October 15, 2013

Saucers Over Albuquerque

a farce in three acts


**

Assumed Redemption
(being the preface to act 1)

by James Carlson

Some men dream of Valhalla in the heart, a mounted beast they can hope to control only with the most bestial of acts and the celebrations of their remembrance.  Others create their own personal mythologies, preparing symbols for their diet and their daily routines, hoping to learn how to survive the worst of the world along the way.  Men of conscience, on the other hand, may find themselves walking briskly along a thin road to either conflict, dust rising into the future and hiding the path forward while masking the past.  Memories assume direction without reference.  As a result, only a desperate few will ever be worthy of the dreams their lives will eventually preface for the rest of the world.  They create a vicious disregard in their hearts and write out their own lives amidst the pages of a world unimagined.

These are the elements and conditions that map the origin of the stories and legends we try most urgently to remember in the darkness when a quiet, calm world sleeps and predators howl.  Even on strident courses set aside for us by anxiety and sorrow, the huge majority of men are only rarely significant outside of their own surroundings, while the twisted aggregates of their intent and its corruptions are even less so.  This is why we repeat the stories that we learn and the tales told of earnest men and great and worthy dreams.  We measure out in painful breaths the uncertain value of those enigmatic thoughts borne by such men and the pitiable personae we have sketched out and adopted to describe them as if they were ours alone and not merely the tasteless leavings of other men’s lives.  It is an expression of our arrogance to believe them original and to call them our own.  They are not.  They are merely a handful of scattered enigmas vying for our short-lived yet nonetheless starving attentions.

It is precisely because we are unoriginal and suggestible that we all too often owe our dreams and our dilemmas to the feckless men who follow behind those rare few worthy of our symptomatic regard.  This is, in fact, our worst quality, the most ungracious description of the human character.  We try so hard to live the dreams of other men that we forget how to create dreams of our own.  This cultural amnesia ultimately forces us to rely on unnatural and ultimately meaningless tales for the sustenance of heart our temporal lives demand, allowing them entrance into minds and emotions that represent the undefined legacy of our species.  Once there, they flop and scuttle before us like breathless fish at the bottom of a boat next to a couple of cracked sinkers and ugly, wretched bits of worm and cricket, and the milky scales of day-old snappers.  It is our suggestibility that makes them real, not some natural and inborn quality possessed by the measurable habitations of life.

The stories we absorb are just poor reflections of what were once the steps of an unknown dance that left only footprints behind, soon scattered in the wind, and yet, they nonetheless help us to navigate our culture and the development of our values if we can only hold firm and refuse to define them as some kind of modeled template of our lives.  Complacency is necessary, not sacrifice and belief, for only complacency allows us to focus our attentions on what we can do, not on what we can imagine.  One example of the need for such complacency is represented by the Disclosure issues currently being sold to dreamers and madmen by shameless reprobates throughout every nation in the world where the word “UFO” has come to mean something other than an undefined anomaly in the sky.  Disclosure is defined and reconditioned to meet the expectations of men and women who cannot possibly reach a consensus based on real knowledge of real events, and yet it is being used to shape political desires and potential national policy.  It is an arrogance that yields only to the imagination.

                                                                                                                               

Most of the world is aware that the Full Disclosure beggared by the irresponsible optimism of wishful thinkers to the ultimate fate of the universe has already revealed its most curious and penetrating secrets.  Nonetheless, we forever debate the social implications of aggressive incontinence, and fool ourselves into believing there might be something alien yet rational hidden away in decades-old government briefing memorandums just waiting at the bottom of some steel-layered safe at the Pentagon for that one properly worded query amidst a stack of the new FOIA requests for the week.  That’s why so many continue to send those relatively pointless requests out once a month like some religious responsibility, week after week, over and over again.  Each time a FOIA request finds its way to the post office, it’s wrapped up in expectations that the response will be different this time.  Maybe that single word in paragraph six that was changed at the last minute will find favor with another faceless Admin rep.  It’s certainly possible that there’s a new classified materials officer at Edwards AFB, and this guy just might interpret our intentions with a friendlier attitude than the last three appointees.  Maybe whoever he is will finally send us the records that we’re so obviously referring to instead of those damned garbage histories that keep talking about Venus waxing with the waning moon.  Maybe this time …

 

These are the easy lessons – things we’ve learned from experience and unchanging response.  We already know the color and the flavor of its debris, and we immediately recognize its true value.  You see, the flying saucer hunters are no longer primed with cameras and videos as they used to be, and this tells us something important about intent.  Maybe this new aspect of gathering wool has come about because they’ve finally caught up with Hollywood FX, and are still unable to prove the point or improve the outcome.  They used to tell us that in the future everyone will have a camera, and the proof of UFOs from outer space will become more apparent as a result.  Today, both corporations and governments assure us that the 24-7 video record of our environment is a necessary, albeit violent, investment of privacy calculated to improve the quality of our instantaneous and oppressive security, and yet nothing is clearer than the primary tenet of our new Church of the Saucer:  outside of criminal enterprise, there is nothing very interesting for us to examine.

We’ve finally cornered the future within the weeks and months of our lives and we have discovered that nothing has changed.  In typical response to this world weary principle, the predators now conduct their hunts in the pages of old newspapers and magazines and amongst the faded words of FOIA documents that are older than the USAF.  This too has repercussions, of course, easily discovered within the pages of a new dogma, and just as easily defined:  in the future there won’t be any more secrets.  According to what passes as the new wisdom, this ultimate truth will finally and for all time be readily apparent, as if all we had to do was convince some guy with the appropriate security access who happens to be more than a little annoyed with the IRS to speak up a bit louder into the hidden microphone and change world history with a whisper.  Pay no attention to the man in the closet, and never forget:  this revolution’s gonna be televised.

Every kid in the third grade demands his own You-tube account, while the old farts who know exactly how much the best kept secrets are really worth tell themselves in that shady bit of twilight that spins the world around just before new sleep dims old intent that they’d spill whatever the rest of the world thinks qualifies as the beans in a heartbeat for a small fistful of goddamn antacid that really works. 

Somewhere in Ohio, an eight-year-old kid playing with his sister’s spandex leggings is watching Alien Autopsy on his Dad’s DVD player and 60-inch flat screen and thinking to himself, this is so corny – I bet I could do it better on my laptop.  And he’s not lying, either.

Across the street, the battle-hardened trio who tried to get a neighborhood UFO Watch club started, but couldn’t generate enough interest to schedule regular meetings has decided to rest what’s left of their hopes on the supposition that their dreams were somewhere recorded and co-opted and will someday be brought out into the light.  For them, the truth can only be approached after it’s been talked about between midnight and four on nationwide talk radio or exhibited across the screen on what used to be the History Channel.  Meanwhile, educated men greet such presumptions with rigid contempt and a little sour laughter.

Unfortunately, the world has been forced to listen to this silly little tune for far too long, and none of it has ever really changed, forcing us to examine its evolution in the splendor of its stillness and its uncompromising refusal to grow into something worth the energy necessary to redirect our national gaze.  Take a deep breath.  Hold it.  Exhale.  Now, in this single moment, this aggressive second of future reckoning, reconcile yourself to everything that’s unremarkable in life and recognize therein the true face of UFOlogy:  it is worthy of attention only when it’s marketable with a profit margin exceeding the investment of reasonable and well-focused contempt.  There.  That’s your first lesson on how a toss-off theory of economics can dictate the value of anything – even your own worthless hallucinations.  If you’re starting to think that maybe your emotional investment in this odd little world of UFOs and flying saucers and alien abductions just off the highway of poisoned impressions and slaughtered cattle bleeding out into the hot, red brick clay of a cracked valley where the rivers dried up long ago might have been too time consuming in your youth to enable any real objectivity today capable of keeping your blood pressure consistent and low, then you should probably go grab yourself a nice, cold beer and some of those generic cheese puffs in the 50-pound bags, ‘cause you’ve got some serious catching up to do…

 

60-years of man’s complete and utter failure to wrestle the flying saucer out of its natural reverie of folk tales and myths into groundbreaking reality has forced the world to abide with a somewhat weaker intent to discover the rare and unknown than in centuries past.  In a way, this is fitting, since UFOlogy, in its most general and aggressive terms, has been relegated to the dreariness of a poor history lesson.  The most fanatical or heretical of its judgments are raised to interpret events that can no longer produce witnesses, because so very few have survived the intervening years.  That’s one reason it’s become so popular amongst the starry-eyed glitterati to embellish new UFO claims on old USAF history in order to create a reality that few critics are willing to apply their disgust to so evenly.  For 60-years they’ve been buying twenty different tales of Roswell being sold by con-artists with the gross mentality of incompetent thieves, and they respond by cursing the CIA, the USAF, and the rest of the Department of Defense for refusing to tell them what really happened.  Meanwhile, the CIA, the USAF, and the rest of the Department of Defense fail to respond with anything approaching the expected reconciliation of rumor, having dismissed those making such demands decades ago.  These are lessons children could understand, and yet the UFO proponents are still confused, blaming governments for their own stupidity made plain in their refusal to adopt one of the most popular and easily understood philosophies of human existence yet devised:  examine carefully before buying!

Claims invented in the library need no accompanied resplendence to amaze and bewilder – they just need another badly faked signature so you think it might represent actual history.  As a result, UFOlogy has been enclosed within the same theoretical structure as Jack the Ripper, leaving its adherents no closer to an answer than those who insistently ask the world aether for the Ripper’s true identity, while expecting, of course, no serious or cogent response.  It’s now very clear that the greatest and most violent discussions produced under the aegis of world-wide UFOlogy concern events and the interpretation of events that occurred decades in the past.  UFOlogy now encompasses ancient history, precisely because it cannot find relevance in current events.  When there is nothing new under the sun, what, exactly, is there left to discover?  Similar to the nearly extinct Martians in Roger Zelazny’s A Rose for Ecclesiastes, it appears that we can always learn a little something from ancient man’s contemplation of futility.  And not unlike the Old Testament’s Book of Ecclesiastes, the Second Law of Thermodynamics makes all things equal through time, while heat death cleanses the universe of responsibility.

Hell, even the unconscious yearnings of the UFOlogical mind make its definition as a history lesson obvious to those caught up in the examination.  Full Disclosure, the single most sought after goal of UFOlogy’s most fanatical adherents, is encompassed within the passive desire for its justification, the importance of its existence to those desiring enlightenment.  Full Disclosure will justify the daily yearnings and the wasted nights of true believers most noted for replacing knowledge with faith.  Government secrets will finally vindicate their pre-teen assessments of this tiny bit of galaxy we call home, and shrink the Universe to a manageable size and dimension.  The intolerable laughter of human peers will finally fade out like the end of a laugh track queued to the closing credits of our own cartoon episode of The Ghostbusters Meet Scooby Doo on parade.  In the words of Mike Good, a columnist for UFO Magazine, Disclosure “is our last hurrah, right before we UFO aficionados say, ‘I told you so’ to all of those friends and family who poked fun at us and called us weirdoes and finally become, in Nick Redfern’s words – sorry Nick, I’m paraphrasing here – completely redundant and irrelevant.”  Disclosure, in other words, is the justification of belief that has failed to provoke any meaningful response outside of ridicule.

Mike Good

The connotation here is oriented in terms usually reserved for religious enlightenment, which is important to understand, given that Disclosure possesses a fundamentally secular definition.  Disclosure is simply the admission by the United States government that the truth behind UFOs and flying saucers is a story of extraterrestrial influence worldwide that has been known and classified by the Department of Defense for the past 60-years.  In other words, Disclosure is the reinterpretation of history.  This whole argument of religious tone and human development is based on the insistence of a few that their interpretation of history is correct, and the history known to the rest of the world is wrong.  60-years of UFOlogical failure is reinterpreted as UFOlogical success when the U.S. government finally admits that all of the paranoid secrets emblazoned, tattooed, and then branded by UFOlogists onto the psyche of America is not the effect of the commonplace and unexceptional collection of variables that the great majority of evidence indicates it is, but is instead the extraordinary causal effects of alien creatures, alien cultures, and alien technology.

Disclosure states nothing definitive about human existence today.  It’s merely the reinterpretation of human history undertaken to prove that UFOlogists were not wrong about Roswell, Minot AFB, American nukes and UFOs, aliens at the Pentagon, and a hundred other non-events that were bought and sold years ago.  It is simply the United States government’s validation of UFO claims that it has always rejected.  Disclosure is the release of classified materials proving that UFOlogists were right and the rest of the world was wrong.  Unfortunately, because the rest of the world was not wrong, and because UFOlogy is all too often the refuge of liars, hoaxers, the mentally ill, the mentally deficient, the uneducated, and the easily convinced, and because the U.S. government doesn’t really care about UFOs or those who believe in them, such a Disclosure will never occur.  And if something akin to Disclosure does occur, the results of that singular examination of classified knowledge will never be accepted as complete or honest by those who expect the past 60-years of UFOlogical failure to be exonerated, and thereby redefined as UFOlogical success.  As Mike Good says, “Disclosure:  It is the Holy Grail.  It is the culmination of all those years of cogitating about UFOs.”  When that “Holy Grail” is nothing more than the realization that authoritative historians – or the revelation of new FOIA documents – do not meet the expectations of those lobbying for that new lease on their desires and beliefs, those who are so eagerly awaiting their view of that “Holy Grail” will need to look at themselves a little deeper – not their government.  After all, there is nothing more certain than the fact that these UFOlogists are no longer looking for UFOs – they’re just looking for people to tell them they were right about their interpretation of events that transpired 60-years ago, or 50-years ago, or 40-years ago, or yesterday.  They demand that their shattered beliefs be repaired by the rewriting of history, which is essentially all that Disclosure really is.  At its heart, it’s just another word to justify the whining that all too often accompanies failure.   

Disclosure – the Holy Grail of UFOlogy – will supposedly solve all of the problems that UFOlogy’s many frequent failures have made so plain to the rest of the world.  When the USAF discloses all it knows about UFOs, the flying saucers at Roswell will finally become historically significant instead of the collection of folk tales and comedy routines that it represents today.  Disclosure will finally turn Robert Hastings’ silly musings, distorted reports, impulsive and obsessive lies, and nonsensical syllogisms about technologies he is completely ignorant of into the attendant usurpation of military strategies designed to bring about a new age typified by a fact-based approach to nuclear power and weaponry.  It will rewrite Robert Salas’ complete and utter lies, redefining them as lessons taught to us by the more advanced and infinitely more understanding aliens with a mission to protect us from ourselves.  With the onset of Full Disclosure, the tale of man’s search for meaning within the wallets of his neighbors – an object lesson warning us of the pain that can follow mental illness and its toleration for unprovoked supposition – will turn into the unified redemption of Stanton Friedman’s numerous, evolving claims regarding our government’s response to the birth of alien intervention in man’s affairs.  That’s all Disclosure really is: assumed redemption.  Remember, please, and attend to that single definition.  Disclosure is primarily the redemption of those who are wrong, as collected within their irresponsible rewriting of human history.  It’s what happens when mankind uses witchcraft to turn its failed search for God into our successful encounter with the body politic.  For the most part, it is always used in reference to a future event, and as such, it can never actually occur (which is a blessing without disguise for those like Richard Dolan, Bryce Zabel, Robert M. Collins, Robert Hastings, H. R. Phillips, Robert Salas, Stephen Greer and many, many others who are currently selling it worldwide).  Disclosure is simply a means of making money by selling ideals and the byproducts of wishful thinking amidst the assurance that wrong is right. 

Di$clo$ure is a profit-motivated system designed to treat the psychic wounds of those who refuse to accept the promise that their futures will be ordinary.  It is intended to address the fractured impressions of UFOlogy left behind at the culmination of the USAF’s investigative apparatus, Project Blue Book, the decision to shut down that money pit having been reached upon the Department of Defense’s conclusion that there was nothing important, substantiated, or reasonable to investigate and no cause for the Pentagon to pretend otherwise.  You might keep that in mind the next time you see that your dreams of flying saucers, unprovoked aggression, and alien manipulations have also been dreamed by others, and that these others have added a price tag to the tail end of them in order to flag down your lapsing attention.  And the next time you read one of those revelation-promising tomes wherein the world is buggered once again by hoary-eyed mystics riding unpronounceable, viciously lucid machines far too close to your damp and hidden face for you to decide whether they truly exist in a time that dances to the music of matter or are merely a preface to those dreams you have yet to spill, you might remember for one quiet, brief moment the true character surrounding UFOlogy’s aggressive intent:  only the first hit is free.

**

Soon to debut at this fine venue:  SAUCERS OVER ALBUQUERQUE:  A FARCE IN THREE ACTS ; Paranoid and Delusional (being act 1)







No Comments

No comments yet.

RSS feed for comments on this post.

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.



Reality Uncovered Social Networking
Visit us on Facebook! Follow us on Twitter! Reality Uncovered on You Tube




RU Custom Search

Help support the continued growth of Reality Uncovered