"I hope to God it's a fake" (Why Hoaxers rule and Mythbusters suck)

"Your eyes can deceive you, don't trust them." - Obi Wan Kenobi

Some folks may groan, but I consider myself a true skeptic. Like S. Holmes, I don't 100% believe nor disbelieve anything. I also adhere to the writings of Patrick Harpur, that sometimes the tools of fakery reveal great truths. Just as artists use paint to convey masterpieces, occult forces use charlatan's trickery as a gateway into this world. Similar to how science fiction may inspire scientists towards new technology, charlatanism and hoaxers straddle the line between truth and illusion. Instead of worrying or hoping scientific speculative fiction comes true, myth--that state between fiction and truth--allows a vicarious predictive imagination. We 'know' it's probably not true, but as long as there's a kernel of possibility still unpopped, we can dig our psychic claws deep into wondering how we'd react, what we'd feel, if the evidence became so strong as to be undeniable.

EXAMPLE 1:
If this is hard to cognate, remember being a kid whose parents tell him Santa Clause is coming, etc. Especially as you reach, say, third grade, the Santa myth is harder and harder to believe, BUT - as long as every effort is made to pass it off as truth, we can 'go along' and enjoy the benefits (fear, presents), without the worry (the need to reciprocate gift giving, i.e. to match our parents' presents or say thanks, etc).

EXAMPLE 2F:
The title of this post is a quote from Whitley Streiber when he was shown the controversial "Victor" footage and asked if the alien being interrogated looked like the ones who have been abducting him. Note he couldn't answer for sure, even though he's been face-to-face with them. Each time, naturally, his memory was 'wiped' so he can recall it as if a dream, not 'photographically.'

Ex. 4s: Rock or Man? (Mars)
depends on whom you ask

Example 3B: 
I'm a Pisces, a twin sign, fish pulling in different directions, hence I don't believe in astrology even though I know it's true. That may sound like a paradox fit to blow the gasket of a Star Trek android, but other twin signs have no problem with it. And when I hear that advanced atomic physicists are beginning to make connections between the smallest human emotion and the vastest star -- the fractal butterfly effect at last cohering into mathematical equation -- I wonder if science will catch up to astrology within my lifetime or at least FINALLY admit there's more to it than just mumbo-jumbo.... maybe. 

Example 4A: I've been friends with a few super intelligent paranoiacs and narcissists in AA, charmers who believe crazed ex-boyfriends or girlfriends are stalking them and leaving cryptic messages in the bottom rows of seemingly random SPAM emails. Sometimes all the stalking perceived drops away by adjusting their meds, but other times --who knows? At any rate, I love to listen to their crazy tales of strangers stalking them through microphones in their molar fillings, and/or breaking into their apartments just to move a few boxes from one end of their closet to the other. Because... in the end... maybe they're right. They can be very convincing, these paranoiacs, and listening to them my blood gets cold, like it used to when at summer camp in Maryland hearing tales of the Goat Man around the fire. It doesn't matter if they're crazy or not, that chill of the possibility is what myth, what campfires, are all about.

Example 67X

cropped pic of dead alien often seen on various sites passed off as authentic Roswell photo from 1947

Expanded

uncropped 'bigger' picture - Roswell museum

Hoaxers

... are a bane to the existence of legitimate researchers in fields like ghosts, UFOs, demonology, and occult conspiracy. And yet their real crime is only in getting caught in their lie, and even then only if they fleece some suckers out of money, or if anyone believed them in the first place to the point their excitement at the lie's possible truth was killed by the news of the fakery.

Maybe I'm lucky in that having done so much acid in the past and hallucinated so very damn much (decades ago I'll grant you, but I did a lot of it over a 13 year period) I don't believe anything I see. If my years as a psychedelic warrior have taught me anything, it's not to trust my own senses. Descartes didn't either and though he clearly never dropped acid he may have done other things (ergot in a mystery ceremony?) and he correctly pinpointed the pineal gland as the seat of the soul. He too knew not to trust his senses, for in demanding we take our sense perceptions as gospel truth, our senses doth get cocky. The third eye never makes such claims. It's the eye we see through in dreams and creative visualizations.

Seeing it doesn't make it real; not seeing doesn't make it false. Anyone who 'only believes what they see' is delusional, though those who stick to that concept, i.e. reductive or eliminative materialists, are clearly begging someone to hook them up with a tab of acid so they can finally get a higher vantage point on what's going on in their brains. Honey, I tell them, your brain is like a cheating spouse, you don't know nearly as much about what's going on with it as you think you do.

But I still hate finding out some engaging mystery that beguiled me was just a trick, either of a prankster, attention-seeker, profiteer, or just misidentification of weather phenomena. I feel a knee-jerk anger when something that was blowing my mind is dashed against the rocks of scientific grounding, snarky prank laughter, or contemptuous "Myth-Buster"-ing.

Take for example the high strangeness of Saturn controlling the Earth via the Moon, as told by the amazing paranoid theorist David Icke. I love this guy, but his latest book is so crazy I had to quickly shelf it and wait for a time when my mind was more stable. The deeper into the rabbit hole he goes, the crazier he sounds, but it's the kind of crazy that makes my head vibrate in uncomfortable ways, the imprisoning frequencies of Saturn punishing me with a remote controlled dog collar zap to make me put the book down, the way I might walk to the other side of the street to avoid a maniac shouting about lizard people stealing our souls.

Luckily, as a Pisces, I can believe he's right AND he's crazy at the same time, and vice versa. If I don't, the world will seem unendurably depressing, and I'd lose my few threads of remaining sanity--so it's not that I don't believe him, to an extent, it's just that I can't believe him at this time, for my own self-interest.

Eliminativists argue that modern belief in the existence of mental phenomena 
is analogous to the ancient belief in obsolete theories such as the geocentric model of the universe - Wiki

It's because I am psychedelically experienced and a Pisces and studied a lot of Jung and Joseph Campbell, meditated, astral traveled, and had nervous breakdowns and periods of intense 'blood of the lamb' enlightenment, alcoholic withdrawal (DTs), suicidal depression, and AA pink cloud egoless joy, that I've perhaps come--in however small a way--to understand how myths help cement our dreams and imagination to reality, to physical manifestations, how we organize our thoughts and our lives, how one begets the other through conscious shaping of matter. Myths are the phantom missing link wherein the unknown elements of external reality link up with our unconscious. They are the water that goes down to nourish the unseen roots of our budding garden.

Without this water, this anthropomorphic pareidolia, a Rodin sculpture is just polished stone -- if we see a nude woman in it, well, we're idiots who can't tell a real woman from a rock.

In other words, dreams aren't less 'valid' than 3-D waking life reality. Nothing is 'just' a hallucination. If it was, god help us, we'd be trapped even in our fantasies, totally trapped, in other words, and life would be unlivable.

Don't Touch that Dial!

Imagine consciousness and 3D space time as a radio we got for Xmas on our first birthday. We've had it all our lives, we can tune in the one local station 'Hot 97 FM.'  At night we sometimes tune in weird stuff to the right and left of the dial. But we don't even know we can switch to AM and find a whole other spectrum. Some stations can take lifetimes to tune in, or can be found almost immediately on reception, only to be lost when we turn back to Hot 97 and then try to find them later. At the far end of one direction, we can tune into channels full of light and angels; god, loved ones who've departed, heaven. In the other direction, darkness and demons, in between, a million permutations. We 'can' tune these things in, but we worry we'll never got Hot 97 back if we adjust even a centimeter. 

But are those other radio stations real as the average person defines real? How do we know if we never try to turn the dial? If we never try, the only possibility of us ever seeing these other channels is when we either die (or have an NDE) or suffer from a high grade fever (or are psychic, schizophrenic, or suffer a head injury).  But to deny their possibility is like saying no other radio station can exist because it's not 97 FM, and hence it does not play all the hits / all the time.

We know the appearance of solid matter is itself an illusion. This is scientific fact: matter is just energy on a very slow vibration. If we moved the dial so that we saw even ancient rock as vibrating energy, wouldn't that in fact be 'truer'?

BUT --if everything supernatural and paranoid should--hypothetically--turn out to be false, then hoaxers (and mis-identifiers) are the true saviors of our temporal realm. Without urban legends, high strangeness and unexplainable monsters, the world would be a much more boring place.

DECASIA (film decay, not the ocean floor)

For example: I think maybe Bigfoot is some kind of actual being but not exactly as we understand being, not fixed to time and space as we understand it. He's a channel surfer on that above radio metaphor, he lands on Hot 97 only while there's a commercial on the one he generally listens to. A cougar is chasing him in his normal realm / station, so he flips over to ours until it passes. So I don't think we will ever find the bones of one in the swamps because if they could die, they'd have died out long ago. We see Bigfoot and he sees us but only on rare occasions, the way we might see the faces of a family driving in a different direction down opposites sides of the highway, for just  a brief spate of time, then they're gone.

Maybe outside of our temporal realm 'life and death' as a duality is transcended into a kind of continual in-between state of non/existence. Our life span is short, artificially instilled by our Tyrell-ish Anunaki god to weed out the problems with the previous model (i.e. bigfoot is our ancestor with abilities intact that are artificially blocked in our DNA to keep us from escaping across time and space as he does -- the main two things they gave us Bigfoot lacks - abstract higher education cognizance (language) and third eye fantasy; what we lose: immortality, ease of channel surfing.

I believe our government did the right thing burying the Roswell event in 1947. We'd just been in a war. We needed the rest. We still do. I believe they haven't really hid anything from us, just cloaked it in enough disinformation and doubt that those who want to believe it was a balloon can go back to sleep, and those who want to seek the truth can find it, more or less.

It's like if you're five years-old and always pestering mom about where babies come from, or rather, as I would phrase it: if I came from your stomach, mom, how come I have dad's features? That was my question since I had dark hair like my dad and my mom was blonde. My mom fielded the questions the best she could while I bounced on their king size bed and she got ready for whatever Mad Men-era bridge party that night. She never lied, never talked about a stork, but just fed me tiny pieces of nonsexual info, and let my curiosity, and kids in school, fill in the blanks.

When another kid told us the gross mechanics involved, of course, it was so horrifying to imagine (that's where you pee out of!!) we accused him of lying, or getting the facts wrong.... until gradually we accepted it with our changing hormones... and health class.

"It took me sooo long  /  to find out /
but I found out"

If mom had given me those grotesque facts at five years old, I wouldn't have been able to deny it, couldn't accuse the kid at school of lying, and I'd never be able to look my dad in the eye again. In other words, Mr. President, plausible deniability leaves room for gradual acceptance without psychic scarring. Just apply the child asking "where do babies come from?" sort of plausible deniability to American's empiricist answer to the question "are we alone?"

Okay, so one day the parents thought the kid was still in kindergarten but he sneaks out and comes home and finds his parents stark naked in the living room, going at it hot and heavy. Busted! The parents don't say "well now you know, now you figured out the secret of why you have your fathers' eyes, welcome to adulthood son." No, they quickly yell at the kid to wait outside, run upstairs, get dressed, come down telling you to forget what you saw.

Gladly.

We need to find out about this stuff in pieces, some kid with a dogeared Playboy here, confusing scuttlebut on the playground there. If you stumble on the truth, deny, cajole, diffuse. Your brain will be only too happy to oblige.

In other words your parents probably don't want to keep you in the dark about sex forever, but they don't want to be the ones to tell you, at least not until later. And that is correct of them. They are your authority, your arbiter of the real. Until they confirm or deny what you heard in school, you can relax in the idea the kids MIGHT be wrong; you can imagine or puzzle out the mystery of procreation with your friends at your own organic speed. If it's too much to imagine, or accept, you can deny it. as their version is unconfirmed, and unsubstantiated by evidence. But you can't deny your parents.

Eventually you won't need the parents to confirm or deny, but no one can tell you when that will be, that's the whole point. When you don't need their confirmation to believe it's real, you're ready. 'Disclosure' is always 'about' to happen, but it never can, by it's very definition. We each have to make our own paradigm shift on an individual-by-individual level.

MYTHBUSTERS ARE A HOAX!

In this sense I've always felt the Mythbusters were doing a great deal of harm to the world. In venting their own juvenile destructive desires on our most precious illusions they rob us of our freedom to perceive life as it it really is, dangerous and full of unknown quantities. Clearly, there's a need for UFOs whether they're 'real' in your definition of the term or not. If you have cable you can find a paranormal show of one stripe or another nearly any time of day. The only bad ones are the ones with some smarmy so-called skeptic folded into the investigative group by bet-hedging producers. This is usually a white college-educated male who acts like his believing witness testimony is the most important thing in the world. He's hostile to anyone who saw anything as if his weak-minded child bought the Brooklyn Bridge and he's trying to get  a refund. See my Zealot of Doubt: why skeptics are the new cranks.

That's fine by me. I just won't watch your show, but know one thing, Mythbusters and UFO research team 'skeptic'-- you are not a TRUE skeptic. Atheists are not skeptics, nor are smarmy hipsters who think their science degrees mean they can't even address the ideas of ghosts and aliens without snarky laughter and derisive eye rolls. That's not skepticism, that's condemnation based on one's own false impressions, mainly created by snap judgments of 'the type of people who believe that rot.' They're just parroting whatever will get their paper a gold star. Can anyone get a master's degree unless they parrot the party line? No, and as a result there are far more true skeptics in the UFO community than outside it. The naysayers are so rigid in their conception of reality that it threatens to shatter with the slightest stress. A true skeptic is open to all possibilities and that means never committing to one organization, theory, sponsor, guru, religion, or point of view, regardless of sensorial evidence.

In admitting eyes and ears are deceiving we don't close doors to perception, we open them.

In short, I don't care if you made your ghost story up, so long as it feels real to me, so I get the shivers, the pleasant spine tingle that makes me check the door locks and grab onto the cat for support. As a man who considers the art of telling ghost stories a sacred rite, I know it's always twice as scary when they feel true. No ghost story is scary if the teller prefaces it with: "I just made this all up, so don't believe it." It's always "this totally happened to a friend of mine's aunt and uncle..." or "in these woods, I heard this happened." And you can't lock the door at a camp site.

Washington could not tell a lie... and he says he met
a Nordic alien in the woods at Valley Forge

I'm into that 'maybe' aspect.  I live for it, and I revile 'scientific' pseudo-skeptics who take it on themselves to debunk, to make sure it's etched in stone in front of City Hall that there are no ghosts, no Santa, no God. If there's none of these things, what do they care? Would they go to Disney World and make sure the kids know all the pirates and monsters are animatronic mannequins? Would they carry signs "Pluto isn't real!" Would they make sure everyone at the Louvre knows their precious Rodin sculpture is just a giant hunk of stone?

Don't worry, we'll keep fogging the line between the real, the potentially real, and the maybe --it's all we ever had. If we just remain open to every possibility we widen the band of our station until all is revealed as it really is -- potential energy manifestation, expression, rotation, revolution, collapse, and super Nova, and then back around again. All the stations playing at once may sound like a staticky mess, but hey - lo! There I AM.

Roots of the Future: CHRONOS (1985)

Sunbeams and Airships

(haven't posted on here for awhile so I'm cross-posting an old piece on Aurora and demons I wrote for the C-Section a dozen years ago... enjoy!)

An interesting episode of TV's 'UFO Hunters' described the trouble and 'blocking' Ufologists received at the hands of Aurora, Texas residents when trying to exhume an alleged 100+ year old little Martian body from the local cemetery. The researchers even detected radio active metal under the ground by the grave, which was allegedly removed in the night through some tubing (?) by some agency or local weirdo, so that the next day the detectors detected nothing. All this intrigue made me think of Lovecraft stories like "The Shadow over Innsmouth," wherein the few non-sea monster-hybrid-townsfolk are tight lipped and standoffish to curious visitors, lest they find themselves washed up against the docks the next morning, apparently drowned, their lungs filled with seaweed.

So what non-Lovecraftian elder god's threat reason could the Aurora townsfolk's have for refusing the Ufologists? Is it that the locals are afraid there's some truth to the legend, that hellfire will rain down on the desecrators for their blundering scientific disrespect? Where does disrespect end and legit quest for understanding begin? It's a bit like those old 'tests' to prove witchcraft, like throwing the alleged witch in the lake and if she sank and died, she was innocent. The ufologists want to prove 'the truth' to themselves over all, and to help write a new history of tomorrow with physical evidence. Meanwhile, the evidence is already in and overwhelming if you're willing to accept it, to make the connections. What good is one more smoking gun or man going to do? What's wrong with the smoking gun of Dr. Leir's alien implants? What more do you want?

Another analogy on hand is a recent short film I saw recently on TCM, wherein a journalist is sent to cover a magic act, and ordered to get photos explaining how each trick is done. It doesn't occur to him or his editor that they'd be destroying the magician's livelihood. Who cares? It's the old western compulsion to cut everything open and see how it works, robbing every last corner of the world of its foreboding mystery.

So what does it take to make you/us switch out paradigm to accommodate the truth of extra-terrestrial visitors? Or to let somethings be a mystery? Or to heal the wound between science and supernatural? To stop trying to do the math, to see the ancient astronaut writing on the wall, and stop waiting around for 'how the trick is done'? Imagine the average layman being told that finally, no the earth is not flat like we thought, does he instantly demand evidence? What good would lectures on magnetic fields and revolution matter to an illiterate 17th century servant?

Another last example of the importance of mystery is the spiritualist's use of props and intentional fakery--projections, crystal balls, plastic skulls, etc.--to create real magic, the rift where genuine strangeness may seep through. Or at any rate, its sometimes easier to hear the ugly truth if it comes from Tarot cards and not a 'worried' friend. I'm always using the analogy of a dog trying to understand physics by chewing up a math book. Not only can't the dog understand it that way, but in chewing it up destroys the book that might have illuminated others.

I support the Aurora choice to let their demon stay buried, in other words, rather than let the dogs chew up the math book. And as far as Ufology goes, I understand the need for it, and I feel indebted to researchers and cutting edge thinkers on the subject... but at a certain point each seeker needs to stop searching for more evidence and ask him or herself on an individual basis: how much is enough? What do YOU believe? And in the end, do you really need everyone else to believe it first? Are you afraid to pick a truth and make the jump, to just answer your own multiple choice rather than spying on all your neighbor's papers? In the end, the universe is subjective and, as science gets closer and closer to this realization, science itself begins to disintegrate, so it quickly backs up, like a polar bear on a melting ice floe.

Similarly, the more ufologists bicker over their own hypotheses, the more they  sound like regular bullshit scientists... the ufologist becomes like Uncle Tom in the ghetto of para-science, trying vainly to impress the mainstream by being rigorous and empirical rather than intuitive. But alas, this is one butterfly that can't be pinned to any board, for in examining it clearly one must first through away the pin, the board, the jar, the net, and even one's own two eyes... transcend space and time through meditation, lack of sleep, entheogens, madness, only then can you can get a horrifying (third eye) glimpse of it - the terrible void around which all the spiderweb illusions are spun as bedeviled protection and the only thing that can possibly float us past the mandibles of the Other is love and complete surrender.

How do we know when we have achieved this complete surrender, trust, and universal love? My final metaphor of the evening involves camping in the jungle and waking up in the middle of the night in your tent to find a giant tiger on top of you, licking your cheek. If your knee-jerk automatic response is to scream in terror and try to push it off yourself (who would blame you!?), you will be ripped to shreds, but! If your first waking knee-jerk response is to rub it behind the ears and go "aww pretty kitty" you will gain a fuzzy ally. The tiger is merely responding to your energy. This is something you can't 'fake' - it takes surrender. You might say yeah but what if it still attacks? There's nothing wrong with fighting back, just fight back with love in your heart, respect for this beautiful worthy opponent.

Can you go do the same when moving in your astral body past the demonic gatekeepers of the eternal moment? It's hate and fear that make us dense enough to be eaten. Not even the hungriest of tigers can eat a sunbeam. And that, my friend, is what you are.

Saturn and the Moon Matrix

I'm a big fan of crackpot conspiracy theories and this is the wildest of all, so far. David Icke theorizes that Saturn's rings are a kind of broadcasting antenna for a gigantic gaseous alien intelligence that bounces signals off the moon to hypnotize humanity into entering a digital matrix controlled by the multidimensional reptilian alien conglomerate known as Archons. This connects a bunch of very true dots that don't make sense on their own, if you have a truly inquiring mind. Believing it or not hardly seems relevant. It's so gonzo that its proponents: Icke, Enoch, the Gnostics, Mayans and other ancient astrologers just might be right. Something's going on, that's for sure. And there's no sweeter spot on human culture than myth. It's truer than the truth, even when presented in its fictitious guises.

The New Line of Alien-Human Hybrids - Wilkommen auf der Future!

Reading the myriad paranoid conspiracy theories (Zionist banker cabals, reptilian mind control human sacrifice, etc.) can be dispiriting, but one aspect is safe, fun, and educational: marveling at the ingenious 'familiarization / acclimation' process by which humanity gradually learns to not even notice the presence of certain alien species. Above gathers several alien-ish chicks I've seen lately - the tall blonde from Garfunkel & Oates (soon to be on IFC); Sky Fierra, that one model, and the mom from Orange is the New Black --the hybridization process, my friend. The more we see these exotic girls with the big far apart eyes, the thin blonde or light brown hair, small noses, sharp chin lines, the less we'll notice when  the full-bore aliens walk amongst us. Though why they're even bothering, considering the whole planet's going to be underwater by the time they're all down here, I do not know. But then again, I'm not a Nordic alien, though Nordic blood is within me due to Swedish ancestry.

Viktoria Winge

She's not called 'Sky' for nothing. 

 But here they are - in the media - with their big eyes, spaced so far apart on features of such uncanny perfection that maybe you think, "hmmm - something's a little different" - and paintings or photos of presumed actual Nordic aliens would seem to bear this out. Nordics are the aliens you hope you meet (the only ones, near as I can tell, who are both benevolent and here in the actual flesh - as opposed to the thought transmissions from my own home in the stars, (according to some online quiz), Aldebaran, or was it Arcturus. Either way, I've 'met' though that's hardly the right word, a few of these alleged beings in the ether beyond space and time - some are terrifying but none can get you if you have perfect faith in the power of love to see you through. Sounds corny, but it works - you float right past them. So practice love and letting go of fear every day - you're gonna need it.

I'm of course not saying these beautiful creatures above report to some cosmic control; they probably have no idea of where their genes come from anymore than we do. How do we really know who we are anyway? If you've ever come out of a deep drunken black-out maybe you know what I mean - think back to that strange moment before you come back into your body and begin to assess where you are--how the previous night is 'gone' and you don't know where you are or what's with the big gash in your leg, and who's that creature in your bed? Don't ask, it's only the wind. If you wind up hosting the hybrids, just be open, forthright, honest and true. They can read your mind anyway - they probably know I'm writing about them right now!

Anyway, here are some interesting internet threads on this woven throughout the paranoid web - they all lead back to the beginning, but the whole thing of the aliens speaking German and wearing black uniforms and acting regimented is discussed at Paranoia Magazine (Close Encounters of the Germanic Kind). I appreciate that the author never wavers from a healthy skepticism in reporting the facts and the general theories and reports (on Valiant Thor especially).

Jill, Donn, Valiant Thor - 3 alien visitors

He tried to tell Nixon how to cure all illness but Nixon wisely said no. We need them.

 Click here for more on the Thor

See also: Uma Thurman is from Venus, and Uma Thurman is from Venus part 2 - The Tibetan-Nordic-Timothy Leary-Huldra Connection

You are Not Ready: Why Morgan Freeman and Stephen Hawking are the Face of UFO Denial.

Watching Morgan Freeman talk about SETI on reruns of his Through the Wormhole show is both sad and mind-blowing, sad because it's like when I used to try and write songs with my left brain buddy, and I'm all right brained, and we couldn't get together. Science can't understand that SETI and space travel is bullshit and what they should have working for them is mystics, trance specialists, psychics, acid heads, and Rick Strassman, Carlos Castaneda. There are people on this planet who can travel to the farthest reaches of space and have contacted plant, alien, and alternate intelligences, and science with its left brain single mindedness can't grasp how this stuff lies so far beyond mathematics and factors and "listening for signals from the stars. " There are other ways we can find out where ET lives.

One guy flashes his reptoid eyes.

Science is important, but so is right-brained intuition, and as long as they're mutually exclusive, we'll be nowhere. I want to see Amazon shamen and DMT trippers working at top pharmaceutical corporations and taking over wings of NASA.

Instead there's so much work and effort to sketch out the elaborate science, from a right brained viewpoint its like watching a nerd at school who thinks he'll get a girlfriend if he can just make the best science fair project, Look Cheryl, I solved a massive physics problem, but she's off in the basement getting it on with the stoners. She's a lot closer to the alien equation than the trillion dollar efforts of these people who cant even count any alien witness testimony - they'll never find it as long as they're not ready to look within. If they do find something, it creates such a flurry the other left-brainers hush it up, defame it, neuter it in terror.

Science is scared of flying saucers, which represent technology far beyond their own. They're masters of their domain--the realm of 'what we do know about the universe'--but they've fooled themselves into thinking it's 'all there is' to know (until they learn more, that is). They don't want to be reminded that not two feet outside their bedroom domain, there be monsters.

Why is the scientist then, so eager to make sure I know it's not the one thing I hope it (against my better judgment) to be? If we consider conventional science's hostility towards the UFO community--the borderline hysteria with which so many academics and sponsored researchers refuse to hear anything about "that nonsense"--we realize they're kind of scared of something.

For example, when people find out I don't drink, used to be in AA, etc, once in awhile someone will come up to me who I barely even know and say, "Hey man, I don't have a problem with drinking!" and I'm like "I never said or thought you did.... but obviously you do." Otherwise, why are you threatened? Why are you so easily provoked by something someone else is, in this case, not doing? Our goal as therapists would be help the scientist discern his hysteric symptom, in this case the fear of even considering the truths of UFO existence--his refusal to visualize the hypothesis of it all being true-- and help the patient gain courage to  face the root of repressed anxiety it obscures.

Stephen Hawking and Carl Sagan have both flown on ahead to imagine alien hypotheses suspiciously separate from the general body of modern UFO 'fringe' research and documented experience. They're terrified of looking over the shoulder at the truths reported by average witnesses, because it all fits so perfectly together that it's like solving a giant math problem where, when you reach the answer, the numbers congeal into a tentacle that sucks you into the blackboard.

Reptilian Art Curation Edition 2

Franz Von Stuck - "Sin" - 1893

Reptoid-Illuminati Initiation of Jayne Mansfield - 2013 mixed media collage - Erich Kuersten