From: Alfred Lehmberg <Lehmberg@snowhill.com> Date: Thu, 20 Jun 2002 17:47:46 -0500 Fwd Date: Thu, 20 Jun 2002 19:17:07 -0400 Subject: Alfred's Odd Observation #20 Alfred's Odd Observation #20 (Thursday -- June 20, 2002) What do you want from me, oh scurrilous and whiny CSICOPian? I _see_ stuff. I say that with respect, also, to 'stuff' on more than one level. Every morning of decent visibility I go _out_... will generally provide me with an opportunity to make the substantive report you read here. There have been many sightings since the last accounting in #19 which would have been seen by anyone with me (that is, anyone with the willingness to actually go out and _look_. anyone one with the most minimal courage to _see_ ... anyone desiring that reality LARGER than the one metered out to them from their stingy mainstream's homogenizing info-nipples). I saw weird stuff, again, this morning... When a certain kind of guy has an inordinate amount of time with which to 'look', he _will_ look, I think. I've been blessed (or cursed depending on outlook) with just that kind of 'inordinate' time, and I _am_ that certain kind of guy I'll later (and _most_ self-indulgently <g>) try to describe in this piece. It all adds up to a genuine desire to find out just "what the hell is going on." This is a desire that more of us have than not, I believe, and I am in a position and have the time to have a really good look for it, try to digest what I'm seeing, and then report it to the contrarily involved, distracted and otherwise employed in a useful, periodic, and entertaining kind of way. No fiction here. On reflection (?), just coming up on my first, more or less, dedicated 'decade' of looking for the 'ufological' and trying to develop some inclusive kind of knowledge base and general sensitivity for it, I find I'm still able to pay the continued price of its prosecution -- _be_ that kind of guy I will describe... continue a _protracted_ period of personal investigation, and a provide a good report on my, continuing, wide-field exploration! This is forgetting that it doesn't have to mean a damned thing to you, respected reader. The heartfelt expression is going to be there, regardless. It's a record, and a truthful one at that. It'll get read someday. [g]. ...And let me make a quick digression with regard to the reader wading through my "affected" writing style... It is done, simply, the way it is done out of respect for the language, and in extension, the reader. I'm not going to talk down to the reader, no, or poke teasingly at the reader's lowest common denominator! NO! Expect an intelligence, and many times _get_ an intelligence. Expect Homer Simpson and get him _every_ time. I am going to use, arguably, the best word available, in my estimation, _regardless_, laddies and skepti-lassies! They aren't words that will be used only one time, good reader, they will be used again and again, in all my pieces fore and aft, for good reason. They are words that open up new dimensions in time and space for the individual that goes to the trouble of finding out what they mean that _first_ time... a simple cut and paste into 'Google' on the internet for instant gratification and an expansion to the interior of a reader's intellectual bubble! Grasp closer to reach! Take a step up on a new definition and see farther than you did before! Finally, I write the best, most considered, and most respectful kind of language I am capable of producing. I can do _no_ less in as much as you are reading it! I _must_ respect that. Moreover, different words put the reader's head in different places, and with the fact of that dwindling commodity (of diversity) evaporating rapidly in a contrived global homogenization of slothful mediocrity as you read. the reader needs all the difference she can get her sweaty little cognitive hands on, whether he knows it or not! The kind of language I'm talking about (and trying to employ here) has an appreciation imbued by the user to treat the language as if it were a box of verbal paint. In it are aspirations to make every word a picture, every sentence a portrait, and every collection of sentences a virtual holograph. All things being equal I'd write in a language that begs to be revisited, like a song, or like classic words of yore. That's what I aspire to here, with no shame, no embarrassment, and no guile. I would be of respected service, as would any sociophile. Words _are_ paints and magics and tools and weapons! They travel in time, and are as eternal as they are made and preserved. They are teachers, leaders, and entertainers. They are efficiency. They are efficacy. They are immortality! They are the very COIN and FABRIC of cultural memory! In as much as they paint better, more durable and longer lasting pictures, they are the ART of primary expression! Our culture will survive much, much longer than those of antiquity because (outside the threat of idea [and therefore book!] burning CSICOPians, or the electricity stops working), the consolidation of it is going to be very hard to forget. Believe it! What kind of person am _I_? Why should the reader _remotely_ care? I'm not suggesting that the reader should, really, but that I _am_ in the process of telling her about some pretty 'twitchy' stuff, so I feel obligated to qualify my inquisitiveness, justify my conscientiousness, and predicate my truthfulness for her -- if I can. Someone's going to write this stuff, I've a premonition, and as I have the means, the desire, and the attitude to write it myself, I will. Read or not. It's _almost_ the same to me. [g]. I'm the kind of person who _will_ blow his own horn once in a while... because if we don't it's not too long before a _funnel_ is made of it, and it loses its ability to even _be_ a horn. Pretty soon, there is NOTHING around but "funnels" (the Bush/Ashcroft master plan?), too hesitant to contribute to the... efficaciously fertile sonic cacophony! That's part of the present problem, ladies and gentlebunkies! Give me the "Rebel Alliance" over the "Empire" anytime, if you'll forgive the George Lucas reference. Who would I aspire to be eventually? Consider the rapidly depressurizing airliner. All the yellow oxygen masks drop down in the emergency, and you put your neighbor's on him before you put your own on yourself. You've been admonished by the flight crew to put your own mask on _first_ so you will be _around_ to help a struggling fellow passenger. It's like that. I've got my mask on in the time allowed me, and I might be able to offer suggestions facilitating a better seal on yours... I would aspire to be around to serve, indeed, I've volunteered for service all my life, doing all sorts of jobs no one else wanted to do. That's over! I'm an artist. I'm not the only one who thinks so. I say that straight out and without pretension. An 'outsider' discovered by Dr. Faye Earnest of Enterprise State College (who produced a one man show of my work decidedly award winning), I represent the art community with no formal training in it. I push the materials or media around in ways that satisfy me, without regard to convention or tradition and so I am unhindered by the "conventional wisdom" of what "does" and "does not" work. Words are just another box of paint to me -- another art to reflect what is perceived as truth. I do what an artist does. I don't _know_ any better. I'm a whistle blower. This is a quality that I didn't realize I had until very recent reflection, years after the fact, demonstrated it to be true. In the military I would flirt with disloyalty to my superiors when they would operate in arbitrary manners that, knowingly and thoughtlessly, abused the troops. I blew the whistle on them. I was instrumental in getting more than a few of my superiors relieved. This cost me, generally, a career above the company level despite being awarded four times the recognition for meritorious service as the usual officer in my grade. I turned down my _last_ promotion, awarded on the _second_ consideration when it was discovered by the promotion board that my failure to get picked up 'first look' was a result of one of those 'superior' officers I _should_ have helped torpedo (very justifiably... he lied, cheated , and stole... nearly killed a guy thoughtlessly in a field training exercise), to leave the Army at last after 23 years. I'm paying a whistle blower's freight, still, with pride and satisfaction! I've been denied friends (such as _they_ were), opportunities, and about a hundred thousand dollars in lost income to prosecute what, I have strong convictions, is rightness to a _high_ degree! Continuing on the thread of "whistle blowing," One can only imagine what my experience was like in my subsequent career as a Public School teacher... oil and water does not begin to provide an adequate metaphor, but upon coming from a military operation that had to work by definition, my sagacity was by no means appreciated in an operation that does NOT have to work, also by definition. I was treated generally (and from the beginning) as a pariah despite the fact that I was on my very best, appropriately subordinate, behavior. Though I could not ignore hypocrisy and malpractice without at least asking probative questions about it. Anything else makes my stomach hurt, and why should _my_ stomach hurt when it's not my problem and a result of the unethical actions of others? Why should yours? The reader will just have to take my word for that, but it applies in the ufological arena as well. I am a "Boy Scout", philosophically. I believe all the stuff I learned in school about honor, truthfulness, and fidelity, and I was nonplussed, to say the bleeding _least_, upon discovering that that was, decidedly, nothing but an artful dodge, mostly, used by otherwise unrestricted psychopaths to secure unethical advantage because, honored reader, they were not compelled by a society (they controlled) to follow the same rules that you and I are compelled to follow. Honor, truthfulness, and fidelity have earned sneers were there should have been citation, loss where there should have been efficacious gain, and rejection where there should have been ready acceptance. I would ram those easy sneers back up some of those sociopathic noses (or alternate avenues to where the sun doesn't shine) and _will_, given the attention of an interested reader. Who are "they", the aforementioned psychopaths? Already asked and answered. Check the archives. I'm a trained military observer (I used to teach observation techniques as a flight standardization officer in the Army) as I hope this series has demonstrated. I'm not given to taking apples for oranges, pelicans for costumed super heroes, or UFOs for thrown pie plates and satellites outside their forecast. I'm _not_ a believer, but at the same time I am _not_ a reflexive _disbeliever_. I cannot accept; however, especially given even a clouded history of our own species, that we are the center of the universe, the crown of creation, or even the shining buckle on God's three corner HAT! I don't believe in gods made in the image of those who would have me do their unctuous bidding. Like George Santayana, I am an ATHEIST in that regard. I'm a writer. I write nonfiction that takes what I would think is an enthusiastic and creative delight in the craft. I want to inspire a reader, enliven a reader, stimulate a reader. I would encourage a reader, revitalize a reader as I have been revitalized by reading, and, finally, I would challenge the reader as I have been challenged. I am eyes with the TIME to look. Look _with_ me! I am ears with the MOTIVATION to hear. It is there for you to listen to. I am voice with the OPPORTUNITY to speak. I'm speaking now. Like eating and breathing, I am compelled to produce these ufological reports and expressions because I sense in them (or more, in what provokes them) a 'truth' that will likely not be forthcoming from any other quarter. Call me self absorbed, I've earned it. The aforementioned truth is detected between lines of cross purposed communication everywhere else, between the very stars I observe at night, and I suspect that it is a truth that is at the base of many other, subordinate, truths. Know this -one- truth to know many more. UFOs are real, by way of example, and I think everyone intrinsically knows that, even the most gravid CSICOPian skeptibunky at _some_ dank level or in _some_ dark recess or cavity. I see stuff in the night sky, at any rate, that is not remotely addressed in the wan pontifications of those with a CSICOPian cant, and I shall not hesitate to point that out to same. Individuals of the aforementioned bent (individuals and collections of these individuals who continue to pound straw into their nineteenth century sensibilities, fifteenth century mores, and first century philosophies) can just bloody well get _used_ to my earnest dissection of them as long as I am able to stab a key with an index finger. I _enthusiastically_ encourage others to do the same! It's only what I have been allowed the time to do. The lap-dog mainstream should have allowed a more consuming employment for me. I was just fine (and performed splendidly) as cannon fodder. ...Sorry that an employment of that same capability (in the interests of the rout and general destruction of CSICOPia?) scorches CSICOPian prairie oysters, but that's the way the saucer crashes! <Big Smile> I just can't feel _very_ sorry for him. He's the mainstream himself and so has his reflexive support built right in. Ironically lonely, he is never _alone_, our intrepid CSICOPian... Isn't that right, Mr. Novak? Isn't that correct, Mr. Thompson? Buckle up... enjoy the dying thrashings of elitist Empire, something better is _sure_ to rise from the dust and ashes. [g]. .That's enough. I remain watching the skies. Read on! ~~=D6~~ EXPLORE "Alfred Lehmberg's Alien View" at his VSN URL. http://www.alienview.net JOHN FORD RESTORATION FUND -- John will be released eventually. He'll need a tax free cash stake to get on his feet. Let's put one together for him; the bigger it is -- the more attention he gets. It could have been you. E-mail for detail. $350.00 pledged -- $200.00 collected! "I cleave the heavens, and soar to the infinite. What others see from afar, I leave far behind me." - Giordano Bruno, scourged by the scabrously specious scurrilous.
[ Next Message | Previous Message | This Day's Messages ]
This Month's Index |
UFO UpDates - Toronto - Operated by Errol Bruce-Knapp