Justification

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

Saturday, April 25, 2020

We're Not Alone?



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They flit and they skip 
and they drop behind mesas! 
They dodge behind roofs 
of a neighbor's dark home! 
They cross the night skies 
like a star that "detaches," 
their flying is soundless... 
...and we're not alone!

We're not alone 
as we covet *possessions*; 
we're not alone 
as we squander our trust. 
We're not alone 
as we punish the innocence; 
thinking that we have to, 
convinced, somehow, we must!

We're not alone 
while the rainforest's burning. 
We're not alone 
as we falter and cry. 
We're not alone; 
we have seen them all flying 
in disparate countries...
festooning those skies!

We're not alone 
as we torment ourselves. 
We're not alone; 
we are fragile ... unborn! 
We're not alone, 
and affixed with the blinders 
I'd tear from our faces 
with pleasure and scorn!

We're not alone! 
They're in all geographics! 
They hover for shuttles, 
we've seen them in space! 
They've neutered our nukes 
at the drop of their *hat*...  
somebody knows; 
we're put in our place!

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Somebody knows 
what the ancients were "knowing" 
and shared in their tablets of clay! 
Somebody knows 
where the secrets are buried 
that elevates humankind... 
precluding the slave!

Somebody knows 
why we suffer and die 
when the best of all times 
could be had! 
Somebody knows 
why we hate to look up; 
why we're shamed, 
why we're cowards, 
why... at best we're so sad...

Somebody knows 
what it is we'd be knowing. 
Somebody knows 
if the ET's are here. 
Somebody knows 
surely more than we're getting 
when circumstance is passing strange 
with stuff so god-damned queer!

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They land and they leave 
all the strangest of traces! 
They clutter and clog 
at the sweep of the sky! 
We find them in ads 
to insult our cognition 
for all of the stuff 
that we "lust" for and "buy."

...Why, we find them selling candy; 
we find them shilling cars 
machines to do our washing, 
from the toy box to the stars. 
They gloat in all our magazines; 
they sell us toxic food? 
They're all around; 
they're surely here; 
they exist; we must construe!

It's us confuses consciousness! 
It's us well left alone! 
It's us inflicts agendas! 
It's us with hearts of stone!

They intrude where 
"we won't have them" 
in our sullen white-bread world. 
They intrude into our clueless-ness 
and they prove they shall not yield.

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They intrude in sullen closets 
where we think we keep our secrets,
and they make their strange notations 
in their *book*.
Knowing *bodies* we've been hiding, 
they can dig up *moldy bones*,
and they know just where you'd, 
likely, never look.
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As days go by... 
they're closer still; 
they shall not be denied! 
They'll solve our crass *indifference*; 
they'll expose what's been contrived.

...And you better have your "center." 
You best expand your mind. 
You better open up the box 
in which you keep your soul confined!

The future is a freight train, 
and we're tied on humming tracks; 
the bonds we feel we've tied ourselves! 
C'mon! You know it's Fact!



Tuesday, April 21, 2020

Sedition Of The Light - Part One



Sedition Of The Light
Commentary provoked by Frank Longo's 
documentary, Capturing The Light

by Alfred Lehmberg

Part One (of two)

Especially true in our westernizing civilization? We humans inhabit a thin skin of poorly perceived "reality" and think it complete and whole.  Too, also seeming secure is our fatuous "knowledge" that an acceptable God is in his heaven and on our side—without regard to which side, reader!  Our hapless ignorance regarding day to day existence looms, increasingly, ever more appalling. 

Fortunately, an intrepid Frank Longo provided persuasively that an optimistic glimmer of hope prevails!  See, once again, novelty makes its mad dash around an invalid status quo to discovery and inexorable progressiveness. 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 by 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 provided may be what UFOs do.   Not, then, what are they, so much.  More, what are they doing?  That's more achievable!

What do they do? What are they doing?  Why, they make otherwise cogent and therefore significant individuals question their authorities!  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! Buckle up!

Contrarily, 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.

This aforementioned overconfident Cartesian-ism—scientism sans humility—is a discipline so decidedly hubris-bound and repressively arrogant that it dares to be the default arbiter of all that it presumes to be laid before it, even that which it refuses to consider or investigate, at all!  Outrage!  If that were you, reader, somebody would throw a flag down, swear out a complaint, or seek a restraining order!  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.  This is true then as now! 

Sentient individuals perceive with at least 5 pretty poor senses, right?  Too, these affairs involve affairs at all the different levels of the accepted range of UFO encounter as measured by the Hynek inspired "CE3K" scale: strange point source lights perceived all the way to stranger physical interactions endured, but compassionately providing for its own plausible "there if needed" deniability, as it goes.  We wouldn't bother to do that.

Moreover, 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! You know who you are!

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. "These" continue right up to 2019!

Science?  Only ever the staid portrait of piously insentient 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 perceived reality... and it is science that is the faith-based myth!  I've my own personal evidence.  Likely, the reader too.

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! All that may be WAY off, given evidence how easily we can be brought to our knees by a just nasty cold virus.  We provide for a colossal limitation to our potential as individual conscious beings I sense, and bump our aggregate noses upon these 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 links make stronger chains.   

Consequently, this too-ready reductionism or over-amped application of Occam eagerly provided by flogging Cartesian-ists 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.

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" alluded to, David Jacobs' intra-dimensional or trans-temporal "Insidious 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.

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 lately squirting out all over!  Bursting out from surprising places in surprising ways over a just discovered if surprisingly long period of time, science's shame is once again abundantly showcased!  Right under our noses too!  Consider, now, this current humiliation of science and authority.  Be re-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!  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 Biedny, frankly, was near jumping up and down in the discussion of Ms. Izatt, and the DVD in general, on his one-time 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.

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 or 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. 

Part 2

Friday, April 03, 2020

Object lesson


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.
We're at Mother Nature's mercy  
only thinking we have "clues." 
Still, we humans strut and preen 
like we wear crowns. 
We're at ease and rape the planet 
for our squalid little pleasures. 
We're the local space/time's version 
of unfunny, tragic clowns...
 .
Appearances deceive us 
while we show just what we are: 
psychopathic institutions 
sans all balance. 
All our "spin" bereft of substance 
we're adrift beneath hard stars; 
procrastinating evil
without conscience...
.
Ever wonder why there're *homeless* 
folks from "emptied institutions" 
of psychotics onto streets... 
to spit and grin? 
We see them on the news, 
forlorn, the focus of our pity ... scorn, 
but still they number, hapless, without end.
.
We could rescue them, you see; 
we could help them off their knees, 
but they serve a "useful purpose," 
not admitted. 
I'll tell you why they're there, 
but in turn, I must declare: 
Their rescue is just not to be permitted.
.
See? They're there as object lessons; 
they're "displayed" for you and me. 
They're "what happens" 
when you cannot toe "the line." 
They're what happens for critiquing 
institutions as your "right," 
while appalled by any tyranny we'd find.
.
They are there to keep you doting 
on the dictates of the 'man'! 
They distract us from those "lights"
 in troubled skies. 
They are there to keep us focused 
from some crooked profit margins. 
They are there, a veiled threat 
concealing—ultra-scabrous—lies!
.
These obscure the UFO's 
in the fear that you might see them! 
Those who sharpen your confusion? 
They are PREGNANT with their sin! 
They're to keep us to that "party line," 
apart from real thinking. 
They preclude our just salvation... 
...they're to keep things as they've been.
.
It's never been the "real world" 
you see on your TV. 
The "safety of your home" is an illusion. 
It's what you think's "observed." 
It is THAT that has occurred! 
Don't shoot ME down... 
...that's Heisenberg's conclusion.
.
See, the universe can but cough, 
and you're scattered on the winds. 
Ask folks—in Puerto Rico—if that's true. 
It is these who have their fear served up, 
forget "relief," it's all corrupt, 
then fate contrives to beat you 
black and blue.
.
And, what might this be like, 
this unkindly twist of fate. 
I wonder how "unkindly fate" 
shakes down. 
Understanding is obscured; 
it's denatured and deterred... 
bread and circuses sans all truth... 
these come to town.
.
"The "Martian Face" is punched ... ," 
says your *bunky*, out to lunch, 
Plait stamps his clownish feet—
all joy is he. 
Imagine his relief, 
he who swallows NASA's brief, 
they have put off his "comeuppance..." 
...he so shallowly believes.
.
These can go back to futility, 
call abductees "useless kooks."  
They can salve their wounded egos, 
and pretend to own the truth. 
They can build their shaky castles 
and pretend they have a clue. 
These continue down a road that's very bad... 
for me and you.
.
"The face on Mars: a rock pile"? 
Plait's beliefs are reinforced! 
The belief that he's *alone* returns, renewed! 
He's no longer compelled to find... 
it's him who pays truth's freight, in time. 
He'll discover what far thinkers 
always knew!
.
See I can't believe in NASA 
as their interests are conflicted, 
and their data is in fragments 
all as was as they predicted! 
The government's a liar! 
...Can't believe a thing they say; 
their interests mirror shadows! 
I want the truth, per se!
.
As the girl said in "Titanic" 
while her vessel slid from view, 
"I'd really rather be a 'whore' 
than spend my life with you..." 
My sentiment exactly, 
as the "rich man" shows his colors... 
and compelled a stunning disrespect 
from those persons he makes suffer.
.
We're at Mother Nature's mercy 
and her parasitic bugs. 
You can charge the ones who "lead" us 
as the smarmiest of thugs. 
They're the ones who keep us shaded 
(...you'd raise some hell you only knew!) 
from where their secrets have been buried... 
in their disrespect for... you!




Tuesday, March 03, 2020

The Phenomenon: Children, Father To The Man

James Fox's The Phenomenon










The Phenomenon: 
Children, Father To Humanity
A Documentary review 
by Alfred Lehmberg


No boasting. The writer but makes qualification with regard to having "been there" and "done that." A retired attack pilot of 23 contiguous years in Military aviation... an aviator with over 3500 hours in the air... including 1100 hours flown for a Bronze Star in a combat zone. This precludes the need for same, right? 

My subsequent status as a Military Flight Examiner and wreath-wearing Master Army Aviator, Standardization Instructor Pilot, and Officer Candidate School Acting Commandant further complicates any need for that aforementioned boasting. On top of this, the writer has a Bachelor of Science degree from an accredited University where he graduated Summa Cum Laude. Truly, boasting would be childish and dismissable.


The intrepid Fox...

No... the writer only aspires to outline the foundation necessary to adequately qualify, or otherwise credit, a new film documentary research effort on UFOs by the intrepid filmmaker, James Fox. His film will be recognized perhaps only here for what that research effort may truly be... I offer that Ze Frank might quip in a True Facts, "That's how a writer do." 

I add, at the risk of offending, that it is a film initiative decidedly bereft of all allusion or reference to the remotest "woo." No crystals were squeezed in the production of this film, nor was there the slightest insinuation with regard to spiritual elevation or advancement, as important as these things might be. Charismatics are not depended on, thankfully. No cultural mores or philosophical creeds were insulted in the making of this documentary, nor is a certain "twitchy rhetoric" a manipulative tool for agendas seen or unseen. No.

No, indeed. No. Reasonable Science is proffered reasonably... reasonable science and humanity... reasonable science and humanity and... sans all glibness, "we are not alone." 

So, then resolved: a valid and compelling reason to get to the bottom of UFOs? The point, in other words? ...We do it for the kids. You know, we ourselves, and at our most fundamental level.


They saw a UFO and interacted with "occupants"...

As was mentioned, this writer was a career military aviator once, at the top of the game, a master of the craft, but a person well-versed in what is "supposed" to be up there, illusory and otherwise. These, of course, were to be the contrivances of humankind. Contrivances like paper airplanes or hyper-sonic jet-craft. From self-landing boosters to orbiting reentry cruisers!  Yeah, from blimps to balloons and onward to include soaring birds and fiery falling bolides! 

That... and well... he's seen... "...stuff" ...of his own, eh? Seeing certainly can be believing. The actuality? It is a thief of one's doubt, reader. ...Kids will get that on a cellular level.

So, let's push on the gas, shall we? As we spin up the engines, the reader is advised that they may have some difficulty appreciating the actuality of the following occurrence the way this aviator writer can, but let yourself be swept along on, truly... the wildest of rides... 


Imagine wings flapping...

To start, imagine being in a "Catch-22" era B-25 medium bomber from the last World War. It's a tough and multi-storied craft so loosely strung that the wings actually flapped, birdlike, 12 feet from either side of centerline on their furious and frenetic bombing missions, violently dire experiences flown under heavy fire and putting those wings through arduous combat paces.  ...As kids, and misled? We only played at war.

Now, take that same airplane and put it down close for a tree-slapping nap-of-the-Earth flight mode! Fly at VNE (velocity never to exceed!), over 300 miles an hour, friend... the vibrations teeth-ratting and the pilot hopeful his steel and aluminum steed doesn't fly apart with the strain... but he's not really thinking about that. Not now. No... right "now" made this old writer a kid again.


"What the  hell is that?"

See, "right now," and so close to the Earth in your straining plane that birds and animals on the ground scatter terrorized before you... you chase a UFO!  On a simple ferry mission, it appeared before you inexplicably! You dove down on it, looking like a blackbird harrying a silver raptor, to check it out! 

See, James Fox puts the observer in the pilot's seat of that furiously shuddering cockpit! You see the saucer's circular shadow rushing over the astonished ground before you! You note vortices swirling off the tips of the hurrying otherworldly craft! 

...A burgeoning realization rushes in to rob you of all your aforementioned doubt! Verily, a vast array of things it cannot be, rationally and reasonably rejected, leaves one only with what it... is.

Next thing you know? The strange craft before you is zipping away as if in exasperated evaporation. There before you, one moment! Then, gone, the next!  What the hell...?

This happened. This is just to start. This film just began and already, breathless and gasping, I need oxygen! The kid in me powers on!

My association with writing feelingly about UFOs is decades-long now.  I was on Errol Bruce-Knapp's Strange Days' Indeed late last century. I was with the Bill and Nancy Birnes Team at Future Theater and wrote for their UFO Magazine for a few years as the 21st kicked off. I was burned badly by the Budd Hopkins/Jim Mortellaro Abduction affair even as I was then rewarded heartily by my association with Stanton Friedman and Frank Feschino vis a vis a related Flatwoods Monster Affair, another ufo and kids story, ironically.

I
have written about and otherwise reviewed all manner of production regarding UFOs, including most all the preceding works of our esteemed and always relevant James Fox. Truly, I have been as hugely mystified by this subject as  I have been monstrously betrayed... hugely inspired, reader, if vastly humbled in all these years as the UFO crow flies for our ufological engagement and observation. 

Remains, I've never been made more optimistic in their regard than I am now with Mr. Fox's latest film documentary. I feel imbued with the optimism of a child.

Clearly, this is "THE" UFO documentary introducing the UFO into the 21 Century, at long, long last. See, when one tells the truth to be understood, they can be believed with some confidence. Fox has told an understandable truth; he can be believed with that suggested confidence.
Friedman, Feschino, Hastings, and Dolan

Seriously... I suspect he may even be of that rare most and elusive personage, the "real deal"! Beyond the singularly focused and woke filmmaker, there is not a hint of the self-interested and self-involved "uber-charismatic" so repellant in the narcissist psychopaths otherwise evident in the milieu alluded to, eh? 

Dolan... Feschino... Hastings... the late Mr. Friedman, these, by way of example, have this quality of personage typified by our Mr. Fox... others fall short, but I digress.

...I 
remind the reader that my optimism is child-like, uncomplicated and inspired. It is not Child-ish, credulous and ex-spired. 

See, I was all set to be "underwhelmed"... but was disabused of that notion just a few minutes in. No, I'm still a smoldering pile of hair, teeth, and eyeballs in that film's regard, actually.


Jesse Marcel, Sr. 

See, our Mr. Fox shows that UFO history is dying. Jesse Marcel Sr., by way of example, a principal player at a now-infamous Roswell, New Mexico, is, of course, deceased ...but now, so is his son! Flight Surgeon and Army Colonel Jesse, Jr. has also sloughed his mortal coil! Understand? We fragile humans are born to grow old and die, at last. Largely, our stories die with us. Can our American UFO story have more survivability, please?

Washington DC, circa 1952. Fox informs us that, in the summer of that year, the restricted airspace of Washington, DC was effortlessly and with impunity impinged upon by UFOs so often and so threateningly ... that the military was ultimately ordered and duly charged to shoot those UFOs down... where they, laughably, did not follow instructions to ground themselves for capture and arrest. "Shoot them down" was, of course, the business end of our intention. Tasked? We wanted one and would have actively sought one out.


!

Around this time the aforementioned Jesse Marcel Sr. was perhaps having to deal with the aftermath of one of those "shot-down" Saucers himself, Fox implies! Fox also points out one other astonishing observation concerning Jesse Senior! 

See, let's presume that the two men Junior AND Senior did mistake a crashed UFO... (with its strange debris covering a football field and later requiring a large company of soldiers to clear it all out, one discovers in research) for a rubber balloon tricked out with balsa wood and aluminum foil. Ladies and gentlemen! C'mon!

When do rubber balloons and tin-foil kites of balsa-wood get sent to the top brass at Ft Worth on an exclusive cargo plane for a special inspection, analysis, and evaluation? Why does it have to be scoured bit by precious bit from a hard to get to New Mexico wilderness? Why does Jesse Senior have to surrender the souvenir saucer parts of "rubber, foil, and balsa" he shared with Jesse Junior that night of the fateful crash on his return home? Curious questions, right?


Jesse Sr's expression is so, "...You're not buying this!?"

While we're on the subject of societal short-sheeting, Fox asks why the Government's "premier UFO investigative body," BlueBook, operated with such a minimal staff and in a manner where they had to quibble on car usage and itemize their meager per-diem expenses... exhaustively... have to fight for every f'n dime, reader (BlueBook CO Edward Ruppelt's The Report On UFOs), to investigate the most compelling thing on the planet? The answer?

Project BlueBook was but a bearded front for an "invisible college," a well-funded college, Fox intimates I can gather. This was a college obvious, as it turned out, then and now! Did BlueBook Commanders Friend, Ruppelt, and Quintanilla suspect, or know? 

UFOs have always been of interest, reader, and how could they not be! Sure, keep them below the radar... keep them out of the hands of the hoi polloi, but investigate at all cost! Shoot one down if you can! They could mean EVERYTHING... and do, reader. And do... is this writer's ... and the filmmaker's, it is wagered, "bird's-eye" on the "low-down" for this worrisome caper. 


His community did not deserve him...

Shifting gears, James Fox was able to capture some real poignancy in his exemplary film initiative, too. The late Lonnie Zamora, for just one example of many, was without question, an honorable man, honored and ever aspirant to that honor. Then he saw a UFO... 

He saw a UFO and to a large degree, Fox shows us, his life became a trifled confusion and an unwarranted implosion. An American tragedy, verily and actually. 

Though, he would get a lot of letters belying the disrespect, scorn, and disbelief he would get officially, even to the point of driving him from his job, a job that he loved: serving the community as its knight and protector, but he stepped down to preclude negative publicity for his community. Real chivalry from a knight in service, is this writer's take. 

These are shown to be poignantly handwritten notes and letters of support, understanding, commiseration, corroboration and external validation... notes and letters seen in fade-in and outs, not from "kooks" and "whackos" but from sincere compatriots, confederates, comrades, and companions on our shared paranormal and esoteric path. Fellow experiencers... and kids! Kids, reader! ...And as we come to find, kids know.


Yesterday: Seminal Scientific Ufologist
Dr. James MacDonald


Today's Scientific Ufologist
Dr. Jacques Vallee

Fox has put together a ufological mosaic of the "old," the "then," and the "now." This gives us not just the expected three dimensions of UFOs but it transcends and goes beyond them in a way this writer wishes he could better articulate to the reader. Exasperated, the writer reports that James Fox has produced for this observer a breathtaking cavalcade of mindbending ufo vignettes and cameos, a kaleidoscope of weird conceptualizations and distorted and contorting world views and revelations! One springs to mind.

Fox is interviewing a wholly enchanting Colonel Robert J. Friend, an early interim BlueBlue Head before BlueBook went corporate and wholly anti-UFO. Apparently, giving them doubt-benefit, Fox says. "Maybe the government didn't know what [the UFO] was, and that explains their reluctance to fully investigate it..." I paraphrase Fox.

Friend, says, with the most delightful, oh-I-suspect-the-altogether-opposite-grin rendering Fox's doubt benefit ludicrously naive.   

"...Or... ...they did know what it was," Friend just beams, reader. Bam and spot on!

All in all, if I was trying to cram a credible impact statement onto a mean expository teaspoon for Fox's documentary? 

"UFOs..." as they are regarded by a non-duplicitous military and media, Fox makes abundantly clear, are "here, real, and happening now." That's an admited fact from officialdom, reader.

That an acceptable excuse for the government's inability to produce ufo evidentiary material has been that "it had been thrown out to make room," is blisteringly illustrated by a past Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid's observation that such ridiculous attitudes are, and decidedly "...Bad for our Country." 

Why... but that it's bad for the kids? Our cowardice and duplicity will not encourage their respect. ...And it's no sappy truism that they are a humanity's future.

Fox closes understandably on the subject of our UFOs largely a result of the experiential happenstance for dozens of children, experiencers all and one decades ago, interviewed then, and then reinterviewed, now. The kids got it. The adult, remembers. 

The kids understand and so demonstrate that perhaps they ARE father to the man. We get to the bottom of UFOs for their sakes... not our own. 

Support this film. Hard to do, I know, in an election year raging with a communicable disease and a new fascism, all struggling to be born... but the reader is served for the effort. So says this writer. Read on!


"This landed, and then, these came out."



Grok In Fullness

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