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Location: UFOUpDatesList.Com > 1997 > Oct > Oct 19

Re: Questions for Abductees

From: Peregrine Mendoza <101653.2205@compuserve.com> [Peter Brookesmith]
Date: Sun, 19 Oct 1997 00:57:07 -0400
Fwd Date: Sun, 19 Oct 1997 02:31:13 -0400
Subject: Re: Questions for Abductees

The Duke of Mendoza presents his compliments.

>From: wlmss@peg.apc.org [Lawrie Williams]
>Date: Sat, 18 Oct 1997 04:57:14 +1000 (GMT+1000)
>To: updates@globalserve.net
>Subject: Questions for Abductees

>The Duke implies I have naive and amateurish ideas about hypnosis
>but if you rake through the verbal muck carefully enough one can
>see it is only implied in such a way that others will infer it.
>Fact is I have never been hypnotized nor would I suggest it to
>anyone else.

The Duke infers nothing of the kind. The Duke observed with a micture
sorry (but look it up!) mixture of despair and disgust that you
blithely predicted to a 16-year-old girl that she would be
impregnated by aliens. Others have been measured in their criticism
of this astounding revelation, and deserve congratulation, not to say
medals and ticker-tape parades, for their self-control. With extreme
difficulty I shall attempt just this once to emulate their example.

Your status as a non-hypnotized abductee is totally irrelevant to
the case of "the person K". Your status as a non-hypnotized "abductee"
has its own fascinations, but they give you no special authority as
a diviner of others' conditions or as an advisor to anyone. Because
"the person K" has reported something like a abduction experience
*does not* mean that is what they had. Nobody knows (except, it seems,
you) what happened to them. Instead of trying to find out what did
occur, you make one monstrous assumption and then tell this kid
that she can expect to be rogered and made pregnant by an alien.

Now here is this little gem:

>you should know that the person in question K was
>not distressed before or after the experience. I have never even
>met her in fact!

So, never having met her, on what basis can you *possibly* judge
her reaction to the alleged events or to your thoroughly stupid,
unjustified and (let's think the best here) irresponsible prediction?
How did you communicate? By phone? Fax? E-mail? Tell, please do.

Why am I so bloody annoyed?

Gather round children let me tell you a tale:

Sir Cedric, a handsome but somewhat self-absorbed youth,
had a fine stallion named Laughter, whom he let to run
with several of his sleekest mares in a sweet meadow.

Sir Cedric was also much besotted with the fair Lady Elfride,
the niece of his godfather. She was sixteen and ravishing.

One fine summer evening Sir Cedric was talking and chuckling
to his stallion Laughter, and tickling his ears, for Laughter
was an passing fine horse. Also passing at this time came one
of Sir Cedric's sleek mares, one named Sparkle, and she spooked
Laughter by standing behind him, and sniffing at his naughty

Laughter legged it. As he shot by Sir Cedric, just as a
precaution in the circumstances, he flicked his powerful left
hind leg in the general direction of the startled youth. Sir
Cedric felt a terrible pain, then a numbness, then a ghastly
sickness, then a kind of all-embracing stupidity overtook him.
Laughter's iron-shod hoof had whacked him in the goolies.

Sir Cedric sat down, speechless. Never had he known such agony.
He sat and learned how to breathe all over again, how to cope
with pain beyond endurance, for an hour at least. Sometimes he
groaned. Sometimes for pain, sometimes in disbelief. As he sat
there the birds fell silent. Larks and snipes went to their
nests in the grass, just feet from where he sat, his arms clasped
round his shins. Occasionally he forced his head to the ground.
The sun had sunk behind the distant hills before Sir Cedric
could bring himself to stand, and make his way delicately
across the meadows to his father's manor, and to his bed. For
he took no supper that night, and spoke to no one.

The next day at about sundown Sir Cedric went walking - with some
care - in the fields near where Laughter was running with his
mares. Sir Cedric bore no grudge against his horse, but felt that
he would prefer a decent hedge to stand between the creature and
himself as they exchanged their habitual interspecies pleasantries.

But, horror on horror! Whom should he see in the twilight but
fair Elfride! Sitting on a tump in Laughter's field, her legs
drawn up, her arms clasped about her shins, and little cries
escaping her pretty pouting lips as she gazed, glazed, in seeming
stupefaction, into the glorious but heartless sunset.

With one bound (it was a low hedge) he was by her side.

"Ah, my dearest Elfride," cried Sir Cedric. "That fiendish horse!
He has kicked you I can see! I shall have him shot in the morning
at first light, and his foals sent all to the knacker's the moment
they are born. Such is my passion for you I can do no less for your
tender care."

"Do not be a prat," replied the lovely damsel. "If that wimpish
creature so much as sniffed at me I should rip his lips off and
tear his lungs out. I am merely admiring this charming sunset,
and suffering a trifle from cramp in my thigh. Perhaps," - and
her cornflower-blue eyes twinkled as she exposed the suffering
limb to the youth's swooning gaze - "you would care to caress it
for me and assuage my pain?"

(Curtain, seditious jeers from peasants and groundlings, &c)

The only connexion between you and Sir Cedric in this parable is
your prattishness and your incapacity to judge a situation from
anything but your own point of view. Do you get the point?

>Nobody can say I am not even-handed in the people I upset.

True. Some might pause at the significance of this. After all Messrs
Velez and Turrel (on one side, and also abductees) and Mendoza and
Malone (on the other) are not exactly famed for their luvvie-duvvie
agreement on what abductions really are. But they are agreed that
the welfare of the experient is paramount. You've just royally screwed
this up, potentially (assuming the lady K is not having you on -
ever think of that?). When a mob of such generally opposed persons
jump on you with both feet, does it not cross your mind - never a
long journey, it would seem - that you might be just a teensy, eensy,
weeny bit mistaken? Apparently not.

Somewhere or the other Plato has Socrates say to an acolyte: "Go,
tell no one, and drown thyself."

Not a bad idea, but more kindly I think you might at least restrict
yourself to counting aircraft conked out by UFOs, or the number of
times the Oz government has been overthrown by the forces of evil,
or whatever other rubbish you like to imagine, because that gives
some of us a good laugh and we can mock you with good humor. What
you are up to now is potentially dangerous, deeply stupid, and
without an iota of concern for the consequences to the subject
in question. You show how truly half-witted your ideas are by the way
you *defend* them and dozy actions.

How old are you, by the way?

Yours &c
Palfreyman D. Mountingblock
Stable Hand

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