.

Recapping: This reviewed book is the result of an investigative effort employed where Feschino was, again, unflinchingly steadfast in a study of the sociopolitical realities revealed to him! He was made aware of moral and ethical sub-realities that these *larger* realities further implied!  Heady stuff, reader, forgetting Feschino's kept his, Friedman confirms, and I so report!

Indeed 'Reality' was revealed, considered, and then assiduously chronicled by Frank Feschino. In the final analysis (and we'd have never heard about it otherwise, good reader!), Feschino came, he saw, and he wrote it down.  "Veni, vidi, scripsi," it could be said?

The data are revealing, reader! Feschino reports them to us in detail. Indeed, we weren't in 'Kansas' anymore after 1952... and may not, I submit (remembering a wealth of old history scribed in old ink and stone... ...and epic poetry indicating same?), have ever been in 'Kansas'!  Roll that and smoke it! 

Call the Ayahauscaroes, alert the Shamans, and get Dr. Strassman on the line!  The kingdom is at hand.  The mundane plane is pierced!  Let's move on!

...We're not in 'Kansas'... now, reader! Got it?

Moreover, get used to it, even as it is more good news, really, is my suspicion.  The future looms.

Back to the discussion at hand, the aforementioned and tumultuous "interview", an interview with the ranking military person peculiarly involved with the Flatwoods affair (...a vetted hard as nails hero of WWII...) ...occurred in a moment of idle interest born of a distracted and tentative conjecture on the part of an unassuming and non-presupposing Mr. Feschino!  At the start?  Feschino didn't give a tinker's damn about UFOs!

Mr. Feschino's initial interest, actually, in the beginning, was with regard to a little throw-away film documentary he might put together, about the Flatwoods "myth," ...to satisfy a course-requirement for school, remember! What it turned into would be a taproot into the most important events of our (...and any other!) time, or... yes...

...Even more compelling evidence that we are not alone in billions of years of space, time, and surface area... a googolplex of alien surface areas and maybe even a googolplex of aliens to inhabit them!  

...More, anyway, than the reader can imagine is stealthily hidden behind a grain of sand held at arm's length into a night's starry sky, sir or madam!  True enough!  Be humbled.

The warm breath of an un-guessed infinity of potentiality is only the beginning of the beginning for all of us.  More good news, if inexorable in its approach!  Feschino writes the preamble of all that.

We are not alone, folks. An antithesis is ludicrous. Moreover, all the major propeller heads, a few of the high-domes, and a smattering of leading-edge, vetted, and credentialed intelligentsia think it's ludicrous, too. I digress, again. Sorry, not.

Something occurred in Flatwoods of Braxton County, West Virginia September 12, 1952, that was just the tip of an iceberg, reader!  The data are beyond convincing!  See if that isn't so!

Something occurred (is occurring?) as surely as flying saucers came close to landing, on the White House lawn in July of that same year... and they did come close to landing on the lawn, reader... Believe that, too!

In the town of Flatwoods, Braxton county West Virginia... on a warm Indian Summer evening and interrupting playing children and relaxing adults at the end of their working day... begins the strangest story never told.  

Multiple objects interacted with multiple witnesses, people were made ill... ...and a dog ran home in gibbering fright... then subsequently died!  None of the participants involved in this eerie affair were ever the same again.

Justifying that aforementioned Pulitzer, Mr. Feschino makes a durable record of the expressions of character displayed by dozens of individuals concerned with, and material to, this matter... people both guilty and innocent in the matter... by persons both truth telling and glibly lying regarding the matter... by folks both brave and cowardly, warm and cold... by persons encountered on a foggy 'audit trail' Feschino was driven to plod... ...a trail rife with dead ends, detours, and official double-dealings...  

Feel the outrage with regard to the systemic disrespect with which YOU are treated, reader, by a jealous and corrupted culture of needless secrecy!  Feel the burn!

It's quite a ride. Mr. Toad is efficaciously eclipsed by Mr. Feschino! Moreover, in truth, the satisfied requirements for Mr. Feschino's Pulitzer seem to steadily resolve!  I spit in the mainstream eye!

More coal to Newcastle, but Mr. Feschino risked bodily harm on numerous occasions during his investigation. This threat would come, ironically, as a result of the very persons from which he'd have to draw his story. Consider.

In fourteen years Mr. Feschino was too often mistaken for the same kind of glib cheap-shot-artist reporter or faux-journalist *investigator* who'd glutted the area since that fateful night... axe-grinding scepti-bunkers coyly generating the disdain, the derision, and the patent disrespect stalwart Flatwoods witnesses had had to endure for half a century ... an unwarranted contempt and ridicule officiously imposed on innocent people unjustly suffering... punished by their own society for having the temerity to stand up and report the highly strange account they had all had... on that warm if bizarre September night!

I suspect Feschino had his shirt-front grabbed more that a few times by this angry group of betrayed citizenry.  He was so threatened on more than one occasion...

Again, with regard to Pulitzer, the questions remain begged! Has not Mr. Feschino reported on the principles of the aggregate world and the condition reflected by them? Has he not spent many years tirelessly trying to ferret out important details that would have gone undiscovered and unreported but for his painstaking research, tedious dot-connecting, and unflinching perseverance?

Has he not validated a couple of generations of innocent persons trying to come to grips with the inexplicable thrust upon them? Has he not vindicated these people to some extent and alleviated some of their suffering as a result of his work? Such a person may have earned more than a mere Pulitzer at the denouement.  Verily!

Does 'Nobel' have a category that applies?  Unabashed to the last, remember!

All things equal? Feschino earns his Pulitzer. He has more sack than many who've aspired to that prize, I suspect. Moreover, I'll bet Mr. Friedman agrees with me. Feschino wins my award, at any rate.

Along those same lines, Mr. Feschino can not be faulted for his brave attempt to fill the societally imposed "information void" (he suffers with the rest of us) by starting at the end of an incredible story rife with suspicious details and curious facts... and then working arduouslymodeling, graphing, and plotting backwards on that stark and hostile trail... trying, thoughtfully, to connect those aforementioned ephemeral dots... flesh out one more 'official' story that won't add up from the 'official' account... This is a key concept, folks!

Indeed, his admitted *conjecturing* and clearly identified personal (if provoked!) *belief* may actually add up, ironically, to the astonishing story he reports in his book!

It just may be, reader, that given the clear evidentiary audit trail of same...(again please)...that there was an aerial battle with ET out in the Atlantic that night in 1952. It may be that 8 to 10 American jets were destroyed in that struggle, their crews lost. Perhaps one Lt. Jones and crew, valiantly sacrificing themselves, even rammed one of the UFOs, bravely, with his plane in the one-sided fight Humanity likely provoked...

Also consider... given that a postwar American military was aggressively over-touchy and otherwise spring-loaded on the balls of their very twitchy feet... especially after the repeated UFO over-flights  of prohibited airspace in Washington D.C. the previous July... it's not that much of a stretch that it would react decisively to multiple UFO's and their blithe transgressions over an imaginary fighting line on the coastal ADIZ (Air Defense Identification Zone)... ...with folding-fin aerial rockets and exploding 50 caliber machine gun fire!  Orders to engage UFOs were made! Yes!

Further, Feschino's speculation is not remotely unreasonable given the statement by Benjamin Chidlaw, a four-star general commanding the very high-profile "Air Defense Command", to wit: that many "planes and crews" had been "lost" trying to "intercept UFOs"... these are his words, it is reported.

Mr. Feschino is not making the story up, at any rate, I'm confident. Mr. Feschino is trying to make sense of the very real story that is already there, I do believe. Extant is a sincerity in his book, as a result, that this writer can relate to and find some substance in, I not so humbly report.

Additionally, I don't believe, especially after having spoken with him for many hours (where I asked some pretty pointed questions), that Mr. Feschino has it in him to write a sociopathic fiction, fobbed off to the credulous as fact to crab their dollars... then smirk at that betrayed reader's "nose-bubble credulity" as he orders up goth-hookers and greasy-cheeseburgers...

No, Feschino's only telling you the credible story he knows, or... he is otherwise hanging some 'substance' on the astonishing facts that he has, undeniably, uncovered!  Veni, Vidi, Scripsi, friends and neighbors.

There is more there, more to the story, than you get in the published book, reader... witnesses you don't hear from... alluded to are the unsolicited and credible reports about other involvements, other sightings in the area, and still other startling corroborations of

fact and circumstance attendant to the whole astonishing affair! It's breathtaking, actually.

Also, it's all very hard to discount. Increasingly so.  Try!

An extraterrestrial being (or artifact of ET intelligence) arrived Earth-side in a damaged craft... rightly or wrongly terrorized an entire town of good, sober, and horse-sensed people in September of 1952, and then the government worked furiously to cover it all up... impugning the honor of the aforementioned soldiers and citizenry (and ourselves!) in the process...

Tragic, needless, and suspicious madness, reader.

As Feschino wrote to me in the inscription of the review copy he sent:

"The questions and answers I have provided in this book are only the beginning..." ...Buckle-up, folks.  Extinguish your smokes.  Prepare for take-off!

See, I suspect that quote comes up as a bit of an understatement from Mr. Feschino. But that's only my feeling. I'm comfortable going with it. I submit you can too.

Get more info about Mr. Feschino's book:

Read on!

Frank C. Feschino, Jr.

Saturday, September 10, 2016

Alfred's Odd Observation #20

Alfred's Odd Observation #20   

[on the conclusion of Spielberg's "Taken"]
by Alfred Lehmberg

It's just not going to go away, is it? Dread for some. Expectancy for others. Anticipation for others, still? Not all bad, reader. Not by any means.

Hurrying through my observation for that shivery period, the clear winter skies had begun to quicken (in the traditional Jack Frost sense... snow once as I recall). Vague shapes flitted in peripheral vision in the night skies. Silent glowing orbs traversed the heavens on busy errands and at divergent speeds. I sensed a realized propensity:  an actualization of the idea that if something can happen in this universe (?), it will happen!  

Given the space and time we view as separate but are actually one, it's understood... ...even now.  Add to all this an infinity, as far as we're concerned, of "surface area"! That's a lot of propensity!  

The expectancy I felt at the time was real, the premonition I sensed was valid, and my anticipation for a perceived cosmic denouement was genuine. A secular kingdom was at hand, I'd felt, and as real as any postulated divine one (... in fact the singular fountain of energy for that same misidentified divinity!), right here and now!  There was no dread, there was only change.  There was no fear.  There was only empowerment.  Within reach but to grasp!

We are that which we seek.  We are what we'll draw strength from in the future.  We (You, I) are key! Good news, eh?  It's a consequence of defining yourself and not letting others define you.  ...Back at the Ranch?

I expected artistic betrayal in the final episode of "Taken," some phony plot splice or an intervention of some *God* to tie everything up in the usual warm 'n fuzzy ball, and was happily disappointed.  Struggle, loss, and hope in equal parts are still better than sappy Hollywood endings resembling hammered bovine fecal matter.

I kept thinking though, that there had to be some kind of *dovetail* back to the otherwise hijacked "mainstream sensibility" so the watching audience wouldn't be left with the impression that their institutions of government and their agencies of law enforcement were a duplicitous concoction of dark agendas and arbitrary judgments completely disconnected and apart from that which they are supposed to have faithfully served... Institutions and agencies actually preying upon powerless (and largely innocent) individuals, disqualifying them, deriding them, and dismissing them?  But no.  I was happily disappointed there also.  

Truth is better than fiction where you prefer a useful history and not a prevaricating, disingenuous, and unusable fable.

You can't steer a cultural ship with a fable for very long.  With real history as a preferred rudder, a cultural course is clearest and most efficacious.  Real History is rife.

Oh sure... there were good guys in the legion of darkness depicted in the teleplay (even the worst had 'moments'), but notice that that only worked on an individual level.  The interests these fronted were still completely corrupted, I mean, the "system" tolerated people who blew up hamsters in microwaves to make a casual point, fa-chris'sakes!  Corruption is as corruption does.  Who is served?  Who is penalized?

I teared up quietly a few times towards the conclusion of the film, gratified that so much of what I suspect about this "thing" that interests so many of us was even inconclusively validated but saddened at our unrealized potential as illustrated and depicted: that in our imaginations we would have value to conjectured extraterrestrials as we would be valued; that they could have value to us as those seeing us as we wished we could be seen; that together we might be greater than the sum of our parts... 

That they ARE!  

That individual responsibility was key to efficacious individual self-actualization and that all sentience (wherever it is found!) is united in a grand creation that strives so passionately to know itself, recapture what had been lost, and further work for efficacious gain...

Reinforced for me was my contention that we have (we ARE!) power we don't use, knowledge we can seek and attain... happiness and fulfillment we can achieve.  I have full awareness that Spielberg's epic was just a play, a show, and a clever vehicle to sell *soap* that won't get anyone of us *clean* ironically (I'm not a child), but I am also encouraged that the story could be told at all (the WAY it was told) and could so completely capture the optimism I sustain as a result of a personal investigation... into this "thing" that just is.  Verily. [g] 

We'll get the answers we demand, articulate the questions we would seek, and solve the puzzles these present because it is our nature to challenge a "conventional wisdom" plainly betraying us.  This search for better questions is beyond mere love of country, love of family, and love for self because it is the DISTILLATION of all those things... and more things beyond our present understanding.  Our will to understand is fueled, and NOT fooled by that distillate.

Here at Alienviews is that same guileless desire aspired to, to achieve a refined synergy of will required to break on through to the next level of human evolution we all sense approaching, looming even, uncorrupted by self-serving institutions, conflicted sociopaths and the misinformed unfortunates who support them.  We're poised to advantage ourselves in a new reality invalidating the short-sighted concerns of that which has gone before... looking forward with informed confidence as we gain a new appreciation for an unvarnished history, experience that new comprehension facilitated by an open-minded and genuine science actually going where the data goes!  Heaven on Earth!  The kingdom at hand!  

...Though "heavens" fall.

Having left the swaddle of our self-imposed confinement at last, we will stumble and skin our knees on the grounds outside it, we will burn our hands on the cosmic stove... we will cut our fingers on knives of a greater reality outside that self-inflicted gulag we presently endure, and we assuredly will suffer updated shocks our new flesh will be heir to, as Shakespeare had already pointed out...

 ...But we'll learn from our mistakes too, this time, remember our past accurately, this time, and so have a solid rudder with which to steer to a future star.  It may be true that a lie is halfway around the world before the truth gets its pants oneven zipping up the sidebut pants on and rolling it easily kicks any lie's ass. The reader knows that to be true, so I say true, and truth's not fragile.  

"Taken" was one of the most significant things on television for the periodit really stepped outside its box is my considered estimationand I think it was one of the beginnings of a new approach to our place in open-ended time-space... born into the new reality?  Such may be so. 

Sometimes art is the lie that tells the truth, sometimes fiction will reflect the actuality, sometimes what could be, is.  My optimism is emboldened at any rate. Incredible things call from the future, and not all of them bad.  Not by any means, reader. Not by any means.

That's enough. I remain watching the skies.  Read on.

Grok In Fullness


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