Space / Time & Surface Area

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Yeah, that’s right, I’m a liberal! But not in the way that you’d think. I’m not well aligned with the Dem's party line; it's Republicans needing good "shrinks."
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T rue, I began as a ‘knee jerk’ Republican, still, wrapped in a "gauze"—callous youth. I’d learned I'm expected to lean on the Bible for succor, and favor, God's truth...
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Well, that has been tried and rejected, as that "leadership" flies in big jets, they prey on the people like raptors still willful to cousin their "dinner," like pets.
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Still, I'd finished my job in the Army, and looking for something to do, I found inspiration in the stressed perspiration of the schooling I’d, finally, pursue.
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...Though it didn’t take long with "new" reading, and I shook that endeavor with teeth!  Much *truth* I’d been holding, and found so ennobling... ...Was specious... facile and weak.
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Grammar and High School were dodges I'd found, of shame so obscenely enshrined; they’d made it all pretty... what I found was a pity. They'd stretched and distorted! They'd lied!
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...The Crusades were an honest enterprise, then, to take *Holy* land, back, from its thieves? ...And, J. Edgar Hoover was not an abuser IN WAYS EVEN KNOWN? DISBELIEVED!
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It was a "pulp fiction", our rogue CIA, selling hard dope—ensuring class dregs? No policemen-caused "friction" in pre-staged "restrictions," so creating their "bad guys," instead?
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...Or, UFO’s would define who's weak minded? Our "environment" is at our command? "Manifest destiny" created no agony? The U.S. is faultless! Understand?

~

...So I worked, and I studied all day and at night, 

and I wept as I read startling pages, contrite. 

I drew from my texts, and their tracts... and those papers... 

I gleaned from strange pages amassed with a stapler...
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I’ve done it for years now... can never stop doing it. 

My mind is a sponge, and a muse is imbuing it. 

The methods, strange knowledge, and facts of the ages 

are found in a story spun out of these pages!

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Unlocked, and unfettered, now *free* from "disease," 

I find what was Holy... oft made-of-clay knees! 

I demand honest answers, and I brook no intolerance! 

Decried is a rich man’s convenient mal-competence!

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I find, late in life, with... a "learning which shatters"

... a liberal new ethic addressing what matters! 

It is critical, though tolerant in what it construes. 

It is, but of course... just my own Alien View.

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Please, let me proclaim this to all of my friends, 

who’ll agree with the best as regards "liberal ends"... 

...Unwashed and mal-learned? One’s "conservative obsessive." 

It's learning provoking the "liberal progressive."

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So, I've no apology and make no pretense 

to treat with respect the conveniently dense. 

Our systems degrade us with all disrespect, 

they lead us to breadlines and practice neglect. 

Solutions, of needs, fall to you... and to me. 

What's then required? It's voting BLUE, see!

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lehmberg2002@gmail.com

http://www.alienview.net/

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Odd Observation #11

I've gotten inquiries from folks wondering if I've been "seeing" anything, lately.  The short answer is, yes.
  

I've always said that all one has to do is go outside at night and rock the head back with just a smidgen of anticipating patience and a dash of rational open-mindedness.  There is stuff up there to see, good reader, and that stuff generally rocks the "established" world with the sting of reality's bee.  That's a good thing.  "Why" is difficult to describe except that it is the "kingdom at hand," inspired by an intuition harbored since childhood.

I was back from the west, finally, my now late Mother on the coat-tails of "for the better" on my leaving of her... (she would soon be living with me), and had been back for days... subsequently returned to soupy southern skies of lower Alabama and the lights that pass, flicker, and crawl teasingly within them, lights unheralded by NASA's J-PASS... Time passages...

Somebody knows, eh?

The morning of the second was especially clear and cool, disappointingly. A morning flight from Sacramento (to the south of Anderson) five hours and some change later, crowded the allotted time outside to watch our festooned sky.  ...But it should be no surprise, at this point, that they were there as well, three at once, flying in definite formation, the trail object playing catch-up to the left echelon of silent objects flying before it...

I first noticed them below and to the left of Polaris, about 40 degrees elevation, at 3:35 Central time traveling west to east.  All three lights were identical in color and brightness, about magnitude one, and were never closer than one degree (the objects in left echelon preceding) and never farther away from one another then three degrees (the object in trail, catching up).  The echelon traveled at a rate of 3 degrees a second and the trail object slightly faster.  The trail object was decidedly closing with the echelon.  

The impression was that these three silent objects were in one another's vicinity. I watched them until they were obscured in the tree-line to the northeast. The silence of their majestic passage was deliciously discomfiting.

About half the nights since I've been back from California (...my mother was ~painting~ again when I left!) ...have been either obscured with morning fog, concealed by overcast, or shrouded by storm clouds. On those remaining mornings with good visibility the gnats, flies, and mosquitoes, refreshed  by all the wet weather, would have their buggy headbanger's blood banquet in honor of my return... but I know the "secret" of the Bounce™ anti-static dryer cloth.  I could sense their woeful disappointment as they moved off sullenly to look for dogs, squirrels, and birds (…thanks, Mom).

The strange objects were there, of course, every time I had the ceiling and visibility required to detect them, and I'm provoked once again to wonder where they come from when I see them... where they go when I don't, and how many facockta satellites am I supposed to be able to see, on a day to day basis, anyway?  Officiality is not adding up with regard to a disingenuous implication of an erstwhile predictability for these sightings.  "Two plus two" becomes "3" or maybe "5"...

Many objects too, reader, of varying brightness, displaying colors of white through yellow to red, and moving at different speeds on different tracks (including due west!)... these graced the skies as I watched them... the prosaic non-prosaic.  God, but what are they?

I could go on about the magnitudes, elevations, and azimuths for all the sightings.  I could specify rates, specific times, and individual colors, but I think I've demonstrated my ability to count a measured bean (even an anomalous one!) in the previous years of these odd observations.  

There's no need for the reader to have to wade through all that.  Besides, my purpose here is to get the reader to go outside for awhile, themselves, ...measure their own rates, times and azimuths... so they can see for themselves what their conflicted mainstream would airily (and suspiciously!) deny.  The reader could have her own horizons vastly expanded as has happened with me and myriad persons I've encountered in my ufological trials.

There's a strange comfort in those expanded horizons that is hard to define, reader,  as I said before, but it's like you can look out on these silent, tiny, and purposeful orbs with a cool morning breeze on your face and be reassured (in as much as the hijacked mainstream won't own up to them) that there is something really there… beyond the confines (and outside of the box!) of that jealously conflicted mainstream.  Something... further... I don't know... but something that does not dance to a skewed mainstream's duplicitous tune. 

If that object can do that, stand solidly without the mainstream's (even grudging) support, perhaps each of us (who would want to) might find a way to do that, too.  Think of the strides we will be able to take as a species then!  And that's worth all the money you have.  That's worth all the money that anybody has.

I remain watching our skies. 

Read on!

A Star In Kansas (Part I of II)

Photo by Bryce Zabel

A Star In Kansas

by Alfred Lehmberg

PART I

Map Navigation, whether it be 3D in the air between unfamiliar strings of seemingly identical terrain features—where, by the way, legitimately offended persons shoot guns and missiles at you—or, on an equally unfamiliar two-dimensional ground fraught with Fast Food joints and fundamentalist churches firing slower, more "time-released" missiles... ...Maps have always been that proverbial royal pain.  

"Old map navigation" included frequent sick dreads provoked where you didn't know where you were, believing you missed a turn, and were too sparsely punctuated with little dopamine squirts provoked by locations joyfully confirmed. Not so, currently.  

Those days are passed.  Now it's all dopamine.

As I've written before, 21st Century technologies turn the aforementioned dreary roadway aggravations—dangerous back-tracks and their precipitated road-rages—into an opportunity to be enlightened from a comfortable chair in learned halls and erudite classrooms.  Verily, it's a little like driving down the road while able to watch movies and documentaries.

This is the contrarily enjoyed activity, reader, while an unending cascade of strangely presented sceneries slides passed in substantive synchronicity, a preparation for the destination and not something odious to be endured, necessarily, in its regard, you see?  It's the trip, not the destination. One has heard that before. The trip can be icing on the destination's cake.

That destination?  Kansas, friend, the bona fide beating heart in the American heartland, world breadbasket, and host to at least two of my "Best EVERs" for satisfaction's burgers or buffet brunch under 20 dollars.  The Beer would have been on the list, too, but I've lived in Germany where beer for breakfast is not entirely out of line, eh?  The beer just missed.

Specifically, I was in Lawrence, Kansas, home of Kansas University's fighting Jayhawks, and the town which put the threat and abject horror of nuclear war on the global map as a result of its participation in that world famous film, The Day After.  Lawrence had a decided hand in the break-up of the Soviet Union, I suspect, and serious arms reduction. 

It does seem odd that Lawrence keeps popping up on the frightening and even wild-assed paranormal screen via treatments the likes of the recently re-released Dark Skies, a first season episode of Supernatural, and another atomic melodrama called, Jericho. This only begins the list.

Enter conference producer Dan Lauing.  Lauing is an imposing figure, looking more like a Jayhawks fullback able to pull off deserving heads for hacky-sacks than what he ends up to actually be: one of the more deeply feeling human beings I've ever had the honor to make the acquaintance of, eh?  He's no pussy-willow, mind you, even with his heart worn decidedly on a sleeve.  A master stone-worker, he effortlessly top-kicks lasting projects to the tune of 85 men employed at a pop, so no shrinking violet or retiring willow, he.  He's got something well bagged and together, still... he can cry.

He cried when he met me at the Eldridge Hotel.  He cried when he opened the conference across the street at Freedom Hall.  He cried until the third day with many of the presenting persons he introduced.  No, he was by report not ordinarily so emotive, and no, he didn't blubber or wail or produce mucous like he might have, but his eyes would fill and there would come a quaver in his voice that necessitates a short stoppage, a turn away from the audience and a struggle to regain control.  Some critics smirk and sneer with no thought to what might produce these inconvenient and embarrassing tears.

I've given thought.  Those self-disclosing, inconvenient, and embarrassing tears are actually pretty laudable, eminently condonable, completely understandable, and altogether forgivable. 

See, Lauing is a historian of sorts, in addition to other substantive talents, and he is well aware of the whole... suitcase-nukes-sailed-surreptitiously-into-American-harbors-by-well-provoked-and-handily-facilitated-enemies, scenario, eh?  His home town, one remembers, put the horror of the nuclear holocaust on the map as I've already pointed out, and, indeed... this threat, complicated by documented UFOs demonstrating seeming input to the very disposition of those same nuclear weapons, is the running theme of his first annual OZUFO conference.

Consider, friend.  You put together regular travailed life with the burdens of producing that "first-time"—period—UFO conference.  Easier said than done.  

Entailed is the perceived attendant clutch of needy ufological cats (Conference participants) refusing to be remotely herded.  This ablates, always! 

Mix in some intimate knowledge of the dangers of nuclear power and their brother weapons of mass destruction, and then leaven all that with the breaking mainstream report that... radioactive 747s are arriving, presently, from Japan!  Your worst fears seemingly realized, reader, on the first day of your same-themed conference painstakingly produced for months... Well, that may produce some tears from the strongest man.  We will say no more regardingtears produced by Dan Lauing. 

Dan Lauing, a smart man, is additionally a good man of undeniable character with the courage of conviction to put his money where his conscience is.  That's all one really has to know about Dan Lauing.

Exorcising, first, the non-sequitur of most remaining negatives, there has additionally been some discussion with regard to the Lawrence, Kansas Oz Summit as "not enough about UFOs."  This is a comment valid on its face and forgivable given that a UFO conference really should lean in the direction of UFOs, sure.  That seems a no-brainer.  Only...

Believing something should be... a way the believer believes it should be... might preclude what something could be, to a degree; can you agree?  To believe the one is to disbelieve the other which might aspire to something even more pertinent.  See how limiting "belief" can prove to be? 

The conference still was about UFOs, actually, but not just the UFOs themselves. That's been done in extremis, and badly too. Lauing tried to reach a little further, even where grasp was exceeded.  Reach trains grasp, remember; I believe it's obvious.

No, their effect was explored.  Their consequence was investigated.  Their implications were considered.  Their history was examined.  Their abject and utter strangeness was regarded.  There's a lot more going on with UFOs than what one sees in the usual yellow pages, eh? 

Indeed, UFOs have an eclectic gravitas not only stranger than we know but stranger than we can know, you know?  All that bears more regard than it gets, sadly.  Still, novelty can only be wrested from the darkness exposed by the revealing light.  This conference aspired to be that revealing light.

For the attendee paying real attention? This conjecture was born out rather well in a manner acceptable where it wasn't objective and enlightening... where it wasn't specific, for my money... a wholly productive, ultimately useful, and decidedly unusual affair it proved to be, if you're paying attention.

See, there more to UFOs than merely UFOs.  There's the imposition of seeming UFO occupants on our fellow human beings heralded by Kim Carlsberg, for example, as they are made flesh in the stunning reproduction of their collected artwork and textual explications.  

Little on nuts and bolts of UFOs, agreed, but these corporeal craft strongly suggest "organized" occupancy. They suggest something so extant if enigmatically forsworn in day and night time skies. They would seem to have a decided and existential impact on all manner of persons Ms. Carlsberg beautifully iterates.  It is high strangeness compelling the compelled, who in turn illustrate it for the rest of us.  Thanks, Kim.

Indeed, the late John Mack, MD, Ph.D., Pulitzer Prize winner, Harvard Chair, and open abduction researcher—in (a now dubious) public dismissed as a "naïve dreamer" missing the mark by the late artist Budd Hopkins—allowed as even a purely psychological explanation to the Abduction conundrum would be in itself a complete astonishment! Though, the altogether non-dissimilar "experiential" thread Mack had discovered vis a vis his research into perceived abductions (illustrating a not-bad-if-uncomfortable-enlightenment-over-the-necessarily-hell-borne-assignation of Jacobs/Hopkins, so to speak) was the rule, not the exception. Moreover, Macks books reflected the same sentiment.

The 'other' as potential, perhaps, to step up... not to be cast back to fiery pits of a jealous God's damnation!   Better, then, not worse... and?  Inevitable, anyway!  See what can be perceived paying a more non-predisposed attention?  

"Amour Mama, not cheap display!"  Joni Mitchell

Then there's Sam Maranto, my new favorite guy in the rough and tumble UFO mine-field.  Wife Julie will be left for a subsequent article I'm sure, although I will always remember her as bringing me, literally, to my knees...

Sam and Julie in repose!

But, back to Sam!  What an unpredicted seeming nexus for singular wit, aplomb under pressure, and a genuine monumental style. What a guy!

Sam puts UFOs in the street with the savvy manner of the inspirational union leader where that leader's seen "the man's" books and knows a serious recompense and redistribution is in sincere order with all deliberate speed! So it is with the man's UFO "books," eh? 

You know, books with inexplicably dismissive entrees on the likes of the Tinley Park Lights, a silent craft hovering ominously above the tidy burg on numerous occasions and witnessed by hundreds. Or, when they're not just hovering ominously, they're providing an obvious hazard to civil aviation when lurking over international airports like they did at O'Hare...  

Mr. Maranto underscores the unavoidable consequence to our social system, organs of authority: losing relevancy or credibility and earning only enmity for their stark betrayal of our trust in these UFO matters, et sig al.  These won't evade public wrath forever.

Frank n' Stan!

Next comes more support for existential UFOs—Roswell in Reasonable Redux.  No clueless groans, please.  First Stanton Friedman frames the problem set on Existential UFOs as only he can.  Something substantive happened at Roswell, for example, it was covered up by the authorities who re-substantiate evolved lies over and over again, periodically, in a manner as stunningly unimaginative as it is annoyingly stupid.  It's their running official theme, Mr. Friedman can handily show.

Bryce Zabel

Appearing then is Bryce Zabel, a crack creator of standout films and television series like the actually prescient Dark Skies.  He discussed how his very compelling series might be taken as kind of a disclosure lite, actually, an honest exploration of the societal truths and consequences of an imminent disclosure event.  This was presented while illustrating the mechanisms of that odious governmental military/industrial complex that, supporting the oldest technology and paradigms, evades and prevaricates presently from said disclosure.  Our protectors aren't protecting us, reader.  Their master is the strengthening and overweening corpocracy.

Colonel Marcel

Once Zabel concludes, you get to spin up on the apple-pie-down-home and real as it gets Jesse Marcel Junior, Army full bird Colonel, Medical Doctor, Army Flight Surgeon, and, just returned from active duty in Afganistan, a rated rotary-wing aviator.  

Marcel regales the listener as regards how he held flying saucer flotsam in his hands as a child...  Show me how this man, a hero in deed and accomplishment by all measures, can fabricate the story as a lying ruse and provide for the remotest dishonor to himself or others including family and friends.  Closing on Marcel, here was the ETH so far up the listener's nose one feels its knees pushing in top teeth!

Finally, Donald Schmitt fires forward like an impassioned Unitarian minister from behind the podium/pulpit to roll the congregation back entirely with his take on the Roswell affair as it evolves into the 21st Century with new witnesses, accounts, and discoveries.  Indeed, one could become a lesser expert on the Roswell issue just as a function of their attention on the persons making their presentations.  Sneers and smirks in Roswell's regard lose all force and confidence where the presentations dovetail so seamlessly into each other with such complementary mutual support.  ...Especially sincere given it is unplanned! 

Established, then, that first day:  a logical and legitimately rational framework for the existential reality of the UFO... pretty much covering my own evidentiary categories to include (1) the Historical text regarding UFOs, (2) Artistic Historical pieces pertaining to same, (3) quality Anecdotal via multiple witnesses and corroborated by radar, (4) vetted Photographic pieces from all but undisputed experts, (5) extant Physical Traces.

Next:  Unsettling Nuke fiddlers, perils of civilization break-way, and more embraceable affairs!

...Twyla Lehmberg Passes...

 ...Twyla Lehmberg Passes...

Twyla June Lehmberg (July 18, 1927 - May 19, 2006)

.,¸¸,.»§«,¸¸,.·´¯`·.,¸¸,.»§«*¥*»§«,¸¸,.·´¯`·.,¸¸,.»§«·.,¸¸,.

My Mom died this morning about 03:00 hours.
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This is something occurring with clocklike regularity for everyone over millions of years, is a prelude to being mowed down by the dark scythe ourselves, and in no way makes any of us special.
I only mark her passing here because I can, that at almost 80 years old herself she was enchanted by the internet, and that she was an award-winning artist of rare talent demanding some kind of lasting notice by someone at her passing.
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She was a hard worker who wanted to live correctly and passed without so much as hard feeling from any other human being on this planet, a trick becoming increasingly hard to perform as the world accelerates to its concrescence. She left a body of work that is too beautiful to be discarded and that will likely survive her by generations. Her work will always hang in someone's home I must very confidently proclaim.
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She passed easily, if painfully, from serious heart disease and lung problems, never complaining or cross, never contrary or contrite... ...never less than a good humor, and always looking for a way to laugh. She was a child at heart. She faced the future with courage, intelligence, and imagination right up to the end... as sick as she was.
She was a woman of the renaissance, an American original, and a great individual. She was a smart woman of courage. She will be truly missed.
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Send no flowers, please... she’d want that money to go to someone who needed it. Donate that money to a local hospice, instead.
...See you on the other side, Twyla.
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• alienview@adelphia.net
• www.AlienView.net

Sorry about this seeming non-sequitur... it had disappeared from 2006 somehow.  Blogger won't let me put it back where it was, and it will be on this site... so there you have it.

He Held A Starship

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

He Held A Starship

by Alfred Lehmberg

Dan Lauing, program impresario, 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 were taking their toll. The harried director needed someone to walk the Colonel a block back to his hotel from the conference location after his presentation. From the 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.  He was understandably tuckered.

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, make 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 perceived atrocity pretty hard... quite apart from buckling down and getting on with what is necessary for God and Country, eh? Dissonances will be endured.  A toll will be paid. This writer, a retired combat veteran, himself, says true.

He was slow-walking and even shuffling, sometimes.  I had to assist him up and down curbs.  We stopped a few times for wind-catch. 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 Master 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, right off.  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 the tooth even if tall in the 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 about 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, really...  

He considered the memory of 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 days, 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. 

Change Time

• 
  
• Mars! Strange planet! 
• 
  
• ...Too, it is 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 is 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 this nothing actually but 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. Forests for trees?
• 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 then, 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. Ours is a fractal existentiality?
• 
  
• We won't complicate the affair, but... 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 a 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 the 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, consider, 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 a self-rewarding and lawless 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 admission and stark realization that it just may be... that it is the smallest fish in the biggest pond!
•  
• Indeed, look around, readers! Religion is corrupt, discredited, 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... now!
•  
• 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. Now...
• 
  

...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!

Inevitable Alternatives And Key Individuals

Inevitable Alternatives And Key Individuals

by Alfred Lehmberg 

Walk with me...

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 had 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 "I swear by 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 other aspiringly efficacious persons of the lay, but intellectually honest "rank and file" should read and watch respectfully... is the whole of our consideration! 
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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 investigate first 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 taken 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 or what's a heaven for, remember.

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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 its 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 one's initiatives can be frozen and scattered in that opposition's implacable 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 too challenging of our "slack cultural relevancy."  

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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 after retiring from the military.  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 news 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 to her—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.