The 100 year-long MP3

I dreamed I was given a hundred year long song on an mp3. It felt liberating. I would not have to make any future jukebox selections in this lifetime, it was going to outlast me, it proved there had to be time for not only it to play out but to have been made. My ego couldn't fail to admit it - the world didn't begin and end with me, if lucky and depending on when I received the mp3, I could maybe hear 3/4 of it. And then of course, somewhere I knew someone was listening, to not only this 100 year-old mp3 but others. The truth about the universe seeped past my defenses in that moment, and the little tornado that thought itself alone was unwrapped back into the sky.

Each drug leaves its card, and steals something on its way out. They give their estimates, they do their magic tricks. After years they begin to repeat themselves. Some are like dogs all crazy that you hang onto their leash as they tear out the door and you just hope you're wearing water skis. Others are sullen and mopey and good for little except whatever it takes for you to not kick them out. If you cut them from your regimen, they mark up the floors with their switchblades so at least you know they were there. And others still are wise and enigmatic and if you didn't learn the last lesson before coming back, they scare you to death with threats and clockwork stabbing motions. All eventually wear out their welcome, for our ego is a restless and impatient host, forever singling out one or another of the guests as the sole reason the party's not going great.

Most people have no idea what's truly involved. Most people can't imagine sacrifices beyond relatives and possessions, and pets sacrificed on altars. It's the who who is sacrificed for involvement in enlightenment to be complete. You alone will be left to pat the final piece of earth around your grave. If you can imagine patting down your own grave, and imagine being the other mourner who finally walks away, then you are halfway to being on your way back home from death, but first, there is the blackness and no amount of running will speed the slow revolution of the black marble.

The process of moving, that is changing your address and packing up your shit and letting the post office know, is as close as many of us come to that level of total involvement. Not even our own death or a loved one's can be as drastic a step.  But the more resistance and panic you have towards moving, the more sloth-like and attached you have become, obviously! You've grown into the wood and the walls and ages from now they'll bring in special spectrometers to look for your ghost. Show us a sign! Or begone.

The enlightened one leaves no ghost, no shadow, no footprints, no feet. His skeleton hangs in every science class, his skull is used for ancient ceremonies, his eyes are suns in distant lands. "His" eyes. That's not even right, for the possessive can no longer apply. His eyes are ours and, when we give ours up to the worms and the smoky sky, his are what we shall see through. But who can give up his own eyes? Imagine yourself wrapping up all your possessions for the movers. The movers come and take all your stuff and leave you with nothing, not even money, they take your shoes and throw you into a street that is empty. And if you can then whistle a tune as you walk away, thou art saved. Or homeless. There is no difference.

Bergman from Beyond

Is it a coincidence that the mysterious 'portal' of "Desteni" looks so much like a Bergman character herself? She's got thousands of videos up on youtube. Her hair cut is about the only discernible evidence she ages. She's a little pixie combination of the young boy in PERSONA and Bibi Andersson. On the one hand I'm vaguely enthralled. On the other, vaguely ennervated. Watch too many of her weird 'interviews' and you get the feeling you've simultaneously learned the secret of life and been subjected to a 20 hour performance art piece by your precocious niece who may or may not be trying to get you to join some Scientology-ish UFO cult.


(NOTE the videos posted here originally were deleted, and now exist only in Spanish with subtitles. Not sure what that means as far as Destini being too phony for Nortamericanos or not. But I found some, so here be what I can find).

And Bergman comes back through her to say howdy!! "I'm in HEAVEN! I'm alive but... in a different way." Needless to say, if you are positive it's NOT Bergman's spirit talking through her then are you really less dogmatic than someone who is positive it is? Don't dwell in absolutes, my friends! There are none. Be like Charles Fort! Be like Sherlock Holmes! Be like Carl Jung. In this case I'd advise being very Jung, for regardless of your vote, the whole Bergman Nordic blonde waif death connection is fascinating in and of itself, an example of the gray area where art, death, blondes, and the Unknown all meet.

But I'm impressed by the sheer volume of information coming out of this Nordic alien-looking portal chick, and the way you think well, if anyone would come back from the grave to say "Hi! I'm not sad anymore!" It would be the man who gave us CRIES AND WHISPERS, PERSONA, THE SILENCE, and PASSION OF ANNA. Oh and so many more!

The Future is Written in the sci fi genre

Recently there's been a commercial for PCs, part of the "I invented Windows" campaign, with a college nerd happily sitting outside his dorm room (while his stud roommate runs a "tutoring session" which presumably never ends.) Said nerd's happiness stems from his ability to get movies beamed directly into his laptop, which he then watches with his handsomely clunky headphones on, presumably cranked for all the sci fi explosions.

The message: you don't even need a place to "live" if you have a PC. What is contentment after all but endless streams of free movies that you can play as loud as you want, all by yourself regardless of the size of the crowd around you? I'm not judging. Just seeing the writing on the wall, admitting my part - for no one loves avoiding people in favor of the internet as much as me, well, that's probably not true, not anymore.

I want to connect this commercial in your mind with a novel by William Gibson, All Tomorrow's Parties, in which a character lives in a box, inside a box owned by a weird figurine maker inside a subway. The guy lives on cough syrup and shivers in his cold sleeping bag, but he's plugged into the web, so he's barely in his body at all. He's sneaking into secret areas trying to rendezvous with the first totally cyber superstar, or something like that. I never finished the book, but well I remember that character. Other notables in the future of Gibson herein include lightweight electric cars, and rampant shanty town living. Even the Golden Gate Bridge is a long row of makeshift housing with no electricity. (The guy in the box is in Tokyo, not that it matters where you are, by then).

I've long imagined a future which is already here, wherein a stranger coming out of, say, a Russian gulag, finds the whole world seemingly asleep, sprawled on streets, sleeping on one another in train stations, barely moving, just hooked up to their laptops, directly, for screens and speakers will soon seem stupid, why have anything interfering when you can just tune directly in?

If then, everything is a fractal of everything else, as I believe it is, then this has already happened, and space time itself is a virtual illusion. I believe this to be true. The proof snakes before us in an endless Moebius Strip.  Therefore, the grays are us in the future, and the future is us in the grays. Beware the fictions you create, for they are more true than you will ever be able to fully know. But you know just the same.

The shamans are the techs!

Through the Worm: Scientists, Intergalactic Travel, and daemons

 
It's charming to see scientists on 'legit' space documentaries like Morgan Freeman's Through the Wormhole on the Science Channel explain how unlikely it is that UFOs could travel from other galaxies, since they're millions of light years apart - and yet these same scientists posit the existence of worm holes and parallel universes, and superior technology, but then if anyone puts two and two together they get scoffed upon.

If you'd have posited that in the future everyone in the world would be walking around with tiny phones that can reach anyone in the world anywhere at any time, they'd have told you flat out such things were impossible. Wireless radios, maybe... but satellite telephone service affordable to even the local ghetto youth? Pshaw! The only one, way back in the 1980s, who saw and wrote about a future where our external world is all poverty stricken but everyone's a king in a digital realm? William Gibson.

I'm not even sure I 100% believe in it even now, and I have a cell phone like everyone else. But unlike most people, I'm skeeved out by the thought of what sort of inter-dimensional space dust might be on those bouncy signals I'm sticking in my ear. Frankly, I don't believe it works. I think it's just a hypnosis machine that convinces people they've called each other in the past. The voices are echoes, of the windmills of your mind.

A materialist, but with an eye for the beyond

It's hard to imagine these kind of vast spaces between solar systems being traveled, even at light speed, but try to think of it in fractal terms - the distance between our galaxy and the next may correlate to the distance between one atom and the next in a single molecule of our fingernail. Would scientists really be so blind as to theorize that humans could never get from point A to B on a fingernail just because of all that space between atoms?

It's really a matter of point of view, which makes everything relative, including science. In this case the relativity is the size of the being wanting to do the travel, the notion of time as well. Imagine for example a planet that spins faster than ours, with days and nights scrolling by. They come visit us and move so fast we can't even see them, like the Flash. We say they are poltergeists, we say they are angels, blurs in the sky. They see us as this slow creatures stuck in a kind of melted time freeze frame life, just begging to have our pockets picked.

Another aspect to consider is anti-gravity, as explained by Bob Lazar who allegedly reverse-engineered UFOs for the government. Basically the way it works is by projecting a gravitational field that basically sucks the ship forward, so inside the ship it doesn't actually feel like you're moving at all, because your field of gravity is artificially maintained; essentially your falling towards your destination, no matter which direction it may be, but since the gravity is constant on board, you don't even notice. Questions to ask abductees who've been aboard spacecraft seldom asked: what is the gravity like? Do you see the aliens with your eyes closed, open, or both? Do they seem 100% real in 3-D, or are they kind of blurred and shape shifting, like hallucinations?

If we're foolish enough to think we begin and end in physical bodies trapped in time space on this spinning rock, then yes of course, we'll never get to drive to the far side of the universe. If we realize that the entire contents of the universe, from the big bang to now, exists in every facet of our entire being, then reaching Orion's belt is as easy as buckling up before driving to the store. But first we have to think bigger. Materialists believe in cell phone technology because it works. They hear the evidence. But what if, just as our cell phone signals are beamed back and forth through space so we can hear each others' voices, far away planets are beaming themselves, or their own cosmic messages, to our brains? Bypassing clumsy technology and going right for glands and organs they themselves planted inside us via manipulated DNA, they've been communicating with us for centuries! Do we just scoff at that? We don't know what the evidence would be since we can't tell, and don't try, to discern where our own thoughts end and transmitted thoughts begin, but if we meditate deeply it becomes more and more obvious.

Smoke 'em if you got 'em

We shouldn't be training astronauts but psychonauts (hence this blog's title) and maybe we are, in art school, or yoga class, shamanism, Buddhism, Aboriginal ceremonies so secret we know nothing of them, or through Reiki. The human soul is not bound by size, dimension, time or space, and so we can reach the other side of the universe as easy as going to sleep if we allow ourselves that kind of release. But instead we hold ourselves tight in our bodies like a hermit crab in its shell who dreams of floating free with the current instead of being weighed down by his cumbersome housing and the draining gravity of real estate tax.

Imagine a hermit crab trying to cross the ocean floor in a huge conch shell... it takes forever, but if the crab lets go and just floats in the current it's across in no time. First though it has to let go of the fear it will be eaten as it will have no protective shelter. That's faith, though.You need faith to let go of yourself and slip between the cracks of reality, without the comfort of a physical body. But once you do, then you're really going places.

If you want to really 'see' beyond our three dimensions, you only need to meditate, or sleep, or go on a hunger strike, become a vegan, ingest psychoactive molecules, or just become schizophrenic; you'll see and understand it all... and then you will read of these haughty scientists speaking of space light year distances making interstellar space impossible and laugh like a giant who knows he has the whole Milky Way galaxy captured like a dot on the center of his tongue, which is to say, you will laugh like an infinitely small atom along a vast DNA chain who knows he dwells safely in the center of a giant's mouth. What enduring harm is possible to that hermit crab if he accepts the entire ocean as his shell? Even the devouring squid is just himself, drawing him into a faster, larger network.

"Wormhole" has two meanings: we go into one and out of the other (the worm's anus) goeth our body back to soil. As Hamlet said, "a man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a King, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm, and so may a King may go a progress through the guts of a beggar."

See you soon, King!

Aliens do it up the nose: HARD Evidence

In the decades I've been casually following the incredible body of alien theory (starting back when it seemed the only books on the subject were Communion by Whitley Streiber and Chariots of the Gods), and shuffling it in with my own shamanic experience and that of writers like Graham Hancock, Patrick Harpur, Carlos Castaneda and Terence McKenna, I've gradually come to accept the probability that at least some of this stuff is true. That is to say, I've accepted it up to the point it's safe for  my psyche to do so. To imagine a FULL disclosure on a national presidential announcement style scale is to visualize such a massive sea change in the course of human history and knowledge as to have a panic attack. Much easier to merely 'imagine' it, to 'what if' it. Behold the face of the gorgon via the mirror of myth (it's what it's there for!)

Yet Aliens can't just 'half' visit Earth (well actually they can but that's a post for another 'time') Once this truth is accepted, all the hokey Sagan posturing and "are we alone?" pontificating seems only a more educated version of Middle Age religious hysteria. Any scientist not terrified of being tried for the modern equivalent of heresy (i.e. ridiculed and denied tenure) would probably agree with Ufologists were they presented with the mountains of data and evidence that all fits together much better than the angry  dismissals, belittlings, denials and cover-ups of the scientific and military community; if you approach it with a clear objective mind, the truth is right there... inside the arms and noses of abductees.

I understand the value in keeping this stuff under at least some shadow of a doubt, as it helps control a very panicky, armed citizenry who "have enough problems" to worry about. One of our tax dollar services is that the government provides a kind of 'flat earth' cover-up, a "Go back to sleep, grandpa! Humans are still A-Number One!" lullaby for the riot-ready herd. I've previously compared the "are they really here or not?" debate as akin to the production code of Hollywood in the 1940s-50s, giving people both answers to the 'did they have sex after that fade-out?" at the same time, so the children and moralists can believe they didn't (have sex) and the hep cats can know they did, but ideally and actually - neither side are 'sure' one way or the other, and that's good. It's what makes it interesting. We need to want to know things we don't need to know. It's up to parents when we're young and governments when we're old to make sure we don't find out too much too soon. We'll get there eventually, but to have it all at our fingertips too soon crushes our souls.

It's basic psychology that once you give people a straight answer, they just ask ten more questions... until all mystery and excitement is drained from their lives. You do them a favor when you hide stuff, like hiding the polar bear's meat in hard to find places at the zoo, to give him something to do. Isn't the root of our love of mysteries seated in our curiosity about our own origins, why as little children we always wonder why we have our father's eyes, for example if we came 'from' our mother. Moms and dads evade, but the clues are there; the game is afoot!

 If you want proof the people would panic at full disclosure, consider the reaction to Orson Welles' War of the Worlds broadcast in 1938. You can also see how the public aren't ready for disclosure by the way they expect the government and the law to supply 'answers' and 'solutions' to alien visitations. If you expect the government to prevent hurricanes, for example, the only thing they can do is order you to evacuate and/or board up your windows. If you demand they do something about the UFO probe hovering over your town, the best they can do is tell you it's a mirage, or a weather balloon, and to return to your homes. If you are smart enough to know it's no weather balloon, you are smart enough to know the cops can't do much about it, so why call them?

Instead you might examine the way you lean on 'the big Other' of government to protect you, the way a child would its parent at a scary carnival. Naturally the parent's job--if you're too scared to enjoy yourself--is to tell you the monsters in the spookhouse aren't real. But if you're not too scared (and they're good parents who want you to have a good time) they're not going to spoil the mood by pointing out the monsters are just masks and puppets. Better you don't bring your parents along at all and pretend (i.e. know) to be scared for your little brother, and have a great spine-tingling freak out together. Why the need to announce to everyone at the carnival that the spookshow isn't real? Why not be the only one on your block who knows the true score, and just keeps it to yourself?  Don't run around like Chicken Little, or run into the movie show shouting: "don't believe them! They are just actors!" Meditate, and keep reading all the great books on the subject. The truth is never farther than your own brain.

Disinformation runs rampant, but I think the people who are controlling all this information are doing a bang-up job at leaking it all out slowly enough and with enough of an air of myth about it that by the time 'the tipping point' comes we wont need to panic, and suddenly instead of UFO nuts being picked on, those who don't believe will be made out to seem like repressed weirdos of the "world is flat" variety.

By case in point, there's a documentary right on Netflix streaming, amateurishly done almost by intention, that collects 'the best evidence' of all the UFO material, including Bob Lazar's famous interviews, analysis and presentation of alleged Roswell crash material and something I didn't know of at all before, the work of surgeon Roger Leir, a doctor who has removed 11 implants from abductees and has had enough analysis done on them to know the material they're made of is distinctly extraterrestrial, and what's more, in the areas of the body where they've been found there is no evidence of any kind of infection, antibody resistance, scarring, or anything to indicate a human stuck those things in there (such as inside the jaw near the bone, etc.) they also emit low frequency tracking waves - so the aliens can, presumably, track our migratory routes the way we do animals in the wild.

If you don' have Netflix streaming (the documentary is called CLOSE ENCOUNTERS: PROOF OF ALIEN CONTACT) you can read all about Leir's findings and qualifications on the web, including UFO Digest:

Normally there is an inflammation response to any foreign object in the body. This results from white blood cell activity in the area, attempting to rid the body of what it considers garbage that doesn't belong there. If the object is something soft, like a sliver, the body is able to disintegrate it and take it away one piece at a time. If the body can't remove the foreign object, it does the next best thing. Thousands of cells join together in a process called differentiation, changing form and surrounding the object to wall it off and separate it from the rest of the body. Any type of foreign object placed in the body -- whether by accident, such as a splinter, or something surgically inserted by a doctor -- will show this type of inflammation. So it was extremely strange that the pathology reports on these objects showed no inflammatory cells at all.

Another strange thing was also discovered. In the tissue around each implant, there were numerous nerve endings that didn't belong there. None of the investigators could say why these nerve endings were there, but it suggests the possibility that the implants act as some kind of monitoring device through attachment to the nervous system. (...)

When Dr. Leir received the three different scrapings of the membrane coatings from Derrel Sims, he sent them out to three separate pathologists. When the reports came back, it turned out that the main ingredient in this very tough membrane was something simply made from blood. In this bloody mass were some brown granules. The pathologists did an iron stain test and found that these brown granules were made of oxygen-carrying pigment from human red blood cells. Besides this, they also found a material called keratin, which comprises the outer layers of human skin, hair and fingernails.

Dr. Leir pointed out that if medical science could figure out how to duplicate this membrane, we would solve one of the biggest problems in medicine, that of transplant rejection. The membrane around the objects was apparently composed of material from the patients' own bodies BEFORE the objects were inserted. If we knew how to do this, we could put almost anything into the human body and have absolutely no rejection.

Leir and Sims illustrated the structure of one of the implants taken from the woman's toe. When first removed, it was flat and triangular. When the outer membrane was removed, inside were two separate pieces of shiny black metal, tightly joined together in the shape of a "T". Apparently only the membrane itself held these two metal pieces in alignment.

(UFO Digest 8/10)

Say what you will about that documentary, I found it very refreshing in its lack of skepticism. If you read the above and find yourself getting angry at how we're all getting taken for a ride by a quack doctor and his attention-seeking gambits, then maybe you're just not ready to 'let this in.' That's fine. That's why I like that I had to 'look' for this evidence in a badly reviewed, left-of-the-dial documentary (two stars based on Netflix viewer ratings!) rather than seeing it plastered on the front page of the Times where it would stir only a national panic that could only be quelled by the FBI pressuring Leir to declare it was a fake, even though the hep cats would know it wasn't.

And if it's not true, so what? Why let it make you mad that some people believe it? It doesn't directly affect the events of your day, so it needn't effect your life one way or another, any more than a fly should be expected to worry about your taxes. Your job and family aren't in jeopardy by accepting the fact--pretty unshakable if you have an open mind--that 'they're here.' So what's the big deal? Why is science unwilling to even accept mountains of eyewitness testimony as the basis for even a workable hypothesis? Shall I tell you? Or do you know by now that once you open that door you can never close it, that admitting the truth will not provide us with answers so much as an infinite number of terrifying realities. Do we really want to learn that we're not on the top of the food chain after all? Do we want to know what really happens to those mutilated cattle, and the missing children?

There's so many documentaries on UFOs out there that are either a) conservative, no-risk science with flimsy rationalizations, b) full of obvious hoaxes almost to discredit the entire idea, and c) stuck at the "But what if...." stage. The CLOSE ENCOUNTERS documentary goes way past all that to become its own one-doc disclosure proclamation: "well... so they're definitely real, science now has its hard evidence, so what now?" I like that, it takes guts, and the shoddy construction of the film helps it go down with just enough dubious fringes--just enough BLAIR WITCH-iness-- that you can still fall asleep at night.

Gulf Breeze  - ceiling light, jellyfish, or UFO- still cool

I also like that it looks beyond the hang-up a lot of UFO researchers have about "disclosure," as if disclosure is the be-all and end-all, that once it happens all their worries will be over because they'll know for sure they were right, which is understandable if you're devoted to the study and have been doing all this good work for so long while idiots around you jeer and scientists wont let you in their dorky clubs, or that you're jonesing for some mainstream recognition, to become the Newton or Einstein of your day, but if you're not, why do you care so much what the government says? Even when they disclose you know they'll be lying.

Validation from Big Brother is just the curtain parting on an even bigger curtain. It's like THE WIZARD OF OZ suddenly reversed, with the gentle old man Frank Morgan as the mask in front--the sneering scientist declaring UFOs a lot of rot--and the crazy green face--terrifying in its size and scope like you can't imagine, waiting behind the curtain, and behind that, still another curtain to be pulled, maybe scarier, maybe stranger. Don't blame the shadowy sects who work so hard keeping that curtain in place to spare you the shock and awesome horror. They're just the macro representation of your own consciousness and its repressive mechanisms pulling curtains on childhood traumas.

And anyway, even if it's not true, you can pretend you're pretending it's true for the scare effect, like THE BLAIR WITCH and PARANORMAL ACTIVITY (above, see also my Acidemic review).

It might be interesting though, to hear posts from people still wrestling with whether or not aliens are on our planet, coming and going in ways our science can't comprehend any more than a dog can comprehend nuclear physics. And in our sly will-to-stay-sane-y way, we're playing right into their hands. At any rate, they like things as they are -- obviously. They don't want to land on the White House lawn like scared skeptics demand any more than nature documentary teams want to intervene in the matters of the the African Serengeti. Imagine a pride of lions reasoning that they're the highest life form in the universe, because if those humans at the edge of the preserve really existed, why don't they come forward and challenge the dominant male of the pride? Obviously as they have no fangs and claws--they're not real... hairless white apes, whoever heard of such a thing!

Arizona lights, 1997

Or, imagine a jeep of nature conservationists spotting lions attacking a gazelle and racing to stop it. "That gazelle had a family, goddamnit!" Since we don't do that, the gazelles think we're evil. "How can God the protector of our Eden actually exist if he lets this slaughter of our herd go on?"

Or now take the metaphor further, the conservationists decide to tag the ears of some gazelles so they can monitor the population, and to check their blood and see what parasites they're carrying, etc.. So they grab a gazelle, take a blood sample, tag its ear with a plastic tag, and release it back into the wild. Maybe while examining him they notice he has ringworm, so they give him a shot for it. Then they release him into the wild and he gambols away as if nothing happened. The gazelle's brain isn't really hardwired to accept this strange event, but somehow this gazelle, even without a proper memory as such, feels that something weird happened to him, something not of his usual world.

His friends don't believe it; that plastic thing on his ear is probably a leaf and will fall off in time. They analyze the plastic tag in their gazelle labs (they nibble at it and do a taste test) and since it doesn't compare to any leaves they know of, and they can't eat it, they dismiss the tag as a hoax and change the subject.

Even more complex agendas persist: some humans invade the preserve and kill gazelles for sport, or to take their horns or meat, sometimes under the guise of being conservationists so they don't get arrested by the game warden. There's not much gazelles can do about it, so they forget it. In dreams they remember the white men with the tags and needles as a lion, a lion with thin sharp venomous stinger claws, but only in dreams, cover memories, ways to try and fit the strange events of their lives into their normal existence. If the abducted gazelle demands the dominant buck do something about it, the only avenue said buck has, therefore, is to assure the herd this gazelle was only dreaming... so as not to start a needless panic or stampede.

This conversation never happened. Do you deny it? Don't worry, aliens can't stand the cold germs that God, in his infinite wisdom, spread upon the earth, and every once in awhile a fast lion takes a human hunter down. They can be stopped. Oh yes. But first they have to be believed, and not in a half-assed 'oh yeah, military knows all about 'em' way, but in a "holy freakin' we're barely a pawn in this cosmic game and we're fin to get our asses kicked off the board any day now" way, and who wants to deal with that, except artists and crazy people? For they alone have always felt thus. Ask not for whom the flu germs toll, they toll for thee, so why not stay in bed and just dream it all away?

Uncle Sam shall thy pillow fluff.

I Blur the Line

One of the mission statements of this blog is to combine speculation with suspicion, parapsychology and para-science with outsider shamanistic intuition. Ideas like life after death, aliens, ghosts, inter-dimensional wormholes, are so out there that we can't really grasp them except through art, speculative fiction, etc. This is how the government disseminates UFO information to the public: shrouded in enigma and contradictory testimony, like what the 'code' of old Hollywood did when addressing the question of 'did they or didn't they?' in the fadeout between the night's kiss and the next morning's breakfast. The prudes and kids thought they didn't, the experienced and lecherous knew they did - both answers were right via the code. For the alien question, the MAJ-12 strategy is to make sure most of the important details are available, for those of us drawn to the subject, to familiarize ourself as part of a gradual public awareness. The analogy might be made to sex talk in elementary school  - some kid might know what goes on, but he might be lying. We hope he is and the space created in that hope allows for the slow familiarization, so by the time we know for a fact what sex is, in say, 7th grade, we're not as horrified as we were in, say, 3rd.

But thought through to its end game, the idea of military complex-spread disinformation is so tragically clever that it becomes a kind of structuralist super virus, one that multiplies within itself and spreads through human thinking and reason until the very foundations of truth vs. illusion, fiction vs. reality, and all other dualities crackle and dissolve.

There's no need to ask yourself if 'disinformation' as a tool exists, since it's so ingeniously simple to execute that a child could do it and often does without even knowing it. It's easy and fun and no government would be stupid enough not to employ it. The only thing is, a child doing it has a wolf-crier's trouble being believed if he reverses Occam's Razor and replaces a simple truth with a complex lie. An organization devoted to propaganda within the military industrial complex on the could easily mask a very simple and disturbing truth with an elaborate tapestry of fictions we'd rather believe, hence the obvious fact (aliens exist) is prevented from overwhelming our sheltered reality since it's bathed in flaky unreliable haziness.

If the men who circumscribe the parameters of our reality do this long enough, however, reality itself split into an acid trip of blurred and shattered boundaries between realms of existence.

Central to the idea of 'disinformation' - and what makes it compelling - is that it actually does make inseparable the elements of truth with pure fantastical speculation. We forget which is which. If we ever knew for sure, as in if someone came along who could tip the balance and make the truth undeniable, they would have to kill that person. Or to paraphrase Hamlet, to be or not to be is the question only if you have not yet understood the answer which is that we are always both actions at the same time, which again brings us back to the concept of myth, like a ring around a goddamned Rosie.

MYTH AND RELIGION are just Elementary School Kids pretending they know what sex is

Scientists each have their own ethical code, but when it comes to, say, experimenting on the living brains of chimpanzees, all may not be of accord. Some may close their sense of compassion to the chimp completely off, refuse to grant it the courtesy of human emotion - see it merely as an animal and their work as too important to stop the torture. Another scientist may feel a connection and attempt to ease the chimp's suffering, teach it some rudimentary sign language, show it some TV. If all the chimps were then returned to the wild, in what sense would the 'altered' chimps be able to explain their abduction and tests at the hands of the humans in white masks and gloves, to their fellow apes? The humans would be angels or devils depending on which human scientist was in charge of them.

Some of the skeptic chimps might argue that since the fur of the 'abductee' contains no bite marks or claw marks where the humans opened his flesh then there is no 'evidence' of any operation. A stitched-up scar for example might be regarded as a row of insect bites or dismissed as an anomaly.

Reasons why the chimp was abducted would be so far outside their own realm of chimp thinking that the only way they could perhaps be understood was through a tribal song, a ballad about white tall ghost chimp gods that plucked apes from trees and brought them up to the sky to a giant termite mound, where they taught them language and astronomy; other chimps talk of giant sky god devils who opened the chimp's heads with glowing termite sticks and ate their brains, replacing them with pieces of jungle fruit. Gradually over the years, as the stories accrue, the myth of the sky god angels and devils would twist and include agendas of different chimp kings: 'The hairless white gods told us that Magador must be the one true chimp king!' A few generations later: "Magador was a hairless white chimp God!"

A few generations after that, anyone who claims Magador was just a chimp and not a sky god, is burned at the stake.

Humans believe in a fixed consensual reality, even though mystics and quantum physics proves there is no such thing; yet it's a truth just too shattering to fully accept since to follow the reasoning to the end leads you back around to the beginning and the realization that all truth is fiction.

But consider these different states that humans sometimes find themselves in-- and which we believe are normal at the time-- but that might be very different from 'consensual' reality.  I list them below in order of what I believe is their level of intense weirdness:

'Reality' (consensual) - 3-dimensional, anchored in space and time

Dreams - non-dimensional (4th), outside space and time

Sleep Paralysis - 2nd dimension w/ 4th dimensional cracks (here is the level where time and space begin to melt off)

Fever - Delirium - accidental access to 4th dimension caused by neural overheating

Trance (via meditation) -  same as above but intentional
 
Psychedelic / shamanistic vision - full on immersion into 4th-9th dimensions

Nirvana  - All dimensions accessed / transcended, including space-time; consciousness untangled and returned to AUM consciousness

Near-Death Experience / Death - 9th dimensional access, no return except via new opening through to lower dimensions. (Your body / tunnel through to space/time has closed behind you)

Now when we think of aliens coming to earth, or being here all the while, we only really think of the first level, the 3-D consensual reality. But what about the rest of the levels? Aliens might well consider, say, the third eye psychedelic inter-dimensional state, the ones only a few humans sometimes reach, to be much more 'real' and the place they do their visiting and invasion from. (Hence they're most often seen by schizophrenics, trippers and people with high fevers). Maybe these aliens could/can see and exist simultaneously in all of the above dimensions and realms of thought, whereas we can be in 'only one' space at a time. To them we might look like a giant water slide ride snaking line of motion, a projected film where each image remains on the screen and the images pile forward so that if you don't have 4D vision it just looks like a black wiggling blob. To them humans seem like 4D snake lines, with heads newborn babes at the front of the line and tales withered old dying men. Each time the human thinks that if he doesn't see any aliens when he's sliding down the water slide, when frankly, his attention is focused elsewhere, on the long tunnel tube in front of him, then they can't exist.

Meanwhile there they are--far off in old people lawn chairs, drinking wine coolers--watching us play in the water until they see a weak one who needs to 'come out' and rest for awhile (and maybe be diced up and sent back into the primordial soup).

We can get an impression of just how close these beings always are when we have deep out of body trance experiences. As someone who more or less stumbled on the ability and could do it at will, sometimes, for a few months here and there (in 1987, 1991 and 2006), I can share some of the feelings involved in moving outside one's body:

One notable thing is the awareness of one's presence inside one's body, suddenly not being fixed to one's actual body, more like a brain with a long trail of writing jelly fish nerve endings that fill up various end points of the body, like a hermit crab might lodge himself inside a shell. So for example with some concentration you can let go of your auric tendril's hold on your physical form and  'feel' like you are standing vertically while lying in bed, let's say, or floating in place while your body revolves below you, or above you, there's no difference... your gravity can shift so that you are rotating with the atmosphere -- say the moon's gravitational drag holds your astral body in place while your physical body slowly rotates away below you in a slow clockwise direction. Or you can feel the magnetic pull northward lifting you up, ass first, out of yourself and up along the ceiling towards the north, only to gradually rotate around back into your form, with the slow measured regularity of a swinging hypnotists' pendulum.

Another is the sensation of being around much larger beings that are just out of sight, 'behind' the bands of light that constitute our aura, huge astral forms that watch over us-and by extension human consciousness -- the way parents reading the Sunday newspaper might watch over their 2-3 year old infant playing below their feet.

This was a recurring and very pleasant sense of presence I encountered during many sessions of deep astral meditation. At one point I found the hand of this being on my shoulder as I sat in the lotus position, as if it was sitting behind me, and put its giant, electromagnetically vibrant hand on my shoulder--like a cleansing lightning. For awhile this giant teacher's message was I must go and spread the word of God, etc. etc., but there's so many people who think they're Jesus out there that the idea seemed too literal. So as an artist and writer, you calm down and remember that no one likes a sanctimonious windbag telling them what to do just because he had a little white light experience and now thinks he's the what's what.  So you humble up and try to incorporate these experiences into your work in such a way as to reach whomever they were meant to be communicated to. I'd say William Blake (below) is probably the finest example of this. Herman Melville's Moby Dick is another.

Another being from beyond I encountered a few years back: a giant revolving planet-sized Medusa headed tentacle-wreathed (instead of snake hair) behemoth approximately the size and shape of Pluto, I was floating in place outside the orbit of this giant tentacled planet head, but again above the sway of its gravity so that it revolved below me, and I knew that there was a giant red squid-beak mouth coming my way along the head, a flaming Molloch (METROPOLIS) door mouth that would inhale and scald, rend and devour my entire soul, mind, and body when it next revolved under me, so I became very devout and pleading and promised to spread the word of this giant space octopus head far and wide, like the Silver Surfer heralding Galactus. When I returned to my physical body I wrote a song 'Spare me, Space Octopus' but... it sucked. While wondering if this C- of an effort would be enough to spare me come 'da rapture,'  I found lots of weird coincidental things on the internet that would indicate I was not alone in having this bizarre encounter. All sorts of authors, musicians, and artists have made deals with the giant Medusa head: H.P. Lovecraft (Cthulu, Yog Soggoth, all his other elder gods); the Spaghetti Monster 'religion,' and Medusa herself in Greek myth, and even this cool T-Shirt, which I bought and now run in to the bewilderment of fellow joggers and parkgoers:

So that's just an example I guess... of disinformation in action.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TkID1I1EIM0