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! 
  •  
  • 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?
  •  
  • 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.
  •  
  • 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!
  •  
  • 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.
  •  
  • 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...
  •  
  • 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!
  •  
  • Why? ...Because "everything that could have been invented had been invented...".  What an appalling hubris!
  •  
  • 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...
  •  
  • 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"...
  •  
  • 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!
  •  
  • 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.




Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Sedition Of The Light (Part Two)


Part Two

When last we met, Dorothy Izatt—the compelling subject of Frank Longo's film documentary Capture The Light—was introduced as the most current humiliation that our state of the art scientific reductionism endures.  See?  Perplexed by UFOs seen for years in day and nighttime skies, she endeavors—as one should you'd think—to find out what they are.  

You know, take steps.  Make an effortProsecute the proactive.  ...Be brave, reader! 

Something different was in the sky, after all.  Something different had always been in the sky, actually.  Something "different" is in the sky, right now!  ...I'll nip this digression in the bud!

Finally, in an exasperated result of these ongoing sightings, Ms. Izatt calls the authorities: constabulary, airports, newspapers, and other official entities, for an explanation.  Rather predictably through our filters, reader, these "official" bodies essentially dismiss her, suggest her "obvious" drunkenness, or otherwise imply that she could do a better job keeping up with her meds!  Find no hyperbole in any of that.  

In other words, just what you'd expect from the conflicted, mendacious, and cowardly mainstream.  Such is "authority," eh?

Well—they had their chance, am I right?  Feeling a little betrayed by society I presume, Ms. Izatt "hot-lines," local edge radio personality Pat Burns with her report. Burns' producer, Elaine Alexander, fortuitously suggested Izatt "capture" the UFOs observed... with a camera. Izatt promptly purloined her husband's unused Keystone Super-8 and began exposing film!

Well, three decades pass and she's is 30,000 feet in—5.68 statute miles of celluloid, reader—capturing the visual impossibilities she reports... everywhere she goes!  These "visual impossibilities"—succinctly explained—are inexplicable light sources traveling fast enough in an 18th of a second of elapsed time to paint veritable pictures in some strangely lysergic "smeared-light aftermathy" as the artistic medium!  They paint with light!

Moreover, these "brush" movements are precisely employed and deft enough to write Dorothy's name in fluid script three times...one small example... but in an 18th of a second on one frame of film!  

...Cue startled music, eh?

See, a single "point-source light" moved quickly and deftly enough to script the word "Dorothy" three times in that smidgeon eighteenth of a second requires that the light must burn very brightly indeed to be perceptible—so explaining the observed light flashes as she films.  The peculiarity, apart from writing her name in script, suggests that the quick-bright light somehow knows it must get bright enough to expose the film in that moment, or disappear when it moves.  This begs intelligence, folks.  Too—and on the level of the genuine crop circle's cryptic missives in food crops—it bespeaks a cleverness expressing itself in an altogether different manner than has been seen heretofore!

Cutting to the substantive chase, radio Producer Elaine Alexander is très impressed from the start and, surreptitiously enough, even hooks Ms. Izatt up with early last century's A-1 UFO goto-guy: Doctor J. Allen Hynek!  Well, Hynek sorts Ms. Izatt out in scientific short order.  At the end, he is, himselfMr. Scientific Respectable—blown-away!

First, though, there was a complete equipment disassembly, a thorough checking, and subsequently sealed reassembly of Izatt's camera as orchestrated by Hynek.  Too, this "equipment examination" would include Ms. Izatt herself, reader!  

A battery of psychological tests and some hardnosed professional analysis insured Izatt's functionality as a "quality instrument of observation," by report, but satisfying the good Doctor, entirely! Izatt clears the "crazy" hurdle.

"Passed Test" colors flying, Izatt is soon back in business running film through her scientifically certified camera, capturing impossible light, and later... other things, reader... with multiple, better quality cameras now understandably supplied by Hynek.   It gets weirder than even this.  More in a moment.

First, Dr. Hynek advises Izatt to "lay low, and avoid the lunatic fringe" —a fringe, I maintain, sadly generated by the "official information void," largely—but "continue to amass [her] photographic data!  Izatt does exactly that!  Of note: because she did not remotely seek a "limelight," Izatt "hid out," essentially, for almost 35 years!  

This is a little like Dr. Livingston ("I presume…") walking out of darkest Africa after years of absence in the 30's, reader!  Smoke that!

Let's shift gears. Dorothy Izatt is not good news for ufologists who adhere too tenaciously to their stark scientific reductionism, their reflex Cartesian-ism of numbered measurements, or their sullen insistence regarding the prosecution of what could be called an errant and futile "scientific hubris maintenance," as I've pointed out.  Izatt's experience appears to be a little richer and more genuinely selfless than that.

See—she's not just a lone and lonely nut desperate for attention in the dwindling time remaining her.  In fact, to a degree, and because she is an accomplished woman and matriarch of a grand clan of persons as agreeably reasonable as they are respectful and doting, as Longo plainly shows, she neatly refutes the "sad lone-nut" hypothesis. 

Too, based on her unusual assessment of her experience, it might appear that she is going to be the new darling of the so-called "Benevolent Space Brother" crowd... though, not so fast, Skippy!  Break your shin on that one!  Dr. Salla can back off.  Dr. Greer can change his Speedos. 

First, Ms. Izatt knows her business and, second, she is surrounded by a veritable platoon of educated younger men: sons, grandsons, and doting son-in-laws—forgetting the always more dangerous daughters across four generations!  Trifle Ms. Izatt at your peril, I suspect.  

It remains: she communicates to us that "it," whatever "it" is, is decidedly not about her... ...and not all good, reader, not all good... 

Start raising the black felt curtains.  Hear organ pipes rising in a discordant ululation then morphing into a rising hope recent

She advises that individual "intention" is the key.  Good intentions produce good outcomes.  Bad intentions have... disturbing outcomes... ...or what was that lurking briefly behind Dorothy's chair at the 2343 count on the DVD while she discussed the consequences of a "less than pure intention."  

Whatever it is, it is disturbing.  There are other appalling wonders displayed.

Yes, Dorothy Izatt is in contact with something highly strange, she feels... and is able to provide physical evidence for same. Moreover, it communicated to her an expansiveness of her awareness, spanning the entire universe and all the dimensions and intelligences contained therein, too, if I may paraphrase.  

Though, denying the intimated guru-ship errantly suggested, Izatt maintains that she is able to communicate in this way with this ineffable "other" because she is "open to it… and [her] intentions are pure." 

In other words, Izatt has no self-serving agenda to serve.  She's confident that anyone with an open aspect regarding them, with no ax to grind, and with proper intention, reader, can communicate with this "other" as she does.  In short, anyone with a mind to, can do! 

It appears that's no idle "airy-fairy" boast, reader!  See, persons who go along with Ms. Izatt on her little back-deck filming forays find that they themselves are seeing the subjects photographed, that there is a "communication" of some ethereality personally, and that they are able to photograph them, too?  That's right. 

Stop the train.

At this point, let us sum up briefly:  Predictability.  Check.  Repeatability.  Check.  An abundance of hard physical evidence.  Check.  Measurement of attendant variables: light, speed, rate, frequency... Check.   Quality observer/recorders of the phenomena... Check.  Documented history of the occurrence over decades by vetted persons... uh… check?

One would think that all of this would have the now well-battered Cartesian up on his tippy-toes, the reflex "reductionist" reduced to his lowest common denominator, or the compulsory klasskurtxian decidedly if uncharacteristically terse—made sullenly mute even and unable to confabulate the usual "prosaic" to cover it, at all! 

Reader! Are not all the attributes of our well-flogged science toeing the line and present for duty… begging to be accounted for?  I would assert that they are!

Frank Longo portrays a very compelling vision of an evolving reality in his film Capturing The Light.  There is no pretense.  There is no confabulation.  There is no vast extrapolation or leap of faith.  It's all there, intelligent if unremarkable persons, persons like you and me, reader, trying to make sense out of the inexplicable... and succeeding to a degree somehow! 

Get more information yourself, reader, at http://www.capturingthelightdvd.com/

That's enough, read on. 

Sedition Of The Light (Part One)
http://alienviewgroup.blogspot.com/2016/03/sedition-of-light-part-one.html

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!

Thursday, March 17, 2016

Sedition Of The Light (Part One)


Sedition Of The Light
by Alfred Lehmberg

Commentary provoked by Frank Longo's extraordinary documentary, Capturing The Light.


Part I

Especially true in our westernizing civilization, we humans complacently inhabit a thin skin of poorly perceived "reality" and think it complete and whole.  Too, also secure as if the fondest dreams of fools, seems our fatuous "knowledge."  This is the knowledge that an acceptable God is in his heaven and on our side—without regard to which side, reader!  All sides claim "Gods" favor.  

They may be right.

He who "hangs the stars like lamps in our evening sky"?  ...Perhaps, conservatively, on one level but not on all levels... ...Our hapless ignorance regarding our day to day existence looms, increasingly, ever more appalling than the "will of god."  God will do as She wills. What do we will?  

The kingdom is at hand; our humanity could ring the Sun like a living bracelet.  Such could be so, on my watch and warrant, by humanity's hand.  I mean, that's where it would be forged at the last, God inspired or not.

Fortunately, Frank Longo provides persuasively for us that an optimistic glimmer of hope for this prevails.  See, once again, novelty makes its mad dash around an invalid and irrelevant status quo to discover an inexorable progressiveness en route to that conjectured kingdom. Novelty finds a way, eh?  More on that in a moment.  

Back on track, the appalling state of our aforementioned awareness, such as it is, is well noted in the books and lectures of respected persons as diverse as Terence McKenna and Jacques Vallee.  These, among significant others, report that the paranormal in general and UFOs in particular exist, principally, to deflate and discredit a reductionist Science entirely too filled with itself. How does that work?

See, on the way to discovering what UFOs are, a hint may be provided perceiving what UFOs do.   Not, then, what are they, so muchMore, what are they doingThat's more achievable!

What do they do? What are they doing?  

Why, they make otherwise cogent, and, therefore, significant, individuals question their authorities and those social boundaries enforced by same!  They throw authorities into disarray as a consequence.  They invalidate authorities as a result.  They provide for authority's irrelevance, is the upshot.  With the same effortlessness by which they are observed, they provide for a demonstration of authority's malfeasance and assign blame for same!  Neat trick, eh?

Contrarily, the reader discovers, they propose these disarraying "questions" while still appealing to the individual, obliquely or directly.  Verily, as Richard Dolan has pointed out in his landmark UFOs And The National Security State, they are the very soul of [the new] sedition.  Sedition occurs by one person at a time.

This aforementioned overconfident Cartesian-ism—scientism sans all humility—is a discipline so decidedly hubris-bound and repressively arrogant that it dares to be the default arbiter of all that it demands to be laid before it, even that which it refuses to consider or investigate, at all, but pronounces on regardless! Outrage!  If that were you, reader, somebody would throw a flag down, swear out a complaint, or levy a charge of willful malfeasance!  You'd be dealt with!

Such egotistical behavior fair begs comeuppance, am I right?  Well, UFOs affect to provide just that!  How? 

UFOs characteristically provide effortlessly observed if highly strange affairs which science refuses to even try to explain except by dodges and hypocrisy. Indeed, the whole of science presupposes that "number and measurement" are sufficient to explain, decode, and unravel all things for human understanding.  Now, here is a gravid hubris just begging its comeuppance.  This is pride in mutiny before its fall, eh?

Firstly, sentient individuals perceive with at least 5 pretty poor senses, right?  Secondly, these contact affairs involve meetings at all the different levels of the accepted range of UFO encounter as measured by the Hynek inspired "CE3K" scale.  CE1: strange point source lights perceived to stranger physical interactions endured, but compassionately providing for its own plausible discountability "there if needed" deniability, as it goes, too.  

Thirdly, these close encounter affairs are witnessed many times simultaneously by hundreds or thousands of credible persons —police, pilots, and other practiced professionals—while "authority" fatuously looks the other way, infuriatingly, childishly chanting that UFOs are not a reality.  Flag down, Shermy!

Examples of just such affairs?  Unsung ufological hero Jerry Cohen provides: Kirtland AFB (11\4\57).  Hynek Blue Book Case (5\5\65).  Exeter, New Hampshire (9\3\65).  Malmstrom AFB (3/20/67).  Incident at Redlands, Ca. (Hynek, BB, 2\4\68).  Malmstrom AFB (11\7\75).  Iran F-4 Incident (9\76).  Belgium (1989\90).   Phoenix, Arizona (3/13/97).  South Illinois, USA (1\5\2000),  but more recently,  O'hare International Airport in 2007.  Stephenville, Texas in 2008.  All these, and—others— reader.

Science?  Only ever the staid portrait of piously insentient and increasing impotence!  UFOs have humiliated science at every encounter.  Embarrassed it at every meeting.  Shamed it at every turn. 

How?  By providing to that aforementioned broad swath of very diverse and with-it individuals their own singular hard-to-shake personal evidence, proof even, that it may be UFOs or the "other" comprising our perceived reality... and that it is science which is the faith-based myth!  Sounds like heresy.  Maybe, it is.  It.  Has. Been Provoked!

I've my own personal evidence.  Likely, the reader does, too.  What are we to do with that and endure the admonition that we are misleading, misled, or mentally ill?

It does not have to be that way.  Flatly, Reductionist Aristotle must reconcile the Holistic Plato, not supplant him.  This is what has occurred, I believe, and near the root of our problem.  How? 

...With the errant Cartesian invalidation of "chaos systems" as the mother of reality plus the naive presumption that reductionist "order" was exclusively superior!  We provided for a colossal limitation to our potential as individual conscious beings, I sense, and bump our aggregate noses upon these unreasoning limits, even now.

See, because Plato is supplanted and not reconciled, I'd contend, "Judeo-Christian-Cartesian Culture" and its causal cadre of conniving and capering imps—self-serving closed institutions large and small—prosecutes a selfish hubris, reader, to the detriment of our individual and, therefore, aggregate spiritual advancement. Strong individual links only ever make stronger chains.   

Consequently, this too-ready reductionism or over-amped misapplication of Occam, eagerly provided by flogging "Cartesian-istas" provokes the ineffable "other" to challenge what we can perhaps perceive as the largely inflated conceit of Science.  This is a timely meme flying UFOs right up a reductionist's nose.  

If he doesn't cop?  He is destroyed.  He's destroyed when he cops, too, but that's a good thing.  The "new" scientist has a humility sans all that obnoxious hubris!

This challenge, again, is proffered by the "other" in diverse and well-supported affairs typified by Frank Feschino's "shooting war with corporeal aliens!" Zecharia Sitchin's flesh and blood "Ancient Astronauts", Abduction lore's intra-dimensional or trans-temporal "Invasion" of alien abductors, or the astonishing mysteries of Nancy Talbot's genuine Crop Circles, just to give a quick tour of the anomalous wrapped in mystery and buried in enigma. 

Really?  I hear the internal dialog...  Your attention, please. 

Consider.  How does Science meet the challenge of the "other"?  Research by proclamation, illogic, character assassination, ad hominem, professional irresponsibility, betrayal of trust, and abject denial... are default responses.  Admonitions for us to prove their negations complete their stonewall...

Moreover, stomp me another "Adams Grave," 'Doug'!  Spin me an additional "Catherine's Wheel," 'Dave'!  Right... 

"Dave's not here," folks.  In other words, the inability of conclusive science to address these mysteries—or even acknowledge them, reader—makes manifest the aforementioned humiliation, neatly.

Indeed, "high strangeness" is periodically squirting out all over!  Bursting out from surprising places in surprising ways over a just discovered if a surprisingly long period of time, science's shame is once again abundantly showcased!  Right under our noses too! Check the list of cases above!  

Consider, now, this considered humiliation  of science and authority.  Be introduced to the strange story of Canadian Dorothy Izatt brought to us by Frank Longo in his très unusual film, Capturing The Light.

Indeed, Mr. Longo has produced a compelling DVD displaying just such an unmet challenge to Science as described above.  In it, Mr. Longo tells the astonishing story of Ms. Izatt, a very lovely and cognitively sharp if otherwise unremarkable octogenarian widow who communes with "alien beings," frankly.  Too, she puts a fine point on this communication with 30,000 feet of eight-millimeter stock shot, shot with twists into the outré-real you see right on the freaking film!  By my watch and warrant, if I'm lyin', I'm dyin'.

Now, I likely would not even have given this account the remotest time of day but for the reaction of one man in particular to the tale. David Biednyfrankly, a photographic doyen, was near jumping up and down in discussion of Ms. Izatt and the DVD in general on his then radio program, The Paracast.  I was understandably intrigued, you'll discover. 

See, Mr. Biedny, a penultimate (sic) hard-nose and a man obviously going with the "better odds," prefers to be known, I believe, as a proud son of the still very highly respected Cartesian reductionism discounted earlier.  He wants a reputation indicating his respectful attention to "logic," scientific "method," and "rules of evidence."  He shall not be accused of refraining from "best practice."

Flatly, Biedny wants his critical thinking skills respected if not taken for granted.  Too, as a recognized expert in digitally manipulated images he, to a degree, "wrote the book" on "photo-shopping" same.   Consequently, his high confidence level—as was indicated by his aforementioned "on-air" happy dance— understandably intrigues!  What's "juicing" Biedny can certainly "juice" me.  Our contention is just that strong.

What is going on?  The short version is that Dorothy Izatt appears to be one more interesting if characteristically unremarkable individual approached by the "other" and so further humiliating our too proud and arrogant Science as alluded above—I would presume for its edification and our ultimate advancement, eh?  I digress.

See, way back in 1974, Ms. Izatt thought she was seeing something damned peculiar in her wide Canadian sky, and she couldn't get anyone else interested in watching with her or even believing her.  So, this plucky little bird of a woman—a tiny gal—grabs her husband's essentially unused 8-millimeter camera and, over a period of many years, shoots 30,000 feet of film in support of her contention!  She captures some gob-smacking stuff, reader!  I'm reminded it's not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog.  I digress again!

Captured as physical evidence are astonishing arrays of light, shape, and detail on one frame of 8mm film!  This happens many, many times in footage otherwise clearly showing: UFOs, large and small... ...and other things.  This is not an easy task.  To wit: Mr. Biedny used the word "impossible."  He used that particular word I think because there is just no conceivable way to have captured the images captured on one frame of movie film in the manner shown.  He is not the only one to say so.

Yeah-yeah-yeah... more internal dialog... you've heard that kind of thing before.  Nip it.  See, this is a different case.  In this case, the "subject" had to cooperate with Ms. Izatt—even perform for her!  In addition, this was a performance not just for her and her camera, but also any camera used and any person along with her using their camera.  It gets a lot weirder than that, reader, and with nothing rolled and smoked!

Next time: Ms. Izatt approaches "authorities" one would think one should approach and is predictably dismayed, J. Allen Hynek's singular and serendipitous involvement with Ms. Izatt is outlined, and how a humiliation of what passes for 21st Century science is patently typified and then patiently exposed. Read on!


Sedition Of The Light (Part Two)

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