via Joe R. Blakely
Local (Eugene, Oregon) author has written a few books (fiction) about Bigfoot.
I’m not a sports fan (except for tennis) and definitely not a football fan. So the Super Bowl means nothing to me. This year however, I was mildly interested for a few reasons. I’m from L.A., so, Rams! I think the Patriots are a cheating, lying lot of tRump supporters. So for that, go Rams, and I hope the Patriots lose in a big way.
But this isn’t about the game, but the commercials. Super Bowl commercials are a Really Big Deal. People talk about them for days afterwards. This year, I noticed a lot of commercials with women being powerful. In charge. Super heroes, warriors, strong. Fantasy comic book, and the mundane, the every day. Both realms contain women who kick ass.
At the same time, we had a chilling commercial previewing the new season of The Handmaid’s Tale. Scary shit. Given our current political times, not too far off from a potential reality. Then there’s Sara Jessica Parker in a throwback nod to her shallow and indulgent character Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City. (The first couple of seasons, I really liked the show, and then. . . it just seemed so damn vapid and selfish, and unconnected to the real world.) (whatever that is.)
Topping it off, is the Twilight Zone. Jordon Peele is the host of a new presentation of The Twilight Zone. Which sounds fantastic, and I will watch it. Love Peele, and who doesn’t love The Twilight Zone?
Sexy lady in a sexy white shirt tied up under her breasts whispering to us about how great the beer is. She sits above the forest, the waterfalls, the sheer wonder and beauty, while rolling the cold glass bottle around, damp with dew and beer beads.
I don’t have anything profound to say. Nothing wrong with sexy. Sex sells, no news there. Women have been used to sell stuff, in predominantly sexy ways, for ages. (Men too, I find both Dos Equis beer guys sexy as hell.) (As I do sexy lady on the mountain top with her beer.)
But in the wake of #metoo and other movements, Hollywood-SportsWorld-
Government-taiment Propaganda it seems those institutions are falling all over themselves proving that they’re not sexist, or misogynistic, nor pro-gay or anti-gay, neither afraid of women or letting them get away with anything.
I’m not going to review Project Bluebook, (not much) because I only saw the first two episodes. I enjoyed ACTOR’S NAME and the production is very good, but I’m with the camp who are upset over the inaccuracies. They seem to be so . . . intentional.
One thing that has me curious, is the Russian lesbian spy angle. Further attempts by the Russians to get at U.S. flying saucer secrets include a red-lipsticked blonde lesbian spy trying to seduce innocent Mrs. Hynek.
Are we serious here! Straight out of 1950s pulp fiction. As if UFOs, government conspiracies, heavy handed thugs, looming monsters, and MIB aren’t enough, throw in a femme fatale and lesbian luring the innocent.
I’m not sure what the point here is with that. Pure exploitive titilation for its own sake I guess.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that, by the way. Except it isn’t accurate, in the context of Hynek. Why present this story with so much crap to muddle things? Were the producers worried the culture is bored with UFOs and needed more? Why the Flatwoods Monster as mutant tree instead of what was actually reported? And so on.
Several years ago, I contributed to a blog: The C Influence. Sadly, it is no longer active. Many people contributed to the blog, Rick Phillips among them. Here’s something I wrote for one of my blogs at blogspot.com and cross posted by Phillips at The C Influence.
This was originally published on Binnall of America’s website on my bi-weekly Trickster’s Realm column on 12/26/05 and reposted on my Saucer Sightings blog, which is an archive of my own UFO sightings and encounters. The article has been edited for this post.
The Shaman’s Cape
About twelve years ago I was visiting friends who were house sitting for a mutual friend of ours. The home owner traveled to Mexico frequently on business; he owned a store in Oregon, and brought back folk art, books, and ceramics to sell in his store.
As I was wandering around the home looking at his extensive book collection, I noticed a large cape hanging on the wall. This cape was very unusual. It wasn’t made of any type of cloth, but seemed waxy and stiff, with little “horns” or large thick thorns protruding from it. The cape was a darkish lime green color. While the cape wasn’t made from any cloth like material and didn’t look like it’d be comfortable to wear — certainly not practical — it was obvious this was a cape indented to be worn.
I touched the cape,rubbing my fingers on its smooth surface, being careful of course to avoid those white yellowish stud things that were clearly sharp enough to really hurt if touched. I appreciated the cape for its history (whatever that may be, since I didn’t have a clue) and was drawn to it for some reason — I couldn’t stop running my hands down the cool smooth surface. Even while I was attracted to the cape, I felt uncomfortable around it at the same time; I didn’t like it. It was big and ugly, a sickish green color, and subconsciously, it annoyed me. It just seemed out of place.
I had planned on staying to visit with my friends but suddenly felt extremely tired. It was the middle of the afternoon and a beautiful day, but I had to get home — I was just so suddenly exhausted. Fortunately I didn’t live far, just a couple of miles. Yet riding my bike home on that beautiful day was so damn exhausting. I was losing focus; as if I were coming down with the flu yet I didn’t feel sick, as in ill, just … unexplainably tired.
As soon as I got home I headed right for the bed, flopping down and grateful to finally make it home. Almost immediately I began to leave my body; one of those OBE states that happen to me spontaneously and that I haven’t been able to control since I was a child. I wasn’t asleep, but not awake exactly, yet I was consciousness of the bedroom, the open window, the sun coming through the screen and other mundane things. At the same time I was paralyzed but felt myself rapidly leaving my body. I could hear the sound of whistles and flutes coming from a distance away, then getting closer. These musical sounds were not coming from outside (like a neighbors house or stereo) but from whatever place my astral body was going towards…
The next thing I knew I was in a deep sleep. I remember visions of chanting and signing, the flutes and whistles again, the cape draped around someone, a man. I couldn’t see his face. We were somewhere in the desert, or some rural country area. It was night and the stars were numerous and very close to the ground; I could touch them if I just reached out far enough. This was no dream; it was as real as this moment now, sitting here typing this. The memory of the desert ground; so hard, with dusty brown bits of soft dust, the coolish night air, the smells of earth and night, the music of flutes, bells, chanting. I was next to this man in a cape, his cape, face unseen, doing a jerky kind of wheeling, turning movement beneath the stars.
When I woke up, it was dark, and I felt as if I’d been poisoned. Not actually physically sick but I mean, I felt as if someone had given me some kind of sleeping pill or drugged me in some way. It took me a very long time to get back to reality. I felt sluggish and my tongue felt thick. This feeling lasted for a couple of days.
A day or two later I found out that this cape was from Mexico and had belonged to a Shaman. It was used in special ceremonies. I hadn’t mentioned this to my friend; it was the other way around. He had told me, quite spontaneously, that he was told that the cape was used for magical purposes that involved whistles and dancing, and was performed out in the desert, away from towns and especially the Church. How or why our friend managed to get this cape I don’t know, except that was a collector of what we call folk art and folk religious items. To those that participated in these dances and ceremonies, those are just labels used by outsiders.
Desert Visitation: The Green Warty “Man”
This incident happened about twenty-five years ago or so. I was sitting on the bed reading. I wasn’t in bed; it was still early. I was simply on top of the covers, dressed, reading my book. My husband was in the other room. I had what I call a “mind post card,” — it’s an experience that happens every so often, where the picture, absolutely vivid 3-D full color image, is “inserted” into my mind with a sharp suddenness. It’s as if someone had literally slid a postcard or a slide of an image (and very often a moving image) into my head. I don’t know where it comes from, or why it happens. Usually it’s a telepathic thing: a preview of something that occurs later that day, or within a day or two. This time however, it wasn’t a prediction of something; it was a “visit.”
This “mind post card” was of a dirty lime-green being with warts or bony stubby nubs all over his body. He had two little stubs or buttons at the top of his forehead; not horns or antlers, but the suggestion of such. I just “knew” that this being was male. It wasn’t human, but it wasn’t animal. It was maybe closer to human than not, but definitely not human. He was sitting in profile to me, squatting down actually. We were out in the desert — or, he was. At this point it doesn’t matter; it was as if I was transported, or his whole world superimposed itself onto mine. I was there with him/it. We had entered each other’s realm of existence. Somehow I had been transported to his desert, and his desert had moved closer to my world.
He “saw” me and turned his head to look at me. He slowly grinned at me, but this was no happy smiley expression! He was a nasty piece of work! It was clear he knew exactly how I was feeling, and thought it very funny in a sadistic way. He was also a little irritated I was there — or, he was here — that we were in each other’s worlds.
I was so damn startled that I screamed. With that scream he popped out (or I was snapped back to my own reality.) And again he seemed irritated, it as if he wanted me to stick around so he could toy with me. He was mad I had screamed and ruined the fun. Such a temporary and special event gone in a flash.
To this day I remember that experience with a chill. I don’t associate any UFO experience or connection with this (although, with all the high strangeness that often accompanies UFOs who knows) and I wouldn’t say it was alien. Not alien from another planet; not even alien from this earth. But I had the sense it very much belonged here and was of the earth, and it belonged here, if such judgments can be made on these things, more than humans. I had the feeling it was indigenous to the earth.
Image: Brian Froud
Or is it a flying saucer hot dog? Cartoon watercolor/lino print I did back in 1985 or so.
This blog post was originally posted at UFO Mystic May 16, 2010. UFO Mystic is now gone, sad to say. I enjoyed writing for them.
I attended the McMinnville, Oregon UFO conference this weekend; very good, as usual. All the speakers were interesting, at the very least, and I’ll write more on that in the days to come. James Clarkson, Travis Walton, and Colin Andrews were the speakers.
Two odd things happened during Colin Andrew’s presentation. (Of which I will be commenting a lot about; it’s so much to process and I’m not there yet.)
As usual, Peter Davenport, the MC, and conference coordinator Tim Hills both asked the audience at every presentation to turn off their cell phones. And as usual, there were a few people who didn’t seem to hear that request, or, care. Those people were sitting right behind us.
So Colin Andrews is giving a fantastic and deeply moving presentation; and these bozos behind us are talking, fooling around with their camera equipment, and having their cell phones going off. At one point, Interstellar Housewife’s Deirdre O’Lavery turns around and says in a succinct, quiet and to the point voice: “Will you shut the fuck up, we’re trying to listen to this.” They did, in fact, they looked like deer caught in the headlights and were pretty quiet after that.
Aside from the very few cell phones that went off periodically throughout the presentation it was pretty quiet. Then when Colin Andrews arrived at the point in his talk about government military intelligence type forces involved in crop circle research, (including the matter of fact statement uttered a few times by Andrews that there were agents in the room) along with the intelligence of the crop circles/makers themselves, several cell phones went off at the same time. It was a cacophony of cell phone tunes. Very eerie.
Earlier in the presentation, Andrews played recordings taken inside crop circles, and one taken in a tree. I had an immediate physical feeling while hearing one sound; it was under the skin, as if I were vibrating. During one of these recordings I literally could feel myself vibrating. I felt as if I were about to leave my body, I was having the same feeling I have when I have an OOBE. Jim (my husband) didn’t have that same physical feeling, but he did have a strong emotional response:
“The sound gave me the impression there’s something underlying, primordial — some sound like something you’ve heard all the time, something that’s been there sublimely all along.” he said.
Finally, the wasp. Right before leaving for Colin’s presentation, a yellow jacket got into our hotel room. It was crawling around on the inside of the window which was open a bit. The wasp was big and scary, at least to me, since all bugs are big and scary, no matter what their size. Jim killed it. (The windows in the Hotel Oregon don’t open very far, just a few inches, and he would have preferred to have removed the insect alive, but it wasn’t possible.) Then we left for Colin’s presentation.
A couple of minutes into the presentation, Andrews puts up a strange image; one magnified 3,000 times. It turns out it was the eye of a yellow jacket. Point being, how the yellow jacket remembers you; it knows you, when it singes you, it remembers you. “It knows you,” Collins said.
Other great things about the conference: the Rooftop Bar atop Hotel Oregon, meeting Contact’s Erik Stitt and Interstellar Housewife’s Deirdre O’Leavary, talking with MUFON researcher James Clarkson and his wife Joanne — both very neat people — the new UFO Fest designs.