Sunday, March 16, 2008

Damn You Ghost Hunters!

Dedicated to Regina, who was always her own person. Bye for now "mom".

A Joe Capp Joint:

Suddenly, for no apparent reason, I awoke. Something was at the foot of my bed.

When you get old it feels good to have a pillow between your knees, so I peeked over it. Something at the foot of the bed was glowing, and that something looked like a typical gray alien.

I sat bolt upright and looked at my wife, who was silent, asleep beside me. I shook her frantically, yelling “Get up! I want you to see this. Phyl, get up!”

“Ah… excuse me…ah, excuse me. That won’t work. I put her into… what you may loosely describe as…um, a sound sleep.”

I stopped in mid-shake and looked at the gray, thinking “Was that you in my head?”

“Yes, it’s me. We do that a lot out of habit. I will use my voice now. I want you to be aware of one thing, I am not a Human-Basher. I did not want to scare you in any way. Hence the…the…getup.”

Mind to voice is weird.

It stood there, glowing, spreading its stringbean arms wide.

“Getup?” I asked.

Then it pointed at my ceiling, and the light fixture flashed on. Next, the alien leaned into the light and kind of waved. In a friendly way.

At that point I realized I was going mad. Or maybe it was the Trickster Factor. Maybe all this UFO stuff finally tipped the balance. I looked again: the alien still had the facial features of Woody Allen…and it was wearing his glasses!

I looked incredulously at my wife, who was still sleeping.

“Don’t freak out!” It said. “I just wanted to look like someone you you’re not afraid of…You must know at this stage of your life, I didn’t have many choices. I thought of ah, a cat. But then you might try and pet me…and the thought of that…I almost threw up.”

I sat up on my knees and cupped my hands together. Closed my eyes tight. All I could do at that point was repeat these words: I believe in the Trickster, I believe in the Trickster I believe, I believe …

“Wizard Of Oz! Important metaphor for arrogance and the inability of your people to humble yourselves to what you already have. I loved the movie,” It said. “We gave Frank Baum the idea. Unaccredited, of course.”

Slowly I opened my eyes. It stood --or hovered-- there, still.

“Are you going to abduct me?” Soon as I said it, I felt ill.

“No, just your wife,” It replied.

My mind raced. I imagined doing battle with these aliens as they captured my wife, while I stood by, held helpless inside a blue paralyzing ray.

“Just kidding” it smiled.

“But that was a great scenario you played in your mind. Privately though,” the alien took a minute to poke its glasses back up the nubbin of its nearly non-existent nose, “looking at you, I…I would go for me. After all, I’m Woody Alien.”

“Alright, enough!” I shouted. “Whatever game you’re playing, I don’t care! If you think for one minute I’m putting this in my blog, you’re crazy. Trying to make me look nuts, huh? Discredit me?”

Now it spoke in a low voice, as though confidentially: “I wouldn’t, ah hum…worry about blogs ah, ah…anymore” But despite this attempt to seem suave, the alien was clearing its throat continuously.

“What did you say? What do you mean, not worry about blogs anymore?”

It looked at me for a second, then blinked, and somehow, said and thought at the same time: “Well, it just means there won’t be any blogs anymore. You see, I am here on my own initiative. To warn you. Personally.”

“Me?” was all I could manage.

“In a few hours from now, all electricity --including batteries on your world-- will die…And then it, ah, ah, gets worse.”

It looked at me. I looked at it. Hours seemed to pass…but it was only milliseconds. Then there was a kind of hiccup in my mind, or its mind, and it started talking again. But now it spoke with incredible speed, though continuing to clear its throat.

“I demanded of the Council…that the Humans ...”

The alien went silent for a second, as it paced back and forth, reminding me of a dead man walking.

Then it pointed its finger, but more to punctuate than to accuse “…I demanded that you Humans deserved to be fully informed of…what is about to…ah hum… happen… and why. So after I demanded this, they agreed…” Its voice trailed off. But started up again, while it paced, “…to two…ah hum…two conditions…”

It looked at me expecting something. I’m sure my mouth was still wide open.

“Condition One: That the reasons for this catastrophe be told to…someone in the UFO community -- after all, they were the only ones who really believed all along. I agreed with this. It was only…ah…fair, I mean, right?”

All I could do was stare.

“The second,” it went on, gliding into a stream of consciousness tone like cool jazz, “…was to select the most insignificant UFO aficionado I could find on the planet.”

“What? Me?” My jaw snapped when it finally hit me. I know this, because I bit my tongue. The ego… is the last thing to go. I thought.

“Well think of it this way: from now on, you, Joe Blogger, will be the first human to know the truth. Don’t you want to know Why?”

I have to admit, as much as I was in shock, and even though the whole world might be ending and even though there would be no more WEEDS, Ghost Hunters or The Wire, I still wanted to know.

“Let me put it bluntly. There are thousands of dimensions, your good dimensions, and your, ah, bad. We have a Contract governing all that, and it’s simple: No Touching.”

“No one wanted you ‘Earthlings’ ”. It threw it’s hands above it’s head and at that time…with the long fingers shaking back and forth… it did not look like Woody Allen. I closed my eyes.
“…to know about other dimensions- you kill everything that moves”. It had the Woody Allen desperation persona. “We do our damnedest not to let you know what it’s all about. That’s why ghosts keep running away; why you can never find conclusive proof If you’re in a primitive aggressive state, as some species are --killing anything that moves, you know what I mean—we’re not saying you do it intentionally…anything that just gets in the way - you move them over…but you can see how they think you don’t care…nothing unusual- just what happens

“Now the Committee, if that’s what you want to call them --and I usually call them the committed, for obvious reasons-- has deemed it necessary that no dimension can be attacked. With a single exception: open contact is permitted when a genuine threat is posed by another dimension’s inhabitants. And here, the Committee refers to a population of the violent, kill-what-you-need kind of species.”

“By the way you, know you’re classified as a violent race, right?”

What could I say? But then I thought of something.

“Wait! You guys “display yourselves” all over the place. Multiple contacts.. abductions…. Mutilations…over cities.

“So why would you do that if you need to be a secret?” My mind was coming back. I was up to the challenge.

“True, we are allowed to shake you up a little, especially when you pull your… species suicide bit. We the committee send messages to your government… “displays” “contacts” “confusion” - they know what we mean… (it coughed several times) at least we think so.
But we are a little weirded out with your… World Wars Bombing Everything era… and your Atomic (build thousands of) Bombs era...and your Continuing Destroying Your Environment era…and … need I say more.”

“Enough,..” I was getting tired. “So, you’re saying as long as didn’t know, we were safe?”

“Oh, of course not, as my uncle Melvin, use to say, don’t repeat what you believe, only what you know and then carry a big stick. ”

I was getting angry “What does that have to do with it?”

It hesitated for a minute. “I don’t know but it fit the character. Believing is one thing, but knowing it is real… like, you know, a “screwdriver” is real…that’s a different concept altogether. Once your species mindset has been changed to that level, plus you … “as a species” have the technological ability to go to these other species, and be a danger to those other species, they get paranoid …like Republicans.

“So Who decides?” I said this in a matter of fact tone.

“If a trial can prove conclusively with a preponderance of the evidence that the a species (you) in question kills everything that gets in it’s way….”

My denial kicked in right in the nick of time. “We only kill when….when …we need to”. I am such a wimp.

Your specie’s trial lasted 5 of your minutes…,” it said, dismissing my comment with a hard blink. “It was unanimous. But there are bright sides- Bush won’t be president anymore – and you’ll know what was in Chaney’s safe.

“Just tell me one thing…” I said, slowly. I looked directly at it. “who in the UFO field pushed our species over the line into this reality mindset you speak of?” I clenched my fist because I knew and yelled. “Damn you, Stan Friedman”

“Not a fat chance in hell…” It thought… Ghost Hunters” it said.

It put me back to sleep knowing the alarm clock would not wake me in the morning.

Two part video Below:
Video on UFO cases which were developed By Santiago Gaza. A great video statement supporting the idea most of these "Muliple Contact" cases are just ordinary people. I loved the DVD. "Santiago Yturria Garza" International UFO Congress 2002.
The Gardenas Family adventure:

The Anthony Woods UK Family Adventure:

Joseph Capp
UFO Media Matters
Non-Commercial Blog

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