He was like a bomb about to explode! His fist drew blood in the scratches he inflicted upon himself as he punched the bark on the oak tree. He had tried for three weeks to seduce Mary Jane Williams in any number of ways, and each time something had stood between him and his goal. Either Jack Sampson wouldn’t loan him his car to keep a date with her, or his mom and dad had ‘cracked down’ that night and didn’t want him meandering into those darkened, devilish areas of the city; he dreaded another brawl. Besides, everyone knew she was an easy ‘make.’ A pretty one, but an easy one.
And now he had an oil stain on his shirt from an unfinished burglary attempt at ‘hot wiring’ an old car down the street. Even though he had wrapped his jacket over the smudge, and zipped it shut, you could smell the heavy odor of oil. Some dirt had caked into the grooves of his fingers, and he was unaware that a streak of it was across his chin. He wished he could have gone home, but he was locked out of the darkened duplex which appeared to him as a foreboding evil and sick. He needed to be in a nice warm bed—he needed someone to talk to—some friend. As he analyzed that feeing, he became unconsciously ware of his next destination, somewhere along the river where its hourly chimes would echo across the lower-income neighborhood.
The traffic bothered him, and he had stepped-back three times at the demands of angry motorists who honked at him impatiently. “What a cruddy-looking kid,” shouted one girl from the backseat of the last auto to pass by. She rocked back into the seat as a bundle of laughter. Bud Hendricks made his way at a frantic pace across the street, glancing back on the passing hulks of metal, he spit on the street in contempt. He looked over his shoulder, up Vermont Avenue to the confectionery two blocks north. The Pepsi sign outside was waving in the chill wind. It would lap against the wind, then hang somber. After a moment, it would lap again.
He’d go there and play the pinball machine and think—think as to whether he should knock on that solid oak door with a small stained-glass window in the center: a radiant picture of the Good Shepard. Then a gentle swing its pewter-like hinges, the doorway would be graced by the slim shadowy form of an older priest, who was no comparison for the younger priest, Father Raymond Herbert. Bud recalled his last discussion with Father Herbert:
“I’d like for you to keep coming back, dig man?” asked the young priest. Father Herbert kept talking, flipping his almost shoulder-length hair behind him. Bud had heard about some of the liberal innovations the younger priests were bring about in the Catholic Church, especially since the most recent Vatican Council. But seeing them in person was a little more startling.
“Like, we have made quite a few changes, dig? And I don’t think you understand what is in store for you? Right?” The priest was bouncing around before the boy, looking much like one of his wisecracking exuberant boyfriends. It made Bud feel comfortable, familiar, identifiable with the priest; yet, at the same time, he felt a sight revulsion, a disgust at these theological innovators.
“Like, you know, new things are happening. The Holy Spirit promised to lead into all truth! Well, man, it’s happening—-it’s today—-it’s the New Creation! You’re part of it, cat! Dig? The Church is not against you. Why not split to my office now and then, we’ll have a little discussion? I don’t know if I can talk to you every time you come—-Father Eugene O’Brien usually handles the Religious Study, but don’t split the scene. Keep coming.”
He did keep coming back. He returned. Bud was split between exhilaration , and, yet, a form of disillusionment.
The boy was still sipping on the Pepsi when he walked away from the pinball machine in the corner of Pat’s confectionary. He paced back and forth by the glass window—-restless, wearily, like a lion in a stinking cage, but only more discouraged. His freshly washed hair shone in the store’s ceiling light highlighted by a recent palmful of Brylcream. He hiked one leg, put it down, then placed the other up on the store window counter. From there he could see the girls coming home from school, carrying their books close to their sweaters, brazenly flaunting the rear ends from the hem of the miniskirts.
“The bitches, how do they keep their asses from freezing?” Bud mumbled to himself in a low growl.
The trees outside bent and bowed in the wind. His soda dribbled down his chin as he set the empty bottle with a thud on the counter. He smeared the auto oil streak away from his chin with the soda drippings. A bunch of teenagers, gruff, disheveled, shaggy, bustled through the door. The bell above the door rang tinnily and was drowned out by the kids.
“Praise the Lord, praise the Lord Almighty!” sang one teenager demanding change from the cashier to play the pinball machines.
“Sing man, sing! What did Father Hubert give you in Science, Dan?” another asked from the midst of the confectionary.
“B? B-plus? I don’t know. Should have been an A,” the other boy cracked back. “Hey, give me those nickels!”
The bundle of flesh and noise had finally moved over to the pinball machine carrying their customary confections and soda. They took their usual vulgar stances intermingled with the traditional “go to hells’’ and other “ah go screw yourselves”-type obscenities. Later they would settle down to their nightly routine of doing their schoolwork—-provided they felt like doing it.
Though a high school drop-out himself, Bud could feel nothing but contempt for the parochial school kids. “So, you are the Light of the World?” he thought to himself as he casually lit a cigarette. It was a term derived from his talks with Father O’Brien. Too many talks, Bud protested to himself, but it was getting to be a habit for strange reasons. It was about to be fulfilled again tonight.
Bud forced his way outside in a brisk manner. There, he took two robust puffs on the cigarette. He threw it down and crushed it lifeless. He walked swiftly to the street corner. Bud noted it was about to rain, placing him in a somewhat somber mood.
“What about those rumors telling of the Communists and their takeover?” Bud had asked the shaggy-headed Father Herbert during one visit. “Wasn’t there something said about an avowed ‘psychological infiltrations’ starting way back with Lenin?”
“Bunk!” the flippant priest jested back. “Christ hid the purpose of the New Creation until after his death, and now the Holy Spirit has that Church into ‘all truth.’ Communism is not an enemy but a phase, a necessary transition to the ultimate conquest by Christ of the universe. Even democracy.’’ The priest smiled mysteriously.
“Yah, but didn’t consecutive Soviet leaders avow Lenin’s same purpose to ‘debauch us from within?’” Bud brought the question up during one visit. “Wasn’t there something about an avowed ‘psychological infiltration’ starting way back in history with Lenin?’’ Still, they sometimes barred rock music and censored dirty movies and such in their naïve country, Khrushchev said that he would ‘bury us,’ meaning….
“So,” Father Herbert countered, “America has room for Communism, rock music, liberal movies—-those are very charitable acts. Christian acts, dig? Like, Christ said His Father’s house had many mansions….’’ The priest smiled with an Alice in Wonderland’s Cheshire Cat expression.
“Sounds a little strange. But, yah, it could mean that,” exciting visions and scenic sights burst in the boy’s head. “But Father O’Brien disagrees. He feels that the Anti-Christ is personified…’’
“Father O’Brien!” The priest suddenly became solemn, a barely subdued sneer upon his lips. “Father O’Brien,’’ he continued more softly, “will have to learn of the evolving trend of the New Creation, as will everybody else!”
On Shara Avenue, Bud noticed one unusual house in the middle of the block. In its small front yard was a solitary flagpole with an eagle with outspread wings atop the pole. The front porch desperately needed painting and strips of the old paint lay on the ground. There was a light within the house and a certain melancholy atmosphere hung over the structure. Who lived in the house? An elderly couple? When was the house built? Before the Second World War—-earlier, when? Bud identified closely with the house. He wondered how little houses—-little people—-could survive in this big town, this big nation, this big world.
And then he noticed many things around him. Maybe it was the damp, dark weather that was requesting persons and things to silently ask humanity to cuddle, examine and befriend the scenery: there was the yellow crabgrass that sprouted out from the edges and creases of the sidewalk, how many years ago could it have been when they made sidewalks out of red brick laid in a cris-cross pattern? The gas station on the next corner had an ancient-looking building next to it; its chimneys were bent, broken and ready to fall; the windows were boarded; rubber ties; automobile oil pans and general litter lay in the front yard. Sixty, eighty, or a hundred years old? How old was the building?
************
The flashing beacon on top of the filling station that Bud’s vision encapsulated seemed to recede to a dot between revolutions. It reminded him of the little white dot that appeared at first when the television is turned on and a picture appears an instant later.
(“Tingle Soap,” the broadcaster in the television commercial had been saying, “will give you that magical feeling from head to foot, as if a beautiful Polynesian maiden had caressed you.” A teenage boy in a bathtub was wiggling his toes at one end of the tub as he exhibits a broad grin. “Tingling,” the broadcaster continues, “like the new dawn freshness of a beautiful south sea day.” Off comes a bosom halter from the maiden. The boy’s toes wiggle fanatically, and the boy’s smile turns into a lusty grin. “Tingling,” the broadcaster continues, “like a boy rejuvenated by the desire of a South sea goddess.” The boy appears to be erotically aroused. The girl in the commercial laughs exhilaratingly—-off comes her skirt. “And now, back to our movie feature THE BONTUS: THE FLESH EASTING SEA FIEND.)
In two more blocks, Bud would turn down a side street heavily pockmarked with cracks in the hard topped street. The city needed to repair it but it probably would remain dilapidated for a year or more. From where Bud stood, Bud would be able to see the stately lawn to the priest’s parish house and its plush evergreens along the small white and spotless walkway to the noble redbrick building.
The setting Sun, an enormous orb looming from beyond the buildings and homes to his back, had thrown a golden hue on everything. The dark clouds of the late autumn afternoon had dissipated briefly as if to allow the Sun to give a final goodnight salute. Bud turned the corner towards the priest’s house, and the two-story vacant house diagonally across the street seemed aflame with the golden red rays of the setting Sun and the multiple windows defiantly reflecting that source.
When Bud reached the lawn of the vacant house his eyes rolled in anxiety as he examined the scene. He glanced back and forth across the street, up and down the extent of the building and the church on the conner, then back to the vacant house with its first-floor windows overlayed by strips of plywood nailed diagonally across them. The thick front door was boarded shut with two big boards. The shrubberies were unkempt with long reeds thrusting through them, the concrete steps were chipped and crumbled. The lawn was bare in spots with stubs of crab grass spread about. Bud felt just as emotionally desolate.
Bud stood there momentarily, shivering, undetermined. Suddenly, another youngster came shuffling along the street out of a nearby alley. He barely noticed Bud standing there and was snapping his fingers to the latest Hit Tune, a melody which could be heard coming from the bulge of a small radio in the boy’s hip pocket. The strolling youngster’s hair had been combed high onto his head and the nape in a Duck-Butt fashion. His shirt was a plaid design of red and black, barely discernable beneath a leather jacket—a jacket much like the one Bud wore, but much more soiled and torn. The strolling-youngster’s face was strained and enveloped in pleasure to the tune he was hearing.
Bud watched the boy disappear around the corner as the boy’s feet made a horrid sound of something dead being pulled across a concrete lot: it was the boy’s black boots being dredged along the pavement.
Bud spat on the street, then drew his eyes back onto the priest’s house. Bud lazily climbed the lawn to the front porch of the vacant house. When he sat down, the streetlights flickered on and he noticed several homes already appeared well-lit in the dusk of the evening. The rectory windows added their radiance to the scene. Bud suddenly realize the time as the church bell chimed the hour. A tugboat on the river gave a low moan adding to the melancholy.
“Why do I want to waste my time looking about a small Catholic rectory?” Bud questioned. He would have been at Louie’s house right now, Bud told himself, planning an evening at Betty Breg’s place. Her parents were never home and there was always a refrigerator full of food—-and a whole evening for ‘games.’ Bud liked Betty. She was a real swinger. He thought he could ‘make’ her if he really tried. That is if Louie didn’t run interference.
Maybe Louis wasn’t even home now. He never seemed to be home much lately. Often, he and Louie would end-up to be sitting in that two-room shack that Louie called home, staring into the pot-bellied stove for hours on end, talking about cars and sex, and then, sex and cars. What he needed was Jack Sampson and his car. That would make things right, Bud rationalized. If only Jack could suddenly materialize and help rid him of this insufferable ache of loneliness. “I need to screw Mary Jane, damn it,” Bud told himself; Bud knew where Jack was tonight, and it wasn’t playing guitar out at Hartsville like Jack’s sister said, it was more like Mary Jane than Hartsville. He had to fill this hole of loneliness, this stabbing in his heart caused by many drunken fights of his mother and stepdad, the screaming threats, banging of human bodies against hardwood floors, the smashing of beer bottle glass, and the guggling of someone’s fist on a human throat. Bud couldn’t recognize the teenage elements of fear, the deep shame of his acne, the puzzle-pieces of the love-hate relationship his mother carried within her ( probably going back many generations to hear her tell of her own family discipline episodes), and general childhood angst living in their lower-class scenery.
But above all this, Bud wanted to believe his mother deeply loved him.
“It’s not that you’re so shy, Bud,’’ his mother had told him one night, “you’re simply different from your friends. You like to read, for instance. You don’t particularly like to get your nose into hard dirty work like your pals—-you are just more serious about mystical things than they are. But why do you get involved with such punks?”
Bud couldn’t reveal his feelings of the terror and longing he carried like a bundle or bricks on his back or the slab of concrete in his stomach. Instead, he euphemistically tried to state it more commonly: “I want to be just another happy guy, Mom! Doesn’t a guy have a right to have fun?”
Bud wanted to tell her that he had to make ‘the scene’ the same as his buddies; they were natural at the art of seduction; but how does a guy tell that to his mother?
“But you have good friends. Go back to Church. You went to Sunday School once before, Bud…’’
“Mom, you don’t see the ‘picture’…’’
“Mom…” How could the boy explain? Explain that the world was not what she said it was. That a whole jungle of insects and bugs and green slimy things grow out in the world that aren’t even listed in her encyclopedia of facts—-or, perhaps the worst possibility: she wasn’t telling all the facts!
***********
The sky had become dark. The Moon was partially hidden behind passing bundles of grey-white clouds. The trees swayed in the autumnbreeze, and Bud noticed that in his ongoing anxiety he had knotted his protruding shirt cuff into a winkled ball. “Ah, the loneliness, the infernal loneliness, the gnawing loneliness!’’ I’ll go home, he thought at first. No, no. Try Jack’s place again? Nope, he wouldn’t be home, and besides Bud couldn’t stand his old lady coming to the bar smelling of Hill and Hill whiskey and eyeing Bud seductively. Anyway, Jack’s got a dog that barks worse than a herd of hyenas. And then Bud felt growing rage. He needed to expose his soul, he screamed in his thoughts, waving his hands about as if a lecturer, a rather pitiful sight as he stood on the steps of the deserted property. He was now acting-out his frustration—-not just looking at bodies on the covers of magazines (hurriedly hidden beneath a stack of shoes), and the pornography inside, or the faces of cute girls……he meant OUT!
His eyes had developed an intensity of rebellion as he glared over to the rectory door.
“Who do you think you are fooling, Father O’Brian? I’ve read my Bible. Can you prove any of it? Isn’t just more of this gobbledygook – those myths mankind and the Church have been handing out?’’ His thoughts were bold and direct.
The ornate rectory stood mute before his silent charge. The moan from the tugboat whistle from the muddy waters of the river gave another nocturnal sigh. Bud could smell that opaque odor of the muddy river—-so much soft dripping dirt, so many trunks and limbs of trees protruding the water as if thorns on some submerged victim: It was also the smell of so much urination and human waste from the city drainage; so much green foliage; and just so much dank mud that could have been likened to as the smell of the blood of civilization’s torn flesh.
From somewhere he could smell the heavy stink of sickening garbage from some alley nearby, of which he directed his thoughts to other memories in an act of avoidance.
Bud shoved himself erect. In his lingering frustration he kicked bits of gravel aside with his shoe (noting the rents alongside of the high- heeled boots). In lessened anger he glanced over at the rectory door as he skipped down the steps of the old house:
“Okay, O’Brien, okay. At least it’s warm inside your little office,’’ Bud was thinking, “if you’ll have me; yah, if anybody will have me.”
Bud was greeted at the door by the elderly housekeeper. She was wiping her hands on her apron. “Yes?” she asked in a quivering voice.
“Ah, Father O’Brien here?” Bud asked politely but nervously. The old woman recognized Bud from a previous visit and eyed him curiously.
“Just a minute please.” She hobbled off into a well-lit backroom. Bud was thinking to himself: “Why do places like this always seem to cater to older people?” Bud was leaning on the doorway, and visions of the fictional Hunchback of Notre Dame came to mind as the classic Hunchback crawled amongst those medieval spires and steeples; places like this seem to attract the old and downtrodden and emetic; but then, what did he expect: movie actresses like the late Elizabeth Taylor?
Within the hallway a dark shadow appeared at the bottom of a stairway; soon the light from an antiquated chandelier reflected on the face of Father O’Brien. O’Brien’s slippers slapped on the floor like a snap of a belt strap. Father O’Brien was still unaware as to who had come to visit him. The priest’s face held a slightly grim business-like expression.
“If you’re busy Father, that’s all right, I just took a chance and dropped by again. So…” Bud was apologetic.
Father O’Brien immediately recognized the youth and his face lit up in a warm smile. “Ah, Bud, yes. Yes. I did say that.’’ I must have gotten the old man at a good moment, thought Bud, but so what, he might change his tune after hearing me out.
“Come in. Come in,’’ the red-faced priest instructed, holding the screen door open, “what brings you tonight?” Yes, what, indeed brings me, asked Bud inwardly.
“Well, you said if I had any questions, to come over. I got a copy of the New Testament from a publishing house in California a translation from the original Greek, you know, like you said. Well, I found those passages we talked about last month…’’
‘’Did you bring that Bible with you?” the tall, thin priest asked ushering the boy into one of the side offices off the corridor. He gestured that the boy to be seated in front of a huge oak desk. The priest took out a cigarette from his pocket and began to light it as he situated himself in the large, cushioned desk chair. “Did you bring some notes?” queried the priest.
“Naw, no, I didn’t. However, I did stay up late several nights to read, so I still have a fairly good idea of the passages.” Bud informed the priest. The priest looked amiably at the boy, with his arms folded on the desk and his face somewhat clouded in a puff of cigarette smoke. As the evening progressed, the priest would place the cigarette in an ashtray near him following a series of nervous puffs. “It’s a literal translation of the original Greek, ah, it’s put out by the Concordant Publishing Concern. Ever hear of it?”
“No, but it sounds interesting.” The priest continued to smile as he reached into one of his desk drawers. The veins in the underside of his wrinkled arm seemed to have risen prominently, denoting his age. How tired he looked, Bud was thinking, but the smile on that pixyish Irish face caused Bud to ask of himself: I wonder if my laughter looked as amiable, a smile that had perpetual look of youth. “And I…and I have my Jerusalem Bible,’’ continued the priest. He placed the Bible squarely in front of him like an attorney presenting his court brief, or an oriental marketman presenting his wares, placing his hands on the item in a show of authority.
(Well, already it felt like home, Bud was thinking, and he began to relax. But his easing was short-lived as his memory starkly found himself in the terror of on-coming conflict in his single room, waiting for the sound of the front door to open and bang against the vestibule wall.
“You son-of-a-bitch! Don’t talk to me! Go on! Go to bed! You…” would come the shouting, the slurred drunken diatribe of his mother.
“Go to hell! Go to hell!” answered the rough drunken monotone of his stepfather, “I do what I damn well want!”
“Go watch your TV….” Came his mother’s intoxicated slur.
“I’ll do what I want! Why don’t you, dear, go back down to your friends…’’
Then would come a few quick steps. The floor would violently vibrate as if wall boards would give way. Someone pushed someone else against a dresser drawer and knocking perfume bottles over, midst grunts of pain and even terror. Then in exasperation:
“All right! All right!’’ his mother was saying to the stepfather. “You lousy…lousy…’’ A huge crash as his mother slammed the front door. Bud could hear plaster fall from parts of the house from the vibration.)
Outside the priest’s office window from the hilltop location, looking along the curve of the river towards the north, Bud could see the lights of the downtown area of the city. Red and white lights trailed all along the river’s bend indicating factories, granaries, and barges. One could still hear the vague drone of the tugboats, even though the sounds of thunder outside said that a storm was either coming or finally going.
“You like to read, Bud?” the elderly man asked as he ran his slender fingers through his hair. The priest relaxed into the desk chair. He had taken off the heavy black coat and was down to his white shirt and that magnificent clerical collar that always was attractive to Bud. The cigarette was hidden in his hand long one side of his head, giving the impression that the smoke was somehow arising from there.
“Well, yes, I guess it’s one of my secret pastimes. I have a good-sized library at home. I guess I am different from other kids that I know.” The priest nodded understandingly.
“Don’t get me wrong, father, I dig girls and cars, I collect jazz and rock records. I…”
“But still, you seek something more?” the priest interjected.
Something more! Something more! Something more! The words rang deeply in his mind and caused discomfort in his chest. “Em, yes, I guess. I guess.” Bud viewed the man curiously. Bud has heard those words before.
“Another thing, Father, while I’ve read the Bible, even gone to Sunday School, I want you to understand that I don’t dig all this Scripture stuff! You hear? I mean, you’ve got a lot against you, Father. You know?”
The priest smiled serenely, stood up, placed his hands to the arch of his back and stretched. Then he walked to the window and looked out.
“You have a lot against you too, you know.” The priest wasn’t trying to be directly sarcastic. He turned to look at the boy, “we all do.”
“Well, I know what you mean by that, Father, but get my point: I believe in the truth, and I’ve seen nothing but perversion of the truth in my life.”
The priest quickly turned to look at the boy. The priest still held a grin, though it was slightly subdued. “Truth?” the priest emphasized, “Bud, I have heard men, famous and infamous, spout that word: Truth! Are you familiar—yes—you said you were familiar with the stories of the Marque de Sade? Now, there was a man who believed that every wicked, idiotic thing he did was some form of the ‘truth.’”
Bud quickly recalled the thick glossed-cover paperback he had hidden in his closet. The book was a colorful history and photographic portrayal of the Marque de Sade, all the bloody orgies and sensuous rituals. There had been one picture that overwhelmed Bud greatly: a nude female with her face looking outward, her one hand upward and stretched in anguish, her eyes agog, as a man, painted a vile devil scarlet was performing some anal sexual act on her. “Yes, but de Sade felt that ‘act’ could be done or not—-that the truth was yet to be discovered in its totality. That no one had that right to say what ‘act’ was or was not to be done. I mean, just maybe de Sade was on to something good.”
The priest shook his head. Boy, this fella seems to have changed his tone since I last talked to him, the priest confided to himself. The priest touched a tapestry made by the Christian Youth Council, it bore a big crucifix and the words ‘Come forth Holy Spirit, come!’ in big jovial-felt letters. Then the priest turned back to his desk and sat down again. He folded his hands one more time and eyed Bud mysteriously.
“If someone came to you, Bud, pointed a gun to your head and fired it pointblank —-would you,’’ the priest’s forehead wrinkled when he said those words, “say something good has come of that?”
Boy, the teenager’s thoughts were whirling about him: You can pick some ‘good ones’ can’t you Father? Bud gave a sick little smile and nervously crossed his legs. Bud noticed that the office had appeared somewhat dull for what he had expected of a rectory. There was a well-used filing cabinet. A buffet table with religious books. The desk. Two chairs. One tapestry. One crucifix. And a small picture of Christ hanging on a cross with an aerial view of mourners praying at His feet.
“Well, I guess nobody wants to die. But who can say what would come out of my death?” Bud began to speculate. “I mean maybe somewhere there are cults of murder…”
“There are!” Father O’Brien interrupted sternly. “But come on, Bud, are you trying to tell me that people—-that you—-wouldn’t care if somebody blew your brains out? That’s fine in theory—-nutty theory—-but in actuality? Don’t you see, Bud, it’s more of this ‘abstract’ mumbo-jumbo various people are handing out today.”
And the Church, Father, and the Church, Bud jeered to himself, but we’ll get to that shortly, my pixie-looking friend.
“You see, Bud, Jesus was just that way. He was a down-to-earth, so-to-speak realist, but an idealistic-perfectionist too. He said that your conversation be ‘Yea, Yea and Nay, Nay,’ not this mystical jargon and doubletalk. He laid things down in black and white Remember what he said about His Law? That it should not pass away; that Heaven and Earth could disappear first. He said that He came not to destroy, but to fulfill the Law.”
**********
The scream of automobile tires were now flooding Bud’s memory. One, two, three dragsters pulled out of the auditorium parking-lot of Saint Jude’s parish. It was a breezy-night and Bud and two of his friends stood around a petite, nice-looking teenage girl. All three boys chomped rudely on chewing gum wads; Bud had his hands astutely entrenched in his pockets. His collar was turned up in hipster style.
“Come on doll, Jake’s got his car running; it’s a buet, ain’t it” Bud asked the shyly smiling girl. ‘‘Let’s swing. We’ll drag out of here; get some sodas. Take a little ride.’’ Bud winked at one of his friends casually leaning out of the car door. His friend smiled fiendishly back, “And then, well, we’ll take you home.”
Her smile broadened and she nodded sheepishly. “All right, but I have to be home before midnight. I must go to Mass tomorrow morning.” Jake’s words “it only takes a little while” were drowned-out by the squall of a dragster’s tires.
**********
“You made a point of the fact that I like to read, Father,’’ Bud fidgeted with the pages of a Living New Testament that he found on the corner of the desk. “Well, it’s a little more than a pastime. I think I am looking for something—-the truth. The truth. Have you read some of the Higher Critics?” Bud smiled wickedly.
The priest looked a little alarmed. He tapped the ash from his cigarette somewhat nervously. What a weird twist for a neighborhood renegade, the priest was thinking! I would have expected this conversation to be saturated with cars, girls, and beer. “Yes. They claim that Jesus hadn’t really been the Messiah, just a human being who did no real miracles.’’
“I know them,” the priest answered coolly, “ and they hadn’t added one bit for or against the question.” He lowered his eyes just for a moment and parted his lips slowly. “You know Bud, I ‘ve heard this argument before. And it has usually been put forward by those who are often less than honest.’’ Twitch, twitch, twitch tingled Bud’s nerves in his chest. ‘‘One man,” the priest lowered and raised his right hand as if to show it floating on an air-cushion, “wants to see Christ as anything but the Supreme. He wants to see Him as a man as weak and mundane as himself, so he goes into the written history of the Man —- or his bibliographies —- and begins to tear them apart bit by bit —- like a nefarious attorney.”
“And what do they hope to gain by that?” the boy asked innocently. The priest smiled dryly and again grew sober suddenly: “Their lust, Bud. Their lust.”
“Lust?” asked the boy. Twitch, twitch, twitch continued tht nervous tingle.
“Money. Those that feel that they need large amounts. They want more. Christ somehow stands in their way. Power: some see great gains in position and ownership. Christ, again, seems to stand in the way. Or, Bud, they crave human flesh. Sensuously, they worship one creation of God—fiendishly—-all out of proportion and more than their Creator’s intention.”
“And if they’re correct?” the boy began to narrate a few biblical passages as he spoke. The priest looked nonplussed; his mind began to wander as he gazed at the sheen of the boys hair. For a moment, the priest saw himself so many years ago; much, much healthier then; missing was the arthritis that completely tacked his aging body—-and the stiffness and aching of his left arm which carried a stinging sensation that would reach all the to his fingertips. It was cancer! Cancer, the priest thought solemnly, cancer! But that was a recent development and the priest thanked God again that it hadn’t always been like this. Soon the effects of drugs would wear off and he would feel somewhat guilty for being so selfish to think of his own infliction.
“Let us make one thing clear, Bud. Either Christ was everything He said He was, or, He was the biggest liar that ever existed, for He claimed to be God’s Perfect Son!” The priest looked statuesque at the boy; the gaze was different than any other he had seen from the older man. It was a gaze that seemed to say that ‘games’ had beginnings and endings, and that some moments were more than frivolous pastimes, moments to be flitted away; that life and death were stark realities; and here was a person who had a different—-sober and different—-way of looking at the situation. And just as suddenly, Bud began to feel a rage building-up within himself: partly due to an adolescent vanity, but also due to the alarming indifference, compliancy, and dank degeneracy that he had crammed into his nineteen years of life.
“And if he wasn’t?” Bud asked gristly. Someone, perhaps a fellow priest, had a stereo playing upstairs. The strings of Tchaikovay’s Piano Concerto No. 1 weaved its way downstairs. The priest raised himself up again and shut the door cautiously, all the while as if in deep thought. He began to caress his aching arm, successfully camouflaging the pain.
“We’ve been through all this before, Bud. You don’t think this big organization called the Christian Church began out of a hoax? There is something there, Bud. Do you remember what Christ said about the Holy Spirit and the guidance of His Church?”
“Yah, I read that, Father. I also remember where Saint Paul said that ‘wolves’ had entered the fold way back then. Besides, if all those churches are Christian, how can they qualify for Christ’s description as a small flock?”
“Comparatively speaking,” the priest answered rapidly. “Christianity comprises only a tiny percentage of the world population. So, you see, Bud, we still are a small flock.”
“Yeah, well, you might just have thrown it in a drain. It’s done no good.” The fury in the boy had begun to build.
“Wait a minute, let’s be fair. I know that you are going to say. But Christ said His Church was flesh and blood human beings; and they did make mistakes.”
‘“ Be ye perfect even as you Father in Heaven is perfect…’” The boy was reading a passage in the Bible.
“Yes, but not totally in their present human bodies!”
“But ‘God has not called us unto uncleanness, but unto holiness,’” Bud cited another passage he saw after flipping a few more pages.
‘‘Ah, this won’t get you anywhere. First things, first, Bud.” said the priest. “Your ignoring quite a bit of Church History. The lives of the Saints. Some of the better Popes. Modern miracles. It’s a matter of logic and priorities. Have you heard of the Miracles of Lourdes—-or even the Vision of the Virgin at Guarabandel, Spain?’’
The smoldering frustration within his limbs had finally exploded, but the fumes of that explosion leaked through his mouth slowly but more delicately.
“Let me tell you something, Father, when I was seventeen, I was dating a girl who had been a Catholic since her childhood. When I first met her, she was attending Mass every Sunday! Every Sunday! She mut have attended Confession too for I recall her telling me that the Confessional priest had told her not to see me anymore. He was right: I was seducing her quite often, at least once a week in the leisure of her own home. She was sixteen.”
The two people just stared at each other momentarily. The priest looked completely paralyzed. O’Brien was thinking: I don’t want to ‘tear’ into this kid, for he is much more than one single boy—-he seems to be ‘every’ boy—-any boy, any person, that needs a loving father; at least, how often have I heard that? But then, when Satan is face to face with you, O’Brien conferred to himself, you only feel contempt.
“That’s a Catholic girl,” Bud continued, “but I could say the same thing for Lutherans, Methodists….”
“I’ll be damned!” The words fumbled out of the priest’s mouth.
“That’s another thing, Father, that a religious person could curse so…’’
“It’s only an expression, no one is making a solemn oath.”
“Sodom and Gomorrah were damned,” Bud continued, ‘that’s supposed to be real and very solemn.”
“It’s an expression, you’ll hear priests and Catholics say it,” the old man explained resolutely.
“So, if fornication and drunkenness are accepted, does that mean we can do as we please?” the boy protested disingenuously.
“Those are realities, Bud, not just expressions!”
(It had been a rough day for Father O’Brien in many different respects. The Parish was in bad need if funds. It was a common problem in the Church. Annually, budgets were far from being met, and the extravagant measures that various priests invented to raise money, in the least, were ludicrous and sometimes dishonest. For Father O’Brien, it meant the debt of $4,000 to the carnival supply for the school picnic. The picnic proceeds had gone immediately to pay the salaries of three High School teachers who had been threatening sojourns. The Covent Nuns were limited to Grade School instruction and all appeared, based on rumor and experience, horrified to face High School students. Admittedly, there seemed to be a general and growing unrest, a continual anxiety as to the general quality of the Catholic Education here and at other Parishes.)
Father O’Brien rubbed his diseased arm, looking at it sympathetically. His affliction turned for the worse this day. Upon another visit to the hospital, the worse that he had suspected had come true: he had only a short time alive, to be on this Earth. Maybe a few months, he was told, maybe a year; but certainly, no more.
The priest looked at his covered arm, his Armageddon personified and covered before him. The Hill of Midiggo mentioned in the Book of Revelations, became more than just a description: It became the towering walls of the seemingly small priest’s office. The whole world seemed to suddenly converge on the youngster; a mysterious substance of love, hate, warmth, cold. The priest suddenly recalled the conversation he had with Mrs. Holleran just the week before as he and the parish housekeeper prepared an evening meal:
“I get so confused, Father, by all the unrest and confusion in the world. It worries me sometimes,” Mrs. Holleran was explaining as the priest smoked his after-meal pipe. “But the one place a person should feel completely safe, Father, is in the Church.”
“That’s one of its functions,” the priest spoke amiably as he puffed on the pipe.
“But that’s not my point: It is not! It’s not safe, not like it use to be,” the woman interjected, “it seems to me that years ago one heard the word ‘Sanctuary’ of the Church; and that meant a lot of things, but mainly that a person could look to the Church for sanctuary for himself, I suppose. That the disciplines the Church asked members and society to adhere to be a way of people protecting themselves from the world and themselves. Now, Father, it seems to be so confusing, so upside-down, anything goes — nealismistic—is that the correct word?”
‘‘Nihilistic, Mrs. Holleran, nihilistic. Yes. But if that’s true, for the Catholic Church, then it’s true for all Churches; Lutheran, Baptists….” The priest paused for a moment. “Besides, didn’t Christ say that He guaranteed the safe existence till he returned? That was a promise!”
Mrs. Holleran stopped placing dishes on the kitchen sink to soberly look at the priest . “I’m not a Bible Student, mainly I thought we Catholics weren’t allowed to read the Bible until about 1947, and it was always in Greek, literally that is. But I know a few things, Father, and no one has adequately explained how this hodge-podge of murder, wicked politics and rebellion that’s going on today, can’t be partly blamed on the Church. There’s a conspiracy of assort, Father, and some of these new teachings don’t hit the nail on the head. They just don’t.’’
“Well. The Church will always have problems, Mrs. Holleran. But people tend to see things in a limited light. If Christ is in the world, how can anything be really wrong?”
“I read Matthew the 10th Chapter the other day. Are you sure, Father, that Christ is in the world?’’ She smiled slightly.
‘‘You mean that He doesn’t exist?”
“Oh no. I mean, maybe we aren’t a part of his plan – maybe ‘ we’ aren’t on his side like we thought. Maybe, maybe, Father, we misinterpret His strategy!”
Strategy! Strategy! Strategy! The words rang in the priest’s mind causing a vibration that ended when he put out the stub or his cigarette. He began to rub his arm nervously. The pain had rapidly reached a certain level, and he knew it would only be a few more minutes before he would leave the room least he make a spectacle. Why are all the forces of evil working against me tonight? Now and then, flashes from the past, pleasant little memories of his days at the Seminary, and of his childhood, would filer through to his consciousness.
“You mean, Father, that as long as a Church-member has ‘faith,’” Bud was beginning to jeer, “that this allows him to do as he well damn pleases? Ha! You mean a family could be in some dire situation, personally ought about by themselves; poverty; crime; some degeneracy; but if they keep a Bible out on a dresser that is glanced at every now and then, that these people are virtuous hiding behind this so-called ‘faith?’’’
“No, no, Bud.’’ The priest gritted his teeth to hide growing pain in his arm. “It takes obedience to God’s Laws.” Father O’Brien was planning an exit strategy to get himself out of the room and out of the conversation and somehow to masquerade the pain.
“God’s Laws?” Bud smiled wickedly. “I attended a Catholic Mass a few times, Father; first your greeted by shapely thigh of a well-stacked female parading in front of you; then two, three or four and more girls wearing short skirts. I don’t suppose you realize how much a girl’s buttocks incites a young man’s passions?”
“We don’t approve of all these questionable fashions,” the priest said grimacing. “We have an organization in the Church that criticizes immodesty of dress. Besides, you can’t keep people from Church just because of the way they’re dressed.”
“But it’s okay for a man to ‘lust’? Let me tell you something else, Father, I know come of the kids that go to Church and I can tell you some of the stupid, lewd, dirty things they do when they go home and venture about. Not just Catholics, but Lutherans and a glut of the neighborhood. Betty Carson had invited me to her Youth Fellowship Night at the Messiah Lutheran School last year. Oh, they had basketball and ping-pong; but do you know what went on behind open doors, in the shadows, he hallways. Sex, Father, plain, raw sex.”
“Stop it, Bud!” O’Brien churned painfully in his chair. Briefly, momentarily, O’Brien visualized himself as a small boy of four-years walking in his mother’s garden trying to catch a beautiful butterfly. O’Brien would dip over the brick guard, politely trying to avoid crushing the flowers. Suddenly, he tried too hard, tripping, and falling. He began to cry. Within minutes the soothing voice and caressing arms of his mother were about him.
O’Brien’s childhood vision vanished from him and once again he became focused on the teenager seated before him. “I know some very fine and commendable people in the Church, Bud.”
“Father, I would just love to believe you. Heart and soul. But I can’t, not until I get this out of my chest: I need to make you see, Father. Can’t you see, Father?” Bud was vehement and pleading; the boy had been looking for that attracting lodestone of morality and truth! He had looked for it in the faces of his friends, of his schoolmates. He had looked for it in the stories of and tales of great writers and the not so great. There were always the various grownups that were able to produce an air of sophistication, nobility, and more so, popularity. But here, before him, was another type of individual —- a priest; the one type of person that he could have thought of as good and fine. Well, Bud would try —- if just a little; but no tricks, O’Brien, Bud announced to himself, no tricks.
“Bud, there is just so much that we could go into. Catholicism is built on an exceptionally fine tradition. Look at the Saints. Saint Sebastian, have you heard of him?” Saint Sebastian was the Captain of the soldiers who guarded the Roman Emperor but he also befriended suffering Christians. He was put to death for his compassion, he was martyred. “And there are many others: Saint Francis, Saint Lawrence…”
“What is a Saint considered today, Father? To be a Saint today, you must be a ‘demythologizer’—-denying all miracles in the name of what is called ‘natural science?’” Bud argued sardonically; his face barely hid a growing rage. “And what does that mean? First, that a lot of your ’Saints’ are nonexistent myths; that the New Testament miracles of Jesus are fairy tales; that Moses didn’t really make water come out of a rock; that modern visions such as Fatima are the works of mass hysteria. The psychologists call them hallucinations of the collective unconscious…” The boy wrestled uncomfortably in his chair. Outside, the soft pitter-patter of rain had begun with the cool trickles glazing on the windows. “…that we are the end product of a long line of animals formed from a primal primitive ooze at the dawn of time: Evolution, and some try to keep God in the picture—-theistic evolution, I believe…”
“I know that some of the younger priests like Father Herbert feel that way, Bud,” sullenly continued the priest. “Maybe quite a few of them do. But I assure you, Bud, that I don’t. I guess I am dedicated to that ole’ time religion, I don’t know. But it is true, there is a movement to liberalize what I would consider certain immutable teachings in the Church.”
************
In a moment of sad remembrance, and despite the increasing pain, Father Eugene O’Brien suddenly recalled a moment of himself as a 10-year-old as he walked the extra six blocks to Saint Jude’s Church. It was early Winter. Everything surrendered to the cold nip in the air. Eugene could have carpooled but instead walked twelve blocks out of the way, every morning now for several months so that he could attend an early mass.
“Eugene, don’t you think it’s a little special,” Sister Veronica had said to him one day, ‘‘that you walk several blocks out of your way everyday just so you could go to mass?’’
“I don’t know, Sister, I guess I never thought about it,” the young ‘priest-to-be’ said. Gene quickly grabbed a tissue from his pocket to wipe his dripping nose.
“It’s so cold these mornings, and most children haven’t been attending Mass regularly because of the weather. Do you think God’s been calling you?” The boy just looked at the Nun questioningly. “What do you want to be when you grow up? Have you thought about it, Eugene? Have you thought about becoming a priest?”
************
As the pain stretched further and further into O’Brien’s shoulder and to the foremost corners of his fingers, the priest swore to himself that he would order the boy to leave any minute. It was a short-sighted mistake not to have brought more pain tablets downstairs; and he would not feel guilty at all to ask the boy to leave. Still, the priest suddenly realized that some fateful reality depended deeply on him at this moment. It was as if he had a vision of things as never before, and slowly, things had begun to fall into place. Maybe he had begun to wake-up from the slumber so many others had particularly accepted as part of their struggle; at that, when did the priest begin to even think it was anybody else’s responsibility?
Before O’Brien sat someone that he could have sworn he had seen so many time before: in different seasons, different circumstances, but whose purpose was always the same. The moving lips, the quivering face of the boy, became the personification of the evils of other times, of other eras. Father O’Brien remembered the banner headlines of newspapers during his boyhood: the racketeers, the machinegun massacres. Why was it so convenient to pretend that the “New Creation” depended on something so untampered, so disassociated from this wickedness? What was the strategy of the Almighty, and wasn’t it a little foolish for a priest to be asking this question?
“Man, that’s crazy,” Bud stood-up quickly and began to pace the room, “‘certain Immutable’…I can only tell you what I see, Father. What do you priests do in your spare-time anyway, close yourself off from the rest of the world? Read only book out of the seminary libraries? You can read some pretty weird stuff there now, I understand.”
“You have to live up to it, Bud” the priest said, “you can’t just keep denying your part in God’s Plan…”
“I’ve been telling you what the kids today have been doing with ‘God’s Plan’——what’s the use?”
“Should we give up?” the priest grimaced, wrinkling his forehead. The priest began to perspire heavily.
“Should we keep pretending that colorful statues, pretty hymns, and wicked Church picnics are going to make any difference with the lewd ‘double life’ the people are leading?” Bud raced to the edge of the desk, leaned forward, smirking daringly into the priest’s face. Bud’s voice echoed within the room.
Was this the priest’s Waterloo? His Appomattox? His personal Armageddon? Or, was it the beginning of the end of all mankind? The answer was not available for the moment. Instead, O’Brien drew a folded handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed the perspiration from about his face. His diseased arm lay limply on his lap, and it appeared hard and swollen with a pale greenish color in varying degrees.
Sudden feverish flashes out of the past appeared in O’Brien’s memory. His Theology Studies at Jackson Seminary. The beautiful choir and the crucifix held high before the long row of graduating priests. He recalled his first administrating of the Eucharist (“The Body of Christ,” “The Body of Christ…”) going from one parishioner to the next. His first sermon before a live laity (“The New Creation begins—-we are The New Creation…’’ the sermon started.) And one of his most remember able Confessionals (“Father, I have gravely sinned, I have murdered…”) between the priest and a middle-aged lady.)
“Are you so sure you have any of the answers? Is not the Church a sinking ship that every able-bodied is trying to abandon by changing its doctrines and meaning to suite their own comfortable philosophy?” Bud said angrily, tauntingly pacing the floor in front of the desk, “That is, farther, if the doctrines of the Catholic Church are even accurate to begin with! Why, Concordant translators of the original Greek say there is no such thing as ‘everlasting hellfire’ in the Greek, the original Greek speaks only of ‘age-lasting chastisement,’” Bud picked the Jerusalem Bible up and then brought it down again with a slap, “they say that King James saw only what he wanted to see in the original manuscripts. They say that the doctrine of the Trinity wasn’t a part of the original. They say that two-thirds of the Old and New Testament prophecies pertain to our own present-day age and the destruction to come upon us!”
The priest wanted to interrupt Bud’s soliloquy but his pain prevented him from interjecting and he sat immobile in torture, his arm riddled with throbbing pulsations. Bud continued:
“They say Catholicism is replete with Paganism —- from its inception to the present day! They say the Church is the ‘whore’ mentioned in the Book of Revelations and that the Church is in apostasy. You see, Father, I’ve read a little!”
(Bud’s memory took him momentarily to another cloudy day. Bud had slowly walked to the front of an old Catholic Church and observed the Church’s medieval-style architecture. In the center of the towering steeples was the stature of some famous Catholic Bishop from a century now lost behind us. The statue’s nose was chipped and a few fingers were missing from the hand which was grasping a shepherd’s staff. Because of this vandalism, a mystery to passerby’s, the parishioners enclosed the statue in a hard plastic booth. What an odd religion, Bud had thought, and Bud immediately began to recall the conflicting views he had read in the circulars of the Baptists and Jehovah’s Witnesses that had been placed in the front screen door from time to time.)
As the priest tried to sit erect, he began to cough, and small strains of saliva dribbled out of his mouth, but he held the spit back successfully by coughing. He felt very nauseated, and he wanted to make a formal prayer, but what resulted was only a crushed alibi: Satan, why did you tempt me with such an amiable boy, turned dragon? Where there had been hope last month, now had turned into a curse.
(“Eugene,” the Archbishop told the priest several weeks before, “you’ve been doing a very able job at Saint Matthew’s. You know it, and I know it. But from what the doctor’s report is saying, your health is failing and the X-rays on your arm don’t look promising.”
(“We have some major projects going on here at Saint Matthew’s,” the priest retorted.
(“Yes, well, I think you’ll understand that I have to look after my people. You’ve always wanted to go to France and Lourdes. Well, go, and with my blessing! And when you come back, you will find that God will still provide you with a task in keeping with your strength.” )
“Satan is a myth!” the intense lips of the teenager continued, “The Scriptures are a myth! And now, are you so sure, Father, that you too aren’t a myth?”
“What of the realities? Nobody can deny the realities?” the priest rocked forwards as if to stand, but all he could do was to continue to feel the neurological stings of his disease. ‘‘Spiritual realities! What of Love?”
“Love? Is it love that caused my bother to die from venereal disease? Is it love that caused the massacre of thousands of infants in Red China during the ‘purge’? Was it love that allowed my mother to divorce my father, ruining the best years of my life? And what about the news headlines, or, is that a myth also? Is this all there is of the New Creation?”
Bud was now swirling around and around in the room as if to lecture to an invisible assembly gathered high above him.
“I am a priest! I am to give you answers! You must ‘Love’!”
The room began to swirl about Father O’Brien now as he tried to raise to his feet, holding a tight grip to the edge of the desk. “You must ‘Love’!”
“Oh, I’ll love all right, Father. I’m going to plow every able-bodied—-and maybe not so able-bodied—-female, one by one, in a bed, or any other place I can screw them. I’ll get mine!” Don’t fool me, old man, Bud angrily jeered to himself. “Drugs, liquor, excess—we’ll freak out, man: and in the end we’ll have ‘loved,’ yeah, sure, will have….’’
“You must ‘Love’!” the feeble priest demanded pounding his knuckles into the desktop, his face aflame with agony and his body quivering in exasperation. “You must ‘love,’ for God’s sake, ‘Love’!”
Instantaneously, the office door smashed against the office wall! The black smock of a fellow priest tore from a rack and thudded against the office window! Pencils and pens in a desk canister rose vertically several feet , suspended momentarily, and then went crashing against a wall. An accompanying office chair flipped completely over. In true poltergeist fashion, books on the office shelf propelled out into the office.
A fellow priest, Father Raymond Herbert, as well as the white apron of the housekeeper, appeared into the matrix. “Father O’Brien!” came the startled voice of Father Herbert. “Get out of here!’’ shouted the housekeeper. Bud could feel someone yanking on his jacket and forcing the boy out of the office. “Get out of here, you beast! Get!” The housekeeper was waving a broom in Bud’s face. Swap, lash, slap! Bud felt a peculiar exhaustion as if in a boxing match: everything was happening so suddenly.
The screen door slammed into his face, and Bud quickly got a glimpse of the elderly Father O’Brien being led into the hallway: no longer the stout priest who Bud had spoken to over the previous weeks, but a decrepit old man, doubled-up in in pain, whimpering as they led the priest to the stairway.
Bud exhaustingly found himself looking down at his shoes and outside of the thick rectory door. Stunned, Bud stood staring momentarily at his feet. Then he slowly walked across the lawn pillared by the forlorn evergreens. He glanced over his shoulder to see the stairway light turn on. The haunting sounds of the river businesses were being accompanied by rain drizzle.
Bud looked at one window on the second floor of the church rectory that he knew would light up any minute. It, however, seemed like an eternity, but finally a glow arose from within the room. Its yellow radiance stood out as a beacon in the darkened neighborhood.
Bud began to bite his lip as he was choking on his emotions. He knew now that the priest was no enemy: He could tell the difference between the teardrops and the raindrops on his cheeks—-he continually cried until near midnight when the light no longer shone from the priest’s window and another day was about to begin.
Mary Jane would just have to wait indefinitely. Tonight, Bud had felt and learned of a special and unique‘love.’
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Weekly, millions of people do Google searches for advice about their personal health, a large variety of illnesses, such as heart disease, cancer, diabetes, dementia, etc., drug and vaccine safety, and scores of other topics affecting physical and mental health. They depend upon speed and accuracy to find the current scientifically based and clinically proven information.
Dr. Gary Null PhD
For the large majority of people, a personal medical condition or health crisis begins by turning exclusively to established medical, drug-based protocols. However, these treatments do not always relieve symptoms and very rarely reverse disease. Certainly they have not shown success to prevent them.
Consequently, increasingly people are seeking second and third opinions. More often than not Google will take a person immediately to Wikipedia. Wikipedia’s co-founder Jimmy Wales acknowledges that “60 to 70 percent of Wikipedia’s traffic originates from Google.
There is an assumption and a reasonable expectation that the information we find on Wikipedia is
1) accurate,
2) soundly researched and referenced from high quality and reliable resources,
3) written by credentialed writers and editors with expertise in the subject,
4) unbiased, and finally
5) objective and neutral.
At a minimum it is assumed that content is scientifically validated and on matters of health and disease from the National Institutes of Health PubMed database. Whether it regards a pharmaceutical, surgical or radiological approach, or perhaps a more natural medical modality such as lifestyle change, nutrition, medical botanicals, Chiropractic and Chinese Medicine, information is expected to be accurately described. Then using our freedom of choice and informed consent, we can select the medical route that we believe would be most safe and effective.
Unfortunately, our four-year investigation into Wikipedia’s treatment of health issues reveals exactly the opposite. Many individuals with outstanding credentials are terrified of having their biographies appear on the open-source encyclopedia.
Once a person’s biography is added she or he will no longer have control over its content. Often they will be faced with character assassination and denigration about their careers and life’s work. Their biographies are frozen as if confined in a Russian gulag for a political crime. They may seek redress by reaching out to the media; but the media also is fully compromised. They may seek open hearings on Wikipedia’s backside to expose unfair behavior and misinformation but will be met either by deafening silence, ridicule or censorship. They may even seek redress from the IRS or state’s attorney generals for Wikipedia’s gross serial violations of its non-profit status. You enter a highly politicized ideological war and the encyclopedia’s parent organization, the Wikimedia Foundation (WMF), will do essentially nothing to correct errors or reprimand belligerent senior administrators and editors.
Much of Wikipedia’s chaos over unreliable health information is due to a relatively small group of non-credentialed, hate-filled individuals, popularly known as Skeptics. With Wikipedia’s co-founder Jimmy Wales’ full support, Skeptics have hijacked the site and converted it into their personal social media platform to condemn all non-conventional and alternative medical therapies and its practitionersand voices who are critical of the dominant drug and vaccine based medical paradigm.
Since its founding certain editors realized that Wikipedia was prime game for writing entries and reshaping content as a means to proselytize their personal ideological agendas. This is due to the encyclopedia’s systemic vulnerabilities and its naïve belief that truth can emerge by reaching a faux democratic consensus.
In 2006 Wikipedia editor Paul Lee, a physical therapist in California’s Central Valley and an avowed Skeptic, started to reach out to internet Skeptic groups to recruit editors to advance the Skeptic mission to ridicule and discredit all forms of complementary and alternative medicine, marginalize those who question vaccination safety and efficacy, and attack critics of corporate commercial interests adversely impacting the nation’s health such as genetically modified crops, fluoridation, sugar and junk food, etc.
That year Lee posted on the International Skeptic Forum:
“I would like to invite webmasters and site owners to begin editing Wikipedia and SkepticWiki. There are many subjects for skeptics to get involved with, and we really need help. There are plenty of loons out there doing the editing right now, and far too few skeptics to keep them at bay. Any coordination of efforts should be done by private email, since Wikipedia keeps a very public history and “every” little edit, and you can’t get them removed. We don’t need any accusations of a conspiracy… I hope to see more skeptics in action!”
Lee also lists the subjects Skeptics should focus on, which include the National Vaccine Information Center, vaccine critics Barbara Loe Fisher and Viera Scheibner, Chiropractic, and complementary and alternative medicine. Lee happens to be the former list master for the pro-pharmaceutical and junk food friendly Quackwatch, a personal blog founded by a psychiatrist Dr. Stephen Barrett. Over time, Quackwatch and its Skeptic allies such as the Center for Inquiry and the Science Based Medicine blog have exponentially increased their presence on Wikipedia to become the single most cited references in the Skeptics’ arsenal to attack alternative medical therapies and the critics of conventional medicine’s power base. The consequence is that personal bias has trumped Wikipedia’s rules of objectivity and neutrality.
New York Times best-selling human rights author Edwin Black described the dangers Wikipedia poses for social progress in his article “Wikipedia: The Dumbing Down of World Knowledge” published on the History News Network:
“…. Wikipedia, the constantly changing knowledge base created a global free-for-all of anonymous users, now stands as the leading force for dumbing down the world of knowledge. If Wikipedia’s almost unstoppable momentum continues, critics say, it threatens to quickly reverse centuries of progress… In its place would be a constant cacophony of fact and falsity that Wikipedia critics call a “law of the jungle.”[16]
Writing for the Huffington Post, journalist Sam Slovick posed a question we might ask ourselves every time we click into Wikipedia. “Has Jimmy Wales’ marauding encyclopedic beast finally corrupted the Internet? Has Wikipedia lost all credibility, its purported neutral system compromised by toxic editors?” The most toxic Wikipedia editors now terrorizing the encyclopedia’s pages more often than not are the anonymous non-experts and computer hacks who identify themselves with this extreme militant form of scientific materialism. They also fiercely protect their own Skeptic pages from any citable truths that may cast them in a poor light.
Indeed commercial science is constantly attempting to develop new technological solutions through genetic engineering of crops, vaccines and novel patentable drugs, artificial intelligence, 5G wireless technology, etc. These are held up in the public’s eyes as great achievements. On the other hand, you will rarely find Wikipedia or the mainstream media ever highlighting these technologies’ flaws and greater risks that undermine their commercial benefits; and certainly private corporations will never leak evidence about these risks and dangers.
For example, we accessed Wikipedia pages for each of the vaccines recommended on the CDC’s childhood immunization schedule. In every case, adverse effects were undermined and the vaccines’ benefits were inflated. Not a single entry had a complete list of adverse effects as printed on the vaccine maker’s manufacturing package insert – literature that is easily accessible on the CDC’s website. Nor was there to be found a list of vaccine ingredients, many of which are scientifically shown to be toxic. Consequently a visitor to any given Wikipedia vaccine page accesses a very incomplete and twisted understanding of the vaccines’ actual safety and efficacy profile.
We are also led to believe that if a scientific invention or a study for a new drug or vaccine appears in the peer-reviewed literature, it represents a gold standard. Consequently it is assumed that any controversy has been settled. A peer-reviewed paper becomes a scientific law unto itself if it favors tendentious interests. However, repeatedly the peer-reviewed journal system has proven to be unreliable. No decisive effort has been made to reform it. It is simply too profitable to disrupt.
But the Skeptics’ distorted and biased narratives about medicine and health are only one reason to be deeply worried about the WMF’s long-term mission to bring all medical knowledge to the inhabitable world. By and large, Wikipedia Skeptics are not motivated by financial gain nor is there strong evidence of conflicts of interest with either the pharmaceutical industry or our federal health agencies. Rather the Skeptic movement is more likely motivated by a cult-like ideology that is fanatically embraced by its followers with religious zeal. Yet on the backside, WMF also has deep ties with the pharmaceutical industry and this takes us to its close relationship with Google for over a decade.
The Google-WMF association is no secret. There is plenty of evidence confirming Google’s preferential treatment of Wikipedia aside from the millions of daily Google searches that bring users directly to the encyclopedia.
Although Wikipedia editors take full advantage of flawed medical literature if the conclusions serve their purpose and agenda, Google, through its algorithmic modeling to censor voices challenging the medical regime’s status-quo, ignores efforts to determine whether the medical literature is bogus or not. Google’s mission is to protect the global medical regime — not just private drug companies but also government health bodies and international organizations such as the World Health Organization.
No longer should Google be perceived solely as a technological platform to promote the pharmaceutical industry’s agenda. It is also a drug company itself. During the past seven years, Google’s parent company Alphabet has launched two pharmaceutical companies. In 2013, it founded Calico, headed by Genentech’s former CEO Arthur Levinson. Calico operates an R&D facility in the San Francisco Bay Area for the discovery of treatments associated with age-related diseases.
Two years later, Alphabet founded Verily Life Sciences (previously Google Life Sciences). Both companies partner with other drug firms, including Johnson and Johnson, Novartis, and vaccine giants Pfizer and Sanofi.
In October Verily launched an aggressive multimillion dollar campaign to expand Covid-19 testing in California’s most distressed communities in 28 counties. However, some counties are starting to sever their ties with the company. In order to qualify for the program’s Covid test people are required to have a Gmail account and provide highly sensitive personal information. Alphabet’s drug companies therefore are intricately linked to Google’s ambition to gather, control and own everyone’s personal information.
In 2016, Verily collaborated with the European pharmaceutical giant GlaxoSmithKline to form a third company, Galvani Bioelectronics, for the development of “bioelectronic medicines.” Among its initiatives are nanotechnology for drug delivery and the development of “miniaturized, implantable devices that can monitor nerve signals in the body.” Galvani’s Chairman is Moncef Siaoui, Glaxo’s former chairman of its global vaccines business who now serves as Trump’s appointed chief science adviser for Operation Warp Speed.
Nor should it be forgotten that Google’s co-founder Sergey Brin’s former wife Anne Wojcicki also co-founded the biotech company 23andMe to develop personal DNA testing kits. In 2018 it entered a partnership with Glaxo to expand into drug development.
In January 2019, Google’s president of Customer Solutions Mary Ellen Coe joined Merck’s Board of Directors. Formerly working at the corporate consulting firm McKinsey and Company, her role at Google includes overseeing the firm’s global advertising for contracted companies. Merck’s chairman Kenneth Frazier remarked in a press release that Coe “will be a significant asset to Merck.”
To better appreciate the enormity of the global pharmaceutical regime now unfolding, we need to fully acknowledge this nightmarish marriage between the tech and information-based companies, such as Google and the WMF, and Big Pharma. As the world’s most advanced search engine, Google has gained control over the internet’s most technically sophisticated surveillance systems and algorithms. Therefore the company has positioned itself to perhaps be the greatest potential threat to human health via the flow of information and data viewed on our laptops and mobile phones.
During the past five years, the pharmaceutical industry has shown a growing interest in the concept of virtual pharmacies, whereby drug companies can leverage their influence over consumers. Social media, notably Wikipedia, has become the consumer’s most utilized resource for gaining knowledge about disease, drugs and health. In a University of Sydney survey, Wikipedia was the first source of choice for gaining information about unfamiliar health topics, even among medical professionals.
According to a 2013 joint analysis of this emerging trend, conducted by the University of Zurich and Johnson and Johnson, drug companies can use these virtual platforms to tackle the challenges they face in the financial market and even within medical communities. However, the analysis also recommended that the best strategy would be for Big Pharma to invest heavily in virtual companies and secure partnerships. This strategy is gaining steam whereby tech and social media companies such as Google and WMF are being absorbed into the pharmaceutical machinery and vice versa. The dire results from this marriage are already being felt as we now witness Wikipedia morphing into another mouthpiece for Big Pharma.
If Google’s transformation into a drug company is not alone disturbing, the world’s largest open source knowledge site is acutely entangled with the Silicon Valley giant and its pharmaceutical agenda.
In early 2019, Google dumped $3.1 million into WMF’s coffers, which brings total contributions from Google and Sergey Brin to over $7.5 million. Curiously, the announcement of Google’s endowment was made at the World Economic Forum at Davos.
The donation also includes Google’s intention to provide Wikipedia editors with its high tech learning tools. Wired Magazine published an article that further defines the Google-WMF relationship over the years.
With respect to Google’s generous contribution, journalist Louise Matsakis writes:
“but the decision isn’t altruistic… Google already uses Wikipedia content in a number of its own products…. The company also has used Wikipedia articles to train machine learning algorithms, as well as fight misinformation on YouTube.”
Now with Jimmy Wales’ intention to take on the cause of fighting “fake news” – a cause also aligned to his personal Skeptic ideology as the ultimate arbitrator that determines what is real or fake — Skeptic editors have free access to advanced algorithmic apps to proceed with their agenda to scrub Wikipedia of content favorable towards alternative medicine or content critical of the pharmaceutical empire.
Yet Google’s and Jimmy Wales’ mutual interests go beyond the construction of a pharmaceutical ruled society. Brin and Wales first sealed a close relationship during their early efforts to counter the Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA). Together both executives, among others, signed a joint Open Letter to the federal government opposing SOPA, which was coincidently around the same time as Brin’s half-million dollar donation. In 2014, in a reaction against legal issues over privacy matters, Google created an “Advisory Council.” Wales was one of its founding members.
In 2012, Google’s charitable arm, Google.org, initiated a collaboration with WMF’s WikiProject Medicine “to further improve the quality of articles” by recruiting and hiring “professional medical editors.” Dr. James Heilman, a Canadian emergency room physician and a seasoned senior Wikipedia administrator who frequently comes to the defense of Skeptic Wikipedians, sits on the WMF’s Board of Trustees. Heilman is one of the founders of the Wiki Project Med Foundation (WPMF) to advance its mission to give “every single person free access to the sum of all medical knowledge.” WPMF now has collaborative relationships with the National Institutes of Health, Cancer Research UK, Cochrane Collaboration, the University of California at San Francisco, the Wellcome Trust and several open-access medical journals.
Recently during the Covid-19 pandemic, WMF has strengthened its ties with the global medical establishment. Last October it entered a collaboration with the World Health Organization to assure that public health information and data about Covid-19 is regulated in accordance with the latest pronouncements made by the anointed authorities in the institutional medical establishment.
Wikipedia already contains over 5,200 Covid-related entries in 175 languages and these are largely based upon WHO sources. It is estimated that this content is accessed at least a million times a day. Part of the WMF’s commitment is to monitor and censor “the spread of misinformation” according to the WHO’s criteria. In a New York Times article reporting on the new partnership, if this initial pilot Covid-19 project succeeds, it will be expanded to launch additional efforts “to counter misinformation regarding AIDS, Ebola, influenza, polio and dozens of other diseases.”
So where exactly in the cesspool of modern medicine and the toxic food, vaccine and the agro-chemical industries are we to discover truth. Few in the scientific and federal health agencies can be trusted anymore. Most are compromised and this distortion of truth for global leverage clearly extends throughout Google and Wikipedia. Rarely is a mainstream journalist trustworthy, and no one can be certain whether a paper appearing in a peer-reviewed science journal or an medical entry on Wikipedia is reliable or not.
Even clinical physicians on the front lines of healthcare work in the dark. It is only after large numbers of injuries and deaths due to Agent Orange, DDT, life-threatening vaccine adverse reactions, a Vioxx scandal, or an epidemic of corporate liable opiate drug overdoses that a light bulb eventually goes on. But only for a limited time before it is quickly forgotten and goes dark again.
The reason for American medicine turning into the nation’s largest and deadliest battlefield is because scientific corruption is legally protected to proceed with impunity. The Surgeon General, the heads of federal health agencies, drug makers, the insurance industry, medical schools and professional associations, Google and WMF, and the media operate as a single voice that the American health system is the best in the world when it is surely not. Corporate interests and massive profiteering control everything.
Modern medicine has morphed into a religious cult that is incapable of self-reflection about its own vulnerabilities and failures. This hubris of power and domination plagues Google and the WMF equally. And numerous patients are being played for fools.
The fact is that all players in the architecture of our medical system are vulnerable to corruption. Private industry and government know this perfectly. The checks and balances between private and public interests have collapsed. Today, the medical regime is a single entity. All of its parts are consolidated and entwined into a monolithic behemoth to protect its bottom line. In our opinion Google and WMF have been co-opted to serve as the guardians of this culture of corruption. Therefore they both are equally culpable in the widespread destruction of the nation’s public health.
Yet we mustn’t expect that the trajectory of an emerging global pharmaceutical hegemony will experience a collapse anytime soon. Rather, with the aid of Google and WMF, it will increasingly monopolize the medical discourse and define the national policies shaping public health. And this requires greater efforts to censor and silence the medical critics and honest investigative journalists bringing light to the medical and scientific flaws upon which health policies and laws are based through the virtual technological apparatus and information control Google and WMF provides. In short, tech companies now control and dictate orders to the morally-deficient incompetents in Washington.
Yet the emergence of a pharmaceutical regime as a natural consequence of humanity being in the midst of the Fourth Industrial Revolution is unfolding to the delight of Jimmy Wales and his Skeptic denizens who worship his messianic mission to make all knowledge free to the world’s population. But the question has always been “whose knowledge?” Skepticm’s “pseudo-knowledge,” of course.
It is not uncommon to find Skeptics acknowledging Wales as one of their own. Wales has provided plenty of assistance to Skeptics and on occasion has come to their defense in discussion groups. Replying to comments Wales wrote on Quora to offer his assistance to rid the world of homeopathy, the co-founder of Guerrilla Skeptics on Wikipedia Susan Gerbic replied:
“Jimmy you have already done more than anyone could possibly dream that can be done. You created the most amazing resource in the world. I mean that, not only in English but in every language possible…. Thank you. Allowing us editors to ‘do our job’ and keep these articles honest and correctly cited is enough. I can’t imagine what else you can do, my brain is teeny tiny compared to your mighty brain, if you come up with something please oh please let us in on it, we want to help.”
The pharmaceutical industry has no need to attack the competition of non-conventional and natural medicine on Wikipedia. Nor is there a need to hire or pay off Wikipedians to do this dirty work for them since Skeptics are already doing so freely or involuntarily, and Skeptic administrators receive the perks of being provided with Google’s algorithmic tools and apps to protect their message. It is a completely rigged game and Wales and the WMF seem to have every intention to keep it that way.
America’s 21st century technological god with a silicon-crafted body demands the sacrifice of the world’s children and elderly and persons for profit in its furnace of drugs and vaccines. John Milton and Beat poet Allen Ginsberg would surely agree. If alive we might hear Ginsberg howling against this devouring techno-Pharma empire on YouTube. From its humble beginnings, and with the technological resources and generous funding received from Google, Wikipedia has morphed into a chaotic war between truth and falsehoods amusingly ruled over by this postmodern Moloch. The dangerous fallout is that objectivity and ethics are being increasingly sacrificed on a cold virtual altar devoted to a perverted metaphysical realism disguised as medical science and fact.
“UFOs, ETs, and Alien Abductions summarizes the evidence about UFOs and close encounters,” said author Don Donderi, “it explains why that evidence is reliable and why we react to it the way we do. It explains why most professional scientists ridicule or ignore the evidence. It argues that governments should reveal what they know about UFOs and close encounters.”
(UFOs, ETs, and Alien Abductions: A Scientist Looks at the Evidence, Don Donderi, PhD. Hampton Roads Publishing Company, Inc., Charlottesville, Va. 22906. www.redwheelweiser.com/newsletter, 978-465-0504, 2013, 231 pages, $22.95.)
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TRAIL OF EVIDENCE.
Donderi’s biography said that he graduated from the University of Chicago with a BA and BSC in biological psychology; he was an applied psychologist for IBM Corporation as a developer of navigation displays for the B-52 bomber, also an Associate Dean of the Faculty of Graduate Studies and Research at McGill University. He stated that his professional expertise has concluded “that some people have come into involuntary close contact with extraterrestrial, and I think that government statements about UFOs conceal more than they reveal.”.
Dr. Don Donderi, Scientist, Author and UFOlogist.
The author started on a series of UFO cases that he personally gave credence to, some are “classic” UFO cases, others are fairly unknown: the summer, 1973 Ottawa UFO and humanoid sighting by Mr. and Mrs. X, the July 17, 1957 Rb-47 case, the October 18, 1973 Coyne helicopter incident, “Low, Big, and Slow” V-shaped or triangular UFOs, Belgium, 1989, Yukon territory UFO of December 11, 1996 (“…diameter of this round UFO was nearly one mile, and its estimated height from top to bottom was one third of a mile.”), the Fall, 1976 Tehran UFO, and a host of other classical cases..
INQUIRY STAGES.
The author ventured through the various stages and investigators through the years, beginning more or less with Donald E. Keyhoe, a retired Marine Corps officer and pilot (December 26, 1949), the various UFO groups, both civilian and government, the Mutual UFO Network (MUFON), The Center for UFO Studies (CUFOS), the hallmark group of the Air Force Technical Adviser and astronomer, J. Allen Hynek, continuing into the Air Force Project Blue Book and further into the Condon UFO Committee (1966-1968), the Congressional Hearing of 1968, as well as the Advancement of Science Symposium (AAAS) of 1969, and others.
Donderi pretty well accepted Hynek’s seven classes of UFO reports, including abduction by occupants. He acknowledged that the contactees of the 50s-60s were “self-delusion” (Page 76). He slid into findings of UFO and abduction researchers George O’banski and Budd Hopkins. Donderi built a number of, what scientist R.V. Jones referred to as, evidence “touchstones.”.
ABDUCTION TOUCHSTONES.
Donderi considered the Barney and Betty Hill case of September 19, 1961 as the “Index Case” (though he stated that Betty’s grandiose post-1961 claims, “…sometimes verifiably, sometimes with more imagination than common sense,” worked against her). He went on to mention similar cases of abduction that would tend to substantiate these as “touchstone” cases: the Buff Ledge Camp, August 7, 1968 abductions, Burlington, Vermont, the Linda Cortile November 30, 1989 abduction, Manhattan, the Flagler, Colorado, November 7, 1989 abduction case, among others..
The Barney and Betty Hill Abduction Case .
The author toured the various “commonalities” in Touchstone cases. By the time he added all the important features (pp. 128-129) of the Touchstone cases, he also disclosed narratives that didn’t seem all that far afield from the Adamski, Bethuram, Angelucci-type contactees he so decried (pp. 17-18), “….include a tall insect-like creature acting in the role of examiner, and occupants whose facial features are a blend of a terrestrial reptile and conventional humanoid and whose skin is rough and greenish.”.
ABDUCTION RESEARCHERS.
Don Donderi said that there was “no reason to doubt the competence or veracity of the abductees or the reporters, and the information presented about those six cases is credible.” (p. 130) He pointed to a number of tests administered by professional psychologists. Donderi said that the research also indicated that the “abduction reports” were made by persons who were “no more, no less” involved in fantasy-prone tendencies than “anyone else.” (In Steve Erdmann’s purview of individuals, UFOlogical or otherwise, he has seen conservative and so-called respectable people fabricate and lie quite convincingly: some of their ‘stories’ are quite creative, and their motivations are often hidden and only known to themselves.)
A large portion of Donderi’s concern was the use and authenticity of hypnotism. He stated that the reported abductions can be attributed to something that “did actually happen” or is an “unwitting fabrication” by a “collaborative effort” by UFO reporters and the researcher/handlers. Even including the similarities and consistencies of abductee stories, Steve Erdmann contended that this arena is basically hearsay without the hard physical evidence: hypnotism, may be a part of, but certainly not the crux, and was no substitute.
“Jenny Randles also gave a strong warning to the use of hypnosis in suspected cases of abductions – Hypnosis destroys evidence and creates memories. It is not a serum of veracity, she also said.”
“From this data several conclusions emerged. Various witnesses explained their doubts about hypnosis. They felt it made them more confused, not less so. They were unclear of the reality status of their experience. Some felt positively harmed psychologically by the trauma of hypnosis.”
When the larger scenery of reported UFOs are taken into account, more than the six cases that Donderi considered “touchstone,” must be contended with. Humanoid cases described a large variety of UFOnaut appearances and actions, some that didn’t seem to directly relate to the “steps” or “angles” in Donderi’s recommended cases. UFO researcher Jacques Vallee has long contended and compared some UFO cases surrounding occupants to folklore legends about elves, haunts, ghosts, urban-tale-like stories; Vallee, a computer scientist and prolific writer on the subject, demurred, and he gave five reasons why, to quote:
“(1) Unexplained close encounters are far more numerous than required for any physical survey of the earth; (2) The humanoid body structure of the alleged ‘aliens‘ is not likely to have originated on another planet and is not biologically adapted to space travel; (3) The reported behavior in thousands of abduction reports contradicts the hypothesis of genetic or scientific experimentation on humans by an advanced race; (4) The extension of the phenomenon throughout recorded history demonstrates that UFOs are not a contemporary phenomenon; and (5) The apparent ability of UFOs to manipulate space and time suggests radically different and richer alternatives.”.
Aliens About to Abduct (Movie Close Encounters oftheThird Kind).
But by 1969, when he published Passport to Magonia (Regnery), Vallee’s assessment of the UFO phenomenon had undergone a major shift. Much to the bewilderment of the “scientific ufologists” who had seen him as one of their heroes, Vallee now seemed to be have shied away from the extraterrestrial hypotheses and promulgated the radical view that UFOs are paranormal in nature and a modern space age manifestation of a phenomenon which assumed mysterious guises.
“When the underlying archetypes are extracted,” Vallee wrote, “the saucer myth is seen to coincide to a remarkable degree with the fairy-faith of Celtic countries…religious miracles…and the widespread belief among all peoples concerning entities whose physical and psychological descriptions place them in the same category as the present-day ufonauts.”.
Vallee, in fact, has co-authored a book on historical UFOs wherein the authors relayed accounts that are intertwined with ancient gods and angels and other mystical beings. Some cases contained far more fantastical elements than those given in the six Touchstone cases Donderi offered. (Wonders in the Sky: Unexplained Aerial Objects from Antiquity to Modern Times by Jacques Vallee and Chris Aubeck, Publisher: Tarcher. Year: 2010.)
“They reveal that unidentified flying objects have had a major impact not only on popular culture but on our history, on our religion, and on the models of the world humanity has formed from deepest antiquity,” said researcher David Taylor. “What this book does is put transient aerial phenomena in a proper historical context. So for example, in the seventeenth century, we have reports of sky battles and in the medieval period we have encounters with fairies and the Blessed Virgin Mary who descend from luminous objects. This book is a delight to read, for both the ‘paranormal’ investigator and the historian, as it gives insight into the social beliefs of the periods when these experiences were reported.”
Taylor continued: ‘‘The approach of both Vallée and Aubeck leads to an intelligent analysis of the sightings and their impact on human culture and beliefs, which is enlightening. For those who believe that UFOs have no place in the realm of psychical research – this book will show you how very wrong you are. UFOs are central to a whole tradition of transformative psychic experience throughout the ages. Highly recommended.”
Professor David Hufford concurred: “Their rigorously scientific insistence allows Vallee and Aubeck to retain the most challenging and interesting aspects of these events without the distraction of premature commitment to any particular interpretation. That, I believe, is true science: to follow the data wherever they lead and to move away from established theory when it fails to deal adequately with the data.” (Professor David Hufford, Penn State College of Medicine, Author, The Terror that Comes in the Night.)
English researcher Jenny Randles took a look at the question: “Do we need the concept of aliens in the modern UFO pantheon or are these beings just a space age equivalent of the dragons and the fairies – a once culturally relevant motif, that suited a particular time and place from which we have since moved on?”
Likewise, taking into account the large variety and diversity of the UFO phenomena, it was suspected that scientist Paul R. Hill’s theorems on UFO sightings (Unconventional Flying Objects, 1995) are not fulfilling “the goal being to build a coherent understanding” about UFO ‘function.’ His approach was a little too pat, particularly if – in actuality – UFOs are from different ‘causes,’ not a single origin..
Are UFO Abductions Just Fairy Creatures?.
UFO FAIRY ANTICS.
The UFO phenomenon described antics of the UFO landscape that went beyond suggested conventional Touchstone depictions. There are many examples, but we will take just one: The Kelly–Hopkinsville encounter, also known as the Hopkinsville Goblins Case, and to a lesser extent the Kelly Green Men Case, was the name given to a series of connected incidents of alleged close encounters with supposedextraterrestrial beings on the evening of August 21, 1955. The following was a summation from Wikipedia:
“On the evening of August 21, 1955, Billy Ray Taylor of Pennsylvania was visiting the Sutton family of Kentucky. The Sutton family home was a rural farmhouse located near the towns of Kelly and Hopkinsville, in Christian County, Kentucky (the farmhouse still stands today although the Sutton family moved soon after the incident). There were a total of eleven people in the house that night, including the children of the two families..
The Kelly-Hopkinsville UFO Encounter.
“The Sutton farmhouse had no running water, causing Billy Ray Taylor to go outside to the water pump for a drink at about 7:00 p.m. Taylor said he observed strange lights in the sky to the west, which he believed to be an unusual craft. He described it as disc-shaped in appearance, and featured lights on its side that had ‘all of the colors of the rainbow’. He ran back to the house excitedly telling the others about his ‘flying saucer’ sighting, but no one believed him; instead thinking that he had become overly excited after seeing a vivid ‘shooting star.’
“At about 8.00 p.m., the families began hearing strange and unexplained noises outside. The Sutton family dog which was in the yard outside began barking loudly and then hid under the house, where it remained until the next day. Going outside a few minutes later with their guns, Billy Ray Taylor and Elmer ‘Lucky’ Sutton then asserted that they saw a strange creature emerge from the nearby trees.
“When the creature approached to within about 20 feet, the two men began shooting at it, one using a shotgun, the other man using a .22rifle. There was a noise ‘sounding like bullets being rattled about in a metal drum.’ and the creature, they said, then flipped over and fled into the darkness and shadows. Sure that they had wounded the creature, Lucky and Solomon went out to look for it. Hendry writes that as the men were stepping from the porch, they saw one of the creatures perched on an awning. They again shot at the creature, and it was knocked from the roof. Again they heard the rattling noise, although the creature was apparently unharmed..
Artist Depiction of the 1955 Kelly-Hopkinsville UFO Encounter.
“Lucky and Solomon returned to the house in a disturbed state. Within minutes, Lucky’s brother J. C. Sutton said that he saw the same creature (or at least a similar creature) peer into a window in the home; J. C. and Solomon shot at it, breaking the window, whereupon it too flipped over and fled. The creatures could be heard loudly scurrying about on the roof, and scratching as though trying to break through. For the next few hours, the witnesses asserted that the creatures repeatedly approached the home, either popping up at the doorway or at windows in an almost playful manner, only to be shot at each time they did. The witnesses were unsure as to how many of the creatures there were; except for one sighting of two at the same time, all other sightings were of only one, although the first story claimed twelve to fifteen. At one point the witnesses shot one of the beings nearly point blank, and again would insist that the sound resembled bullets striking a metal bucket. The floating creatures’ legs seemed to be atrophied and nearly useless, and they appeared to propel themselves with a curious hip-swaying motion, steering with their arms. Clark writes that ‘if the creatures were in a tree or on the roof when hit [by gunfire], they would float, not fall, to the ground.’”
Michele Carlton covered the story for the Kentucky New Era News, describing the impish and circus-type behavior:
“‘Lucky’ Sutton and other family members said they had a gun battle with the creatures that lasted for hours. Most of the Sutton family members who said they fought the aliens off with shotguns are deceased. However, Hawkins and her younger brother, Elmer Sutton Jr., of Trigg County, said their father shared his Kelly experience with them. Hawkins, 41, and Sutton, 35, are the children of “Lucky” Sutton and Glorine Powell, of Trigg County. Their father died on Dec. 5, 1995.
“He talked to me about it because I was one of the last ones to leave home,” the younger Sutton said. “I prodded him about it a lot. A lot of times he wouldn’t talk about it. If I’d catch him in the right mood, he’d sit down and talk for hours about it. When he did, I’d listen. To be honest with you, he knew some day he’d die. I guess he wanted one of us to know the truth.”
Mankind has made tremendous advances since the days of Ben Franklin: just look at the adventures since Orville and Wilbur Wright in 1904 in aviation alone. Ray Kurzweil extended that progress to its natural progression and he called it “TheLaw of AcceleratingReturns” (March 7, 2001.): “An analysis of the history of technology shows that technological change is exponential, contrary to the common-sense ‘intuitive linear’ view. So we won’t experience 100 years of progress in the 21st century — it will be more like 20,000 years of progress (at today’s rate).”
If superior UFO Races are also bound by TheLawofAcceleratingReturns and they have been far advanced beyond terrestrial technology hundreds of years prior (UFOs by which radar has tracked at over 9,000 miles per hour and accelerations in the range of 1000Gs [p. 153], possibly approaching the speed of light), wouldn’t their technology have well advanced beyond “campy” and “cartoonish” depictions? Compare the inventions of Leonardo da Vinci to our present-day SR-71 Stealth craft: multiply that 2000 times..
Isaac Asimov.
A similar theme was voiced in Isaac Asimov’s science-fiction story “The LastQuestion,” a tale of trillions of years of evolution and how mankind will evolve from trapping the energy of stars with 100% efficiency, Hyper-stellar travel, emigration to other Galaxies, Body-Mind separation and fusing the mind with an all-knowing, omniscient computer, a Self-correcting and Self -Adjusting machine capable of learning and building its own predecessor, had become so powerful as to recreate light after all the stars entropy in the end and the universe begins again.
“The story is interesting and enters the black hole of Physics and Religion simultaneously.” It is about “How mankind will evolve, pioneer in space travel and set foot in all the distant Galaxies with the help of Analog Computers (AC).” “The stars and Galaxies died and snuffed out, and space grew black after ten trillion years of running down…One by one Man fused with AC, each physical body losing its mental identity in a manner that was somehow not a loss but a gain.”
And So, The Scientists Posed “The Last Question” to the Computer.
With that type of LawsofAcceleratingReturns: Where would that presently leave the UFO occupants?
Steve Erdmann had not debated UFOs as an intelligent and superior phenomena, he just debated how the evidence should be handled and what it encompassed. Why should such a civilization need “cartoonish” artifacts? Why would it need “domed” aircraft with “spinning rim lights,” and one–pieceoutfits with “backpacks” (Wllie Begay and Guy Tossie, Ririe, Idaho, November 2, 1967)? Would they be far advanced beyond “ovaldoorways,” medical “probes,” “books,” (pp. 96-97) “tables,” and “benches” (pp. 113, 114, 116); for that matter, would they need ramps, panoramic portholes, flashinglights, as if a “display” as seen in various assorted descriptions, much like scenes out of a 1950’sscience–fiction movie? UFO vehicle designs seemed to far out-number the innovations seen in the terrestrial automobile market..
Some UFOs seem to be Replicas of Our Own Conventionality.
SCIENTIFIC FEAR.
Donderi seemed more cogent when he spoke of the “paradigms” of science, and how “fear” of the UFO phenomena caused our place in the universe as being threatened. “The existing paradigm constraints normal science, regardless of the evidence.” (p. 164) He said: “Those institutions administered by a meritocracy of capable people: the cultural elites.” (p. 190)
The question arose, however: just how much “fear” and “ignorance” are involved with humans if governments have crashed UFOs in their possession? (pp. 176-184) Donderi went into detail concerning the 1947 Roswell UFO crash.
“The small group of senior scientists who helped the government in the immediate postwar period was the people most likely to be asked for advice about the security threat posed by technologically superior UFOs,” said Donderi, “but who the UFO overseers were then, and who they are now, is not known. It is one of the better-kept secrets of the U.S government.”
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Decipher Attempts of the Famous Ramey Memo from 1947 Roswell
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Steve Erdmann – Independent Investigative Journalist
He described the ships leader as looking like a “German Nazi” wearing a shiny black jacket, scarf and cap. (Actual quote: “…another figure has an EVIL face… he looks like a German Nazi… His eyes! His eyes. I’ve never seen eyes like that before.”)
Richard S. Shaver once said about the Hidden World beneath us: “The unseen world beneath our feet, malignant and horrible, is complete in its mastery of earth. And most horrible of all, it is a world of madmen.”.
Artist Depiction of Richard Shaver’s Underworld.
KEEPOUT! was a smoothly written book about the various super-secret government and military sites about the world and the accompanying legends, stories and myths that have culturally arisen about these tales. Many accounts had to do with claims of how powerful and cryptic institutions have joined with stories of monsters, UFOs, and government experimentation with elements of public control. I am not sure that Nick Redfern meant, however, for the book to be a realistically scientific journal.
Redfern tells of mysterious animal deaths associated with the Dug Way Proving Ground; there were the sheep deaths – about 6,000 – in 1968. Fifty horse deaths were believed connected in 1978. Redfern outlines where humans were probably experimented upon with viruses and biological warfare. Animal and cattle mutilations are also on the scale of interest, though officially debunked as only predator damage.
Mysterious animal deaths and mutilations have been occurring around the globe in almost every conceivable country. Redfern speaks of cases primarily in West America, but cases have happened in South America and even British Columbia: horses, sheep, deer, rabbits, cats – often in snow and mud with no signs of struggle, dropped from above causing broken ribs and bones from the impact. Special parts are taken from the bodies as if done by surgery..
Animals are Mysteriously Mutilated and Dropped from Above .
MAPIT and Stephen Mera of Manchester’s Anomalous Phenomena Investigative Team of Congleton, Cheshire, England told of cases were farmers were only a few hundred yards away and the animals were in good health a short time before, only to find them mutilated immediately afterwards: no footprints, some in mud, and in weather too cold for insects. Others were found tangled in telegraph poles and wires.
“The simple fact is we are no nearer to the discovering the truth behind mutilations,” said Darren Perks, investigator and UFO researcher from Shropshire. “We know that there is a pattern to them, which in most cases would suggest that there is a ‘purpose’ to all this, but what is that ‘purpose’? (August 7, 2012.)
WORLD WAR II PLUNDER.
Also covered is the World War II plunder of artifacts and gold by the Nazi Regime. Hitler and his cohorts were not only seeking world conquest but also obtaining the world’s riches and the hiding of same in various clandestine hideaways. There was also $440 million in gold in the Reich bank. The Holy Grail, The Spear of Destiny, Noah’s Ark, and other ancient artifacts became targets of the Utashi.
Redfern could have gone into various connected stories. There were many allusions to “hideouts” that the Nazi Empire had in planning, should the war not turn out to their advantage. Much of the plunder was spread about in various locations: Tuplitzsee in the Styrian Alps, the village of Hradistro near Stechovice, Aussieland Mountains, San Oreste near Monte Soratte, Rome, Italy, Lend, Austria, central Thuringen, Jonas Valley between Crawinkel and Arnstadt and, of course, Argentina, and their hidden empire in the Antarctica.
Allied forces believed they spied Nazi armies moving loot (“long trains heading south in Germany”) into an Alpenestung, either a refuge or a redoubt effort, a large 240 mile-long, 80-mile wide complex of underground tunnels and bomb-proof factories as a “final prolonged resistance.” It was called the National Redoubt, also referred to as the Goterdammerung. Later, the allies found huge underground caverns at Peenemunde, Lake Garda near Limone, and the Hartz Mountains. Colonel R. Allen said some of these were literal “subterranean towns.” It was in these complexes that the fearsome flying weapon, the Kugelblitz, was invented and sighted by pilots. There was talk about the Amerika Rocket, the Nazi atomic bomb, and many others..
The Guinness Book of Records lists the missing Reichsbank treasure as the greatest unsolved bank robbery in history. Where did it go?.
During this same period, a Nazi terrorist group was invented by Peter von Heydebrecht (Hans Otto Heydedreck), born out of German National Socialism, composed of ferociously-trained German youths, called ‘TheWerwolfs.” They were referred to as Wolfsschlucht – Wolf’s Ravine at Bruly-de-Peche (“Werwolf: TheHistoryofthe NationalSocialist Guerrilla Movement,” Alexander Perry Biddiscombe), also called the Unternehmen Werewolf. Under the lead of SS Police General Gutenberger, Operation Carnival, they murdered the Mayor of Aachen, Franz Oppenhoff.
Göbbels’ pre-victory broadcasts spoke of these on Radio Werwolf:
“God has given up the protection of the people . . . Satan has taken command.” Göbbels broadcast of spring at that time: “We Werewolves consider it our supreme duty to kill, to kill and to kill, employing every cunning and while in the darkness of the night, crawling, groping through towns and villages, like wolves, noiselessly, mysteriously.”
The Nazi “Werewolves”.
UNDERGROUND UFOs.
The topics of super-secret bases that harbor UFO plans are amply covered. Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Area 51, RAF Operation Rotor, Rudloe Manor, The London Underground, The Doomsday Bunkers of Washington and U.S. Naval Observatory, Raven Rock and Site-R, China’s Sanya Base, Russia’s Yamantau and Kosvinski secret bases in the Urals, are just a few of the hidden sites. There are also Russian Zhit Kur and Kosvinsky Yar hidden societies..
UFOs OVER RUSSIA.
This author found such reports of UFOs over the Russian secret site of the Kapustin Yar Cosmodrome in 1970 as Russian rockets were being launched: a gigantic black dirigible-like object was seen hovering over the site and shooting needle-like green rays scanning the rockets. Several soldiers fired at the UFO with their weapons causing the UFO rays to stop: the soldiers were then beset with intense headaches which caused them to scream in pain. The UFO vanished. In November 1979, a bright green, elliptical UFO was again seen over Kapustin Yar, hovering about 30-minutes over secret Russian rockets on the test range. A similar UFO was reported on October 5, 1982, over the Cosmodrome for about four hours.
Russian Progress Rocket at Baikonur Cosmodrome – June 28, 2010.
The site was again visited on July 28, 1989, where several servicemen reported a UFO advancing about the facility for two hours; at one point it was only 19-feet above the ground and appeared to have a blinking signal similar to a camera flash.’ It hovered over the rocket weapons depot at about 65-feet. Its hull was dim green light, like phosphorous, and the object looked like a semi-spherical disc that shot beams of light to surface objects. Ensign V. Voloshin, communications-officer-on-duty, Private G. Kulik, and Ensign B. Levin eventually witnessed three objects altogether over the facility, the third appeared to be cigar-shaped, multicolored with flashes of red. One object flew to a second object and both disappeared (Russia’s RoswellIncident; Stonehill, Mantle, Torres, 2012).
DANNY CASOLARO AND THE MONSTER.
The government secret base at Pine Gap, Australia, the home of multiple rumors, also housed a number of UFO secrets and spy stories. One such mystery not mentioned by Redfern was the death of investigative journalist Danny Casolaro. Researcher Kenn Thomas said this of the Casolaro mystery on June 7, 2001:
“Circumstances shrouded Danny Casolaro’s death in mystery, the single aspect of his research that led to his death may never be known for certain. Hotel workers in Martinsburg, West Virginia found the writer dead in August 1991 in what looked like a faked suicide.
“The ‘head’s up’ warning flashed among students of the conspiracy culture when they learned that files he had on him were missing and the details of his investigative work slowly emerged from friends, family and fellow investigators. Casolaro previously had warned these same people not to believe any reports that he might have wanted to take his own life in some form of ‘accident.’ The fishy circumstances of his death and the probable motivations of his possible killers remain oblivious.
“Danny Casolaro sought to document and expose a sea of covert operatives, super-surveillance software, and transnational spies. He called the monster he saw swimming in that sea ‘theOctopus.’ It consisted of a group of US intelligence veterans that had banded together to manipulate world events for the sake of consolidating and extending its power.
Danny Casolaro as depicted in the Chicago Theater production DannyCasolaroDied for You.
“Of course it involved the Kennedy assassination, but that was just one of many coups and assassinations pulled off by the Octopus since the end of World War II. The group had come together over a covert operation to invade Albania that was betrayed by famed British turncoat Kim Philby. The Octopus had overthrown Jacob Arbenz in Guatemala in 1954. It had targeted operations against Fidel Castro culminating in the Bay of Pigs. It also had tentacles in the political upheavals in Angola, Rhodesia, Zimbabwe, Nigeria, Chile, Iran, and Iraq.
“Casolaro had as his main concern Octopus involvement with putting Ronald Reagan in power–the infamous October Surprise—and the role that played in introducing the PROMIS software into police systems around the world.
Casolaro Headlines.
“Casolaro’s catalogue of membership in the Octopus included such notorious spooks as John Singlaub and the late CIA director William Colby. As heads of the Phoenix assassination program in Vietnam, they had implemented an early version of the PROMIS tracking software to keep tabs on the Viet Cong. Other Octopus tentacles included characters like E. Howard Hunt and Bernard Baker, who later emerged as Watergate burglars.”
MY! WHAT TANGLED WEBS
Financial suspicion, in this case, was identical to one that happened on Assassination Day, November 22, 1963. A mysterious Tony DeAngelis misrepresented his holdings of thousands of tons of salad oil with faked American Express warehouse receipts in order to get bank loans. The New York Times editions that came out before the assassination on that date spoke suspiciously of these facts. “Many people profiteered from the short-selling spree on the markets consequent to that and news of JFK’s murder, including American Express magnate Warren Buffet and a transnational entity called Bunge Corporation, known in the financial literature of the time as TheOctopus,” said Thomas. A dramatic book on the JFK assassination (WeWereControlled?), and its pseudonymous author Lincoln Lawrence, argued that DeAngelis, Jack Ruby, and Lee Harvey Oswald were all mind-controlled in their actions on that day. Thomas’ book NASA, Nazis&JFK: TheTorbittDocumentandtheJFKAssassination (Kempton, IL: Adventures Unlimited Press, 1997) laid out the pattern of events. The twistsandturnsseemedendless: Earl Brian, at one time a brain surgeon, and the other Watergate-Inslaw connection, E. Howard Hunt, had a phone relationship with Casolaro; this all seemingly connected to mind control operations, and the Casolaro story took-on some extremely interesting intrigue..
FRED LEE CRISMAN: INTELLIGENCE AGENT
PROMIS (Prosecutor’s Management Information System) was invented in the 1970s and 1980s as a means of domestic and global surveillance, later developed by the Inslaw Corporation. The coup degrace was the ‘development’ of such plans by President Ronald Reagan’s running-mate and later Vice-president, CIA Director George H.W. Bush. As was eventually discovered, the muddled mystery extends far into Spy and Spook Land (far beyond the length of this report) with roots that reach for miles.
Informant Michael Riconosciuto claimed that he had made his modifications to PROMIS on the tribal lands of the Cabazon Indians in Indio, California as part of a joint project the tribal administrators had with a private security firm known as Wackenhut.
Casolaro’s death may have had to do with the Octopus and manufacturing fraud at Hughes Aircraft, a company that had a long history of exclusive and secret deals with the US government (many involving Area 51) for aerospace technologies. The mystery probably extended far beyondfathomablediscovery. Casolaro, however, had crashed into this corruption in his pursuit of Octopus. A contact he made the day before he died, Bill Turner, gave him documentation of the fraud at Hughes. Turner noted that Casolaro added these papers to the companion bulky file of Casolaro research. After they found Casolaro’s body, Turner got himself arrested on a bank robbery charge in order to remove himself from any further involvement.
The joint venture between the Cabazon Indian tribe and Area 51’s Wackenhut did exist, at least between 1981 and 1983, and Michael Riconosciuto certainly was involved with it at least in some capacity. A report from a task force of the sheriff’s office of Riverside County, California placed Riconosciuto at a weapons demonstration with Earl Brian (“of the CIA”) put on by the Cabazons and Wackenhut.
Riconosciuto also claimed that he had a tape documenting threats made against him by another Justice Department official, but he had thrown it in a marsh near Puget Sound the night he was arrested on trumped-up methamphetamine charges. Casolaro spent many days searching the Puget Sound bog to no avail, looking for the tape that ostensibly could verify the claims of “Danger Man,” Casolaro’s nickname for Riconosciuto.
The Puget Sound incident connected to a famous early UFO event, the 1947 Maury Island UFO case. That event of six flying saucers seen by harbor seamen that left behind slag debris that had been witnessed, or hoaxed, by the business partner of Riconosciuto father, a man named Fred Lee Crisman. (In the 1960s, Crisman was subpoenaed by New Orleans district attorney Jim Garrison as part of his investigation of the Kennedy assassination. Some researchers claimed that Crisman was one of the “railyard tramps” arrested near Dealey Plaza on November 22, 1963; others note that he possibly gave refuge on his Oregon ranch to a member of the Minutemen, an early militia group investigated by the Warren Commission).
Fred L. Crisman
In Joan Mellen’s book A FarewelltoJustice, Fred Crisman had been identified as one of the hundreds of ‘spooks’ working secretly for the Intelligence community. In her voluminous research on the history of Jim Garrison and the Kennedy assassination, Mellen discovered that Crisman had an association with the OffutAir Force Base and worked with the UnitedStatesArmyAirDefenseCommand. An FOIA request of September 13, 1969, revealed Crisman as Agent 4250. A comment appeared: “…a man that is dangerous to the future of America.”
PINE GAP
What did Casolaro know of the Crisman connection, the part it played in Area 51 and the other secret airbase that held his attention, Australia’s Pine Gap?
Pine Gap is the top-secret American underground base located near Alice Springs in the Northern Territory of the land down under, officially known as the Joint Defense Space Research Facility. It was built in 1968 officially to share program data with the Australians.
Renowned intelligence defector Victor Marchetti, who served in the CIA director’s office from 1966 to 1969, now acknowledged that he co-authored the secret agreement between the agency and the Australian Department of Defense on the establishment of the Pine Gap station which investigated spy satellites and intercepted and decoded broadcast communications between foreign powers unfriendly to the U.S: It would check geostationary satellites for wide-ranging information on enemy telemetry, radar emissions, and telecommunications.
Opposition from the Australians to Pine Gap grew as its nature as an espionage facility outside of Australian control became clear. In his book CrimesofPatriots (New York: W.W. Norton & Co, 1987), author Jonathan Kwitny demonstrated that covert manipulation led to the early end in Australia of the administration of Labor Party Prime Minister Gough Whitlam because of his opposition to Pine Gap. Casolaro saw Kwitny’s inability to see the tentacles of the Octopus. “It didn’t take many people to design the apparatus that would ensure the renewal of the lease for the Pine Gap installation near Alice Springs, Australia,” Casolaro wrote.
“After all, how could a democracy spit up a Prime Minister that could sack the security of the Western Alliance?”
Indeed, Gough Whitlam was rousted after his attacks about intelligence agency deceptions over the tragic US policy in East Timor, and the CIA’s funding of Australia’s right-wing Country Party [National Party], as well as his opposition to Pine Gap. Whitlam was not driven from office by an election but was removed [“The Dismissal”] on a technicality. Similarly, George Bush, Jr. “won” the 2000 election in the US on a court-imposed technicality by a governor-general he had appointed, one who had strong ties to the CIA [and represented the British Commonwealth].
No doubt there was suspicious drama about this destabilization, political intrigue, and deception. Much like the investigations into the labyrinths of the John Kennedy assassination, The Casolaro Mystery intertwined and connected through many modern and latent mysteries:
“The Inslaw case is indeed an octopus with tentacles reaching into many dark places, and this telling barely scratches the surface of the layers of deception and intrigue,” said researchers James Retherford and Sherman DeBrosse on February 2, 2010, TheRagBlog. “Like any good spy story, the Islaw–PROMIS saga is marked by its trail of dead, disappeared, and discredited, with claims of as many as 50 murdered. The most remembered casualty was investigative reporter Danny Casolaro, whose naked body was found in a blood-filled bathtub in a Martinsburg, WV, hotel room with multiple slash wounds on his arms and wrists..
Investigative Reporter Danny Casolaro was “suicided” and His Notes and Tape Recorder were Missing.
“Missing was his ever-present briefcase, tape recorder, and notes and outline of his proposed book about the web of intrigue surrounding Iran-Contra, the savings and loan meltdown, BCCI, Contra-connected Wackenhut, Wackenhut-connected INSLAW, the INSLAW-connected October Surprise, and possibly including a secret group of well-connected work-for-hire former spooks running drugs for the Contras.”
RICHARD S. SHAVER
Redfern branched out into wider underground possibilities, such as the Richard S. Shaver Mystery telling of an abandoned race, the Dero, and Tero, which live beneath our feet in the bowels of the planet and do much to hamper and terrorize the lives of surface dwellers. These beings are remnants of ancient civilizations that that long ago left the earth to other worlds to escape from catastrophes on earth. They are also called cryptoterrestrials.
Ray Palmer Edition of the Shaver Mystery
“I began to acknowledge that the extraterrestrial hypothesis suffered from some tantalizing flaws,” said the late author Max Tonnies. “I envision that the cryptoterrestrials engaged in a process of subterfuge, bending our belief system to their own ends.”
“Elements of the pulp science fiction glory days and the Shaver Mystery exist in the very foundations of ufology and in conspiracy literature on underground alien bases at Dulce, New Mexico,” said Richard Taranto, a California newspaper reporter, columnist, and researcher into the Shaver mystery. “In a 1985 Shavertron interview, John Keel, a longtime FATE columnist and author of such classics as TheMothmanProphesies and WhyUFOs?, had this to say about the Shaver Mystery: ‘If Shaver and Palmer had not existed, there would be no ufology. It’s that simple. Palmer started FATE Magazine and he kept the subject alive during its darkest periods. The mystery had to be created before anyone could undertake to solve it.’”
Taranto also said: “The men who helped create the vocabulary of flying saucers, abductions, and an Underworld full of strange and ancient civilizations are gone now. They died in ordinary and not-so-ordinary ways. As the future unfolds, their memory may linger only in the legends they helped create.
“‘Shaver described the flying saucers, and predicted their appearance,’ said Ray Palmer in an interview just before his death. And all this he said from the information he got from the caves. So whether or not it came from his own mental process of some kind, the information was correct and the information he’s given us has been correct so many times that it’s impossible to discard it as fiction.”
Intelligence Agent Fred Crisman was Shot by a Ray-gun in a Dero Firefight in a Jungle Cavern .
If Ray Palmer and Richard S. Shaver had not existed, there would not have been a Fred Crisman connection:
“Fred Crisman was flying fighters in the Pacific until the end. Somehow he seems to have been connected with the OSS in World War II also; it may have been in his Air Commando group. In a link to Palmer, he sent a letter to his magazine saying he was hit by a Ray Gun in a cave in Burma. Somehow this was linked to the ‘Shaver Mystery’ and the underground world of the Deros. This does seem very strange and some would say Fred is a few bricks shy of a load but in my investigations, I found the Japanese were working on a Ray Gun in World War II. It was in development for a long time and tested on animals. The microwave energy caused numerous problems for the researchers. Officially it was never used but officially the A-bomb didn’t exist until it exploded above Hiroshima. When he got home they made him a liaison for Veteran Affairs. Fred ran for county coroner in 1945 but never won the seat.”
Expansive coverage continues including mysterious deaths of scientists that were contributing to medical breakthroughs at Porton Down and Fort Detrich facilities. Redfern includes the 2001 anthrax attacks. Concerning allegations against the late Dr. Bruce Edward Ivans, Redfern says that “one theory suggested that Ivins was nothing more than a Lee Harvey Oswald–style patsy and that the anthrax attacks were actually the work of rogue elements within the Busch administration.” (p. 193)
The government’s statements had deepened the questions about the case against Ivins, who killed himself before he was charged with a crime. Searches of his car and home in 2007 found no anthrax spores, and the FBI’s eight-year, $100 million investigations never proved he mailed the letters or identified another location where he might have secretly dried anthrax into an easily inhaled powder.
Earlier that year, a report by the National Academy of Science questioned the genetic analysis that had linked a flask of anthrax stored in Ivins’ office to anthrax contained in the letters.
“If you want to commit the perfect crime, first find the perfect patsy. What better candidate could there be then Dr. Bruce Ivins? If you want to rule by fear what better way than an almost invisible poison that could be anywhere,” said Dr. Elliot Lyons on August 4, 2008. “Could this be only a part of a greater conspiracy? I leave it to you to ponder.”
NOW YOU SEE IT, NOW YOU DON’T
The Eldridge: Philadelphia Experiment – Philadelphia Harbor – August 1943
Similar intrigue developed in the topic of “invisibility experiments” and a retelling of the legendary Philadelphia Experiment at the Montauk military installation (now called Camp Hero State Park) and the alleged disappearance of the U.S.S Eldridge from the Philadelphia Naval Yard transmigrated to the Norfolk, Virginia shipyard in a 1943 operation called Project Rainbow. Part of the tale had to do with the materialization and missing of crew members. There was a vague news item about displaced sailors popping-up in a bar and then suddenly vanishing before witnesses. UFO researcher Jacques Vallee believed the underage sailor was slinked out the back door by barmaids giving a semblance of disappearing (February 21, 2007). Talk about secret canals with which submarines could be moved 200 miles from point to point, seemed to add mitigating factors. The use of these Chesapeake and Delaware canals – part of Operation Drumbeat – led to the reality of the central claim that the Philadelphia experiment may have a basis in fact, however. Edward Dudgeon described the event:
“I was in [a] bar that evening, we had two or three beers, and I was one of the two sailors who are said to have disappeared mysteriously…The fight started when some of the sailors bragged about the secret equipment [radar, sonar, special screws, a new compass, etc.] and were told to keep their mouths shut. Two of us were minors…The waitresses scooted us out the back door as soon as trouble began and later denied knowing anything about us. We were leaving at two in the morning. The Eldridge had already left at 11 p.m. Someone looking at the harbor that night might have noticed that the Eldridge wasn’t there anymore and it did appear in Norfolk. It was back in Philadelphia harbor the next morning, which seems like an impossible feat: if you look at the map you’ll see that merchant ships would have taken two days to make the trip. They would have required pilots to go around the submarine nets, the mines and so on at the harbor entrances to the Atlantic. But the Navy used a special inland channel, the Chesapeake-Delaware Canal that bypassed all that. We made the trip in about six hours.” (Jacques Vallee, Anatomyof a Hoax, February 21, 2007)..
Keep Out at the Montauk Time-travel Research.
Still, there had been experiments aboard a U.S.S Timmerman with high-frequency generators producing corona discharges. Redfern does not have much information about the Corona Discharge experiment on the U.S.S Timmerman because there is not readily available information. The following was an alleged summation:
“The Navy performed another experiment on the USS Timmerman’s generating plant in the 1950’s. The experiment tried to obtain 1,000 Hz instead of the standard 400 Hz from the generator (Department of the Navy). It resulted in light discharges. These light discharges may have been witnessed by Carlos Miguel Allende and caused him to start writing letters to prominent men in the scientific community. The Navy believed that Allende mistook the experiment on the Timmerman for the Philadelphia Experiment.”
Dr. David Lewis Anderson had pointedly stated that decades ago he worked on time-travel concepts at the Edwards Air Force Base in California (p. 226).
Researcher Sharon K. Grossman (March 8, 2012) found Anderson to be an intriguing and mystifying person, who had somewhat disappeared – himself – lately. After making the circuit of radio and stage shows speaking of his long career in ‘invisibility research,’ Anderson has somehow become hard to find. Grossman researched into his credentials and he appeared to be everything he said he was, inclusive of many years of professional ventures. One of the companies he was associated with was the TTRC – a company looking into Advanced Time-Technology..
THEY’RE EVERYWHERE, THEY’RE EVERYWHERE!
Redfern tries to cover, at least fleetingly, every conceivable military hideout and spy facility, with a few exceptions. He discusses the suspicion that governments are also into weather modification and control, and he highlights HARRP (High-Frequency Active Auroral Research Program) at Gahom, Alaska as being involved in severe weather, including January 12, 2010, Haitian earthquake, global tsunamis and other destructive weather.
He is much diversified: Redfern even displays Project Horizon operations telling of hidden plans and visual sightings of possible governmental basses on the moon.
“We now know that 50 years ago the U.S. Army was quietly looking to construct just such a facility on the lunar surface via its ambitious Project Horizon plan,” says Redfern. “Karl Wolfe has disclosed truly astounding data related to a huge alien installation on the far side of the moon…Ingo Swann…a vast moon-based-facility…”
Erdmann could have added onto this riddle wrapped inside an enigma (there is so much that Redfern could have written about): a theory and story had developed that movie director Stanley Kubrick was hired, due to his vast technological skill and knowledge, to help simulate our Apollo moon landings; this would help disguise what we really did there and what equipment we really used on the moon. Kubrick’s ‘battle’ with the IlluminatiControllers can be glimpsed in the undertone and symbolism in his films, such as 2001: ASpaceOdyssey, BarryLyndon, Dr. Strangelove, and EyesWideShut, TheShining and others..
Stanley Kubrick and Movie Crew Preparing a 2001 Movie Scene
The work Room237, created by Rodney Ascher, Tim Kirk, Todd Hughes, and P. David Erieksole, was a film that goes into depth on the topic of the hidden meanings and personal travails of Kubrick’s The Shining..
The Clandestine “Inner Circle” Mansion – the Movie Eyes Wide Shut.
KEEP OUT AND THE EYES SHUT!
Through the revelations of his wife Christiane and other facts, it was suspected that a special movie set was held-over for filming by MGM in England. Kubrick felt he would then be accepted into a larger ‘inner circle’ of elitism, but instead, he was shunned. His meaculpa and confession was hidden in symbolism and hidden messages in various films, such as TheShining and EyesWide Shut. It was ironic that at the time he was producing 2001, Kubrick was also reading the book EyesWideShut..
The Inner Circle – William Harford Uninvited and at Risk (EyesWide Shut)
Kent Daniels Bentkowski, as well as other researchers, has examined the double entendre and hidden symbolism in EyesWideShut – 24 figures that lead to and cover for the Illuminati, the Iron Fist, the Velvet Glove, and the Synarchy: the Synarchist Group of Global Rulers. This scary group was traced back to the Occult Theocracy as far back as 1520 and even the Knights Templar in 1118. (Occult Theocracy, Edith Miller.)
“This is also a fitting metaphor for our times,” said Bentkowski, speaking of the Alice Through The Looking Glass and Down The Rabbit Hole metaphors outlined in the movie, as in the use of mirrors, “as many people seem to be fast asleep as to the evil that is being carried out in their names, and in the names of their children, and our nation: the down the Down The Rabbit Hole metaphor…the corruption of all levels of Law Enforcement and the Judiciary, where justice can indeed be purchased, if the price is right.”.
William Harford, Alert, Watching
(Scene from Kubrick’s Movie Eyes Wide Shut)
Stanley Kubrick mysteriously died four days after delivering the final cut of EyesWideShut to Warner Brothers.
Inherent in the scenery are allusions to media propagandists like Conrad Brean and Stanley Motss in the movie WagtheDog, hired mogul-theatric-guns, that even competed with or work aligned to the CIA and the intelligence community to create politics as “much the art of media manipulation” (Mimi Lu, November 30, 2007). ‘‘The essential elements of propaganda in stirring up public sympathy for the government cause,” said Lu, “with enervating cynicism, it (the movie) satirizes the hypocrisy of the government and malleable media and the exasperatingly naïve public.”
Manipulating the Media.
ORWELLIAN TERRITORY
“Whatever the truth behind these very latest developments in the world of secret government bunkers, bases, and installations, I will say…as our society heads off into Orwellian territory… a certain pair of words…KEEP OUT!”
William Harford Blocked at the Gates to the Elite Mansion (Scene from Eyes Wide Shut)
*******
Those wishing to reach Steve Erdmann can contact him at dissenterdisinter@yahoo.com or independenterdmann@gmail.com.
“He who is not courageous enough to take the risks will accomplish nothing in life.” Muhammad Ali
The Magnificent Oz told Dorothy and her two companions in the Wizard of Oz to “pay no attention” to the “man behind the curtain.” We asked Annie Jacobsen to do just that. As a veteran news reporter and journalist, Jacobsen seems ideal to dissect formerly secretive information telling about the super-secret, and sometimes nonexistent, test sites in Nevada that allegedly sectored out of a large section of the hidden desert of about 4,500 acres, and eventually tagged AREA 51..
The Wizard of Oz Man Behind the Curtain.
Actually, the secret base encompassed areas 22, 25, and other mysterious areas such as 5 and 4, with the White Sands Proving Grounds and the Groom Lake Bomb Sites, also included – if not many others. (Area 51: An Uncensored History ofAmerica’s Top Secret Military Base, Annie Jacobsen, The Little, Brown and Company, Hachette Book Group, 237 Park Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10017, www.hachettebookgroup.com, May 2011, 523 pages).
BEHIND THE CURTAIN.
Jacobsen’s excursion begins with the Black Project Manhattan that gave us the first practicing atomic bomb that was used to destroy Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan. She glides through the years, detailing the creation of an all-powerful Atomic Energy Commission, Project Nutmeg, Project Hood, Operation Sandstorm, Zebra, Greenhouse, Tall King, Elint, Project 57 – continuing into the creation of Project Oxcart, the espionage of the U-2 spy plane, and projects such as Skylark and Dragon Lady.
“It is from the Atomic Energy Act of 1946 that the concept ‘Born Classified’ came to be,” says Jacobsen, “(The Project) would be born classified and that even the president of the United States would not necessarily have a need-to-know about it.”.
Annie Jacobsen.
Jacobsen details the subplot of the Nazi underground scientists comes to America, Operation Dragon Return and Operation Paperclip, the hunting down, surrender and incorporation of Hitler’s special Nazi scientists, and the eventually discovered Horton Brother’s “wingless, tailless, saucer-like craft,” the Horten X and the Horten 13 (that many say greatly resembled Kenneth Arnold’s June 1947 mystery aircraft spotted near Mt. Rainer, Washington). All blends of these technologies were run through the Office of Policy Coordination (OPC). It was suspected that the Russians had also gained Nazi technology.
Out of this World War II confluence came the U-2 spy plane (Project Aquatone) and the evolution of the CIA test-facility in Nevada, escalating into promised space projects such as a nuclear Mars spaceship called Project Orion and Project Nerva. Some researchers believed the project was secretly continued to the present day into a super-secret space “Navy.” These same investigators pointed to the extensive underground tunnel systems that allegedly are existent across America, as Jacobsen also points out.
But, as is inevitable with discussions of Area 51, the topic of “flying saucers” also come up surfacing in the topics of mysterious associations with UFOs at Area 51..
DO NOT MENTION.
“Jim Friedman remembers the first time he brought up the subject of UFOs with his EG&G supervisor at Area 51,” says Jacobsen, “…middle of the 1960s…’I heard through the rumor mill that one of the UFOs had gone to Wright-Pat and was then brought to a remote area of the test site; I heard it was in Area 22’…(the supervisor replied) ‘Jim, I don’t want to hear you mention anything like that, ever again, if you want to keep your job.’”
Jacobsen points to the Bob Lazar allegations of Reverse-engineered alien spacecraft, which sticks out as an incongruous sore-thumb oddity in her book, with no real explanation (more and more, the Lazar story appears to be a psychological plant), despite the fact that Jacobsen had been privy to a dearth of previously classified and secret Area 51 files under the Freedom Of Information Act. She demurely states that two lie-detector tests administered to him were inconclusive..
And then it gets more intimidating and suspicious: the Roswell UFO crash came to Area 51, but it was not from outer space – it was fromRussia. A reputable Area 51 scientist (she claims to have investigated his background and it is impeccable. Subsequently, he turns out to be Dr. Alfred O’Donnell, an 89-year-old veteran of Edgerton, Germeshausen and Green, Inc. [EG&G] who worked at Groom Lake in 1947, was an early member of the Manhattan Project and the Atomic Energy Commission) privately told her that Stalin invented and flew a “helicopter version” of the captured Nazi stealth craft the Horton Ho 229 (which had a swept-back appearance and may have been sighted by Kenneth Arnold as he flew near Mt. Rainer in 1947) to Roswell, manned by surgically altered mutant children invented by none other than the mad-Nazi scientist Josepf Mengele on a sojourn to Russia.
.
WAR OF THE WORLDS
The purpose was an elaborate psychological publicity stunt by Russian dictator Joseph Stalin (who had also been interested in creating an army of mutant gorilla-human soldiers; and Stalin had been very slighted by our securing and inventing the atomic weapons first); he wanted to scare the hell out of Americans, very much like the panic the radio broadcast by Orson Wells’ War Of The Worlds produced. This story has drawn its share of criticism..
Orson Welles’ October 30, 1938, Warofthe Worlds Radio Broadcast
T.D. Barnes, a former electronics radar and communications “road runner” at Area 51 in 1968 claimed the incident never happened. Dr. Melvin Morse, Md., said on June 15, 2011, that the genetic manipulation alleged was not possible now or in 1947 (Dr. Morse is a clinical associate professor of pediatrics at the University Of Washington, as well as a graduate of George Washington School Of Medicine, and he has worked in pediatrics at the University of San Francisco and also in pediatrics at the Seattle Children’s Hospital).
Auschwitz prisoner Alex Dekel said of Mengele: “I have never accepted the fact that Mengele himself believed he was doing serious work – not from the slipshod way he went about it.”.
THE ANGEL OF DEATH
Following Mengele’s escape, all of his records were destroyed. Those diaries and letters turned over by his family, while revealing his evil philosophy, gave no meaningful laboratory data. Files from his infamous C.A.N.D.L.E.S experiments on twins have been lost. The question remains: where did Mengele perform his Russian experiments; when did he do so in Russia; and how do you prove this happened?.
Josef Mengele (Center)
On January 27, 1945, Mengele was in a camp at Gross Rosen in lower Siberia, which was dissolved under the Russian advance. On May 3, he was at the Wehrmacht Medical Unit led by Otto Kahler, captured by the Soviets, and taken as a prisoner of war by Americans. He was released in June, 1945 and his papers show him as Fritz Hollmann, staying briefly in Rosenbaum, Bavaria as a farm hand from July, 1945 to May, 1949. Via Innsbruch, Austria and Genoa, Italy, he made his way to Buenos Aires, Argentina through generous donations and payments from his wealthy family and a mystery network called ‘Odessa.’
Mengele would probably be targeted by Stalin for Stalin’s ‘First Circle’ Gulag for scientist prisoners; nota privatelaboratory (Solzhenitsyn’s Gulag Archipelago).
Also, if Stalin had a technologically advanced stealth craft – that may have been overflying America in early 1947 – Kenneth Arnold and a number of sightings of similar objects – would Stalin have not used this craft for much more than ”psychological tricks”? Further investigation is needed to resolve these questions. Was Alfred O’Donnell lying, deluded or confused?.
Radio program host George Knapp of the Coast To Coast program told his audience on August 22, 2011, 12:55 a.m. CST, that he had interviewed O’Donnell twenty years earlier and was told a different story by O’Donnell on Roswell. Knapp said he would not divulge the details until he spoke to O’Donnell once again. On December 19, 2011, at 1:47 a.m. CST, Knapp further commented that in that earlier interview with O’Donnell that O’Donnell made cryptic remarks regarding “aliens from ‘somewhere’ that spoke in a strange language.”
I can’t help feeling it somewhat of a sad ending and even anti-climactic to the glorious picture of Area 51 Jacobsen portrays throughout most of her book and Groom Lake’s drive to advance technology and national defense: and the climb to new highs in the Space Age.
The issue of the magazine has the headline, “Flying saucers: Russia’s secret weapon?” The story is “He fell among thieves” by Milton Lesser. This has the promotional line, “When this Martian crashed the Iron Curtain … He fell among thieves.”
The incidence of UFO sightings in the US in the 1950s was unbelievably high and this story puts forward a reason: Russia had captured a Martian who had helped them build flying saucers, and these were now being used to spy on the US.
About Universal Digest: Ed Smith and the creators of this website listened to many different people, worldwide, who displayed interests in more areas than just about UFO phenomena. Some stated they were interested in UFO’s and others would ask about information in both related and unrelated areas over many years, not just recent events. Therefore, work has ensued and is an ongoing process of providing a multi-subject oriented website to accommodate those varied interests.
As the site develops, comments are most welcome to help ‘tweak’ the various menus and subjects of interest in order to supply the readers and viewers the information they request. The purpose and direction of Universal Digest are not to bring just breaking news or fad articles to the public. It is more apt to state this site is bringing more relevant, poignant and credible information persons can read, view, and watch that covers many times, years, and eras of human history one may find not only enjoyable; it is educational, informative, and useful for all ages from around the world; the goal of Universal Digest is to publish in area of ufology, science, history, world, regional, and some local news and events; experiencer, telepathic and paranormal subject matter are also published.
It was the quiet little chirp of the wren somewhere outside the house that first caught his attention. Like some vague feeling pricking the top of his body hairs ever so lightly, the incessant chirp from that little brown feathery body perched on the tree limb outside the bedroom window kept infiltrating his mind.
Peaceful. Yes, it was very, very peaceful, restful, and gracious. He lay motionless underneath the linen sheet he used as a blanket. His face, a smooth lineless continence of tranquility, and his mind somewhere between the darkness of his dream-world and the dawning of the first rays of daylight beaming through his bedroom window and bathing him in a brilliant white.
A fly lazily buzzed to and fro about the man’s face. Like a miniature household servant come to wake its master, the fly landed on the man’s head. When it crawled from his head onto his arm skin, the man instantly perceived it was there. He squirmed beneath the sheet. The insect took to flight, circled about, and gently, very, very gently, landed near its previous landing spot, urging the master to arise.
This time the man stretched his arms, turning slowly about in the bed. He blinked for a moment, glancing out the window, realizing that it was time to once again start a daily routine. He momentarily closed his eyes, allowing the caressing sunshine to rest upon his features.
He was amused at the melodious singing of the little bird outside. He smiled. Then he lazily moved his legs to the edge of the bed, and like a mighty Zeus emerging out of the surface of the sea, he slowly vacated the bed, pushing himself like a bear just awaken from hibernation.
The housecoat felt warm and comforting about him, but the floor was ice cold, making him give out a sigh of relief as he put on his slippers. He pulled the strings to his robe tight, secure, and shuffled off into the kitchen; there he perked the coffee till short puffs of steam came out of the spout. Every now and then, a few drops would sputter out of the spout and dribble down into the flames below, making a hissing sound. From the range a warm radiance spread out into the kitchen in ever-widening ripples. The small old-fashioned clock hung over the hovel of the sink and pantry, and the sweeps of its stubbly pendulum seemed to say ‘hello, hello.’
It took some effort to control his memory of those frightening nights in the dark bedroom with no sound, no children noise, no words, just the flashbacks of the divorce courtroom and the horrid masquerade of reality that came true before his eyes when the so-called legal system turned black into white and the memories of brighter days into dank dark desertion. Many following nights he fought the dysgeusia and copper taste of fear and flight anxiety attacks until those more stable moments when they would disappear now and then. This morning seemed to be one of those.
Next came the sizzling beacon and the crackle of the frying breakfast sausage, slowly, slowly making the morning whole as bits of reality, as churning mechanisms seen in household appliances, flashes of electricity through the grey matter of the human brain, all going into operation as one coordinated, smooth picture. He thoughtfully meanders through his breakfast.
Socks; warm; skin-fitting; the latest pair bought. New trousers; freshly creased. A leather belt with sleek sheen; followed by a white shirt; high collar to cover his long neck. Soon followed were pearl cuff-links; the tie; a nice charcoal color to match his pants. No wrinkles in pants: new.
Like a sculptor of marble, his personal appearance began to take shape. Each movement of his hand brought with it a snug packing of the clay in the imaginary statue. Shirt tail whipped in, straight and even; tie-knot, tight and in place. His short hair groomed and styled.
The man tapped the top of his dresser to show pride in his creation, another accomplishment in the early morning serenade of awakening.
Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack: the rhythm of someone’s shoe taps could be heard faintly outside in their hurried walk down the sidewalk. Too industrious, thought the man, but still permissible; the announcer on the radio spoke in serene, low monosyllables; short, musical statements in a base voice; evenly pronounced and not harsh. The announcer was saying that it was going to be a beautiful autumn day, and the temperatures might reach a pleasant 75-80 degrees this Halloween. Don’t put away all your summer clothes, the announcer is saying; you might want to wear them still today. The man smiled to himself and nodded in agreement. Let’s see, wallet? Money? Credit cards? Notebook? Bus pass? Handkerchief in pocket? All here.
The early morning sunlight covered the kitchen as if the radiance were bathing the room in a baptism of rejuvenation. The strong aroma of fresh coffee intermingled with the brisk, mystic smell of men’s cologne, and he further imagines a bathed lady that equally had sensually dabbed her body with perfume. He grabbed his well-blocked hat out of the closet, sitting it on his head: no, he suddenly decides, he would not wear it today. He finally reached for the knob of the front door and summoned his courage to leave his day-dream environment behind. It was a Halloween holiday and one that he hoped would not be matched.
Bright morning sunlight still shone through the door Venetian blinds reminding him of similar recollections of himself as a little boy playing with neighbor children on sun coated sidewalks back on Castleman Avenue.
Opening the front door, he is slightly taken aback by the heavy drone of a big truck that seemed to emerge out of nowhere, blocking his view of his direct neighborhood. Its big red letters seemed to immobilize him until the heavy vibration of the truck was gone.
The man collected his thoughts, shifting his chin as to try to straighten his collar, dislocated by the sudden appearance of the truck. Instead, he fidgeted the knot of his tie with his fingers; smoothed his coat along its sides. As he headed for the sidewalk, he briefly glanced back to his house, bathed in the golden hues of the morning sunlight. A sparrow landed on the steps before him, twisting its head side to side, ogling the oncoming giant beside him. Then it darted away, blended into the glare of the sun.
At the bus stop he tasted the fresh, crisp air with its underbelly of autumn decay. The acrid smell of the chemicals at a nearby paint factory seemed disjointed from the smell of the close evergreen shrubbery. The bus stop was attended by two talkative ladies, both projecting their respective, strong perfumes. They wait for the bus too, he thought to himself; such staunch, middle-class ladies; the salt of the traditional America; Conservatives dressed in their placid best; such a no-nonsense color for an overcoat; PTA, Ladies’ Solidarity, and Bible-reading grandmothers. See how they chatter, gossip, the man thought to himself, tending to the world of everyday events?
“That’s what she told me, yes indeed…” The one lady spoke energetically.
The bus is coming. The doors hiss open.
“I’ll be, Marriene, she didn’t?” the other exclaims as they climb aboard.
“Yes, yes she did…thebitch!”
“No,” the man thinks, and slumps his head to look at their shoes, “I didn’t hear that remark on this quiet morning of autumn.” There is a lullaby of barking dogs and teenage laughter in the background. No, he thinks to himself, it was not our all-American grandmothers who said that.
As the door hissed shut, the voices of the two quarreling grade school kids fighting over a bicycle could be heard on the steps of the nearby church.
“Get your god-damned foot off the peddle or I’ll break your god-damned, son-of-a bitch….”
The back seat of the bus is warm, almost hot from the rays of the sun. He nestles in the bough as if a cold bird into its nest. He glances out the heavily smudged window, looking beyond the lipstick smears and obscenities drawn there sometime last night. He blinks hard, pretending that it is only a momentary obstruction. He can see the expressions on the motorists below the window, which is all that matters to him.
When the bus reached Elm Street at the intersection of Genevieve, he had counted some twenty ‘families’ driving in autos. He instinctively knew they were families because of the three or four children between the back and front seats. Mom sat almost statuesque by her “daddy” at the wheel: he, holding a cigarette so very authoritatively in his fingers, or her placing one hand on her husband’s knee, as if to signify her claim to ownership. Sometimes, the pose would change from car to car, and when it was a car that carried adolescent boys and girls, the scene sometimes changed dramatically; the teenagers would hug tightly, entwining their limbs as if to squeeze every drop of intimacy into each other. Her hair would lie on his shoulder; another’s hair would lie on his chest. But when he saw nothing but a blanket of smooth, flowing velvet, the strains of which made a shining blanket across the boy’s lap, his face went flush, and then red. He turns his gaze quickly away from the window, his pulse racing higher.
At the intersection of Sydney and Spring the bus jerked to a stop. Four fuzzy-headed teenagers bang at the door, rudely with impact, not waiting for the driver to release the door hydraulic-pressure. The man noticed the bus-driver’s face was mysteriously nonplussed and emotionless to the outburst.
“Thanks Pop!” said the tallest boy; he had to bend his neck to keep from scraping his head on the bus ceiling. All but one paid their fares; the last stood momentarily defiant before the driver, his fists clenched straight down to his sides. Not a word said, just a stone-cold stare between the two. Without paying his fare, the shortest of the four swaggered his way back through the aisle, much like a bully burst through the saloon-house door. The four arranged themselves along two larger side-seats; they extended their legs out into the aisle, punching each other with furious deviltry, revealing gaping holes in the sides of their jeans. Squeals of hysterical laughter riveted the bus, but no one looked except the man who manufactured a prolonged gaze that eventually contracted a wall of hateful wonderment from the gang of boys.
“Anything wrong with you, Pop?” the tallest queried.
The man just gazed on. Slowly, oh so slowly, his lips moved in a quiver. “No,” he spoke softly, “no,” he said again even softer. He turned back to the window, gazing on the churning smoke from a chemical factory’s chimney. He tries to mentally close his ears to their obscenities; instead, he concentrates on those long, thick vapors that churned in and around themselves as they circled upwards, higher and higher. He will keep his gaze on this until the factory falls from his range of vision, hoping that peace and tranquility will be restored and this invasion of civility would be over.
The crowd builds on the bus as they near the downtown area; so filled that the man can barely see the “No Smoking” sign towards the front of the bus. It has become laden with the cigarette smoke from unconcerned passengers. The aisle has become jammed with men, women, and children, each holding tightly on some nearby artifact, such as a pocket of a mother’s coat, or the sweat-lubricated chrome seat handle.
Splat! Splat! Splat! Three shaggy-haired grade schoolers race out towards the middle of the street, bogging down traffic which nearly brought about their injury: from their dirt-stained hands are thrown three MacDonald’s restaurant hamburger sandwiches. The guts of these missiles ooze down the glass panes in a sickening avalanche of garbage___as sickening as the vulgar retorts off the lips of the three boys rambling back to the curb. Motorists impatiently honk at them. The youths signal obscenities at them and rush off laughing wildly and indifferent. No one looks, other than the drivers who nearly hit them; everyone seems unconcerned.
The bus begins to stop and start in aggravating jerks, descending deeper into the city traffic. The heights of buildings begin to grow taller as the bus creeps deeper into the interior of the city metropolitan jungle. Peculiar taps and nudges are felt by the man as the mass of humanity closes upon him. The rock-like bulge in the pocket of a grey-haired, well-groomed man next to him is suddenly removed by that man, revealing itself as a bottle of Johnny Walker whiskey. He watches as the imbiber caresses the bottle containing the putrid-smelling liquid to his quivering lips, small drops travel down his chin and dangle from his cracks in his face. No one stares at the swigged performance and the bottle is quickly replaced unconcerned back in a coat pocket.
The man begins to feel suffocated. He sees his destination two stoplights away. Suddenly the surroundings don’t seem the same. It looks peculiar, almost as if a scene in a dream where quasi-shapes and half-familiar sights appear. But its strangeness might seem like some sort of ‘home,’ only if he could safely make his way through the limbs, human bosoms, and torsos to the exit.
Slowly he begins to nudge his way through the “meat factory,” and he begins to visualize racks of butchered meat hanging from hooks. Bad breath followed next by a sweet candy-smelling perfume. The smell of mothballs from a jacket recently removed from summer hibernation. He steps on someone’s shoe; he gets cursed. A newspaper flares up into his face as a pedestrian turns a page during the person’s transit-reading.
The plunging, hissing sound of the air compression of the door appears as a welcoming gateway into cool, fresh air. He bounds out into a conveyor of sidewalk pedestrians that, even here, nudge and shuffle him; but he doesn’t mind as he hopes he has obtained new freedom.
He bustles through the revolving door, shoulder to shoulder with customers, into a drone of sounds, clinking coffee cups, and incessant monkey-like chatter of the crowd. The smell of the latest perfumes, colognes, and sweet milk chocolate are from the nearby counters. Perfumes that drip off of dark, lovely skins that zip by in micro-mini-skirts and colorful pantsuits; meaty scents that one could almost be tempted to bite into.
Towards the middle of the department store floor he is held back by a swarm of people gushing from the escalator. They branch off in all directions, leaving him huddled in one spot. He timidly walks towards the ‘up’ escalator. “Can’t do it,” he sneers at himself, feeling the latest pangs of motion sickness from the gasoline smells that escorted his bus ride. He couldn’t stand that fight at the top of the escalator steps. Resigning himself to the task of getting more fresh air, he wipes the perspiration of his forehead and bounds through the crowd to the farthest exit.
“What the hell?” indignantly queries a husky man who attempted to crowd the same revolving door with the man, who, in the growing depths of nausea, smiles back at him in apology, allowing the husky person to command the door. The man waits patiently until no one wants to use the portal, then he ventures outside.
“Daddy, daddy, be so good to me,” blurts the large Walkman radio swinging from the hip of a Negro with shinning leather boots and a large sombrero hat. “Baby! Baby, do it to me now! Baby…..”
“Chick, com’on, doll, cause you the biggest love bun in the block, dat why,” giggles a sleek, sensuous Negress secured lustfully to her boy-friend’s arm. Metallic loops dangle from earlobes beneath bleached, blonde hair; her buttocks brazenly protrude from the rim of her skin-tight red ‘hot pants.’ On they stumble – “Daddy, you won’t make a move on me, doll….”
“Gum? Anybody buy gum?” churns the words from a twisted mouth of a Paraparetic, cane in hand, tin cup in the other, limping along at a snail’s pace. “Gum?” he pleads to around him careening by him in a river of flesh, “Want to buy some gum?” He shakes the battered tin cup, the coins forlornly jangle. One man instantly searches his pocket for loose change. The crippled man nears him, only a few feet away, “Gum?” “Here you are,” the pedestrian reassures the cripple, reaching for the tin cup.
Down the cripple goes! The earth turns about him and he suddenly finds himself being scuffled by boots, shoes, and sandal-ed and nearly bare feet. Someone leaps over him as the crowd momentarily rearranges itself to make room. A blur of bodies – one, two, three young girls in hipster garb race down the street into the maze of humanity onto the next block. A few feet away from the girls moving on in express, the cripple churns his neck about, searching the passing crowd, looking for a helping hand. His cup with money is now a lost companion. He is unable to say anything but the words he has memorized, drilled, and forced him to learn in month over months of repetition: “Gum?” He extends his hand pleadingly to the astonished and indifferent people that pass on by. The cripple slowly, painfully, arches his back and uses the cane to resurrect an upright stance. The atmosphere about the par paretic becomes a cubicle of woman’s nylon against nylon and feminine deodorant, pierced by cigar smoke blown in his face.
“Move on! Move on, damn ya!” A group of jelly-bellied conventioneers have flanked the sidewalk, almost arm in arm, as if the front line of an infantry sweeping the battlefield. Racing backwards in faltering steps, the cripple extends one hand over his head, waving it to keep balance and also seeking Samaritan assistance, only to find him in the animal-like huddle at the “No walk” sign at the corner.
The sweet and putrid smells of perfumes and after-shave fragrances cascade over our traveler, as he finds himself hurdled into the mass of flesh, clothing, and the gut of the mob. Perspiration begins to trickle down his cheek, his nose itches from the threads of sprayed hair belonging to a fat, chunky female shadowing him. If only he could turn around and attempt to see the fate of the crippled man.
“Go!” instructs a skinny boy, knees black with dirt glaring below the rim of his stained shorts. The boy’s hair flops about his eyes like the mane of a St. Bernard dog. He drags his mother by the hand into the crowd of street-crossing pedestrians unfortunately blocked by a negro boy and white girl standing immobile in the middle of the traffic: the boy is passionately kissing the girl, holding her back into the cradle of his arm, and with the other fondles her breasts, and then, in snake-like fashion, rushes his hand under her short-shorts seeking the crease in your buttocks. No one stares; no one looks. They gush around the two like foaming water around jagged rocks in the middle of racing water in a stream.
The man is carried along, stumbling; stepping on feet, careening through ‘out-flung’ newspaper pages, till he locates the curb and with a heave, lifts him onto the sidewalk.
He has come to rest near a restaurant; he presses his radiant face on the cold panes of air-conditioned glass and closes his eyes to decide as to if he should go inside and find a seat. The smell of gasoline has found him again, like a phantom from bus to sidewalk, sidewalk to sidewalk, and like a developing nightmare, nausea is created in his stomach. He notices a scratch on his hand and he reaches into his pocket fumbling for a handkerchief and he dabs his wound.
“Get your Raw World News here!” shouts a tall, thin boy, his hair draped over his head and shoulders from the rank humidity as if someone poured a bucket of water on it, and continued to soak every strand, progressing down his cloths as if to pull them to his feet. The man expected to see this happen but was suddenly alarmed to see the boy’s bare feet. Instead, the boy’s clothes stubbornly hung on to him as he shouts, “Raw World News, here. The only original people’s militant-pagan review in the city! Raw World, here! Raw World!”
A lady with two cardboard boxes under each arm and a bag lodged underneath her chin, stops to examine the front page of the newspaper: it is a photograph of Lillian Swan, number one militant libertine giving a close-up of her middle finger extended upward in protest; the headline reads: “Country Must Change, or Else Die!”
The lady wants to maneuver herself so she can turn the page of the newspaper, but –wham! – knocked from her under the barrage of street-people, the swarm carries her parcels, being kicked heedlessly, down the sidewalk, some people divided in attention by a commotion back up the street where the Paraparetic had been knocked down, others intent on seeing the colored boy and white girl, now engaged in actual fondling on the corner of the street, both laying prostrate to one side of the nearby trash container as a ring of people jealously guard their sensuous privacy.
“Hey! My boxes!” shouts the lady, trying to fight into the swarm. “Out of the way, damn it! My boxes! Oh!”
Pressed into this incongruous activity, the man slides nervously along the cold glass storefront till he meets the end of the building. The side of his face is caressed by a gentle breeze flowing out of the nearby alley across from him and just a few feet away.
“Take it, damn it! Take my purse!” cries a whimpering voice from a mascara-streaked face of an old whore held at gunpoint. The man leans to one side to get a better view. He barfs slightly, swallowing back the vomit as he fights the sickness of carbon monoxide poisoning. From the record shop across the street, through its overhead loudspeakers, booms the beginning of Schubert’s Symphony No. 8, the Unfinished Symphony.
“Here! Take it!” The whore holds out a fist of money and jewels that drip from the sides of her hand. Her watered eyes plead to the snub-nosed revolver held directly at her face. “Oh, God! Take it!”
Why no one investigates the alley, the man wonders as Schubert’s symphony progresses into the allegromoderato. He notices the prostitute staggers towards the gunman, moaning, “…no, no….”
The symphony hits a peak as everyone crossing the alley stops and stares as if an unfortunate ‘intrusion’ was forced upon them. And like cattle turned out of a gate, they stampede into the narrow passageway. Symphony No. 8 begins its slow dirge, its whining andanteconmoto, and as if synchronized with the pulse of actions comes the sirens of police cars that burst around the street corner: revolving lights flashing, brakes squealing, as squad cars nearly careen into the middle of the people in the alley. The people dash to the sides of the buildings to keep from being hit. The crowd immediately closes back in about the officers slinking out of their cars and into the murder scene.
The man barfs again. He realizes he must move to a clearing near the bus stop area. He staggers to the bus sign, leans his head on a cold metal pole and shuts his eyes as he focuses on nothing but the low dirge of Schubert’s No. 8. “Bus, come on, please, come on!” he begs inwardly. “I want to go back home,” he mumbles to him, “back, back home.”
Hiss! As if by his direct command, a miracle, the smell of bus-rubber surprises him, and the bus doors open before his face. Pushing, lunging people force him up the steps, the driver, oblivious that the man did not attempt to show his pass as he was nearly knocked to the floor. The man quickly grabs a chrome seat handle and pulls himself into a nearby seat of the bus. Thankfully, he lodges his head on the pane-seal of an open window that someone created despite the air-conditioning. Schubert has gone into his dramatic allegroconbrio. Once again, a police officer squad car careens around another corner. The bus driver impatiently honks for the crowded street to clear so he can be on his way. The bus inches a few feet….stops….inches a few more….stops….to ward off his stomach sickness, the man holds his handkerchief over his mouth. “I must concentrate!” he pleads to himself. “Concentrate on that glorious ending of the 8th, that allegroconbrio.”.
Franz Schubert: destined to obscurity: the Symphony in B Minor (Unfinished), which speaks from Schubert’s heart. Two movements and a half-finished scherzo were completed in October and November 1822
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“Out of the way, you bastards!” commands the bus driver, his voice barely discernible in the zombie-like rows of people compressing the aisle of the bus. Finally, the jerks of the bus combine into longer, smoother flows, lasting at least the length of a block. “Oh, the pain!” The insufferable ache in the pit of the man’s stomach fights an epitome battle against a world of the intertwined smells of perfume, cigar smoke, gasoline fumes, bubble gun and whiskey breath. “Move! Please, move bus!”
Bam! Bam! Bam! The man again visualizes the smoking tip of the revolver in the murder scene, and that blank stare that appeared on the prostitute’s face, her pupils suddenly becoming dilated, and her mouth suddenly twisted and contorted. The contents in her hand dripping out onto the ground, much like the spreading blood from her stomach.
At Spruce and Murdoc, the man opened his eyes and peered out the window to discern a row of broken-down tenements, the small front yards with foot-high weeds and grass and a barely visible walkway. In front of the paintless fence were two toddlers, caked with mud and crying profusely. Once again, the man laid his head on the sill of the window, feeling the violent vibrations of the bus through his skull; rough, yet comforting enough by providing some distraction to his physical displeasure.
Broadway and Juniata: large beads of sweat drip down his check. He dabs them gently with his handkerchief. “Just a few more minutes,” he assures himself.
Ahead, he sees his bus stop creeping up. Painfully, he lifts himself up and pushes forward around a rather obese woman who looks at him rather amusingly. When the bus jerks to a stop, the man practically falls out of the door, but catches a low tree limb to steady him.
After dodging the reckless, perusing traffic, he glances over to the nearby church steps, only to see the broken, bent body of the bicycle the two boys had argued over earlier. In the distance, he could hear the ferocious barking of his next-door neighbor’s dog. Only minutes away; he prays for strength.
Agitated, he jabs the key into his front-door lock; drops of perspiration fall upon his fist, only to be shaken off by the tremble of his hand. The door crashes back against the vestibule wall as the man feverishly staggers into the kitchen, slips to his knees, but stands once again and staggers to the bathroom.
For a moment, it was as if the explosion of the revolver had also become the pounding of the divorce court judge’s gavel: Bam! Bam! Bam! He remembers the firing of the revolver again to the back-ground music of Schubert’s Unfinished 8th, crescendo to a loud ending: he falls before the commode and lets out a heavy heave of vomit into the bowl.
As an accessory to this bizarre symphony, comes the very real chirp of a wren outside the bathroom window, not unlike the one that the man began his morning with:
The Grand Quantum Being is aware of this man’s events, and the Spark Streaming of the Being’s grandiose Mind, beyond any Positronic Computer, greater than any Quantum Algorithm, that Mind knew for eons the next stage of atomic arrangement that will take place in this man’s life. He constantly told men and humankind that they had ‘freedom,’ but it was a lie! That life will continue instantaneously, more keenly scrutinized as microbes in water would be by some ethereal microscope, hiding and masked in some infinite complacency, behind the shadows of time, across the gulfs of space, beyond the blending of colors, vibrations, any singing of the Strings, any Logic Gates, as it was performed in the beginning (and ever will be) since It called Itself the “The Word.”
Sylvia Hoeks in Alcon EntertainmentХs sci fi thriller BLADE RUNNER 2049 in association with Columbia Pictures, domestic distribution by Warner Bros. Pictures and international distribution by Sony Pictures Releasing International.
Franz Schubert: destined to obscurity: the Symphony in B Minor (Unfinished), which speaks from Schubert’s heart. Two movements and a half-finished scherzo were completed in October and November 1822
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“Reports that say that something hasn’t happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns — the ones we don’t know we don’t know.”Statement by Donald Rumsfeld, February, 2002, press briefing on the instability of Afghanistan.
This tome is a precursor to Stanley’s later book on UFOs flying over or inducted into the United States D.C. Capitol; the book chronologies fly-overs of the Prohibitedand RestrictedAirDefense IdentificationZone (ADIZ), Flight Restricted Zone (FRZ) and P56 – an area with multiple accounts from 2006 and as far back as 1850.
(Close Encounters on Capitol Hill, Robert M. Stanley, Unicus Press, Providence Rhode Island, March 2011. www.uincusmagazine, 379 pages, $25.00)
INCURSIONS OVER WASHINGTON
Stanley cited the National Capitol Region Coordination Center (NCRCC) in Herndon, Virginia, represented by the Department of Defense, the FAA, the Secret Service Customs and Border Protection, The Transportation Security Administration, as well as the Department of Homeland Security, the U.S. Capitol Police, and the Domestic Event Network (DEN) (p. 371): from January 27, 2003 to July 17, 2005, there were 3,495air spaceincursions with 655 attempted aircraft intercepts.
JESSE MARCEL
The book is peppered with little known tales of UFO activity associated with the Washington capitol, such as the late Colonel Jesse Marcel, Jr.’s 1991 clandestine meeting at the Capitol sub-basement with an unnamed official who said that the Roswell UFO crash incident was completelytrue.
The Capitol area has had a long history of stories of paranormal occurrences, such as the 20-year-old man who ran into the Capitol building “being chased by the devil” (Later deduced to be a UFO).
Page 379 gives a date-by-date listing of UFO sightings in Washington, D.C. These are usually triangular or disc-shaped and are very elusive.
INTERVIEWS WITH THE MATRIX
Pages 24 through 200 covers interviews with noted Ufologists, though not much debunking or critical analysis is offered.
Particularly interesting to this writer was David Adair’s story about being taken to Area 51 to examine a crashed UFO that appeared to be almostorganicoramoeba–like in operation. Adair’s connection was his scientific interest in building rockets in the late 1960s. Not all comments from researchers indicated that Adair is being completely truthful; some were suspicious and accused him of being a skilled and pathological liar..
DAVID ADAIR.
Adair’s connection to the UFOs and Area 51 was his scientific interest in building rockets in the late 1960s. Congressman John Ash brook helped fund Adair’s experiments with “second generation fusion rockets,” later gaining the interest of General Curtis Lemay, and eventually becoming a disciple of Dr. Steven Greer’s Disclosure Project..
David Adair.
”Wow! I’m surprised this guy hasn’t made the Hoax list here. This guy is one weird story. Just type ‘David Adair’ into YouTube searches from some very fun stories from a ‘rocket scientist,’” said ‘Inconceivable’ on May 15, 2008, Thursday, 4:22 a.m. “He’s apparently been around for a while and has some kind of track record in aeronautics though I don’t know if any of that child prodigy news checks out. I just saw his stuff on YouTube for the first time yesterday. Apparently Dr. Greer interviewed him for the Disclosure Project a few years back but even he must have thought Adair was over the top. I just finished reading the Greer’s Disclosure Project and Adair’s story is not in there.”
“If you Google his name it’s hard to find any debunking investigation of his claims. Incredible claims combined with that ‘I’m just a humble engineer with ‘only the facts face.’ It’s hard to beat that combination; clever,” ‘Inconceivable’ continued. “Ufology today is a minefield of con-artists, hoaxers, disinformers, the misinformed, the gullible and even the mentally ill. But you have to admit, it’s great entertainment!”
TRIP TO AREA 51
It was Adair’s prototype fusion rocket crash that provided him with a trip to Area 51 where he allegedly observed a crashed UFO that had a spooky “brain–machine–interface”; its “parts” acted almost organically symbiotic: Adair said he was taken into the belly of a captured alien spacecraft.
Opinions vary as to the reality of Adair’s claims. ‘Oli’ commented on September 30, 2005, “….is the guy deliberately lying or does he believe his own bullshit, and why does the reporter take him at face value? The numbers quoted are outlandish, and everything he says is accepted as gospel. Surely, this sort of crap doesn’t help anyone’s case? Or, are pro-UFO fans ingeniously willing to take anything at all provided it supports their beliefs?”
‘Oli’ pointed out that Adair has suspicious math in a few instances. How do you calculate 8,759 mph in “about 4.6 seconds”? Would “carbonite” withstand the G-loads in acceleration? “Why do you need to create a ‘synthetic black hole’ for a fusion engine, asked ‘Oli,’ “a sufficiently strong magnetic field (is all that is required).”
On September 17, 2006, “Phlogistician” stated he couldn’t locate any “fusion rockets” displayed at any Science Fairs..
ARTHUR RUDOLPH.
In the middle of his adventure, Adair also had the opportunity of meeting Dr. Arthur Rudolph, the Nazi Gestapo agent during the building of the V-2 rockets and later the creation of Operation Paperclip rescues into America. Through his demonstrations of his rocket technology, Adair was taken to Area 51 on June 20, 1971..
Dr. Arthur Rudolph .
Rudolph was a realNazicharacter in the analogs of the German Gestapo, culminating in Operations Overcast and Paperclip. Germar Rudolf documents Rudolph’s management of the Apollo Moon Landing program at Huntsville, Alabama (Gestapo USA). Operation Paperclip, inspired by Allen Dulles and approved by Harry Truman, was to bring 1,000 Nazi scientists into the United States. The CIA created the CapitalInternationalAirways in 1947 so they could avoid custom inspections and background checks. Some clandestine agents “were building the new CIA out of some very interesting back-stage fragments of the German war machine.”
However, this knowledge is available to anyone who cared to do research – even Adair could have found it and incorporated it into his story. Adair, however, insisted he was actually there!
CROP CIRCLES.
Entered crop circles and Adair’s belief they contain “complex, fractal, energy patterns.” His attachment to crop circles may be the weakestlink in his substantiation as it has long been suspected by myself and other researchers that a body of sophisticated hoaxers, for the main part (not so sophisticated in others), create many of the circles – some are even in competition and offermoney to farmers to accompany the fraud. Unfortunately, Adair seemed too friendly to what appears a tainted topic, a suspicious association. Crop circles may be the intersection where hoax, religious belief, and science blend into a “flyingsaucertheology.”
Crop Circle Makers Rod Dickinson and John Lundberg.
STANDARD METHODS
Crop circle designs, said Amis, are from standard methods of Euclidean geometry using no-graduated rulers and compasses. Also, no advanced mathematical figures have been found at Nazca, for instance, and some crop circle patterns are “incomplete.”
Creative Commons spoke of a group called The Circle Makers who were involved in commercial competition – such as the prize awarded by the Arthur Koestler Foundation and PM Magazine. Some companies paid well for their creations (Jones, 2009, Guardian.co.uk).
Gabor Takacs, Robert Dalles, Matthew Williams are a few who had been arrested. Hoaxers have been caught (2004, Netherlands, Margyr and Roodenburg, Reframing Dutch Culture, pp. 143-145).
The July 28, 1999 Avebury Stone Circle was heralded by UFO researchers Linda- Moulton-Howe and Whitley Strieber as “BEST PROOF.” The circle was disproved with a confession by Team Satan circle-makers that were commissioned by the Daily Mail. Seven people created the circle between 11:00 p.m. and 4:30 a.m. They were witnessed by reporters and photographers from the Daily Mail..
The Avebury Stone Crop Circle..
Both Adair and our government were feeding off the UFO phenomena and experimenting, says Stanley, with “electromagnetic fusion containment systems.”
AIRSHIPS, NAZI UFOS, AND WALT DISNEY
Stanley equally explores scientific claims of John Searl, Nassim Haramein and journalist Philip Krapf. While interesting, their stories can’t be ‘finalized’ and Stanley’s portrayals are not critical or truly penetrating analysis. Krapf’s “Verdants” seem just more of the growing class of “UFOreligio–cultists” that have arisen in the UFO arena.
Stanley devotes quite a bit of space to early sightings with several 1890 “airship” cases. Another period he focuses upon is the 1930s, several sightings being of “triangular” crafts. June 1, 1930 was a typical sighting at Franklin, New York.
An origin of NAZI-Germany knowledge of aliencraft came from capture of a craft in 1937 in the town of Czernica. Scientists Wehner Von Braun, Herman Goring, Max Von Laue, Otto Hahn, and Werner Heisenberg began Nazi incursions into their own aircraft inventions..
Depiction of the 1937 Czernica UFO Crash
One airship/cow kidnapping case Stanley uses is actually a tale from a “Liars’ Club”: Mark Cashman documented the tale of April 1, 1897, wherein Le Roy Hamilton and cohorts were signers of the aforementioned affidavit, an organization of ‘tall-tales.’ This story unfortunately keeps resurfacing to the detriment of true and honest claims of UFOs.
Retired Air Force Lieutenant Colonel Wendle Steven spoke of a March 19, 1995 Walt Disney UFO documentary that quoted Disney Chief Executive Officer Michael Eisner on the reality of UFOs as space visitors:
“For governments determined to maintain their authority, extraterrestrial contact is pure dynamite,” stated Eisner. On April 19, 1995, Dr. Seth Shostak of the Seti Institute took issue with the content of the Disney feature: “….imagination alone should not be sold as science, especially when science is every bit as interesting as the fantasy.…you should at least temper your skewed presentation of contact with cosmic inhabitants by mentioning the scientific attempts….in matters of discovery nothing rivals the power of fact.”.
The 1995 Walt Disney UFO Documentary
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Steve Erdmann, 1980s photo
Steve Erdmann – Independent Investigative Journalist
David Adair: His presentations have inspired many organizations and his list of clients include the American Society of Mechanical Engineers, Carolina Power & Light Company, Clemson University, Consolidated Freightways, Edison Electric, Georgia Power Company, Hanes Corporation, Hoechst-Celanese Corporation, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Reynolds Aluminum, R.J. Reynolds, Thomasville Furniture Industries, Union Electric Company, and the United States Army, Air Force and Navy to name but a few .
That the formation made by Dickinson and Co. is an excellent, if imperfect, work of art was acknowledged (despite the crude representation of a Mandelbrot Set in the center). Despite many poor hoaxes each year this one was by far the best man-made effort at that time in the early 2000s..
Crop Circle Makers Rod Dickinson and John Lundberg
A somewhat handsomely packaged chronology of Unidentified Flying Objects (UFOs) over the District of Columbia’s Prohibited Air Defense Identification Zone (ADIZ), these are violations of the P-56A airspace restriction of the controlled capital area. The National Capitol Region Command Center (NCRCC) statistics averaged these violations about four a day. Government aircraft intercepts averaged five times a week (p. 275).
Many intruders did not appear to be conventional aircraft.
(Covert Encounters in Washington D.C., Robert M. Stanley, Unicus Press, Providence, Rhode Island, 2011, 417 pages. $28.00. www.unicusmagazine.com.)
The penalties for these violations are codes of Federal Regulations: 14 CFR Part 99: “….to enter US airspace, without inducing the scrambling of fighter interceptors, these rules must be complied with and followed.” A Fact Sheet in regards to Prohibited Area 56 states: “Failure to follow these procedures may result in interception by military aircraft and/or use of force. This applies to all aircraft within the ADIZ, including Department Of Defense, law enforcement and Operating Aeromedical Operations.”
Heavy Fines and Detention
P-56A Restricted Air Space
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Wendelle Stevens was a Second Lieutenant in the U.S. Army Air Corps and a flight test pilot at Kelly Field, as well as Technical Specialist operating hi-tech, data–surveillance equipment on B-29s in Project Ptarmigan. He tells his tale of accidentally flying through the edge of the Restricted Zone:
“Especially since the airspace over Washington, D.C., is either restricted or prohibited: nothing is allowed to fly through there without permission. One day, while piloting an aircraft, I cut the corner on a restricted area like that, and I was ordered to land at a nearby military base. They took me in and checked my airplane all over thoroughly…They really grilled me for cutting through the corner of that restricted air space. They knew immediately when I had crossed over the line. They knew exactly which airplane I was and called me on the radio by my tail number and ordered me to land…”
“I eventually got out of the $10,000 fine by protesting that I couldn’t afford it on my pilot’s salary…I got a letter from the Comptroller General stating that it was costing them more to process my check than they were getting, so they told me to cease sending any more checks.”
The Capitol Under Attack
The book goes as early as 1850 to begin its search of Washington D.C. sightings. Rather than decrease in violations of the P-56A, UFOs appear to increase over the prohibited area, with a definite spike in 2010. The only other similar spike was in 1952, the year of the famous July 26, 1952 ‘invasion’ and attempted intercept by military jets.
“According to public documents, there were more than 90 known underground military/government bases surrounding D.C.,” says Stanley. “Allegedly, these are connected by high-speed rail systems and are extremely well-guarded, actively tracking the maneuvers of UFOs.”
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Tunnel System Under the Capitol
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Many of the reports and cases Stanley talks about are anecdotal – they appear to be honest accounts – reports of UFOs, but one can’t be sure how well-investigated they were originally. Some are quite fantastic; some more fantastic than others..
On July 26, 1952, a piece of a UFO was retrieved from an aerial attack on a UFO over Washington, D.C. It was discovered to contain magnesiumorthosilicate and thousands of 15 micron spheres (p. 41). In March, 2010, a flying “septeloid’ or ‘‘cephalopied’ (allegedly from the star system Delta Pavonis) was seen flying over D.C., also secretly infiltrating our government: the 7602nd Air Intelligence Wing at Fort Belvoir was said to be involved (pp. 288-290).
Touching Distance
On January 1, 2000, during America’s Millennium celebration at the National Mall, eight or more triangular, cylindrical and blimp-like objects careened and zipped before thousands, Stanley tells us, including police. Some objects swooped within touching distance. One witness counted about 20 triangle-shaped craft flying in mass like a “group of gnats’’ moving “quick and nimble.” A “mystery man” in a business suit, speaking mysteriously about the UFOs, was seen wandering through the crowd (pp. 150-161).
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Group of Pulsing White Spheres Over Capitol.
Chevron-shaped, boomerang-shaped, triangular-shaped, “gigantic rectangular wing”-shaped UFOs are often seen over D.C. (July 22, 2003, December 8, 2004, March 8, 2004, March 9, 2005, June 14, 2005). Many UFOs are tracedonradar (July 27, 1952). Most were described as disk-shaped, oval, globular, with colorful, flashing lights, some moving at erratic and fantastic speeds. Some appeared to “shape-shift” (July 21, 2002).,
UFOs Over Capitol.
Even More Bizarre
The stories of UFOnauts being held in storage beneath the Capitol are equally intriguing. One such case was that of Peace Prize Winner and professional statesman Cordell Hull who confessed to his cousins the supposed hidden bodies and craft of aliens under the capitol.
The book branches out into paranormal cases of the bizarre in the area of the Capitol, such as the 1949 demon possession case, and the “demon cat” which stalked the D.C. area since 1862. The 1949 demon possession case seems somewhat askew to UFOs, except to mention that certain UFO “hot spots” are also host to multipleparanormal events. These are not always obvious during first investigations.
Stanley quotes extensively from the personal diary of the late Colonel Philip Corso, whom, unlike the popular Bill Birnes’ Day after Roswell, reveals what appear to be revelations of intimate contact of our government with UFOnauts. This is extended into what Stanley calls “the Satanic Underground” and the ‘Luciferians” of Washington—entailing a list of participants such as Robert McNamara (“Temple of Understanding”), Satanist Lieutenant Colonel Michael Aquino (“Satanic Temple of Set”)..
Throughout Washington.
A Meeting at the Bohemian Grove
Victims Kathy O’Brien and Paul Bonacci testified that statesmen Richard Byrd, Dick Thomburgh, Jim Trificent, Presidents Ronald Reagan, George W. Busch and others were celebrates of Satanism at various times and places (pp. 328-330)..
Photo Taken at the Bohemian Grove.
Washington Hot Spot
“During my research, I was quite surprised to discover that, statistically, Washington, D.C. had had more UFO sightings per square mile than any other location on earth,” says Stanley. “Furthermore, it makes no sense that anyone, especially the military, would repeatedly fly top secret, advanced, exotic space craft over Washington, D.C.”
“When the governments of the earth finally admit we are not alone, it will truly be a dawning of a new age, and a new public perspective, that will affirm the existence of extra-terrestrial and extra-dimensional entities.”
“Our common defense against these predatory ET types is limited but growing,” says Ed Komarek, speaking about his research on extraterrestrials in UFO Exploiters and the New WorldDisorder. “Air Forces around the world in the 1950s were estimated to be losing an aircraft a day trying to intercept UFOs, and I suspect that this prompted Five Star General MacArthur, who built extensive UFO/ET files in the 1940’s, to state in 1955 that, ‘the next war will be interplanetary war. The nations must someday make a common front against attacks by people from other planets.’ Fortunately, this dire prediction has not yet come to pass.”
(UFOs, Exopolitics and the NewWorldDisorder, Ed Komarek, Shoestring Publishing, 3301 Highway 93 South, Cairo, Georgia 39828, edkomarek@yahoo.com, Exopolitics. Blogspot.com, 2012, 372 pages, $16.00.)
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HIGHLY AUTOCRATIC
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Komarek hypothesizes that two races of ETs are involved: the Greys and a “degenerate faction” of Sitchin’s Anunnaki called “fallen angels.” He summarizes that the “Global Elite” is already attached and this “highly autocratic earth-human society” and are nefariously directing affairs.
The New World Disorder can hide behind questionable images such as faked radar returns, and as elaborate as “Reptilian” appearances to chameleon “amphibian” Aquatic gods. Such highly bizarre claims purportedly avail themselves to lie-detector tests (p. 46).
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QUESTIONS
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There are a lot of questions an objective investigator will ask, such as: What happened to the “pencil slate” the UFO witness kept from a 1955 UFO episode (p. 71)? How can the governments of the world sustain a Secret Space Fleet with no possibility of an average citizen breaking The Iron Curtain of Secrecy (p. 121)? It is not surprising that Komarek did not find much skepticism on the Internet about Luca Scantamburlo’s crashed spaceship and aliens on the moon, because the vast Internet audience is bent on “believing,” not skepticism (p. 123). When you enter Komarek’s world, things always seem logical, but accompanying “hard-boiled” facts do not necessarily follow.
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MISSING PLANES
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By the end of the 1950s, says the author, numerous “bases” had been established for liaisons with ETs. Nellis AFB houses Nordic, Grey and Tall-White ETs. “Only MJ 12 knew the whole story,” says Komarek. The Germans were privy to the first UFO crashes in 1936. Komarek quotes General Benjamin Chidlaw, who says in 1953: “We have stacks of reports of flying saucers. We take them very seriously when you consider we have lost many men and planes trying to intercept them!”
Former Air Force Intelligence Officer Leonard Stringfield is told that they were losing about a plane a day from UFO encounters (p. 80).
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TOYS AND MOLECULAR COHESION
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The late Dr. Olavo T. Fontes from Brazil reported in a February 27, 1958 letter that American Intelligence officials spoke with him and told him that worldly governments “have absolute proof” of alien crafts and that six known crashes had taken place with “little men” of about 46-inches. Propulsion was “rotating and oscillating high voltage electromagnetic fields.” Fontes was told that UFOnauts could be very hostile and tend to treat us as “toys” (p. 83). They have an “ultrasonic beam” that disrupts the molecular cohesion of objects and can freely interfere with all kinds of apparatus.
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ULTIMATE CONTROL
The goal of perturbing UFOnauts, says Fontes, is control, first with “friendly interference,” but followed by total war and police action, if you fail to cooperate; even the President of the U.S “is not informed of the whole truth” (p. 84). Uncontrolled panic could very well ensue.
To control the situation, governments have resorted to strict censorship and top-secret orders for fear of pandemic panic and chaos. Ridicule, death, and imprisonment are sometimes used. He quotes a high-ranking military official: “We are not interested in the so-called ‘Inalienable Rights’ of the people. Right or wrong we – the military – are going to stop us.” (p. 85).
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ARTILLERY SHELLS VAPORIZED
Ed Komarek
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Ed Komarek presents case after case of UFO lore that he feels embodies the adequate testimony to bolster these facts, such as the Gene Ruegg recording of a phantom jet being abducted in July 1968 (pp. 86-88).
Komarek quotes from UFO Crash at Aztec about Baron Nicholas E. Von Poppen’s visit to Los Alamos in November 1942 to see a retrieved ET craft with 5-foot creatures: “…white…very pale skin, as if they had come from a cold world with little air.” (p. 90)
The physicist Dr. Hans Larson Loberg’s crashed Norwegian UFO was constructed of a material that “resisted 15,000-Fahrenheit without melting.”
Similar to other reported UFO incidents, competent artillery shells fired at a May 23-24, 1974 UFO at the Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany, “…(were) as if the shells were being absorbed or being vaporized at the explosion by some sort of force field.” There was no radar return on the launch control console. A Chaparral Antiaircraft Missile was launched and exploded on the UFO. The UFO descended to the valley floor.
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Never to Talk
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This incident is important because of the variety of military personnel involved as well as the heavy military five-power, the unknown “pod” attached to the C141 aircraft, and lastly the mysterious disembarking “M-16-carrying crew” the pilot of the C141 left at the Wright Patterson Air Force Base. Major Mike Andrews was told that this affair was “a highly classified mission and they were never to talk about it to anyone.” (pp. 98-104)
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Human Mutilation
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Chapter Two gets into some rather gruesome and horrifying tales of “human mutilation” by UFOnauts. We’ve heard the suspicions about cattle mutilations, but to have a human mutilation described in detail could be a little worrisome for most readers. This allegedly happened at the White Sands Missile Test Range in New Mexico in March 1956. The author also gives us the tale of an abduction of a 13-year-old-boy in October 1953.
A Three Stat General told investigator Timothy Beckley in July 1989: “The aliens take about 2,200 children a year from the United States and other countries.”
The vision that comes to Erdmann’s mind when reading this allegation is his personal after-midnight UFO encounter in 1959 or 1960 as he walked home following a late movie: the UFO briefly hovered, glowing above and near him, changed its shape and shot upwards. He wonders, at times, what if…..?
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Breakaway Civilization
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“I am trying to provide the reader with evidence that supports the idea that much of this Breakaway Civilization’s advanced technology and its Super-Secret Space Program,” says Kotare, “is based upon reverse engineering extraterrestrial technologies.”
Much of this is done through Technology Transfer Programs (TTPs) negotiated between ET groups and human governments. Komarek refers to this alliance as the Alien Resource Cartel. “…a very important part of the overall globalist’s network of criminal enterprises.” Bill Hose, Aerospace Engineer, commented: “The organization is extremely hierarchal, especially given the needs of compartmentalization. A worker reports only to his immediate supervisor, and direct contacts with members of other departments and higher management are rare.” (pp. 114-115)
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Secret Space Program
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Komarek speaks of a Secret Space Program based on electromagnetic and electrogravitic-exotic-technologies; corporations that are major players in the Military-Industrial-Complex. He recites the legend: “Many researchers believe that this Secret Space Program and Space Fleet are capable of not only rapid travel about our solar system with bases on the moon and mars, but deep-space-capable as well, as was indicated by Ben Rich.”
Ben Rich supposedly broached remarks in response to how UFOs fly, he remarked: “How does ESP work?” Lockheed Skunkworks Engineer USAF and CIA Contractor Don Phillips added: “The knowledge I have of these technologies came from the craft we captured here. I didn’t see the craft, nor did I see the bodies, but I certainly knew some of the people that did. There was no question that there were beings from outside the planet.”
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Sworn an Oath
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Solar Warden, says Komarek, is the Code Word for our Hidden Space Fleet. “We have visited all the planets in our solar system, at a distance of course,” says OpenMindsForum, “except mercury….these ships contain personnel from many countries and have sworn an oath to the World Government also, known as the Bilderbergers: the technology came from back-engineering alien-disc wreckage and at times with alien assistance.” (p. 120)
“All this material shows that NASA and the military never really ended manned explorations as claimed,” says Komarek, “but continued covert activities in space and on other planetary bodies.”
A Luca Scantamburlo story about the triangular ET craft, a mother ship, and an alien base on the backside of the moon is what can be described as a ‘jaw-buster,’ so-to-speak, but ‘proving’ it will be a ‘brain-buster,’ however. This mission allegedly took place in 1976, consisting of three American astronauts, who trained four-years for the retrieval mission. If anything, at present, it is just a questionable claim looking for a ‘home’ called proof.
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Mind Control Debriefing
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An episode is related about soldiers in 1971, Thailand who interacted with as many as 21 humanoid creatures near their craft and take off. During the customary “debriefing” the soldiers were put through “a combination of drugs and hypnosis” as a means to distort, substitute and rearrange their memories of their UFO case. A question arises: do governments use this ‘method’ of Mind Control regularly?
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The Firm
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Peter A. Bostrom learned from the Special Forces Team that the Super-Secret organization was referred to as “The Firm” (p. 138). “Whatever they did, it altered our memories – affected it with permanence,” says the officer, now a Lieutenant Colonel, “but there is no such thing as a total block. Those things come in surges.”
Komarek believes the Breakaway Society is on verge of Technical Singularity, including such things as rewriting of our genome and superpowers from copying ET contact, “…global rulers are allowing scientific and technological knowledge from extraterrestrial contact to covertly leak out into the public domain for own benefit…(but not) weaken their hold on power.”
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Corporate Cartel
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Komarek renders a classical hierarchical belief that I’ve exposed before, as seen in all sentient beings (p. 19): “The slave master only allows the slave knowledge to do his or her job and no more because to know more would be to invite rebellion. This master-slave concept of ‘Need to Know’ has been incorporated into modern-day national security Top Secret classification systems….” The author reminds us that this “national military and business interest” was called by Dwight D. Eisenhower as the Military Industrial Complex, or also called the Corporate Cartel, the Alien Resource Cartel, and the Special Access Programs (SAPs).
Komarek reveals that the center of the complex was “….not even DOP personnel, but rather private contractors, mainly attorneys.” (p. 174) He declares that ‘American multiple-national-corporation,’ or also called the “Corporate Cartel,” also called The Alien Resource Cartel, and “InterEuropean Companies” from Britain, Canada, and France, Germany and Australia.
Komarek mentions Baron Jesco Von Putthamer, a high ranking Nazi official that came to America through Operation Paperclip, a Nazi operation with close ties to Bush and Ford families. Baron Von Putthamer entered America in 1968 and worked at many major aerospace corporations, showing Cartel influence.
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Part II
Assessments on the Worldwide Cabal and its Hidden Control
Cleansed Dossiers
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Through Reinhard Gehlen’s Nazi Intelligence Network, MK-Ultra, operation Artichoke, and Operation Midnight Climax emerged. One hundred and thirty Paperclip dossiers had been cleansed. The CIA’s Dulles, says Komarek, kept things secret from the President. It is a Shadow Government. Dulles wanted no U.S President privy to UFO secrets. “The global criminality and fraud are just staggering and very difficult for people to wrap their minds around,” says Komarek.
Extraterrestrial liaisons included exchanges with Tall White Creatures and Nellis AFB engineers, says Komarek (p. 193).
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Underworld
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One wonders, once again, about any Mafia/government connections as we are warned about “underground tunnels” between Las Vegas casinos and Nellis AFB (pp. 195-196).
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Tall Whites and Jesus
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Tall Whites programmed “their involvement (that) included fashioning the consciousness of Jesus and sending him to live among earthlings to point to a better way of understanding life and to love.” (p. 199): A rather disruptive conjecture, to say the least. This history won’t be easily accessed or digested, if true. Komarek, however, says: “For them, we seem to be a way-station-pet-stop.” Hopefully not, if Jesus is one of them.
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Titanium
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The use of Titanium in spacecraft is of special interest to Steve Erdmann, as one of the major industries in Carondelet, Missouri is the Titanium plant at the foot of Horn, Weiss and Hoffmeister streets near the Mississippi River in St. Louis. Sometime near 2000, Erdmann and a few other witnesses, spotted a UFO hover over the plant (said to be a police helicopter) flashing a blinding, piercing light (similar to the penetrating light in Spielberg’s CloseEncounters film that blinds the Roy Near character) and eventually flew over Maplewood and disappeared.
Experiments with Titanium, based on alleged ET UFO crashes, has led to the creation of “Nitinol” or ‘memory metal.’ Hidden further in this tale is mention of Project Horizon – which we have already been to the moon and have “out-posts” there in the 1960s. “It would appear that the Globalists have been building their secret empire,” says Komarek, “not only on earth but in space as well.”
One is reminded of the billionaire S.R. Hadden character in Carl Sagan’s 1985 novel (and later the movie) Contact.
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Eisenhower and Aliens
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Komarek alludes to a space-age Higher Morality that includes mixing with various ET cultures: “The galactic human collective” with some difficulty in “the larger playing field” (p. 209). According to inside information given by Jeff Adams, that included eleven major and 124 minor alien races in our galaxy.
Komarek highlights the Gerald Lights April 16, 1954 letter on the Muroc Edwards AFB/ President Eisenhower meeting with Aliens.
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Tunneling Devices
Tunnel Boring Machine
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An interesting aspect to the Global Agenda is Komarek’s appraisals of the various “tunneling devices” patented by the government: Nuclear Subterrene Tunneling Machines (NSTMs). “This vast system of excavated underground tunnels, bases, even cities,” says Komarek, “that are part of the secret infrastructure of the Breakaway Society.”
Nobel-prize-winner, Dr. Karry Mullis, is quoted about his Whitley Strieber-type alien contact in April 1983 in Northern California: “But I don’t deny what happened. It’s what science calls anecdotal because it happened in a way that you can’t reproduce. But it happened”: The bane of Ufology. (p. 221)
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Project Preserve Destiny
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Komarek refers to the string of stories in his book as coherent substantiation, “while not so significant individually when put together methodically and in context make a very compelling case for the classified Breakaway Civilization.” (p. 226) However, if evidence will forever solely consist of tattered bits and pieces of homogenized narrative with no public or official disclosure, we can only wonder about their reality beyond imagination; or, at least, Dan Sherman’s imagination.
Komarek introduces us to Project Preserve Destiny, or the Genetic Management Project, started in 1960 (the year of Erdmann’s UFO sighting) to enable human offspring to communicate with Grey EBEs.
The conversations with Grey’s, Spock, and Bones sound far too Galacticese. Komarek, however, concedes on page 234 that “….it’s almost a hopeless task to find the signal in the noise. What the reader is seeing is a benefit of my life’s work in a nutshell….”
Interestingly, Komarek warns that researchers can become possessed by false claims: “…they will be duped and defrauded by a noisy swarm of false contactees and whistle-blowers and their deluded promoters seeking attention.” (p. 253) “Some cases may be true, but a lot of it is pure BS, and it’s only going to get worse…”
The chronologies of the early 1954 UFO/humanoid cases prove intriguing, reminiscent of the late Aime Michel: 1954 certainly seemed to be a significant year. Humanoid reports seemed like a conglomeration of diversity and similarity, often reflecting major productions. Three motion pictures of that period were (1951) The Day Earth Stood Still, (1953) War of the Worlds, andin 1953 there was the movie Phantom from Space.
.
.
Tall Blond Female
.
Komarek quotes Major George Filer on his belief that the early Sumerians had ET contact and that the late Carl Sagan shared this belief: “Tell the story of extraterrestrial visitors and how they brought civilization to Sumer. They explain the visitors taught them to build ziggurats.”
Komarek believes DNA studies lend to ancient sacred texts that tell us that “fair” extraterrestrials mated with daughters of men (Genesis 6) (p. 272). The case of “Mr. Khoury,” an abductee who retained alien pubic hair (and passed a polygraph test), seemed intriguing: the hair indicated it came from a tall blonde female whose skin didn’t need color as a form of protection from the sun, referred to in the Orient as ”sun gods.”
Michael Hill quoted the late Gordon Creighton as he alludes to an extraterrestrial message: “One of you says, ‘I saw a torpedo-shaped object.’ Others report, ‘disc-like objects,’ some of you say ‘spherical objects,’ or ’platter-like objects,’” said a UFOnaut, “you are reporting correctly and accurately what you saw, and in most cases, you are describing the same sort of vehicle.”
.
Similar to Ourselves
.
Tall-blond-human-descendants appear to have a link from ET, and there may be at least several species of extraterrestrial humans, some very similar to ourselves, says Komarek. Some are biological robots.
Again, Komarek warns his readers to avoid “irrational disinformation – indexed delusionary beliefs” about ET stories (p. 281). One comment, however, about “magnesium UFO fragments” might be questioned as the UFO tale comes to light in OCRUGEIROMagazine on May 14, 1958, shortly after Olavo T. Fonte’s story about magnesium UFO fragments in Ubatuba, Brazil in 1957. Komarek said that he constantly has to fine-tune his ‘spam filter.’ This may be one case were some spam may have slipped through.
.
Multi Universes
The author says “quantum entanglement” explained a lot of the happenings in UFOlogy. He speaks in terms of a “human collective,” sharing “multi-universes” “beyond what we can possibly imagine” (p. 293).
.
Wormhole to the Multi Universe
.
The writer adds an interesting chapter 9 on possible ET battles, going back to Scriptures and various Hindu texts all the way to the present. With so much warfare (and the descriptions seem to be accurate) one wonders why there are not more remains of warfare around the globe, despite military retrieval.
Chapter 10 delves into Trickster Agents, also known as “Jinns.” “The scariest thing our American Intel tried….to get in contact with Jinns to learn the secret of ‘portal’ openings and trans-dimensional transportation.” Muslims refer to these as a “third race that is much older than the human race…existing before mankind…” Also called Djinn, they are “spying on us by pressing against the membrane that divides their world from ours.” Some are “very dangerous and uncontrollable,” and some “can choose between good and evil.”
.
Richard Shaver
.
These descriptions blend with other legends, such as Richard Shaver’s and Ray Palmer’s HiddenWorld of the subterranean Tero and Dero. In Persian legend, says Komarek, Djinn lived on earth at one time and possessed “powerful…technology” greater than modern technology. Powerful Djinn who refused to be ruled by Allah became imprisoned in bottles, rings and “great caves” around the planet. The Majisal-al Jinn of Oman is chronologed in The Vengeful Djinn.
.
Richard S. Shaver
.
Various business and government consortiums have experimented with such “portals” as a means towards “teleportation,” a case in point was the Utah Skinwalker Ranch and Bigelow’s NIDS.
“It’s obvious to me that modern psychology and psychiatric practice has a long way to go,” says Komarek, “in understanding the human condition and the nature of the really big picture…” (p. 319). Komarek clearly believes there are “psychic predators and parasites that inhabit our bodies.”
.
Homogeneous Pawn Shop
.
A discussion about Globalists entails David Rockefeller, the Bilderberg Group, MJ 12, General Electric, the Rothschilds, and expands into the warring factions, even amongst the globalists. Komarek quotes former Canadian Minister of National Defense Paul Hellyer: “The world financial system is a total fraud. It is a gargantuan Ponzi scheme, no better than one Bernie Madoff used to swindle his friends and neighbors, and thousands of time worse…over countless generations…persuaded generation after generation….to provide legislative protection for their larceny.”
Komarek describes how banks “have turned the homogeneous pawn shop….a world system where all the money is created as debt is a perpetual disaster in the making. It is like a giant balloon that the banks pump full of debt…any monetary system based non-debt creation is totally insane.”
.
Federal Reserve Act
.
The Federal Reserve Bank received sole custody of Congress’ Sovereign Constitutional Right – the Federal Reserve Act of 1913. Komarek quotes Baron Stamp: “But if you wish to remain the slaves of bankers, and pay the cost of your own slavery, let them continue to create money.” Komarek adds: “It’s all part of the boom-bust cycle inherent in our infinitely silly monetary system…the same can be said about Canada, the United Kingdom, Germany and myriad countries that are really puppets of the International Financial System. In each case, the real interests of citizen voters are subjugated to the demands of international finance.”
.
The Really Big Picture
.
The author looks ahead to a time where hidden facts forge together with technology (p. 356): “…the deepest mysteries of the universe are found in the evolving field of consciousness investigation and research and we have yet to even scratch the surface of the really big picture.”
“Our common defense against these predatory ET types is limited but growing,” says Ed Komarek, speaking about his research on extraterrestrials in UFO Exploiters and the New WorldDisorder. “Air Forces around the world in the 1950s were estimated to be losing an aircraft a day trying to intercept UFOs, and I suspect that this prompted Five Star General MacArthur, who built extensive UFO/ET files in the 1940’s, to state in 1955 that, ‘the next war will be interplanetary war. The nations must someday make a common front against attacks by people from other planets.’ Fortunately, this dire prediction has not yet come to pass.”
(UFOs, Exopolitics and the NewWorldDisorder, Ed Komarek, Shoestring Publishing, 3301 Highway 93 South, Cairo, Georgia 39828, edkomarek@yahoo.com, Exopolitics. Blogspot.com, 2012, 372 pages, $16.00.)
.
.
HIGHLY AUTOCRATIC
.
Komarek hypothesizes that two races of ETs are involved: the Greys and a “degenerate faction” of Sitchin’s Anunnaki called “fallen angels.” He summarizes that the “Global Elite” is already attached and this “highly autocratic earth-human society” and are nefariously directing affairs.
The New World Disorder can hide behind questionable images such as faked radar returns, and as elaborate as “Reptilian” appearances to chameleon “amphibian” Aquatic gods. Such highly bizarre claims purportedly avail themselves to lie-detector tests (p. 46).
.
QUESTIONS
.
There are a lot of questions an objective investigator will ask, such as: What happened to the “pencil slate” the UFO witness kept from a 1955 UFO episode (p. 71)? How can the governments of the world sustain a Secret Space Fleet with no possibility of an average citizen breaking The Iron Curtain of Secrecy (p. 121)? It is not surprising that Komarek did not find much skepticism on the Internet about Luca Scantamburlo’s crashed spaceship and aliens on the moon, because the vast Internet audience is bent on “believing,” not skepticism (p. 123). When you enter Komarek’s world, things always seem logical, but accompanying “hard-boiled” facts do not necessarily follow.
.
MISSING PLANES
.
By the end of the 1950s, says the author, numerous “bases” had been established for liaisons with ETs. Nellis AFB houses Nordic, Grey and Tall-White ETs. “Only MJ 12 knew the whole story,” says Komarek. The Germans were privy to the first UFO crashes in 1936. Komarek quotes General Benjamin Chidlaw, who says in 1953: “We have stacks of reports of flying saucers. We take them very seriously when you consider we have lost many men and planes trying to intercept them!”
Former Air Force Intelligence Officer Leonard Stringfield is told that they were losing about a plane a day from UFO encounters (p. 80).
.
TOYS AND MOLECULAR COHESION
.
The late Dr. Olavo T. Fontes from Brazil reported in a February 27, 1958 letter that American Intelligence officials spoke with him and told him that worldly governments “have absolute proof” of alien crafts and that six known crashes had taken place with “little men” of about 46-inches. Propulsion was “rotating and oscillating high voltage electromagnetic fields.” Fontes was told that UFOnauts could be very hostile and tend to treat us as “toys” (p. 83). They have an “ultrasonic beam” that disrupts the molecular cohesion of objects and can freely interfere with all kinds of apparatus.
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ULTIMATE CONTROL
The goal of perturbing UFOnauts, says Fontes, is control, first with “friendly interference,” but followed by total war and police action, if you fail to cooperate; even the President of the U.S “is not informed of the whole truth” (p. 84). Uncontrolled panic could very well ensue.
To control the situation, governments have resorted to strict censorship and top-secret orders for fear of pandemic panic and chaos. Ridicule, death, and imprisonment are sometimes used. He quotes a high-ranking military official: “We are not interested in the so-called ‘Inalienable Rights’ of the people. Right or wrong we – the military – are going to stop us.” (p. 85).
.
ARTILLERY SHELLS VAPORIZED
Ed Komarek
.
Ed Komarek presents case after case of UFO lore that he feels embodies the adequate testimony to bolster these facts, such as the Gene Ruegg recording of a phantom jet being abducted in July 1968 (pp. 86-88).
Komarek quotes from UFO Crash at Aztec about Baron Nicholas E. Von Poppen’s visit to Los Alamos in November 1942 to see a retrieved ET craft with 5-foot creatures: “…white…very pale skin, as if they had come from a cold world with little air.” (p. 90)
The physicist Dr. Hans Larson Loberg’s crashed Norwegian UFO was constructed of a material that “resisted 15,000-Fahrenheit without melting.”
Similar to other reported UFO incidents, competent artillery shells fired at a May 23-24, 1974 UFO at the Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany, “…(were) as if the shells were being absorbed or being vaporized at the explosion by some sort of force field.” There was no radar return on the launch control console. A Chaparral Antiaircraft Missile was launched and exploded on the UFO. The UFO descended to the valley floor.
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Never to Talk
.
This incident is important because of the variety of military personnel involved as well as the heavy military five-power, the unknown “pod” attached to the C141 aircraft, and lastly the mysterious disembarking “M-16-carrying crew” the pilot of the C141 left at the Wright Patterson Air Force Base. Major Mike Andrews was told that this affair was “a highly classified mission and they were never to talk about it to anyone.” (pp. 98-104)
.
Human Mutilation
.
Chapter Two gets into some rather gruesome and horrifying tales of “human mutilation” by UFOnauts. We’ve heard the suspicions about cattle mutilations, but to have a human mutilation described in detail could be a little worrisome for most readers. This allegedly happened at the White Sands Missile Test Range in New Mexico in March 1956. The author also gives us the tale of an abduction of a 13-year-old-boy in October 1953.
A Three Stat General told investigator Timothy Beckley in July 1989: “The aliens take about 2,200 children a year from the United States and other countries.”
The vision that comes to Erdmann’s mind when reading this allegation is his personal after-midnight UFO encounter in 1959 or 1960 as he walked home following a late movie: the UFO briefly hovered, glowing above and near him, changed its shape and shot upwards. He wonders, at times, what if…..?
.
Breakaway Civilization
.
“I am trying to provide the reader with evidence that supports the idea that much of this Breakaway Civilization’s advanced technology and its Super-Secret Space Program,” says Kotare, “is based upon reverse engineering extraterrestrial technologies.”
Much of this is done through Technology Transfer Programs (TTPs) negotiated between ET groups and human governments. Komarek refers to this alliance as the Alien Resource Cartel. “…a very important part of the overall globalist’s network of criminal enterprises.” Bill Hose, Aerospace Engineer, commented: “The organization is extremely hierarchical, especially given the needs of compartmentalization. A worker reports only to his immediate supervisor, and direct contacts with members of other departments and higher management are rare.” (pp. 114-115)
.
Secret Space Program
.
Komarek speaks of a Secret Space Program based on electromagnetic and electrogravitic-exotic-technologies; corporations that are major players in the Military-Industrial-Complex. He recites the legend: “Many researchers believe that this Secret Space Program and Space Fleet are capable of not only rapid travel about our solar system with bases on the moon and mars, but deep-space-capable as well, as was indicated by Ben Rich.”
Ben Rich supposedly broached remarks in response to how UFOs fly, he remarked: “How does ESP work?” Lockheed Skunkworks Engineer USAF and CIA Contractor Don Phillips added: “The knowledge I have of these technologies came from the craft we captured here. I didn’t see the craft, nor did I see the bodies, but I certainly knew some of the people that did. There was no question that there were beings from outside the planet.”
.
Sworn an Oath
.
Solar Warden, says Komarek, is the Code Word for our Hidden Space Fleet. “We have visited all the planets in our solar system, at a distance of course,” says OpenMindsForum, “except mercury….these ships contain personnel from many countries and have sworn an oath to the World Government also, known as the Bilderbergers: the technology came from back-engineering alien-disc wreckage and at times with alien assistance.” (p. 120)
“All this material shows that NASA and the military never really ended manned explorations as claimed,” says Komarek, “but continued covert activities in space and on other planetary bodies.”
A Luca Scantamburlo story about the triangular ET craft, a mother ship, and an alien base on the backside of the moon is what can be described as a ‘jaw-buster,’ so-to-speak, but ‘proving’ it will be a ‘brain-buster,’ however. This mission allegedly took place in 1976, consisting of three American astronauts, who trained four-years for the retrieval mission. If anything, at present, it is just a questionable claim looking for a ‘home’ called proof.
.
Mind Control Debriefing
.
An episode is related about soldiers in 1971, Thailand who interacted with as many as 21 humanoid creatures near their craft and take off. During the customary “debriefing” the soldiers were put through “a combination of drugs and hypnosis” as a means to distort, substitute and rearrange their memories of their UFO case. A question arises: do governments use this ‘method’ of Mind Control regularly?
.
The Firm
.
Peter A. Bostrom learned from the Special Forces Team that the Super-Secret organization was referred to as “The Firm” (p. 138). “Whatever they did, it altered our memories – affected it with permanence,” says the officer, now a Lieutenant Colonel, “but there is no such thing as a total block. Those things come in surges.”
Komarek believes the Breakaway Society is on verge of Technical Singularity, including such things as rewriting of our genome and superpowers from copying ET contact, “…global rulers are allowing scientific and technological knowledge from extraterrestrial contact to covertly leak out into the public domain for own benefit…(but not) weaken their hold on power.”
.
Corporate Cartel
.
Komarek renders a classical hierarchical belief that I’ve exposed before, as seen in all sentient beings (p. 19): “The slave master only allows the slave knowledge to do his or her job and no more because to know more would be to invite rebellion. This master-slave concept of ‘Need to Know’ has been incorporated into modern-day national security Top Secret classification systems….” The author reminds us that this “national military and business interest” was called by Dwight D. Eisenhower as the Military Industrial Complex, or also called the Corporate Cartel, the Alien Resource Cartel, and the Special Access Programs (SAPs).
Komarek reveals that the center of the complex was “….not even DOP personnel, but rather private contractors, mainly attorneys.” (p. 174.) He declares that ‘American multiple-national-corporation,’ or also called the “Corporate Cartel,” also called The Alien Resource Cartel, and “InterEuropean Companies” from Britain, Canada, and France, Germany and Australia.
Komarek mentions Baron Jesco Von Putthamer, a high ranking Nazi official that came to America through Operation Paperclip, a Nazi operation with close ties to Bush and Ford families. Baron Von Putthamer entered America in 1968 and worked at many major aerospace corporations, showing Cartel influence.
.
Part II
Assessments on the Worldwide Cabal and its Hidden Control
Cleansed Dossiers
.
Through Reinhard Gehlen’s Nazi Intelligence Network, MK-Ultra, operation Artichoke, and Operation Midnight Climax emerged. One hundred and thirty Paperclip dossiers had been cleansed. The CIA’s Dulles, says Komarek, kept things secret from the President. It is a Shadow Government. Dulles wanted no U.S President privy to UFO secrets. “The global criminality and fraud are just staggering and very difficult for people to wrap their minds around,” says Komarek.’s
Extraterrestrial liaisons included exchanges with Tall White Creatures and Nellis AFB engineers, says Komarek (p. 193).
.
Underworld
.
One wonders, once again, about any Mafia/government connections as we are warned about “underground tunnels” between Las Vegas casinos and Nellis AFB (pp. 195-196).
.
Tall Whites and Jesus
.
Tall Whites programmed “their involvement (that) included fashioning the consciousness of Jesus and sending him to live among earthlings to point to a better way of understanding life and to love.” (p. 199): A rather disruptive conjecture, to say the least. This history won’t be easily accessed or digested, if true. Komarek, however, says: “For them, we seem to be a way-station-pet-stop.” Hopefully not, if Jesus is one of them.
.
Titanium
.
The use of Titanium in spacecraft is of special interest to Steve Erdmann, as one of the major industries in Carondelet, Missouri is the Titanium plant at the foot of Horn, Weiss and Hoffmeister streets near the Mississippi River in St. Louis. Sometime near 2000, Erdmann and a few other witnesses, spotted a UFO hover over the plant (said to be a police helicopter) flashing a blinding, piercing light (similar to the penetrating light in Spielberg’s CloseEncounters film that blinds the Roy Near character) and eventually flew over Maplewood and disappeared.
Experiments with Titanium, based on alleged ET UFO crashes, has led to the creation of “Nitinol” or ‘memory metal.’ Hidden further in this tale is mention of Project Horizon – which we have already been to the moon and have “out-posts” there in the 1960s. “It would appear that the Globalists have been building their secret empire,” says Komarek, “not only on earth but in space as well.”
One is reminded of the billionaire S.R. Hadden character in Carl Sagan’s 1985 novel (and later the movie) Contact.
.
Eisenhower and Aliens
.
Komarek alludes to a space-age Higher Morality that includes mixing with various ET cultures: “The galactic human collective” with some difficulty in “the larger playing field” (p. 209). According to inside information given by Jeff Adams, that included eleven major and 124 minor alien races in our galaxy.
Komarek highlights the Gerald Lights April 16, 1954 letter on the Muroc Edwards AFB/ President Eisenhower meeting with Aliens.
.
Tunneling Devices
Tunnel Boring Machine
.
An interesting aspect to the Global Agenda is Komarek’s appraisals of the various “tunneling devices” patented by the government: Nuclear Subterrene Tunneling Machines (NSTMs). “This vast system of excavated underground tunnels, bases, even cities,” says Komarek, “that are part of the secret infrastructure of the Breakaway Society.”
Nobel-prize-winner, Dr. Karry Mullis, is quoted about his Whitley Strieber-type alien contact in April 1983 in Northern California: “But I don’t deny what happened. It’s what science calls anecdotal because it happened in a way that you can’t reproduce. But it happened”: The bane of Ufology. (p. 221)
.
Project Preserve Destiny
.
Komarek refers to the string of stories in his book as coherent substantiation, “while not so significant individually when put together methodically and in context make a very compelling case for the classified Breakaway Civilization.” (p. 226) However, if evidence will forever solely consist of tattered bits and pieces of homogenized narrative with no public or official disclosure, we can only wonder about their reality beyond imagination; or, at least, Dan Sherman’s imagination.
Komarek introduces us to Project Preserve Destiny, or the Genetic Management Project, started in 1960 (the year of Erdmann’s UFO sighting) to enable human offspring to communicate with Grey EBEs.
The conversations with Grey’s, Spock, and Bones sound far too Galacticese. Komarek, however, concedes on page 234 that “….it’s almost a hopeless task to find the signal in the noise. What the reader is seeing is a benefit of my life’s work in a nutshell….”
Interestingly, Komarek warns that researchers can become possessed by false claims: “…they will be duped and defrauded by a noisy swarm of false contactees and whistle-blowers and their deluded promoters seeking attention.” (p. 253) “Some cases may be true, but a lot of it is pure BS, and it’s only going to get worse…”
The chronologies of the early 1954 UFO/humanoid cases prove intriguing, reminiscent of the late Aime Michel: 1954 certainly seemed to be a significant year. Humanoid reports seemed like a conglomeration of diversity and similarity, often reflecting major productions. Three motion pictures of that period were (1951) The Day Earth Stood Still, (1953) War of the Worlds, andin 1953 there was the movie Phantom from Space.
.
.
Tall Blond Female
.
Komarek quotes Major George Filer on his belief that the early Sumerians had ET contact and that the late Carl Sagan shared this belief: “Tell the story of extraterrestrial visitors and how they brought civilization to Sumer. They explain the visitors taught them to build ziggurats.”
Komarek believes DNA studies lend to ancient sacred texts that tell us that “fair” extraterrestrials mated with daughters of men (Genesis 6) (p. 272). The case of “Mr. Khoury,” an abductee who retained alien pubic hair (and passed a polygraph test), seemed intriguing: the hair indicated it came from a tall blonde female whose skin didn’t need color as a form of protection from the sun, referred to in the Orient as ”sun gods.”
Michael Hill quoted the late Gordon Creighton as he alludes to an extraterrestrial message: “One of you says, ‘I saw a torpedo-shaped object.’ Others report, ‘disc-like objects,’ some of you say ‘spherical objects,’ or ’platter-like objects,’” said a UFOnaut, “you are reporting correctly and accurately what you saw, and in most cases, you are describing the same sort of vehicle.”
.
Similar to Ourselves
.
Tall-blond-human-descendants appear to have a link from ET, and there may be at least several species of extraterrestrial humans, some very similar to ourselves, says Komarek. Some are biological robots.
Again, Komarek warns his readers to avoid “irrational disinformation – indexed delusionary beliefs” about ET stories (p. 281). One comment, however, about “magnesium UFO fragments” might be questioned as the UFO tale comes to light in OCRUGEIROMagazine on May 14, 1958, shortly after Olavo T. Fonte’s story about magnesium UFO fragments in Ubatuba, Brazil in 1957. Komarek said that he constantly has to fine-tune his ‘spam filter.’ This may be one case were some spam may have slipped through.
.
Multi Universes
The author says “quantum entanglement” explained a lot of the happenings in UFOlogy. He speaks in terms of a “human collective,” sharing “multi-universes” “beyond what we can possibly imagine” (p. 293).
.
Wormhole to the Multi Universe
.
The writer adds an interesting chapter 9 on possible ET battles, going back to Scriptures and various Hindu texts all the way to the present. With so much warfare (and the descriptions seem to be accurate) one wonders why there are not more remains of warfare around the globe, despite military retrieval.
Chapter 10 delves into Trickster Agents, also known as “Jinns.” “The scariest thing our American Intel tried….to get in contact with Jinns to learn the secret of ‘portal’ openings and trans-dimensional transportation.” Muslims refer to these as a “third race that is much older than the human race…existing before mankind…” Also called Djinn, they are “spying on us by pressing against the membrane that divides their world from ours.” Some are “very dangerous and uncontrollable,” and some “can choose between good and evil.”
.
Richard Shaver
.
These descriptions blend with other legends, such as Richard Shaver’s and Ray Palmer’s HiddenWorld of the subterranean Tero and Dero. In Persian legend, says Komarek, Djinn lived on earth at one time and possessed “powerful…technology” greater than modern technology. Powerful Djinn who refused to be ruled by Allah became imprisoned in bottles, rings and “great caves” around the planet. The Majisal-al Jinn of Oman is chronologed in The Vengeful Djinn.
.
Richard S. Shaver
.
Various business and government consortiums have experimented with such “portals” as a means towards “teleportation,” a case in point was the Utah Skinwalker Ranch and Bigelow’s NIDS.
“It’s obvious to me that modern psychology and psychiatric practice has a long way to go,” says Komarek, “in understanding the human condition and the nature of the really big picture…” (p. 319). Komarek clearly believes there are “psychic predators and parasites that inhabit our bodies.”
.
Homogeneous Pawn Shop
.
A discussion about Globalists entails David Rockefeller, the Bilderberg Group, MJ 12, General Electric, the Rothschilds, and expands into the warring factions, even amongst the globalists. Komarek quotes former Canadian Minister of National Defense Paul Hellyer: “The world financial system is a total fraud. It is a gargantuan Ponzi scheme, no better than one Bernie Madoff used to swindle his friends and neighbors, and thousands of time worse…over countless generations…persuaded generation after generation….to provide legislative protection for their larceny.”
Komarek describes how banks “have turned the homogeneous pawn shop….a world system where all the money is created as debt is a perpetual disaster in the making. It is like a giant balloon that the banks pump full of debt…any monetary system based non-debt creation is totally insane.”
.
Federal Reserve Act
.
The Federal Reserve Bank received sole custody of Congress’ Sovereign Constitutional Right – the Federal Reserve Act of 1913. Komarek quotes Baron Stamp: “But if you wish to remain the slaves of bankers, and pay the cost of your own slavery, let them continue to create money.” Komarek adds: “It’s all part of the boom-bust cycle inherent in our infinitely silly monetary system…the same can be said about Canada, the United Kingdom, Germany and myriad countries that are really puppets of the International Financial System. In each case, the real interests of citizen voters are subjugated to the demands of international finance.”
.
The Really Big Picture
.
The author looks ahead to a time where hidden facts forge together with technology (p. 356): “…the deepest mysteries of the universe are found in the evolving field of consciousness investigation and research and we have yet to even scratch the surface of the really big picture.”
The UFO Spotlight On... 