Monday, October 27, 2008

Damn You….” A Joe Capp Halloween 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!”

Phyl had never seen anything paranormal, and at last, I had the proof.

“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….” It tilted its head.

“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 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 I ah...I thought of ah, a cat. But then you might try and pet me…and the thought of that…I almost threw up, no offense.”

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 in the Trickster.

“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 Woody Allen nose, “looking at you, I…ah…um woul
d go for me. After all, I’m Woody Allen. I can’t even threaten myself.”

“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 um…worry… about ah um… blogs, ah… anymore”. The alien was clearing its throat continuously.“What did you say? What do you mean, not worry about blogs anymore?”
It looked at me again 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 behalf of….um… because they sent me here. I don’t want to be here for any reason. It’s not like I don’t like humans. Some of my best friends are humans…and I’m not trying to be facetious here. I never had a problem with humans. But they sent me to talk to you”“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 hum, it 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.

“My only crime was asking a question of the
Committee…that the Humans ...”The alien went silent for a second; head bent, it paced back and forth, with its left hand cupped in front of its thin mouth. It stopped, and then, like it was working right from a movie script, it pointed its finger at me, but more to punctuate than to accuse
“…I demanded…ah, strongly stated…that ‘humans’ deserved to be fully informed of…what is about to…ah hum…happen… and why. So after I demanded…I raised my voice, they agreed…”
Its voice trailed off. Then it started up again, while it paced at the foot of my bed. “…they agreed to it as long as I…ah um… I did it and…with…their…ah hum… conditions…”
It looked at me, expecting something. I’m sure my mouth was still wide open.
“I could inform someone of the reasons for this catastrophe…ah…um…someone in the UFO community-- after all, they were the only ones who really believed we were real. I agreed with this. It was only…ah…fair, I mean, right?”
All I could do was stare.

It went on, gliding into a stream of consciousness tone, doing a great job with Woody’s Brooklyn accent,

“I was to select…. the most insignificant UFO aficionado I could find on the planet. This was the person they wanted me to tell. You know, The Committee of Wisdom. ‘The Federation of Light” ...What a fiasco that was. Anyway, this COWFOL picked you.”

“What?... Me…COWFOL?”

It nodded its big Woody Allen head.

“Wait! Are you saying you settled on telling me as a justification for shutting down the world?”

“The ego. It’s the last thing to go,” I thought to myself.
“Yeah, the ego.” It thought-said.

“No, you were going to go anyway. But think of it this way…ah…um… from now on, you… Joe of UFO Media Matters…you will be the first and last human to know the truth of why it happened. By the way the ‘why’ is fascinating. You wanna hear it?”

I have to admit, even though the whole world might be ending, and even though there would be no more WEEDS, Anorexic Models, Ghost Hunters or Mad Men, I still wanted to know.
“Let me put it bluntly: there are thousands of dimensions and planets. I can tell you this now.

“Did you ever wonder why we don’t destroy each other? Well, many did. We are the ones who survived and got past all that.

“You in that ‘you’ as a species…” it smiled, “are promising, but with problems, serious baggage…what with Bush and his two terms… Um…never mind.
I like you. I mean personally, I have nothing against inter-species relationships. But do the best-looking ET women have to be used in their crazy experiments?”… It froze for a minute…. “Forgive me, I’m going off….

It paced and looked uncomfortable.

“All of us…ah…um for the most part… we hide ourselves to all newly encountered species because …ah hum, I’ll tell you why.
You kind of have to be ready for it… ah…um…for that knowledge…
you know, your species has killed everything that moves… on your planet it repeatedly kills anything…”

I thought about it for a second and realized he-it was right.

“Good. It ah um…I’m glad you see it like that,” it said.
“Have to watch what I’m thinking,” I thought.

“Actually, you should,” it thought back.

“No one wanted you Earthlings to know about any of this ET or dimensional stuff…or the other things, like, life after death…”

“You mean--” I thought.

“--Yes; that, too, is another dimension. You’ll find out very soon,” it thought back.

Its mind hiccupped again.

The ET who did a pretty good Woody Allen threw its hands above its head, and then, with the long fingers shaking back and forth, gave itself away. When I looked closer at its creepy shadow on the wall, moving like a distorted cartoon, I realized it did not look that much like Woody Allen.

I closed my eyes, trying to avoid further deception.
But it just kept going on “We don’t think it’s…ah, hum, well…healthy for any species to know for a certainty about other dimensions, ETs, and all the rest. It’s not, it’s not such a good idea”.
It shook its head, clearly having taken on the complete Woody Allen desperation persona. “We do our damnedest not to let any species that isn’t ready get a glimpse on the whole enchilada. The whole enchilada usually turns out to be, well, a disaster. With all kinds of ‘riffraff’. I like that word of yours, by the way…‘riffraff’, it has a certain pleasant buzz--”

And here, I wondered, was it referring to my cat?

“--and so riffraff and all kinds of uninvited parties, kept getting through and messing up things. Yes. In fact, that’s why ghosts, ETS, and all the other phenomenon only play with you and will never let you prove the truth of their existence.”

“Oh yeah?” I decided to challenge him.
“That’s not what’s been happening lately. UFOs all over the place! Ranchers are sighting them, and everything’s getting filmed by independent witnesses. Seems like someone has decided to tip the balance.”

“Yep, some species just have that sense of humor…. want…to kinda play with the…ah…hum… savages. Some even pretend to be Gods…and if you knew this species, Gods doesn’t come to mind as much as …”
Then he twirled his arms around and seemed to shift gears.
“Now the Committee, that’s what they like to call themselves -- I usually call them The Committed, for obvious reasons, has deemed it necessary that savage species…Uh, ah hum…By the way —you-- you know you’re classified as a pretty violent race, right?
Wasn’t it repeating itself? But then I thought of something.“Wait!”
I was practically shouting. “You guys display yourselves all over the place. Multiple contacts… abductions…mutilations…just sitting there, hovering photographed over major airports and cities…“So why would you do that if you need to keep it all secret?”
My mind was coming back. I was up to the challenge.“We are a little weirded out with your World Wars Bombing Everything era… and your Atomic Bombs era...and your Destroying Your Own Environment era…and…need I say more?”“Enough...” I was getting tired. “So, you’re saying, as long as we didn’t know you were a fact --real-- we were safe?”
“Oh, of course not, as my uncle Melvin used 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.
“Well,” it said, putting two fingers beside the thin, puckered mouth, as if to emphasize what it was about to say,
“…believing is one thing, but knowing it’s real --like you know a screwdriver is real-- that’s a different concept altogether. No one but your quantum nuts argue about that.
By the way, we’re still trying to figure out your quantum theory, I ah…hum… have to say, it was funny discussing it. And for the record, I will miss your reality shows.”

I just wouldn’t address consciously what he said.

It continued: “Now you became threat to others because you have discovered the Others are a boogey man and you can hurt them. And one …ah…hum… other thing…”

“Other thing?” I decided to play to the end.

“I don’t know why they want me to do this, but… Or, right…or…”

I realized it was arguing with itself.

“I’m going to tell you because…it doesn’t matter. You have the technological ability to go to these other species, right now. All you need can be purchased at any store. So you are now such a great danger to those other species, they get paranoid …like Republicans.”
“So Who decides about our civilization, whether we continue?” I tried to say this in a matter of fact tone.“If a trial can prove conclusively with a preponderance of the evidence that the species in question –-yours-- kills everything that gets in its 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 stare. “It was unanimous. But there are bright sides. Bush won’t be president anymore --and you’ll know what was in Cheney’s safe.“Just tell me one thing…” I said, slowly, looking directly at it. “Who in the UFO field pushed our species over the line into this reality mindset you speak of?”

But before it could answer, I realized I already knew.

That’s when I screamed “Damn you, Stan Friedman!”“Stan’s a good Jewish boy but not him…”
it thought it at me… “Ghost Hunters, the last episode” it said, emphasizing ‘last’.
Then it put me back to sleep, knowing the alarm clock would not wake me in the morning.
Bye for a two weeks Happy Halloween.
Joe Capp
UFO Media Matters
Non-Commercial Blog

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