Saturday, October 19, 2019

Consciousness On Call...



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Oh my stars and little sputniks, 
but there's water on the moon
I hope this means a "lunar rush," 
and I hope it means it's soon! 
A boon to our economy, 
it could save us from the "Rock"; 
let's gird our loins for future's sake; 
own up and buy some stock!

Our destiny is manifest— 
to live upon new worlds. 
We crawled from slimy seas at first, 
progressiveness our herald. 
'Twas then we gulped our first clean air— 
now it's vacuum we're to breathe! 
We'll step out into timeless space— 
let's do it! Ready? HEAVE!

...
I cannot know the course you take; 
progressives take one now
There's potential, wondrous bounty, 
resting off the port-side bow. 
I'm setting sail, the winds are sweet, 
our canvases are filled; 
we're looming on prosperity; 
it's in space we'll be fulfilled!

And think of all the upsides— 
no natives to subvert! 
A planet of unclaimed dead space; 
no one to shame or hurt! 
Low gravity to play in, 
rare metals to refine, 
and toxic crap to stay in places 
safe, secure... confined
We'll sleep well snug from vacuum, 
and we'll farm the lunar soil; 
we'll mine that precious water— 
satisfactions for our toil.

We'd do it now! Why would we wait 
when every second counts! 
Where's our profit in delay? 
All our pressures strain and mount
Procrastinate at peril, 
ignore this carrot on a stick? 
Our *watchers* will conclude, perhaps
that we're as thick as bricks!

Water on the moon, my friends, 
water on the moon
It's enough to make you wobbly; 
it's enough to make you swoon! 
It's enough to make you wishful that 
perhaps there is a chance 
that we might even have hope left... 
In space, to sing our dance.

We owe it to ourselves, you see, 
and generations after! 
This cosmic plan whose time is come! 
Let’s shout it from the rafters! 
Our Earth is drowned in toxic sludge. 
We suffocate to death! 
Let’s take our leap to starry space...
...Now, while we have breath!



  • Make it so! If I was Bill Gates, I'd pay for it myself.
  •  
  • …Or would I... ...Could I?
  •  
  • Back last Century? Bill Gates gushed inspiringly with regards to his plans to put up a globe-circling string of low orbit communication satellites... This would shotgun into existence an internet without the limitations presently endured or otherwise threatened. A real first category level civilization attribute

  • Full-on real-time communication... Instant, effortless, and responsive... anywhere on the planet... anyplace where a dime-sized camera could go... ...from the bottom of any sea to the top any mountain, then on into space... anywhere a camera or a microphone could be included at the best resolution of either... fast enough to download a full-length feature film in milli-seconds... 

  • ...Gives a person grand ideas doesn’t it? World consciousness, on-call...
  •  
  • Maybe that was the problem... cue an ominous music.
  •  
  • You know, if you had... say... 50 billion dollars, after taxes, and you could spend less than a fifth of that to produce something similar? Would you? That is to say, could you? ...Would you be allowed?
  •  
  • You see... that bravely inspiring talk of 21st Century Communication Systems dried up overnight, and any reference to them abruptly disappeared from the media. Questions are suggested, reader, where they're not begged!
  •  
  • I wonder... was Mr. Gates *honored* with an authoritative visit by our stealthy authoritarians? Was he subject to some late-night visit of corporate media Czars or government *agency* boys? Maybe he was shown a cut of the Kennedy assassination from an angle no one had seen before... Beside the point... his brave talk about putting this planet in touch with itself evaporated like the porch light shot out by someone too suddenly wishing your attentions were... elsewhere... eh?
  •  
  • ...Keep a billion, Bill, to start your traditionally corrupt personal dynasty [g]. ...Though, the rest should go to the moon! C'mon, no one should sit on double-digit billions of dollars, dude, even when it's the law of the land!  It’s unethical, immoral, and just plain wrong. Wrong to a level of grok-ness as wide as it is long and as deep as it is unnecessary.
  •  
  • What happened to your plan, Bill?  

  • Hey? ...Did you know you were biologically compelled to eat less, and also potentially live a lot longer on the moon? Besides, wouldn’t it be kind of neat to have the 21st Century be able to fly back down to you, you know, if Earth got whacked by the aforementioned "Rock"?
  •  
  • I suspect it would... Something about placing eggs in different baskets, I recall...
  •  Restore John Ford! Now.

Tuesday, October 01, 2019

To Which Flesh Is Heir...



I've had some significant oral surgery... it puts me a little overdrawn at my muse's idiosyncratic bank, currently. 

Production, spotty anyway, will be curtailed. I offer in the interim that the reader checking in first consider the work of Frank Feschino... and then move to restore John Ford, but read on.

Sunday, August 25, 2019

Just Desserts


Just Desserts
by Alfred Lehmberg

The sad old man lay supine on a moldy cot in the allotted cold-water walk-up to which he'd been summarily, even rudely, assigned. He was lucky to get even that, he realized. Still, he was harboring an aggrieved misery not understood in an age where the majority can still pay its bills. 

The reader discovers that the old man's possessions had been recently confiscated and his property seized. His savings were liquidated to cover inflated, largely felonious, medical costs. He thought he had provided for all this.  "All this" was... just to start.

He was the last one left.  His family and friends were all dead in the dread triad's trifecta of disease, euthanasia, and homicide. Human Existence had gone, and decidedly, south. 

His children were murdered noncombatants in the "Rain Forest Wars" of 2028. ...A brother, tragically, by his own hand in a final resignation of all futility when his family passed in a similar contention. Friends and acquaintances... some in ways defying description. Real blaze of "glory" acts of pathetic desperation and angry despair... patheticism on parade. 

His own wholly unheralded and totally unmourned death loomed as a preferable event to that which he'd witnessed with his own eyes, remembering the terrible loss of his own children... he was glad, now, they were gone... 

His "last grand act" would have saddled any survivors anywayincreasing their burden and eroding their own futures... as he had been burdened and eroded... Social Security and Medicare are well missed where employers were loathe to pay living wages in the first place... but that was for persons with futures... if they'd had any futures. ...No one did. No one had. No one would.  

The care of his own parents had taken a sizable chunk of a dire discretionary income, and they had been "prepared," too. His wife was recently fallen, expensively, to the latest airborne Ebola variant released from a violated Amazon, or she'd likely be with him now sharing the mandated and official Retirement Experience. She'd still had a year to go at 70, but the old man bet she would have elected to go out with him. He would if she'd been the first...

The Retirement Experience was a Government program of forced termination. Sugarcoating is always disingenuous.

It was rumored to be something similar to what Edward G. Robinson experienced in Soylent Green... A drugged reverie regarding a glorious remembrance of what colorfully "was"... flowers, VR mountainous blue skies, blue seas filled with fish and splashing dolphins... the forgotten odors of lilac and sandalwood... only, Robinson's was voluntary

...If you turned yourself in they were more gentle. If they had to come for you it would go hard...  

In a few days, to be clear, he was slated for termination in that mandated program of "Geriatric Renewal." That was the program's "people-friendly" think-tank designation. At 71 He would dutifully surrender himselfwould then be summarily plowed back into the expiring soil... after being squeezed of every asset. The now significantly well-dwindled 1% could still pay to be kept alive in whatever comfort there was remaining... Life was still precious for the few behind the gates... 

...There was talk of lowering the "Geriatric Renewal" age to 65...
           
It was late in a soiled and sordid year of 2042, and the weight of those years bore down with a crushing inevitability on the lonely old man.  The weight of that burden (which may be a future) is unendurable, insidious, and tragic in its avoidability.  ...And it was, he thought to himself, so avoidable.  "Stupid" usually is.

The life that afflicted him now was a condition that he, and others like him, had thoughtlessly created themselves, he'd slowly come to realize. He'd helped, astonishingly, to engineer a crisis of biblical proportion in his last quarter-century... was his dawning new thought. 

Subsequently? His "activity" or lack of same would help to inaudibly pop the hubristic bubble that was an arrogant humankind like it was an oily sandwich bag crushed heavily under-wheel at the ever-growing toxic land-fill. Humankind would be equally inaudible.

Overpopulation and its hard-case relatives Economic Collapse and Environmental Catastrophe... ...these would deliver a knockout blow to the weak chin of a consummately disappointing, underperforming, and slack-jawed humankind.  Finally, life had become too much to bear because the old man, he realized in the cruel winter of his winter, had helped make it too much to be borne. There's one for the stomach's pit! 

Early in the twentieth-century humankind began to profligate itself into all corners of the available existential planetary environment like hordes of clever, if self-loathing, locusts. It couldn't be told from space by your conjectured garden-variety ET as anything apart from a fungal infection or crass viral infestation. Such was humanity.

Heedless and insentient expansion. Mindlessness. Glutonies and overindulgences.  No thought about the consequences. Zero. Zip. Nada. Bupkis. One would think self-aware sentience would know better. We didn't.

The old man was reminded of dated television documentaries featuring breeding pairs of mice allowed to reproduce without limit into a large cage... food, water, and sewage not an issue.   The mice reacted to its overcrowdedness in what was ultimately a disturbing and unnatural manic indifference to their squalidly packed existences. Inexplicable and horrific physical outbreaks of violence were perpetrated on one another. Rat psychotics and rat psychopaths abounded doing rat psychopathic and rat psychotic things... Unconscionable acts upon one another, then readily expressed without explanation or logic, so unreservedly! That's overpopulation.  

So went humankind. Respect for privacy and public safety was an early casualty.  Vicious strangers dragged he and his wife from their home, on a couple of occasions. They were beaten savagely and made then to watch as their possessions were passed around to grasping dirty hands or destroyed out of cussedness. One almost got used to this.

Calling "police" was an exercise in futility. Their hands were full guarding the gates at the gated communities. The Gangs controlled huge sections of major cities, now, splattering the countryside with blood and neon ultra-violence, countries unto themselves.  Food was rationed in lines seemingly unending. At least the rats had food and water...

Rolling electrical brownout was a twenty-four-hour occurrence, but the straight-up outage of grid-death was more likely.  Speaking of the dead, they would lay stacked in forlorn piles covered with a few inches of septic earth until "processing." Maybe Soylent Green was real...

There was more than a dalliance into cannibalism by people he knew (the details are difficult to dwell on); more than once he had been tempted to try it himself...  He'd been able to refrain...

Too, insult on top of injury, the old man reflected that his horror was shockingly unnecessary.  The smallest amount of educational effort could have reversed this trend to insentient overpopulation, and he might more likely be living in a comparative Eden he mused forlornly. All was lost when Ronald Reagan made it possible to knowingly lie on public airwaves without consequence. 

Fascist Authoritarianism had certainly had its run and here he was!  There could have been at least an attempt to do the sensical. What was bad about "Democratic Socialism," again? Sanity, always within reach, somehow evaded grasp. 

Overpopulation hastened an economic collapse that would have occurred anyway.  The later part of the twentieth century was witness to seeing successive generations of undereducated people who redefined slothful detachment to a less than constructive art form.  The old man lived to see fidelity, service, and commitment to excellence as outdated virtues outliving usefulness. That's never been a good scene. 

At the last, he cursed bitterly the short-sighted and suicidal situation he selfishly made for himself and his doomed heirs. The fruits of it were, oh, so apparent.  Society devolved to a new predatory business ethic of ethicless corpocracy selling dangerous types of equipment blowing up on the road or bathing consumers with lethal radiations in the home.  

Rat tails and fingernails were tolerated in what "passed" for hamburger. Bank frauds and contractual abuses of all kinds wasted the innocence and increased the criminal guile of a humankind ready to ride a devil's shirttail into and reawoken racism and sexual bigotry

Attractive rumor was preferred outright to the more productive if less attractive but cited factual reality. Truth was no longer said to have beauty.   

He and the rest of his slothful generation betrayed the efficacy of "doing your own thing," as members of the self-involved "me generation," in mendacious "laid back" decades seeing neither point nor requitement in "unrewarded" exercise. Steadily, instead, it squandered the fiscal and emotional savings of the aggrieved aggregate planet to satisfy what would prove to be only mendacious "me" moments on the subject of personal futility and social meaninglessness. Prufrock in regretful expiration.

...Our spaceship Earth was disintegrating to a dying slum-ship officiated by psychopathic swine. ...And then climate science was proved spot on.

The procrastinating spend-borrow-spend mentality, borrowing against an unknown future, was facilitated by psychopathic profiteers running the world debt up to a point where it just-could-not be paid. One is reminded why there were prohibitions on all loansharking et al, anyway! The collapse created a smoking landscape of psychotics and suicides leaving the more sane and courageous persons only holding the indebted bags of their fellows' rotten and inconsequent bones.  

Overnight, the United States had become a third rate pseudo-power, a laughing stock, and a liability to be cashiered before all value was lost. Banks were overrun and trampled. Remains, this fiscal hell could have been avoided for pennies a day if humans had started soon enoughas late as 2020. Only, they'd let that be their last failure.

Overpopulation hastened the final ecological crisis to an inevitable conclusion. Environmental abuse turned major slashes of the fragile planet into steaming, virulent, and open cisterns of disease-releasing ice melts and tundra thaws. Toxic waste and micro-plastic eventually killed the oceans outright, so it was only a matter of time until the rest of the planet began to falter in a faster and more agonizing fashion.  

Babies of all kinds (human and animal) were born misshapen and grotesque, or dead where they were born at all.  Barely potable water was more precious than an equal volume of substandard foodstuffs, it would come to pass. He was always thirsty. Urine drinking was common.  

The myriad colors green disappeared with other examples of natural color; all that remained were washed out browns and diseased dirty grays.  

Humankind had been injecting agro-poisons deeply into the ecosystems of the planet for decades, rendering them now sterile and uninhabitable.  There would be no breath of life on the planet going forward. There would only be a pervading odor of the last forced breath of a long-dead corpse.  

There was no question about it.  Proud humankind spent its last decades defecating in bed and pushing it down with its feet.  It was almost laughable that the world had had obvious proof of the avoidable consequences of environmental inaction, early on, for a century even, but that complacent humanity could not make the smallest sacrifice to a future in the correction of these current existential horrors... for themselves or their children.    

The old man lay on a dirty cot, waited to go die, and wished fervently for a chance to live his broken life over.  Though, the solutions that he knew might have precluded this disaster were lost to an uncaring past. Ifs were like spilled milk... 

Spilling the inevitable "Ifs"... 

If he had at least voted with a sane if complacent majority to elect men and women to Government more worried about doing the job than getting elected to do it, the misery could have been avoided.  If he had voted to tax more of wages of the moderately affluent (and up) for Social Security, or if he had campaigned against the concept of prevaricating "right to work" laws, then perhaps there would have been some money to pay off the huge debts that he had helped to incur.  If he had supported measures to reform the Health Care System or encouraged Corporate America to end fascistic and predatory discrimination practices, the situation would be more bearable. If we had held that bastard tool of psychotic corpocracy, TЯUMP (that beginning of the end), to his empty promises as the Education President et al (Chosen of God and loved by Israel!), or supported other measures to enliven the educational infrastructure (much less the physical National one!), we might not be in this sorriest of sorry, sorry states.  If we had taken better care of ourselves physically, or exercised, or eaten more intelligently, perhaps we could have evaded the liabilities of poor health or had a system addressing them... preferring disease cure to disease management... If. If. If.

If ifs and buts were cake and nuts... 

One more. If he had not been one of the self-serving, short-term-solution sycophants... a cretinous consumer-monster no better than any when it's dealt out... he could have contributed to a living World.  Instead, he was a symbol of its failure and on the blame line for its demise.  

Imagine knowing at the end, then, like the old man above, that yours was not a symbiotic relationship you had had with your Nation, or with your planet. ...Not remotely.

No... There was only one word that would describe that brand of contribution.  That word was... parasite, and their desserts are just.

Saturday, August 10, 2019

Of Presidents and Popes...

How many flavors does time have...
What provokes them?



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I've been looking through the Hubble; 
so, I'll make this terse account. 
I've wandered distant galaxies
traveled time ... I've been about. 
I've been going where we all can go; 
the kingdom's here at hand
too, it just may be we breath upon concrescence!  
Understand?

It's larger than we could have thought 
—expanding as we speak— 
its edge beyond the limits 
of the places we can seek. 
It just goes on and on 
in this ...glorious... expanse... 
swirling frozen fire 
kissing prepossessing chance.

It doesn't stop with rainbows, friend 
but descends to infra-red; 
its paint then ultra-violet
on to x-rays (yes!), instead! 
Its pressures are incredible
and then pressure's less than mist!  
You'd be shredded to your neutrons
yes, or say you'd just been kissed...

In that space and time and distance? 
There are persons being born. 
Why, with just one race per galaxy, 
there are thousands, billions—more! 
See? Thus contrives the multi-verse
...We're what it, then, makes up: 
To provide for insight on itself!  
...Drink deeply from that cup!

It is good... and passing bad
or indifferent, then, as hell! 
It wallows in the foulest slimes; 
or, it's ringing sterile bells. 
Sometimes it is a blessing
Sometimes it is a curse... 
it could be said it's much like us. 
That's for better. 
That's for worse.

We have a million neighbors, then; 
we've never been alone. 
Some wait outside the *front doors
of our squalid little homes. 
Some wait with plates of *brownies*, 
and some others wait, *without*. 
Some wonder when we'll open doors... 
and bravely walk on out!

They wonder why we linger 
when the truth ... it must be plain
We must come out! Like whitewash runs 
from fences in the rain.

...And we'll all feel so damned foolish, 
and we'll hang our heads in sorrow... 
that we wasted all this precious time 
denying our tomorrows.

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I've been looking through the Hubble...
 and it's hard to get excited 
by the struggle and travail of human beings. 
I've just come back from timelessness... 
all spaciousness...
—vast distances—
no "common sense" conceives it in its dreams.

I've wandered where the black holes 
and the hypernovas are, 
so I can't "arouse" for ignorant delay. 
That comes across so petty 
so unworthy of reflection, 
we're a race bereft of what would save our day.

...And remember fellow humans, 
when the *others* do appear, 
how we spent our time and effort, here on Earth. 
Did we short-sheet trusting brothers; 
did we denigrate our sisters, 
just to keep a spot we covet near some "hearth."

We thought we had our "reasons": 
they weren't the proper faith ... 
their color was... objectionable 
( we have this thing with "race"). 
...The other side lacks "proper towns... 
they didn't speak "our" language... 
the "sex" is too disturbing ... 
they were on a different bandwidth? 
They "didn't have no schoolin' "... 
they "weren't as blessed as me" 
...they were from another country, 
and, "by rights," were "bad"... you see?

Well—all that's pretty laughable 
when you're woke to extant truth... 
All those "pretty" little bigotries 
just dissolve 
and fall from view. 
See, at last, ...reality... 
that we never were alone
Embarrassment shades cheeks bright red, 
but shame will touch the bone.


"Wherever you go; well, there you are."
  • Meanwhile... Bill O'Reilly, Rush Limbaugh, and Dr. Laura... et egregious al...or...what can happen to you when too many people hear you on the radio or TV... 

  • Power corrupts, absolute power... absolutely!  How does one keep their head?  To start: you don't believe the good reports about you, only be thankful for them.  If you're sincere you have to pay some attention to the negative criticism...
  •  
  • Oh... add those deplorable if "well-meaning" tea-baggers, freedom bangers, and "Never Trumpie" psycho-Saviors? ...These seemingly contrive for a complete discredit of Christianity's institution, a trifecta for a religion's invalidation. Burn their life boats!

  • Christianity... it's an institution forever "advantaged" by busy sociopaths and misogynists, anyway... ...but the aforementioned "trumpled" (sic) tea-baggers... ...make the discredit complete and worse, actually... ...Worse than your garden variety fundamentalist suicide-bombing Islam! That's true!
  •  
  • See, government-controlled by religion—Theocracy—is what you court with these Trumpian tea-baggers, their legislated morality: an authoritarian theocracy of the most turgid and smothering dogma-worship imaginable.  Real ...bug-in-the-ass up-tightsmanship... of that heavy, come-right-in-your-bedroom, caliber.  How's all that working out for the Arabs, anyway... ...proof of the cognitive infidelity of a "tea-bagged Pal-beckian" initiative because we all have a clear audit trail of the consequences of that wing-nut initiative, overseas!
  •  
  • Yes, then Christianity would be worse, you see, because their boosters have a ready example of a theocracy to appreciate in the news—such as it is—every day. Islam remains the child of Christianity, and the child the father to the man...
  •  
  • Consider the potentials of Presidents and Popes. The former is a spiritless-sock-puppet for inhuman and corrosively applied corporate interests unethically imposed as "fair and square, conservative, and of God." ...But no, his interests unabashedly and disingenuously use religion, shamelessly, on a wide, diligently uninformed, and trusting base... ...Use religion as a manipulative and unethical control mechanism, reader, so as to relieve that "base" of, not just their cash, but their birthrights, their civil rights and their rights to satisfaction and self-respect!  ...But. ...I. ...Sugarcoat.
  • I'll know a tree by the fruit it produces, Sir and Madam.
  •  
  • The latter? He is much of the preceding. Plus... traditionally? Why, He protects the interests of pederasts and pedophiles in an unnaturally if allegedly celibate priesthood...reader... ...from that "trusting" base.
  •  
  • Outrage?
  •  
  • Yea and verily, and I say unto ye, my ufological brethren! [g]. Hey, keep one hand on your wallet and the other over your posterior pore! Be sensitive to unwarranted activity in either of those two locales...
  •  

  • Restore John Ford.

Sunday, July 28, 2019

Remembering Jeff Challender



Those Astounding Discoveries 
Of the late Jeff Challender
by Alfred Lehmberg



One Will Evans is perhaps still a staff writer for the Sacramento Bee in California's Capitol. This writer doesn't care enough to check. Remains he once took an... action. He once reflected, in part, the following on January 14th, 2003 at: 

http://www.sacbee.com/content/lifestyle/story/5884951p-6848710c.html. 

That link is dead. The article is reproduced here.

It was an article pertaining to Hynek's First Kind UFOs plainly shown on NASA file footage recorded by the late Jeff Challender as it is seen above. It would come to be astonishing footage largely waffled on by portentous pundits, the skeptibunky elite... and then the hugely conflicted and klasskurtxian officiality at NASA.

The obviously less than intrepid Mr. Evans reported:
The longtime aviation junkie [an immediate dismissal of Jeff Challender... did you catch it?] started taping missions in 1997, just for fun, to edit each one into a documentary. But in 1999, he saw something that grabbed his attention: an illuminated dot, pulsating as it whizzed across the screen. Then, later, he saw many white dots moving around, changing direction and speed. "What were they? Challender has been tracking similar "anomalies," ever since.
I throw the first flag here. Sneer quotes?! What fatuous, mal-informed and misinforming hubris is this!? ...Pretty cheeky in the face of seven clear categories of evidence signifying the UFO, illustrating the UFO, and providing substantiation for the UFO. Moreover, note the admission regarding "many white dots moving around, changing direction and speed." Is anyone else moved to a "wait... what?" moment? Where does "ice" and "trash" inexplicably change direction and speed? Evans would shamble on:
"I want answers," says the former railroad laborer. "I believe something's going on and the facts are being kept from us."
NASA isn't so sure.
Another flag down: see, a pox on suspect NASA (Never A Straight Answer), mere lapdogs, it would seem, for their unelected corporate handlers! ...Just another arm of the contemptibly corrupt system manipulating the already prevaricating smoke and distracting mirrors of an aforementioned unelected leadership? This writer suspects something like that is the case. 

NASA can only assume a patent cloak of patronizing condescension to hide their arbitrary and authoritarian guile! See, along with Mr. Challender, this writer would have some ANSWERS!  Lastly, describing Mr. Challender dismissively as a former "railroad laborer" was a cheap shot beneath the dignity of the SACRAMENTO BEE and akin to describing Edward Snowden as only a low tier intelligence analyst! Challender was obviously a man of intelligence who could see a project through to the end. What do we get from NASA but their inexplicable snow and an RGB roll! This is all well outlined in Challender's DOC.

Evans would proclaim an oddness from that time's NASA spokesman:


"I am not aware of any visuals of activity," says Fred Brown, then executive producer of NASA Television. 
What an odd and robotic thing to say! This writer observes that Mr. Brown is also unaware, apparently, of a controlling corporate hand shoved so far up his back-side that the quickly moving fingers have replaced his tongue and then stirred the malleable components of his brain! 

Evans continues to bury the lead...

Challender points to incidents where the camera seems to zoom in on one of the dots and then cuts off the live footage—signs, he says, of a cover-up.
...And if one has seen any of the quality stuff that Mr. Challender has analyzed and recorded (inexplicably changing direction and speed!), the remotely conscious reader would smell a "cover-up," too! Much of Challender's material will be archived or referenced at http://www.richarddolanpress.com/. Remains, what with the Navy lately cavorting in the skies with UFOs seemingly intelligently directed? It's no stretch they'd be space... then and now!

Evans continues:

Nonsense, Brown says. "If those things were out there and we were trying to hide them, we wouldn't put them on NASA Television."
Of course, they would... or fake it entirely... or show nothing at all! Gotta show something or folks wonder why there's not anything!  

So, maybe a little sleight of hand and bait and switch.  Moreover, they do try to hide them, reader, or why does the current visual signal come, now, only after significant time delays subsequent to some of the first anomalous and highly suspicious sightings? What's with all that moronic "snow" and RGB cloaking camouflage of what should be at least 1080p, if not Ultra HD? 

Everything now has a censor's ready hand hovering over a button. Why? Boobies in space?

Additionally, they would plainly show some of the *sightings*, but only for the purpose of "hiding" them in plain SIGHT as "ice crystals" and space trash... distractionary mechanisms for later use! Be not fooled! 

I aspire not to be, myself. 70, I've seen the world, been to the rodeo, and got the education. The carousel goes round and it's plain what's comin' after a few decades attention to it all. The Kingdom is at hand! Perdition, too. We might choose wisely!

Evans then becomes scientifically glib with a known canted tankman:
"Challender is probably seeing bits of liquid or ice, close to the camera, blown around by jets of gas from the shuttle, says Seth Shostak, an astronomer at the SETI Institute, a nonprofit organization running what used to be NASA's 'Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence.' "
Liquid? Probably, Shmobably my old wattled bum... 

Ah, yes—Dr. Shostak of the late Stanton Friedman's well-named "Silly Exercise To Investigate." Just another game-guy who wants to keep his place at the funding trough, and a man reluctant to re-think his thoughts or re-do work once thought done? This writer is un-swayed! ...Evans relays a final smirking sneer of patronizing derision with the usual pixie-smile closing from Shostak: 

"You have to be careful," [Shostak] says. "They're [anomalous lights in the sky] very impressive if you're naive."

Naive? Ha! Pompously pointing a finger to proclaim the naivete of others, Dr. Shostak points a pecuniary THREE back at himself! Significant others make compelling and cited arguments that it is HE who is more abundantly naive! Case in point as Evans tries for that time-honored "bothsiderist" faux-balance of journalistic mendacity:

...But [Dr.] Jack Kasher, a retired University of Nebraska, Omaha, physicist, says he's viewed Challender's findings, concluding that they aren't ice particles and challenging anyone who says so to prove it.

I've seen Doctor Kasher's work. It was not a one-off sidebar of idle proclamation. It is detailed, painstaking, scientific, and significant. It destroys the feeble explanations of his ax-grinding detractors, artless men who predictably attack the man when they cannot refute his airtight arguments! Then Evans drops Seth's bomb... not seeing how it hoists their own petard:

Still, Shostak says, "why would SETI spend millions searching for alien radio signals if there were Martians buzzing around every NASA mission?"

Haha! Exactly! Why indeed? A straight answer to THAT question would re-write history and make bogus heavens FALL! ...And if heaven CAN fall, reader, it probably should! 

Remains that Mr. Shostak's silly effort to investigate is akin to "searching the heavens for smoke signals" (Friedman)! If they're "here," the reader might begin to understand, then why spend any money at all looking for them... "there"?

"Shostak believes that there is alien life. If 10 percent of stars had planets and 1 percent of those supported life, there could be millions of worlds with life just in our galaxy, he calculates."
...Which is merely a loss-leader, reader, a throw-away mouth-movement, and a meaningless comment so as to appear balanced and open-minded. He still won't *cop* that if he believes they could be anywhere then they could just as easily be here! He won't *cop* that the abundant evidence of them being here has a history of thousands of years writ in ink, pressed into clay, and scratched into eternal stone... he blithely forgets the testimony of an affected thousands, the quality photographs, and the physical trace evidence involved with their (obvious!) presence... how? Closing, how about a begged question from our space agency?

But NASA would have no incentive to hide any evidence. "That would be the greatest thing for NASA. Their budget would go up instead of going down,' Shostak says.
Yes! That's the kicker argument! That seems, at first glance, to be the definitive and unassailable dispute to Jeff Challender's astounding assertions! UFOs would be a BOON for NASA But glance again! Would they really? See, Shostak's unctuous, facile, and patronizing comment ASSUMES the veracity of a "forward-looking" and "clear-eyed" NASA motivated only by truth and driven to it by real science. ...But is it really? Can that assumption be made with any confidence? 

This writer thinks not! On reflection and being fair? The reader can't either! We are NOT alone, and a brave Jeff Challender had captured it on tape! This is a lasting legacy which will survive him. Watch the DOC. It holds up! Thank you, Mr. Challender!

For AlienViews, read on!

"I cleave the heavens and soar to the infinite. 
What others see from afar, I leave -far- behind me."  
Giordano Bruno, finally scourged 
by the scabrously specious scurrilous. 
That scourge looms today!



Saturday, July 20, 2019

What!?


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Is there reading between 
the abstruse lines of the *other*? 
Can we guess at the secrets 
with which they are blessed? 
Or's it curses encountered 
they'd sooner be shed of—
of existence they're tired 
and "living" detest?

Could the tree of their empire 
be rooted in tyranny? 
Is it terror they seek to instill 
sowing infamy?

What is their purpose
Why do they haunt
What are their reasons
What do they want?

What do they take
How do they live
What is their work
What can they give?

...What do they do
It's all such a tangle. 
How are they recompensed
what is their angle?!

Perhaps they're a mirror 
held back at ourselves! 
We see in them us and 
it's us we dispel! 
Dispelled by abduction—
it's what we'd expect
Why, we'd do it to them!  
...It is that they detect!

You'd have to admit 
that they're nicer than we'd be. 
We'd treat 'em like bugs, 
or at best, a prized queen bee. 

We've done it before, 
our history's filled 
with examples of cruelty, 
to those we then kill
persons made subject to 
"short sighted" judgments; 
those deemed unworthy 
of compassioned abutment? 
We've sliced them and diced them 
for simple percentage
"exploited, used up"
we've raped their incentives!

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...No, they're giving better than they'd get
—taking any odds, that bet— 
any "disrespect" could be a kind of justice. 
I mean, consider all our crimes; 
...we let our children starve and die
We should pray we don't serve time 
for our injustice!!

If the ET comes to you...
...were you learning? Are you clued? 
Don't waste your time in horror... 
...or disgust! 
Is there method in their "madness," 
or are you crippled by your sadness... 
because exploded, friend... 
is that which held your trust?

Don't bemoan their nameless tactics 
or mysterious detachment, 
it's your culture! 
That’s the one to keep you down! 
The ET's are a shadow 
from the whole of what's unknown... 
too, might likely usurp culture... 
by putting smiles over frowns!

See, it's your culture making tears, 
it's your culture breeding fear! 
It's your culture at the root of mocking laughter. 
It sets the tone for your derision... 
and it's culture's lack of vision 
that is truly your tormentor and detractor.

Like, define for me "success," 
and an easy, spot on, guess 
would be space flight 
for a species or a race. 
Live in structures WE enjoin 
between the stars that WE employ
and have humankind extant 
across an awesome... "timeless" space!

Note our lack of this "success," 
and further note profound distress, 
as we poison our environs; I'll be frank... 
...we are hanging by a thread; 
a bug or rock could strike us dead
we are by no means successful
you might take that to the bank...

If we want ET respect?  
We should deserve it, I suspect! 
We could clean up, first, our act, 
right here on Earth! 
We should end our petty tyrannies, 
be empowered individually! 
Be a synergy much greater... than we were!

See, the individual's now disdained
a manipulated brain 
programmed by 'the man' 
to do his bidding
Though the day will come, and soon, 
then we'll find we've got more room... 
as the multi-verse unfolds 
...it will be fitting!



...Tick ... tick ...tick ... Who are you? Tick ...tick ...tick ...What do you want? Tick ...tick ...tick ...Why don't you have it? Tick ... tick ... tick ... ... Read on.  Tick ... tick ... ti...

Monday, June 24, 2019

UFOs... Again?


Yes... UFOs, Again... And Again...>
by Alfred Lehmberg



It does little good and much bad to maintain that these are not ...precipitous... times. Lawlessness abounds with a tyranny reminiscent of the Sheriff of Nottingham lathered and fluffed by his preeminently evil enabler Prince "John." Every day is a new barrage of intellectual insult and impossible civil outrage difficult and dangerous to abide. ...Where is our Lord of Locksley?

Du Jour insanity provokes insensibility... and the "fringe" intrudes itself in even MORE precipitous ways! Why, the United States Navy just lately allows as how it's been "close encountering" with UFOs for quite some time, and lately... wait. What?

The New York Times, usually a scoffer of condescending dismissivenesses and reflex scientistic (sic) reductionisms regarding UFOs, writes multiple sober articles... even on the subject's immediacy! Indeed, mass media has a certain unsettling sobriety going 'round like a high mass of fresh moral authority. CBS, ABC, NBC... uh... FOX? All are down for a seemingly new UFO relevancy.

Even what purports itself to be a body of sobriety and deliberation, and what should really be aspiring to be just that in all the "hard rain" alluded to, Congress has been getting secret briefings on same. Secret briefings always unsettle in the connotation that there might be some dishonorable NEED for "secrecy." 

Eye on the prize. Focus. UFOs festoon the skies? Only, there have been earlier "festoonages" before, even huge ones. ...But, what if these festoonages had a reality... What if they were of the existential and in the corporeal. What could that mean going forward? What new sobrieties could be aspired to, then?

On the one hand, we look into untroubled skies with a good clearing breath in our collective chest. We remark, observing a plethora of genuine evidence in support, that it's a grand time to be alive... for some of us.

On the other hand—well, the other hand is empty... empty and cold, near death and wracked by palsies and littered with blood spots, old grime, and creakily painful joints inured to its suspect and finally fated futility. We should have that looked at, eh? Could it be as simply addressed as seeing dirt for dirt and applying some soap...

See? We harbor hands entirely soiled, soiled and apart from any admission of same! Consider, the vast majority of individuals on this planet, a planet where TENs of THOUSANDs of children starve to death every DAY, are passing their squalid moments très miserable, at best... discounted by a psychopathic western civilization as bigoted as it is arbitrary and as wasteful as it is self-consumptive. Sucks to us.

Clearly, Culture would seem to eat its young after dehumanizing, criminalizing, and otherwise short-sheeting them in camps of concentration on our southern borders. ...Culture... it's not your friend, it's been pointed out, before. One has to see very little of the planet to know that this is entirely true. This writer has seen much of that world. 

We feel this. We feel this on levels underlying the brave fronts we put up during the day, holding this tenuous *thing we call reality* together in gnashing teeth and scratching nails. 

Some of us are able to hear the screams of those who fall to the wayside, or underfoot, in this mad dash to covet some suggested material satisfaction largely unsatisfying in the achievement, we find; we smell the acrid miasmas of those ground up for their humble greases just to lubricate the lifestyles of an expanding compassionless few; we see the disrespected staggers of real people suffering their nutritionally induced retardations; we feel the hopelessness, despair, and anguish of a MAJORITY of INDIVIDUAL persons who inhabit our insignificant and brown tinged, if blue and white, point in space... All this, and the Kingdom IS at hand?

I suspect in reflection that this cognitive dissonance nurtured between what could be and what is might explain the popularity of the ubiquitous "Titanic" memes—despairing themes of increasing frequency for us. We sense a singularity (iceberg) of some conclusive concrescence approaching... ...Justice?

These are worrisome trepidations, experienced by many, that our "ship" of civilization, a metaphor for us and some *impossible cataclysm* looming... approaches its fate of fatally cruel and ship-grinding shoals... shoals rife with some fulsome, if unknowable and inexorable threat of mysterious prerogatives, evidenced proclivities, not of some alien threat, but one of our OWN manufacture and facilitating the worst of us! 

These threats include wholly unregulated and unaccountable psychotic predators suffering contagious and brain-eating (if wholly tolerated!) disorders of pecuniary *religulousness*. These are slavering wolves among the misinformed but scared and hopeless sheep! These "prosperity Christians" would ironically welcome an end-times of complete and absolute destruction, even disappearance, of the very foundational social ground upon which the reader might already be shakily standing... all to facilitate the pecuniary few pilfering our social security like lying leeches... all THIS suggesting that sudden plunging out of sight into the black, high pressure, and terrifying unknowns of soul death and corporeal dissolution... for the unworthy infidel... all pointing to fun fun fun in those foreshadowed and precipitous time, ahead!

Yeah... Maybe we go out with some blustery passion, or not—but go out we do? The slide to crushing conclusion is complete for both?

...Maybe. ...Only... Victory has been snatched from the jaws of defeat. We're famous for it. We'd do well to keep that in mind.

See, we are hugely powerful as a species! Look around and be glad no one had to wait until you invented all this stuff, right? And Consider! This might be evidenced by that same "religulousness" alluded to, religion used to remove that power apart from us so we don't have to take responsibility for it? 


The "power" of the Gods? Maybe that's OUR power. Gods draw their power from suns and zero-point nothingness, you see. We do that, ourselves, to a degree.




Hey, this writer stands as round-shouldered and vulnerable as any, but he squares those shoulders to hoist a one-fingered salute to any fate that sweeps down on all of us, or just on him, come to it. I'll face what's true, and make it work if I'm able! Or not. It's what we do.

The salute, an existential reality of occurrence, remains... as do the UFOs chased by our military aviators at least since 1952, we're informed by one Frank Feschino Jr., and perhaps to be chased in turn by same. That's always been the reality! 

See..., and gird loins for this, it just may be that the sturm and drang currently projected by the aggregate social society... is to provide for the necessary distraction from the UFO, itself a middle finger to that same culture, science, and society. That's what UFOs do, remember. They invalidate our religious hypocrisy, implode our scientific hubris, and humiliate our misinformed arrogance. 

This is a science and society that is going to have to change to something altogether different given a newfound ufological consciousness. ...And don't presume that those changes alluded to are going to be worse than what we have. 

Consider the glabrous mendacity of current leadership and its desire to cancel a citizenry's already inadequate healthcare, for example, in a comparison. Sure, fear the devil you don't know... but the devil we know's pretty bad. 

Good, bad, or undefinable... un-englishable even, UFOs, an agent of ultimate sedition, offer to end-run the prerogatives and prerequisites of ready political betrayers, religious psychotics, lack-wit authoritarian loving lap-dogs and their warm-beer rank-file of deplorable lickspittles... their  ceaseless, unending, and interminable mendacity, and the two color no-space of their social philosophy... as caustic as it is toxic and as outdated as it is irrelevant

UFOs aren't lying like we do, at any rate... and since biblical times, ironically enough. This the soul reason UFOs get short shrift in the first place. One reason night be that Catbirds have always been loathe to be moved from seats traditionally reserved for Catbirds. That's root, seed, and stem of our seeming inability, as a mainstream society, to regard UFOs intelligently, at all, is the observation of this writer. 

The Catbirds? They're just going to have to suck it, aren't they? They will be reluctant. Sure, suffocation of any type is not a pleasant way to slough the mortal coil, eh? But what if you had to give in... lose yourself to the death of an ego not serving you so you could return to yourself wholly improved and the richer for it. This writer suspects that's what we're going to have to do. Give in to get on. Give up to grow up. Tune. Turn. Trip. Live. Learn. Know. Read on.