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- I look into a starry sky with length, and breadth and
depth untried, and question (with my heart o'sleeve) what these things
ARE that soar and cleave. They ARE there, there IS no question . . . moving
past the quick suggestion that I'm quite mad or just mistaken -- or worse:
that I've been lyin' . . . fakin'. Oh, I see them (no great feat). I've
proved them to myself at least, and WON'T respect what one might think
who ISN'T looking (specious fink!).
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- Sucking on our wounded sphere (this parasite that broods
and fears), our specious fink would make pronouncements -- spout denial
and denouncement. Keeping council with his favorites, pretending he's alone
(the flavor!), he would turn his eyes away from what might haunt our skies
today. Oh, he's fearful. No mistake. He's throwing on his drags and brakes!
New ideas threaten those that keep things as they are -- foreclosed.
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- He does this to arrange distraction, provides for our
INSANE inaction, and keeps the subject tongue in cheek so he can sully
errant leaks. Remaining is the ink and stone (that he disdains); we're
not alone. Remaining is the anecdotal: weighty, plain and calmly totaled.
Remaining is the photographic: ponderous and enigmatic. Remaining, there's
the evidence that one perceives with no pretence -- no axe to grind, no
bill to fill, but has a brain and knows the drill!
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- And, yes, sometimes our *science* friends (those filled
with it to length and brim) prefer their *method* and *assessment* to live
*proud* lives of glad detachment . . . *Light* shan't dance and caper FOR
them, speaks a language MUCH too foreign, so safe beyond their instruments
*it* charms and glitters -- ask Jeff Rense. Stanton Friedman makes his
CASE, but most who look provoke disgrace . . . Science is not BAD (or friendly!),
science is a tool, comprende'? It can (too fast) be misused to further
evil ends abstruse!
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- Still others think some . . . WON'T . . . conspire to
make their short term goals transpire, when survey says it's one in ten
would do what they will DO, my friend. If their gain can be maintained
they'll do the worst -- they won't refrain. I've studied them, they know
no bounds, to them "we" are as dumb as hounds; we're shackled
to our rules and codes and ethics bound to bear their loads. We're mere
*objects*, we're their CATTLE -- they keep us buying, taxed, and addled
while they write their tickets free and freeload from our pocket, see?
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- What we lack's the real deal that these would covet,
own or steal. What we lack's a base respect that we have lost in their
neglect. What's we lack's the cop to truth that's been distended, lost
-- abused. What's we lack's that money spent to educate out future, friends!
Still we waddle and we lather contrived elitist lower standards -- puling
prayers that just PRETEND to hold the high ground we won't win.
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- Look around, begin to *see*, and sense a new reality.
Stealthy wizards find new ways to fleece their flocks and make YOU pay.
They would trade your soul for power; holding court, they build your towers
on these special clouds they'd claim would keep you whole or safe and sane.
TV Preachers whine and pray from billion dollar pulpits -- crazed! They
PRETEND their persecution (spewing saccharine elocution), all the while
sowing hatreds they condone (to which we're fated!). See the *moral* politician,
whining goals or mad positions, wearing mantles of correctness he contrives
to cloak his excess? He fronts the jealous unelected, sells YOUR soul (as
is expected) -- lives a life of privileged power so secret men can guard
THEIR towers!
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- YES, the sky's ALIVE with lights (that act most strangely
in my sight), and these belie pontification, discredit all the obfuscation,
and keeps in me ALIVE the . . . need . . . to ask hard questions, watch
and read. Finks pretend, "alleged weirdness warrants special proofs
and clearance." Claims that are *incredible* demand that *proof's*
infallible (?) . . . but then RETREAT becomes the norm if cloaks like these
are used or worn, and proof's horizon just recedes ahead of fear we DO
NOT NEED!
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- No, I see them -- that's a fact. They don't conform to
aircraft, Jack (and I'm a _flyer_ too well versed for wishful thinking's
cloying curse). What I see will fly big circles, glitter like a flash bulb
hurtled, then slowing to a crawl they'll glow to bursts of speed -- away
they go! I'm out there with my Mother, friend, and I'll not lie, distort
. . . pretend . . . (that they are there if not) -- you hear?
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- I'll watch the skies. You face your fear.
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- Lehmberg@snowhill.com
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- Skywatching is not the very best in southeast Alabama.
The humid semi-tropical air sucks up the starlight like crooked government,
and the light pollution from even a small town is reflected in the soupy
murkiness like an ongoing and stillborn dawn. None the less, peculiar lights
thrive in that sky, still, and fitfully flit about like busy wraiths on
mysterious, strangely purposed and enigmatic errands.
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- I've been seeing them for years, but in years past they
were a blue moon occurrence. And besides, they were just a another light
in the busy skies near a military reservation consumed by all manner of
regular aviation activity. I'd only see one (or so) of the queerly moving
nocturnal lights every few months.
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- Then, abruptly, I began seeing them more frequently.
Interested, I decided to start a written record of what and when I had
been seeing . . . whatever it was I had been seeing. So far, I've seen
them two days in March, nine days in April, an additional nine days in
May, and eight in the first eighteen days of June. Then, from the nineteenth
of June to the nineteenth of July (and otherwise graced by a dark crystal
sky of comparative stellar brilliance in the isolated Roswell-like open
spaces of Northern California), I frankly saw breathtakingly peculiar
but inexplicable) . . . wandering stars . . . . These starry wanderers
performed a panoply of mystifying aerial activities before my astonished
eyes. Many of the days would yield multiple occurrences, but I saw something
*weird* every day.
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- Throughout these abutting halves of June and July I was
treated with these better skies -- saw Cassiopeia on her side, Cygnus stabbing
west, I spied! Northern California, on a visit to see my mother . . . such
a sky. The Milky Way actually spilling across the coal black firmament
like a swung carton of fluorescent and atomized cream. The little bear
is clearly visible for the first time in many years, and the skies are
a black felted jeweler's table festooned with a scatter of multicolored
diamonds . . . Jupiter and Saturn make their grand entrance to the East.
Then, some of the diamonds . . . move.
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- I had a witness. Soon, my Mom was picking them out better
than I was. Dazzled and energized by the experience she is now quick to
point out that something . . . odd . . . is up there in her night sky.
Brave lady. All she did was tilt her head back . . . . Apparently all that's
required to keep the brain in its case when one tries for that *trouble-making*
open mind.
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- We didn't make any special preparation to see these things,
these silently detached, and ambling stars of varying speed, direction
and magnitude. No chanting or crystal waving (with all respect to chanters
and crystal wavers).We simply go outside, cradle warm cups of coffee in
our sober hands, and look up. They are there, appear also to those that
go out with me to look, and are seen at the same time. We describe the
same thing to one another. What are they?
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- I don't know.
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- Before I started seeing them in earnest I reasoned that
these strange lights I had been observing in the sky MUST have some kind
of prosaic explanation. City lights reflecting off the temperature inverted
material expelled from the voiding pore of gassy pelicans -- perhaps. Or
Military flares dangerously and illegally fired in controlled airspace
-- perchance. Jet powered stealth balloons, chaotically rotating weather
satellites, and ball lightning were a WEALTH of ready explanation (contrived
to sooth one already distracted by the day to day grind of making a living
by trying to pay the meter down). Awash with (and dulled by) this cognitive
dissonance, I confess, _I_ used to reason that these teasing spots of flirting
brilliance must have SOME kind of pedestrian justification -- some prosaic
qualification. They must be something. They have to be something.
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- They have to be something . . . indeed.
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- The varying pace and course of these silent objects precluded
satellites -- which favor direction, and traverse the sky at a steady speed.
The same with aircraft big and small. The _deliberate_ inefficiencies of
the peculiar accelerations and wavy ground tracks I observe would get a
transport pilot fired, or get a military pilot a psych-eval. Moreover,
they are soundless in the quietest hours of a predawn sky while high altitude
aircraft are PLAINLY heard. Steady binoculars, if available, reveal none
of the familiar port and starboard lights, anti-collision beacons, or position
indicators of an aircraft in flight. They make known only a glowing orb
of the perplexingly inexplicable -- pale BB sized points of flitting luminescence
wandering the inky backdrop of perfectly focused stars! Unaided, they
look like ANY star of any magnitude, some even brighter than Sirius (or
redder than Betelgeuse), that detaches from its black felt billow of inky
night sky and moves deliberately across the star field like some kind of
foraging cosmic insect . . .
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- I'd see them every morning in this mix of June and July.
Bright ones, dim ones -- silent but flying fretfully. If I went out, they
were there, and they used up an entire FUND of ready explanation, plausible
elucidation, or well crafted explication. Not satellites, planes, balloons,
or birds. Not lightning sheets, lightning balls, or lightning bugs. Not
planets or poltergeists, or portentous pie in the sky. Just quiet lights,
moving of their own volition and with some unguessed at (and otherwise
unfathomed) but _purposeful_ intelligence. What are they?
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- Somebody knows.
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