Saturday, June 3, 2017

Source Close to NM Congressman Promises Huge Roswell Exposure

SPI SANTA FE, NM - The Saucerologist was unexpectedly contacted this week by a gentleman who was once closely affiliated with the office of Congressman Steven Schiff, who represented the first district of New Mexico from 1989 until his death in 1998.  The information he has revealed to our researchers has proven to be of great importance to our current investigation of the alleged flying saucer incident near Roswell, New Mexico in June 1947.  This unexpected font of highly relevant information has set our story back of late, due to the need to confirm many of the aspects of the information currently under discussion among our staff.  Mr. Roger Craggett was notified as well, and he immediately went out and purchased a half-dozen shovels and a couple of picks, so we can happily report that the investigation is continuing at a pace that should produce some major new finds just in time for us to conclude the entire process and hopefully scratch the Roswell incident off of our list of unsolved mysteries.

These new branches of source materials -- ever important and resoundingly exciting -- do not exist in a vacuum or an environment of slight background noise, and has set us back a bit insofar as our scheduling of these revelations is concerned.  After all, it was very unexpected and the new data still has to be examined within the context of previously revealed information.  We have decided, therefore, to re-publish an older article this month, along with our reasons for doing so.  We want our extremely well-educated audience (when compared with the audience expected of most UFO-oriented reports and essays) to realize that we take the education of the entire world seriously, and refuse to publish materials that we know are already obsolete.  We were among the first UFO investigators and researchers to confirm the extraterrestrial link to the origins of President Donald Trump and his Presidential campaign, and the first to recognize the importance of recent Bosnian archaeological theories detailing the technical development of walls and how such complex structures were so far beyond the comprehension of humans living at the time that the only reasonable assumption well-educated historians can rely on to explain the presence of such walls throughout the world is the existence of a partnership between early Cro-Magnon hunter-gatherers and the currently hypothesized race of far more intelligent creatures from another star system. Some archaeologists, however, believe that most early walls were constructed by a race of hyper-evolved Neanderthals who would eventually disappear from the Earth, replaced by the aforementioned Cro-Magnons. Whichever the case, it is now accepted as a point of fact that mankind simply could not have invented concrete or cement without the assistance of a far more intelligent and creative species.  More importantly still, that species could not possibly have evolved as a native upon our planet home.   Had that been the case, walls would have already been built all over the world well before our cave-dwelling ancestors developed sufficient intelligence to capitalize on the idea.

Our reputation as investigative journalists and men of good faith hinges upon the quality of thinking that The Saucerologist has been responsible for since the organization was founded in 1962.  It is that quality that demands perfection wherever it can be attained. It is that quality that demands this great sacrifice of our readers, for if we published the story as it stands today, it would be incomplete before the first period is applied to paper. It would be incomplete before the first exclamation point rains down upon our mildly protuberant skulls! It would be incomplete before the first semi-colon; the first comma, or even, in the words of that revolutionary 3rd century B.C. librarian, the redoubtable Zenodotus, "the first quotation marks -- that's it; that's what I shall call them!  LOOK FATHER I HAVE INVENTED QUOTATION MARKS!  What the hell do you mean, 'why?' Goddammit! Now I have to create rules for a quote within a quote, you Iberian bastard! You can make your own damn lunch today ... I swear, I've just about had it with you people. You think the use of quotes is just a joke? Well consider this then, you parasitical plebeian! Without some form of quotation mark to differentiate the words of Moses from the Words of God, you'd never know it was God who intoned the phrase 'I Am that I Am', And I know you think we should print the Words of God in red, but that's just stupid and nobody is ever going to use your stupid idea -- not if they've got quotation marks to use instead! Well, maybe the British -- they're always looking for some way to stand out in a crowd. But nobody else would do it!" 

The Saucerologist is convinced that the revelations we have been subjected to by our recent association with sources close to the administrative offices of Congressman Steven Schiff, now deceased, is going to be well worth the wait, for we shall present a side to this story that no one could have expected or predicted. With luck, our investigation will shortly coalesce into a significant continuation of the Roswell mythos, one that will finally put to rest the many rumors, legends, exaggerations and lies that the world has been forced to endure during its long journey to the final truth.  This is only a temporary setback to our scheduled exposure of the Roswell Incident.  We will return to our mission of social enlightenment next month.  As for today, please enjoy the following celebration of one of our past investigative triumphs, as we present to you (with both apologies and great pride) some revelations of our past that have revealed themselves to be stepping stones into the future.  Given our conviction that the importance these stepping stones represent cannot possibly be overstated, we ask that as you read, you remember those words once uttered by the prophet Criswell :  "We are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives. And remember my friend, future events such as these will affect you in the future."

Please enjoy the following golden oldie first published here at The Saucerologist on Wednesday, January 27, 2016. 

New Classification System Expected to Force Recognition of UFO Phenomena

Bigfoot, Giant Monster Fans Thrilled!

SPI LOS ANGELES, CA - A new UFO classification system created by Giorgio A. Tsoukalos, cable T.V. host of "Ancient Aliens" and internationally known UFOlogist is expected to finally force the U.S. federal government and the Department of Defense to recognize the solid foundation currently supporting the study of flying saucerology.  That, at least, is the primary intention of its designer, who insists "it was so much easier than I thought it would be!  I honestly didn't think there was a solution at all."

According to Tsoukalos, "one of the major problems UFO proponents have when it comes to inspiring interest among government functionaries -- most of whom tend to favor the more skeptical side of the issue -- is the integration of terminology that we've been forced to adopt.

"Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is for an eyewitness to something so extraordinary to stand by his claim?  I'd be a millionaire if I got a nickel every time a witness is forced to insist, 'I don't care what you think; I know what I saw -- I know EXACTLY what I saw,' only to have some annoying little skeptic come back with, "y'know, I don't think you do, 'cause if you did, you wouldn't be telling everybody that you saw a UFO, which by definition is something unidentified.'  That pretty much ends the discussion right there, and the eyewitness looks like a freaking idiot.  How do you think that makes us feel?"
The solution to this problem, however, eluded Tsoukalos for many years.  Originally, he thought the solution was an easy one:  get rid of that obnoxious "U" and resolve the matter by convincing everybody to accept the designation "FO", for "Flying Objects."  Unfortunately, the USAF and other groups affiliated with the federal government, both legislative and executive, insist that it can't be done, because it would imply the existence of flying objects acting with impunity, flattening crops, mutilating livestock, practicing medicine without the license to do so, and -- possibly their worst act of interference -- disturbing our sleep patterns, and that the U.S. government had, in fact, purposely licensed them to do so.  After all, the provision of safe skies through the proper licensing of flying objects is one of the primary functions of the FAA.  What surprised Tsoukalos the most, however, was the level of very real enmity originating with UFO proponents.
According to Tsoukalos, "That seemingly insignificant 'U' is incredibly important to UFO proponents, because these days, a great many of the sightings that we find so convincing are simply not flying.  Some are underwater, some are on the land, some are just plain weird -- like buildings or carved out numbers on huge granite slabs or pyramids or giant faces on Mars or big, black monoliths that we've discovered on the Moon.  As long as that questionable little 'U' was part of the designation, nobody was required to limit the associated field of inquiry to 'Flying Objects' alone.  Take out that secretive or unexplainable element, and all of a sudden, you're forced to abide by the standard definition alone.  It's the ambiguity of the term that apparently makes it so universal in character.  Without it, there's a huge, associated class of sightings that are no longer conclusively associated with anything, let alone flying saucers.  And that means many of the arguments that favor the E.T. hypothesis are no longer affiliated with the phenomena itself.  And without the E.T. hypothesis, what's the point?  Seriously, why even bother looking for a solution?  If we're talking about just another top secret aircraft being tested by Boeing or whatever, who really gives a damn?  A dozen guys in Russia and China, and maybe some manga publishers in Japan, but that's it.  Game over as far as I'm concerned.  Game over as far as most UFOlogists are concerned."

The whole issue, it seems, revolves around the mystery of the subject, not its identification.  As long as the world continues to see flying saucers as "unidentified," than the world -- including the USAF and the ever-elusive U.S. Congress -- is willing to consider almost any solution whatsoever.  A UFO could be a flying jellyfish that falls into the ocean and glides away.  It could be a mountain-sized pyramid on the dark side of the moon that might actually fly away someday ... or not.  It could be anything, because its primary characteristic is the fact that it's unidentified."  It could even be another planet that nobody has ever seen before, but excites us anyway due to its sneaky freaky potential.
"Psychologically, the human race doesn't like leaving things undefined, so it's generally willing to accept any identification imposed, as long as that identity possesses some form of internal logic; if it makes even a little bit of sense, it's accepted as gospel," insists Tsoukalos.
"I know it sounds oddball," he opined, "but whenever we call something 'unidentified', we're suddenly able to identify it as literally anything.  Which is really great.  At least, it's great until you want some jerk in a uniform to believe you when you say, 'I know EXACTLY what I saw!'  When that happens, when you start to specify, you kind of want to crawl under a rock and disappear when somebody calls you on it -- and they always do.  It occurred to me last week while I was watching TV, that those folks looking for Bigfoot in the middle of Dallas, Texas probably feel the same way.  And so I pondered on that for a bit.  And since I was watching the History Channel, I got all sorts of inspirational ideas that had nothing at all to do with history, which was exactly what I needed at that particular time.  Thank God for profit-oriented cable!  I would have never gotten this lucky on PBS."

The inspiration that Tsoukalos found himself tuning into resulted in the inclusion of more ambiguity than most UFO proponents are normally inclined to rally behind.  According to Tsoukalos, it's within that characterization of the issue that its true genius really shines. 

"Since 1947, there has been an average of roughly 1,500 UFOs reported every year.  It's a commonly accepted supposition that anywhere from five to ten percent of those 1,500 UFOs cannot be reasonably explained as the product of relatively commonplace circumstances.  That's not much.  We're talking about 75 to 150-sightings per year, around the world that cannot be explained.  Even then, it doesn't mean 75 to 150 flying saucers; it means 75 to 150 incidents that cannot be immediately explained.  That's not a very convincing number to someone who's inclined to suspect such reports in the first place.
"If we want government functionaries with their wallets packed with all those military resources that we all know can solve the UFO problem in a relatively short amount of time, we're going to have to produce something a little more dramatic than 75 to 150 UFO reports a year, most of which will never be properly investigated, and will very likely be forgotten by everybody except these 14-guys I happen to know who collect such reports on the internet.  Well, the solution to that little problem, my friends, lies within our classification of UFOs -- specifically, that big, old capital 'U' at the beginning of the UFO story."

And therein, according to Giorgio A. Tsoukalos, lies the genius of ambiguity.

The first widely accepted UFO classification system was introduced by Dr. J. Allen Hynek in the 1960s.  These were the Close Encounter designations, all of which assume as a factual starting point a physical close encounter based primarily on the objective observation of a UFO by a human witness, a witness who, like most humans, is generally governed by internal, subjective thought structures.  It's a weak system in that it also assumes honesty is characteristic of the witness, who in turn acknowledges the unidentified aspect of the object.  It is flawed as a result of its specificity being undefined -- a flaw that makes identification impossible, and a thorough investigation either meaningless or a complete waste of time.
Dr. Hynek admitted as much shortly before he died when he concluded to his own satisfaction that UFOs are completely explainable in the context of military, experimental or private aircraft.  And all of those "remarkable yet impossible in that context" characteristics typical of such incidents are entirely due either to misidentification or to the barely observed and poorly described elements of such objects mistakenly applied to the issue by error-prone eyewitnesses.  Hynek's newly applied point-of-view tended to place the insurmountable weight of evidence for the E.T. hypothesis in the "eyewitness didn't understand what he was looking at" column, the repercussions of which could have abolished for all time the hope of humanity that our little planet was under examination by some alien equivalent of "Star Trek" creator Gene Roddenberry's "United Federation of Planets".  Tsoukalos, like so many UFOlogists well-prepared to contemptuously ignore the opinions of those handicapped with an extensive background in organized science and education, bluntly refused to even consider such an option, proving to his own satisfaction that the opinions of highly educated men and women were not only unnecessary, but were downright inconveniently detrimental to those of an ignorant man with a powerful conviction. 

Tsoukalos, however, was not entirely outclassed by the obstacles that a skeptical world-view had seemingly placed before him.  Unlike most UFOlogists, he had noticed something untenable about Hynek's Close Encounters system that the swamp-gas maven had neglected to explain:  his system makes it all too easy for educated men and women to dismiss any sighting or incident almost immediately upon the mere suggestion of identity, one that requires little to no proof to be instantly adopted by skeptics and believers alike.  The suggestion of identity in such a context is every bit as exact as the actual identification when the only standard necessary to assert is the possibility of any common origin.  Like "it must have been flares," for example.

In a short, paid for and picked up at Walmart instant, "what the heck is that?" turns into "dammit! fooled by Venus once again."  And once that accursed variable of "unidentified" can no longer be applied as an exact measure of the target's reality, any real, fully validated investigation becomes almost immediately irrelevant.  The flying object, after all, is no longer "unidentified".  Amazingly, the accuracy of that identification is completely meaningless as well.  After all, the only standard of value is "yes" or "no", as measured in terms of "black" or "white" without any consideration of probability, which, as the world knows, is a withering and changeable field of gray.
Dr. Hynek's classifying system itself is flawed in that it requires very little investigation to close out any given case file as fundamentally insignificant.  It was basely apparent to Tsoukalos that any classification system that required so little examination to dismiss a case in its entirety would eventually require the dismissal of the phenomenon making such a system necessary.  In this case, such an assumption means getting rid of the E.T. hypothesis, an act that Tsoukalos was certain would set the science of UFOlogy back centuries.  But what could be done?  There seemed to be no easy solution within easy reach.  How exactly does one redefine a UFO for classification without applying specificity?  The question was maddening.

Fortunately, there was no shortage of UFOlogists attempting to solve the problem Tsoukalos had focused on.  In the mistaken belief that you can prove anything as long as you've got numbers on your side, UFOlogists fell in love with statistics decades ago, which suggests that they like to classify things, putting them in lists and reorganizing their appearance on a spreadsheet for the benefit of mankind.  Or something like that ...
As a general rule, UFO classification systems tend to evolve from the disappointingly limited variables of the type proposed by Dr. J. Allen Hynek to far more specific and extensive systems, numerous examples of which seem to crop up every year.  As a general rule, everything becomes more complex, but is more complex necessarily better?  It never occurred to Tsoukalos that problems of the sort he had been working himself into a lather over for some years could be significantly affected by simply changing how you looked at it, which is essentially what an increase in complexity brings to the table, unless you've decided to change the standards of classification as well.  It's a point of fact that point-of-view, Tsoukalos was learning, can oftentimes affect the very definition of this inter-galactic phenomenon he had always considered undefinable.  Sometimes, he was starting to believe, you have to look underground if you want to see the stars.

"Check this out.  There's a guy named Rosales who goes nuts over humanoid sightings.  How many people really care much about a figure spotted in the distance who looks vaguely kind of human and is probably human, but may not be, because we didn't get a real good look?  You'd be surprised -- probably millions, because they can excite people by the names you use to describe them.  There's Bigfoot, lizard men, giants, kangaroos, elves, Hobbits, leprechauns, Eskimos, brownies, faery folk, pygmies -- even something called a Long-legged Warbler.  Can you imagine?  And those are just the legendary ones that most people consider to be figments of our imagination!  And these aren't just a bunch of humanoids in the literature of man; they're also anomalies -- every single one.  And who's to say they aren't associated in some way with UFOs, which are also anomalies?  They could be.  They all inhabit the unknown terraces of our universe.  So what happens if we list them all and add every sighting to our UFO database?  All of a sudden, the number of possible associated anomalies swells.  Hell, it more than doubles the number of contacts that need to be investigated every month.  It's beautiful!
"When everybody else is trying to center in on the specific aspects of an unidentified anomaly, only Rosales was saying, 'why are we looking at the flying saucer?  Is it really that important?  Why don't we look at all the stuff that's far more interesting and then we can establish our suspicions that they might actually be related to UFOs later?  Who really needs a UFO when you've got all that other stuff to look at as well?"  

Giorgio A. Tsoukalos
When young Tsoukalos came across the work of Albert Rosales, he immediately recognized it as a necessary step to remedy the many pro-skeptic flaws he had noted in the classification systems he had hitherto studied.  Rosales' work clearly pointed to a hidden prejudice common to nearly all UFO reports -- a prejudice that forced all those interested in throwing some light on the topic of UFOlogy to adopt a point-of-view that was aggressively alien to the conclusions they were most interested in reaching.  UFO proponents, through no fault of their own, were being forced to adopt a skeptical point-of-view or risk becoming the often obvious targets of accusations that included failure due to irresponsible scientific behavior, the use of nonsensical applications of logic, denigrating and insulting prejudice directed at both education and nature, and -- often the most wounding accusation of all -- the poorly calculated and common reliance on mere stupidity to establish a valid conclusion, all of which, Tsoukalos was certain, was primarily the result of the poor classification systems then in use.  What Rosales had done, that only Tsoukalos, apparently, had noted, was to associate often unrelated aspects of the UFO sightings under examination with the primary incident everybody else was looking at in order to center attention away from the UFO itself.  Tsoukalos saw this as the methodology of genius most necessary to realize his own self-importance while rescuing the field of UFOlogy from its own suicidal use of Hynek's Close Encounters analysis.
The more Rosales attended his suspicions, the farther he wandered from the flying saucer itself.  Rosales was very clear about his intent:  "I am currently engaged in attempting to catalog most reported encounters with humanoids, entities, beings, little men, giants, MIB, creatures, amphibians, reptilians, grays etc.  So far I have over 10,000 cases in my files, many known, many not so well known.  I have translated many from all corners of the globe.  I think this study is vital for future researchers and for UFO historians."
To some extent, Rosales was also unconcerned with "the truth," an allegedly spontaneous factor that Hynek, ever the tactician, was forced to accept as unquestionable.  "I obviously do not believe every single story," Rosales insists.  "But I believe all stories must be told.  Many are first hand reports, others are just anecdotes, but all are included."  This was a point-of-view that Tsoukalos thought was absolutely delicious.  He, too, didn't much enjoy trying to tell the difference between a true tale of some import and a bucket of cow spit.  He wanted to leave that unimportant bit of muffin doggerel to those very few UFOlogists who might someday expose themselves in court.  Frankly, he doesn't care much about "the truth" either.

The Close Encounter classifications that Rosales naturally married his humanoid studies to widened the scope of both databases considerably.  He wasn't merely looking at the Encounters alone as Hynek did; he was trying to hunt down a whole new type of animal, one that Hynek wasn't really interested in looking at.  Rosales' classifications included contacts in which "an entity or humanoid is seen inside or on top of an object or unidentified aircraft", "is seen entering or exiting a UFO", "is seen in the immediate vicinity of a UFO", "is seen in the same area where UFOs or unknown objects have been reported", "is seen alone, without related UFO activity", is seen as a result of "direct contact or interaction between a witness or witnesses and a humanoid or entity, either involuntary, as a result of a forced abduction, or as a voluntary contact", is seen in association with "a report of an alleged crash or forced landing of a UFO with recovery of its occupants, or when an anomalous entity is captured or killed either by a witness or military personnel", is seen in association with "a 'psychic' contact between entities or humanoids, but during which the entity or humanoid is not necessarily seen" (which is definitely The Saucerologist's favorite classification), and (finally, and encompassing almost every anomaly imaginable), is seen during "an incident in which the situation is so uncanny that it doesn’t fit any of the previous classifications", allowing the hypothetical eyewitness to make whatever claim his little heart desires.  This, of course, for the very first time, allowed Tsoukalos the opportunity to focus his unflagging attention on EVERYTHING.  And that in turn gave him the freedom he was craving to call everything ANYTHING.  And he really liked the taste of that!
The farther away Rosales got from UFOs, the wider the scope of his database was allowed to grow.  Of course, Rosales was still trapped within the self-imposed borders his system couldn't possibly escape:  the whole humanoid mythos.  Tsoukalos had a few ideas of his own that would allow for a complete escape from the bounds of data, but well before he was able to integrate those ideas into a very real system of organized anomalies, his research made it clear to him that another UFOlogist had already beaten him to the punch, so to speak.  The classification system designed by Jacques Vallee as proposed in his books "Confrontations", and "UFO Chronicles of the Soviet Union", changed the whole world of data, and suddenly, the flying saucer became just one more little variable in a Fortean universe of everything unexplainable.  Few critics, however, understood the position Vallee had forced himself to foster.  From a mathematical viewpoint, he was still forced to adopt such abrasive rules of data in order to impose limitations on the statistical measures he was attempting to harness.  This is because Vallee's classification system, like Hynek's, makes a number of assumptions originally designed to force the inclusion of all imaginable variables, yet nonetheless replicating the same flaws as Hynek's system:  he assumes that not only are UFO witnesses honest, they are also accurate.  He doubled down on the "Merciful Heavens!" column only to find himself accused of blindly preserving statistical obscurity, a charge that, sadly, is fundamentally correct.  Vallee's habitual insistence that all reports are accurate and all witnesses truthful has provoked a whirlwind of scorn throughout all of the world excepting that within the bounds of UFOlogy -- which by then, he wasn't even discussing anymore.  He was accused of everything from tweaking his denominators to adjusting his self-worth in order to debase the ultimate quality of his ill-gotten claims.
Given the lengths Vallee has been forced to observe in order to explain the diversity of the sightings recorded, he should probably be forgiven for his eventual decision to chronicle so many incident case files and UFO reports that have been almost impossible to confirm or properly analyze.  His book, "UFO Chronicles of the Soviet Union" very clearly falls into this category, as do most UFO incidents that have ever occurred in China.  By accepting such diverse and eclectic claims without any application of doubt in regard to the worthiness of his witnesses, however, Vallee's work in turn forced Tsoukalos to "widen the net" insofar as the diversity of claims he needed to consider.  The goal, at first, was not the development of a realistic database, it was the development of a flawless classification system -- one that would for the first time work for the UFOlogist.  The system had to come first; the data itself was a secondary concern.  From Tsoukalos's point of view, Vallee was on the right track.  It didn't concern him at all that others might see this as a handicap.  According to Tsoukalos, "we were already handicapped.  I didn't give a damn about poor data at all.  I still don't.  It simply isn't important.  I doubt it ever will be."  Where Vallee's classification system represented a form of brilliant suicide, Tsoukalos was determined to create an integrated afterlife.

There's no doubt that Vallee had taken a prodigious leap toward the solution Tsoukalos was looking for.  He introduced the inclusion of anomalies that are not associated with UFOs in the standard methodology humans are most used to collating.  To maintain an organized structure limited to UFO contacts, he lobbied to include anomalies that have been observed an insignificant number of times during UFO incidents.  One example would be those anomalies that do not have lasting physical effects, such as amorphous lights or unexplained explosions.  Other anomalous reports might be those in which witnesses experienced personal interaction with entities in the reality of the entities themselves.  They would include near-death experiences, religious miracles and visions, and many cases of out-of-body experiences.  Vallee wanted to include as well anomalies with lasting physical effects, such as some poltergeist phenomena, apports (materialized objects), and areas of flattened buffalo grass where buffalos never roam.
Vallee even included and tracked various maneuvers by UFOs that are accompanied by a sense of transformation of reality for the percipient, as well as maneuvers that result in witnesses suffering permanent injury or death.  Vallee's intention was to encompass the full range of phenomena one finds in modern literature.  He acknowledged that UFOs are related in significant ways to other anomalies, and was very careful to select those that were described in the case files, regardless of import to the case itself.  He clearly stated his reasoning for all to understand:  "It is the rule, rather than the exception, to find significant UFO sightings preceded or followed by other anomalies, notably the poltergeist variety."  Since he first designed his system, UFO research communities all over the world have adopted it.  Tsoukalos, however, still saw the same flaws that were typically part of Hynek's classifications.  It was impossible to step away from the errors, because they were part of the rational system defined by the mathematical impetus of group dynamics.  Whatever the depth of his examinations, the system to classify them always favored the viewpoint of skeptic reasoning.  In some way he had not yet realized, the process of UFO assessment itself was working in some mysterious manner against the very best minds of theoretical UFOlogy, and he couldn't grasp what the issue was, nor why it weighed so heavily on the self-determined core of scientific saucerology.
During a lecture intended to interest and then draft the efforts of the children in his neighborhood to watch the skies and track the movements of lights therein, an unfortunately irresponsible attempt to create his own twisted version of Arthur Conan Doyle's "Baker Street Irregulars", a group of children the fictional detective Sherlock Holmes used to gather intelligence, Tsoukalos found himself unwittingly frightening the children by declaring that it was quite possible that ghosts were most probably a UFO-related phenomenon.  When two of the children started crying, he tried to bring them back into reality and calm them down somewhat, by declaring, "no, no children, it's just another little phenomenon -- ghosts might not even be associated at all; it could be anything, even werewolves for instance, or maybe vampires like Count Dracula.  It's just unknown phenomena that we're talking about.  How many of you know what a demon is, or a djinn?  We're just talking about things we don't yet understand." 

Unfortunately, the younger children in his audience knew exactly what he was talking about, and they didn't even need a dictionary.  Within days, Tsoukalos was being watched by neighborhood groups and even found himself trying to organize a defense against claims of child abuse, molestation and the sexual misuse of a vampire.  His protestations and pleas of innocence to the parents of those children he had attempted to employ were just as successful as his attempts to explain his needs to the children had been, and he was forced to abandon both his attempts to build an intelligence apparatus from the ubiquity of children at play and his home when an anonymous ally told him how many of his neighbors had been visiting gun shows and shooting ranges and how he had become the center of their focus.  It was a punch to the gut, and he ran -- he ran long and hard and about 1,209 miles far.  He had failed even to define the terms of his theoretical musings. 

That failure, however, showed Tsoukalos what elements he desperately needed to include in his own classification system.  He had been taken to task by the parents in his neighborhood, and was forced to explain his ramblings while on the run, literally.  He caught himself screaming at one particularly energetic father of three, "it's not just werewolves, and not vampires, it can be anything, please!  Stop grabbing at my face!  I never said flying saucers full of demons were coming to get anybody -- I was trying NOT to talk about flying saucers at all, can't you see that?  It can be anything, anything at all, anything you want it to be; you just gotta look at the world a little harder!" 
Anything at all ...
"Do you have any idea how many standard anomalies are reported each year?  Thousands.  Even tens of thousands.  Do you know why?  Two reasons:  humans are not half as smart as we think we are, and as a species, we dearly LOVE making lists!  We'll list anything on a bet, but we go list-crazy when we come up against an anomaly we can't properly define.  I say we should classify all anomalies and add them to the UFO sightings database.  Who's to say they aren't associated?  Every zoologist in the world insists that you investigate an animal sighting first, and classify it second! 

"We should add every anomaly imaginable to our UFO listings.  Let someone with more money than MUFON's yearly budget investigate it first and then tell us whether or not it's associated with UFOs.  Why are we all working in the dark?  Why do we insist on classifying a UFO sighting before we do anything else?  Only suckers organize their working procedures in a manner that defunds their investigation before it's even started!  That's not how you lobby a government to take on a commitment.  That's not even how you run your home budget!  Does anybody in your family classify lasagna or pizza as something that's deadly poisonous before first determining whether it is or not?  Do you avoid eating pizza and lasagna simply because you've assumed for years that Mexican food isn't good for you, that it maybe gives you bad gas or something even though you've failed to honestly investigate the matter first?  Hell, no!  Sounds idiotic, doesn't it?"
Giorgio A. Tsoukalos, you see, had finally taught himself how to lecture on the run, and he was now very much in tune with his potential (and by far most influential) audience, the paranoid, and besieged believers in government conspiracies and Bigfoot (that's right, children) and the Loch Ness Monster, and the Illuminati, and the Great Sea Serpent, and mermaids, and the giant octopus, and all of it together, and he put his thoughts and opinions and desires in the simple yet inelegantly detailed terms that any government flunky would be sure to understand:
"I know this young man in his twenties, and he told me that his parents have been trying to get him certified as a disabled entity so that he can collect social security payments.  They heard something silly about it somewhere.  Who knows where..." and he was talking in the now, the altogether, and he's on stage and he's telling people exactly what they need to hear...
"His mother drives him to all of his appointments, and fills out all of his paperwork, so he doesn't have to do much except go see the doctor, and certify his existence at whatever Social Security field office is next on his list." 

And he truly loves it, telling people who need to know how troublesome the world can be, how energetic and electric man needs to become if he wants to survive on this weird Earth, in a strange little village without walls, in a universe where it pays to get drunk first and then work out the quirks and the kinks in the system that they'd never understand, and could never reason with or become influential with or even for God's sake observe just a pinch full of the fish and the frogs and the strange forever stuff dropping and bouncing out of the sky.

"At one time or another, this young man has tried to substantiate bipolar disorder, alcohol addiction, addiction to OxyContin, the inability to maintain social functioning, the persistent inability to concentrate, ADHD, repeated episodes of decompensation, excessive fatigue, short term and long term memory loss, Benedryl addiction, various retention disorders, autism, Asperger’s Syndrome, the desire for a sexy looking kitchen, the need to scream in anger at the universe and its far too general inhibitions, bouts of depression, manic incapacitation, anxiety, blurred vision, severe headaches, numbness in his extremities ..."

... and all the words just start running together, which is fine, he thinks, because none of it makes any sense anyway -- it doesn't have to, because the perfect classification system for the perfectly imperfect human race doesn't demand sense, it just demands that you open up your head in some weird, backwards, Neanderthal brain surgery clinic where all of the patients are being taught to recognize the unreal and the irresponsible and the worthless and putting it all into the flying saucers, along with that panoply of stolen youth and gangrenous education.

"...schizoaffective disorders, various other personality disorders, carpal tunnel syndrome, depth perception problems, and even more of the schizophrenic, paranoid and other functional psychotic disorders.  The primary difficulty that he faces, however, has nothing at all to do with the alleged symptomology of his supposed disabilities.  The clear fact is that he has never in his entire life held down a real job, like normal adults do, and therefore he has limited means to collect on any Social Security benefits in the first place.  Not that it matters.  Every interview he has, both legal and medical, begins exactly the same way."
It begins in sadness and terror and the ribald jousting of pathetic gardeners with their tubes of secret fertilizers and unbending Neapolitan joy suddenly turning into ancient aliens with their energy sticks and bouillon cubes and their majestic spacecraft that mankind in this forever dream of ours can only imagine in the dark and during the ghostly days ...
"He admits right at the start that there's really nothing much wrong with him.  He's just a very, very lazy man with parents who are simply not very bright.  He apologizes for taking up their valuable time, but he's nonetheless going to have to insist on turning in all of that paperwork and seeing the whole process through to its already predetermined outcome. 

"The truth is, as long as he keeps his appointments, meets with all the doctors and psychologists and continues to file all the necessary bullshit paperwork that his Mom has already filled out for him in advance, his parents are going to continue letting him use the family car whenever he wants it."  That's all.  It's all for the car, and the need to move faster than the poor schmuck in front of you.  That's all it's ever been. 

"Look, the point I'm trying to make here is an easy one.  This young man's primary goal is to persuade his parents to let him use the car whenever he wants.  Now, in order to reach that goal, he has to throw in from his side of the equation a whole bundled package full of absolute crap.  By doing this, he is given unfettered use of his Mom's 20-year old station wagon."

Don't kid yourself; sacrifice is always easy.  Getting someone to notice it is hard.

"Well, our primary goal is to get the attention of the federal government long enough to  stop their petty whining about 75-150 UFO sightings a year not being sufficient for them to sacrifice the time and the money necessary to finance and carry through a proper by God investigation.  To meet that goal, we're also going to have to toss in a whole boatload of crap in order to up the ante.  And this new classification program will accomplish that.  While its success may very well depend on a lot of unexplained symptoms that are quite probably not even associated with our basic and most fundamental concern -- the necessity for a more robust system of well-funded UFO investigations -- that association can't be summarily dismissed by skeptics without a more robust system of well-funded investigations.  Hell, it's impossible for us to lose!"
When your bottom line has no bottom line, there's no such thing as the bottom of the barrel.  There's also no such thing as raising the bar for everybody's anybody.

"Plus, we gain the gratitude of all those folks who are lobbying for a proper investigation of all those other strange and unexplained anomalies, things like the Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot, or even the existence of werewolves in Wyoming.  And I assure you, as long as we don't go around freaking out a bunch of silly little kids who probably wouldn't amount to much of an intelligence gathering organization anyway, I really don't think it's possible for anybody to lose.  We just report everything and call it a UFO.  We're very nearly doing that now just among ourselves." 

When NOTHING is ever identified, the vulnerability and the cruelty and the selfish unreasoning fascism of the capital 'U' disappears.  It's the only fool-proof UFO classification system that there is.  Every other system that anybody has ever come up with has always favored the skeptics.  This one, for the first time in history, does not.  The only way anybody will ever know EXACTLY what it is that they saw is by putting every fish in the ocean in a great multi-setting blender -- the kind they make dreams and daiquiris with.  Plug it into a nuclear powered generator, flip the switch to ON, and when nothing is left except seafood puree, clam jelly, sea monkey stew, and shark fin soup, start passing out the celebratory paper cups, telling everyone, "it's fish."  Welcome one and all to the study of statistics by the Dixie Cup Corporation, Ltd.  Welcome to the Second Law of Thermodynamics.  Welcome to sweet mother entropy.

When your database includes everything in the ocean, nobody will ever fault you for insisting before God that you know EXACTLY what you saw.  "It's fish ..."  Smile for the camera.

"It's an absolutely brilliant solution and absolutely everybody profits!  All I've got to say is Hallelujah!  Somebody better hurry up and toss me a copy of 'Ripley's Believe It or Not' before this crazy hazy inspiration goes to waste!" 

We are on a roll, people; the sudden increase in speed is not due to an influx of energy, and things don't always appear closer in the mirror; sometimes by God they are closer, and it usually happens while you're standing cold and alone in the middle of a poor judgment decision.

"It's fish ..."

This is a Saucer Press International Publication

Saturday, April 29, 2017

More Mysteries and Fewer Answers: Roswell, New Mexico in 1947

Mack Brazel's Tale: Desert or Damnation?

"Why in God's name would he shoot somebody?"

This is Part 3 of our Bits and Pieces of Roswell Story. If you're just now coming into it, you should probably start at Part 1 below :  "New Revelations Add to the Collection of Mysteries in Roswell, 1947". This one is Part 3.

In pursuit of the truth, Roger Craggett has been willing to call out an entire subsection of the population, particularly in Roswell, a friendly little city trying really hard, and for the most part succeeding, to create a tourist industry based on an old traffic incident that was poorly reported at the time.  They still talk about it, even though the version they celebrate the most has been outlined in glitter and those little glow-in-the-dark star stickers they used to sell at Walmart.  It tends to subtract some from the overall credibility index.  They've worked at it pretty hard, though, and they probably deserve something for the effort.  So you should go there someday.  Buy yourself an alien slushee or something.  Pig out on one of those 26th Rib Sandwiches instead of grabbing at another Big Mac.  Support the local economy, for God's sake.  Dress up and walk in a parade. Do something completely unselfish for a change.  Probably best to avoid the star-sushi, though.  It can get pretty damn hot in Roswell, and sea food can turn so quickly.  Now then, what were we talking about?  Oh, yeah ... 

SPI SANTA FE NM -- In the beginning there was just the doubt... 

Now that's a phrase we tend to bandy around a bit, but it's still the God-honest truth.

The original picture of the world is a secret that nobody ever truly realizes, and it is why our memories are a firm expression of that secrecy. Hardly ever does an account of fact remain unchanged through time. Sometimes, it becomes unrecognizable, just like any other secret in this world. It is the one truth that the entire world is well-aware of, yet fails to discuss. There are secrets. And secrets can explain everything ... 

But only when your fellow conspirators are under oath and ready to spill everything for immunity from prosecution.

Ardajio Jonas, it turns out, has no real use for secrecy of any kind, and so he enjoys talking a great deal about his friend, Patient-X, a fascinating gentleman he once met who died and came back almost fifty years later with a young man's mind in an old man's crippled body. When interest is shown, Jonas can go on for hours. Secrets have always accompanied death and for that reason as well, he just lights up when the environmental awareness catches fire. It's not often that a man meets someone who truly affects his outlook on life and how he chooses to live that life after such a man has gone. 

Jonas retired almost immediately following Patient-X's unsettling and somewhat lonely death, having watched the old man's body give out in mute surrender to the weakness and the pain that so often accompanies the rigors of awakening thoughts within a living body with organs turned to earth and stone. Jonas, however, now has a new thirst for life that the old man gave him before he succumbed to the darkness and the secrecy of death. He insists that he has a hunger for an improvement to the quality of his life that he lacked before meeting Patient-X. 

"That old man spent nearly two-thirds of his life in a miserable coma. He valued every second of his waking life, and I find that admirable. But a lot of people place great value on their lives -- it's not a particularly rare facet of a man's personality or even his existence. What I found remarkable was the man's very real gratitude. You'd think a man who had been effectively unconsciousness for so much of his life would probably feel some bitterness about it. There was no bitterness in that man at all. He had some regrets, but these were primarily the type of regrets that a man has in his later years, regrets that maybe he didn't take advantage of the blessings in his life as much as he could have. He had no real anger or sense of loss, only self recrimination. 

"To some extent he was critical of how he had responded to the life he was given in his youth. None of that, however, had any effect whatsoever on the unconditional gratitude, the thankfulness that he felt at the end of his days. He thought of his life as a wonderful gift, and I believe that everyone who knew him was affected by that attitude. I know that I certainly was. I won't ever forget him."

Ardajio Jonas promised himself that for the remainder of his days, he would try very hard to live his life to the fullest, thankful for each and every moment allotted to him. And to be thankful, he decided, was to have fewer regrets. As a result, he quit the job that he had never really grown to love, and travelled for a year or so, living off of the retirement savings the federal government, the U.S. Navy and the Veterans Administration had given him the opportunity to sock away each month for the past thirty-seven years. It didn't amount to much, but it gave him the freedom to choose, and that, he believes, made it a far more valuable commodity than what he could reasonably expect to purchase with it. So he travelled a bit, not particularly certain in his mind what he wanted to do.with the time fate had left to him. He taught himself how to paint for no particular reason, but discovered in the process the value a man can find in the lazy, yet feverish afterglow left behind by a runaway existence that lies nonetheless imprisoned by its dedication to self-actualized contentment. It wasn't so much the painting that he learned to value as it was the drifting away from himself when he focused his attentions on the sober act of creation that happened outside of himself. At such times, he disappeared, the works of art and committment channeling through him, not originating or deliberating within him. 

The irony at the end of the day left him truly and sometimes viciously flushed.  He slept like a child again when the carnage within faded.     

Jonas is a lucky man in that fate blessed him with a talent that others had the need to share. Because of this, he has managed to create a private marketplace through which he could filter those works he no longer had the desire to keep around him like the sad poems of adolescent dreamers with corrupted hearts. This provided everything he needed when the desire to wander wrapped itself around his head so tightly that he needed to resolve the matter with action. He not only had the desire to travel, at times, he now had the means to do so.

And it is for this reason and this reason alone that upon returning to Santa Fe at the end of cruise that took him and over a thousand other souls through some of the world's richest fishing waters around the Aleutian Islands stringing off of Alaska like a net of sparkling glass floats, the first place he went was the American Legion club for a quiet unwind and a small pitcher of ice cold beer. It was early in the spring of 2014. That same evening, while he was partaking of that quiet unwind, a young man by the name of Roger Craggett decided that he could use a quick cheeseburger and a cold beer, and this was how he met Jonas at that same, nearly deserted American Legion club in Santa Fe, New Mexico. 

He told Jonas that he was once an airman with the U.S. Air Force, and had recently returned from a tour of duty outside of Istanbul, Turkey. He wasn't exactly lying; for the most part, he was telling the truth. It was, however, the truth as it stood about five years earlier. He just didn't like it when folks asked him why he was still hanging around an American Legion club with a bunch of retirees even though he was still a relatively young man. Within thirty minutes, Craggett no longer cared about that at all.

He overheard Jonas talking at the bar, and the conversation seemed interesting enough for him to buy the old man a beer. By the time Jonas got to the part of the story in which the heart and soul of Patient-X appeared to reject any sense of imposed interest outside of a few silly cartoons in the 21st century world he had awakened in, Craggett was burning alive with interest, like it was an electrical storm sparking up somewhere in the back of his head.

But Jonas was just getting started ...

"I was advised by the Director of the coma ward that it wasn't a good idea to tire the old man out with a bunch of questions that he may not even know the answers to. He was extremely frail, and the doctors had been very clear that he could not survive for very much longer. It would have been cruel to hasten that end with a bunch of silly old questions that couldn't possibly have any real effect on the man's future. They were very sensible. Wise men, in my opinion, and it was obvious that they cared about the old man a great deal. But who wouldn't, y'know? There were some pretty insistent signs about that any normal man would find it damn hard to ignore and keep quiet through. And that was me. I wasn't just hooked, though, 'cause what he started talking about required some kind of response. I had to ask him a few questions 'cause he needed me to ask him a few questions. And that can make all the difference in the world."

As such things go, it had become clear to Jonas that Patient-X had been cursed by the subject of his lost years, but this wasn't necessarily what disturbed him the most. There were memories that the old man needed to reconcile with his advanced age, and this was unexpected. That crippled and dying old man with that bright and shining and unbelievable mind was driven by an open wound in his heart to bind himself to the harsh and disconsolate pain that drove him into a world of silence and dark corners, and the revelations this conversation eventually brought to light carried with it the stain of unexpected repercussions. According to Ardajio Jonas, the discussions of the day had rested in an uncomfortable valley during which both men were trying to bring up another subject, any subject, which was a necessity once the NickToons broadcast block of the day had ended, this being the only television screening the ancient relic seemed to get any real enjoyment from. 

Possibly just to fill the silence, something he understandably had an obvious aversion for, he said with a suddenness like it had come right out of the blue sky, "did any of those Braceros I was trucking up to Albuquerque ever make it? 'Cause I had the impression that Mack thought every one of 'em was all dead and gone, an' the thing is, you could never tell with that guy. I'm pretty sure he had no problem killin' though. He once told me that his uncle had shot and killed Pat Garrett, and I never knew anybody who could be so proud of something like that, but he sure seemed to be."

"Who are you talkin' about?"

"Ol' Brazel ...  Mack Brazel. Some folks called him 'Billy', but for most, he was just 'Mack'".

"Mack Brazel?  Yeah -- I know about him; he died a few years back. 'Bout twenty years ago, I think.  Coulda been a little longer.  It's a bit hard to recollect, but it was in the newspapers."

Some folks called him 'Billy', 
but for most, he was just 'Mack'.
"Huh ... Well, he was the last person I ever had any real connection to before I went under for good. Y'know, I was lyin' there in the dirt, and I couldn't move, I couldn't even think to move 'cause everything was so dry and slow, and even though he came back an' told me what was goin' on an' what he did, I couldn't turn my head to look, and the not knowin' was what I hated the most.  That not knowin' was bad, real bad.  Y'see, I heard that old Army Colt of his go off a coupl'a times, an' I've been real bothered by that sound for a long time now.  Too long."

Patient-X didn't move -- not much anyway, according to Jonas, who immediately qualified that estimate of the man's silence and his still being. "But when his eyes cocked a certain way, it meant he was real busy inside.  That look was unmistakable and at the time it was all over his face." 

"There were moments when I was in the coma that I was aware of my surroundings. I couldn't move, of course, but I could weigh things in my head, an' I tell you, those Braceros were mighty heavy.  I always felt bad about what happened, and I'm not even sure what that was."

"What exactly do you remember?"

"I remember takin' a short cut across from the old dirt road that ran past the J. B. Foster sheep ranch where ol' Mack was foreman.  We got to know each other during the war 'cause we went after a lot of the same jobs.  I figured he was littered with some mental pox half his life or somethin' and couldn't fight. He must have started drinkin' himself into the grave to kill time.  Somethin' like that anyway.  Who the hell knows? I couldn't go to war, 'cause I was lazy, and really didn't give a goddamn about what was goin' on all over them Jap islands. The coupl'a times my name came up, I went to old Mexico for a spell an' jus' changed my name before I come back. Did that a coupl'a times, which is why most folks never really knew my real name. But I got to know Mack well enough. There was times he could be a real shit kicker, like anybody else -- me included -- but I never figured him for a murderer ...

I remember takin' a short cut across from the old dirt
road that ran past the J. B. Foster sheep ranch.
"The thing is, how much does anybody know about anybody else? We're stuck here for a very few years and it's hardly enough time to learn anything 'bout anything, an' so we got a lotta questions when we got the time to sit an' think a spell.  An' I sure had my share of sittin' an' thinkin' time."  This was the point where Jonas flipped the video record on his cell phone, and after it focused on Patient-X, he smiled some, but didn't say anything to indicate that Ardajio should turn it off, and he was well aware by that time that the cell phone was a video recorder as well.  He just didn't seem to care.  He didn't seem to care about a whole lot of things that generally bug the rest of the world.  Maybe that's not always a fine and good thing, but it worked for him ... mostly.

"We was nex' to the desert on one side and Foster's ranch on t'other when the axle on my truck snapped.  That's what I figured it was -- the axle.  It about flipped us when it happened, an' I know it roll'd at least twice.  I went right through the windshield an' on one of them rolls that truck came down hard on my legs.  An' I was lucky at that 'cause back where the Mexicans was I'd long before put half of an old engine and pretty much the whole back end to a busted up '37 Chevy, an' when we flipped it musta been like missiles in there.  God knows how anything would survive.  Didn't have much time or steady a head to think about anything much 'cept 'damn, I'm dead now' which is about when ever'thing else all around me went dark brown and I just left the world for a spell."

Patient-X was quiet for a good length of time -- time enough for the deep sigh that was picked up on the cell phone, and then some. "I came back to a little bit of awareness, and that sad story seemed to go on just forever.  The thing is, I was in and out of pain, tremendous pain, but I could hardly breathe, couldn't even sweat an' that's what my whole life was. It gives the world a whole new flavor and color, and I can tell you now that I know why our visions of Hell are hot and dark red and brown and there just isn't any real steady thought outside of the true desire, that heavy, heavy need to just die and let everything go away. But you're scared and fearful that the blackness in our whole forever after is just gonna be so much worse, an' so you hang on to the pain, as much of it as you can and you just want to weep in your own Hell, an' I was in and out of it.  And I lived and thought I'd die there for a whole other lifetime.  The very thing ...

"I don't know how many times I heard that ol' side Colt of Mack's fire off, but it was at least a coupl'a times. I did hear somethin' else, though -- an' there ain't no doubt what that somethin' else was. Ol' Mack was sobbin', and it was a heavy, heavy cryin' that I heard, an' I seriously doubt any of those Braceros would have been cryin' without also screaming for help from somebody.  'Specially since he shot at least a couple of 'em."

"Why in God's name would he shoot somebody?"

"When he came an' sat down next to me he said they looked so bad, he'd never seen anyone look so broken up and hurt so bad in his whole life.  Brazel called it mercy killin'.  He said he'd feel less than human if he didn't do somethin' for 'em, but it hurt him inside so much.  An' when he bent over me, it looked like he was in very real pain.  I hope I never see a man look like that again. 'Cause I was pretty sure I was just about to die."

Of course, Patient-X did not die, but he sure came close. There was contemplation on his features, so it's not surprising that Ardajio Jonas would have silently waited for something else. But Patient-X didn't say anything at all for the longest time. It turns out that there wasn't much more for him to say. He mentioned that part of the in and out of his consciousness was Mack Brazel trying to clean him up some.  He got worried for a bit when Mack said his leg looked almost as bad as a couple of the Braceros looked, but then he lost his thoughts again and the world spun and went out for him. That had to have been a mercy.

"I'm gonna take you down to the Army base; mebbe their doctors can help you more'n I can. I gotta tell you, boy, I don't think you're gonna make it, but your a white man an' I ain't gonna treat you like some Mexican deportee.  Me an' my family'll pray for you, so mebbe God'll see fit to bring you through it or to put you down, but it'll all be up to Him, not me.  I'll pray for your Braceros, too, but I 'spect they'll be dependin' more on whatever prayers they may have done 'fore today.

"Don't you worry. I'll drop you at the base first, mebbe that clinic they got, and then I'll come back here to give them boys a proper burial -- at least until their families take 'em back to Mexico. I'll have to leave your truck here, but I expect it'll get cleaned up after I explain to the Sheriff why I shot three of yer Mexicans."

I'm gonna take you down to the Army base;
mebbe their doctors can help you more'n I can.
According to Patient-X, he spent the next few dozen years in and out of awareness and trying to reconcile what he remembered with the sound of those gunshots and that weeping. Unfortunately, he was never going to find any real relief on that score. Ardajio exhausted every possible avenue of research and was unable to find a single record, referral, or rumor to even suggest that a bunch of Braceros were killed on their way to reasonable employment. He probably thought it didn't matter so much, and easily convinced the right side of his brain that the whole thing was probably a lost cause. He nonetheless looked everywhere he could possibly imagine to find some mention of those Braceros, doing so more for Patient-X than for himself. When the old man finally did pass away in the early autumn of 2010, Jonas pretty much quit looking for any of it. As far as he was concerned it was just another end to another story. It was also a resolution he had grown to know intimately; by the time the winter months started crackling with lightning and the dry freeze that came along with the blown sands, there was nothing left to consider or talk about except the story. Patient-X, without fanfare, had continued his journey through the universe within the same pattern of existence that had brought him of out of the coma: he died alone and in silence. Jonas' desire to help ease the older man's restless heart was no longer necessary.

Now Roger Craggett, you have to understand, knew exactly who Mack Brazel was, but this was a story about Brazel he had never heard before, a story that had nothing at all to do with the alleged flying saucer he was supposed to have discovered the very same day as his encounter with that bunch of dead Braceros and a broken up white man. He couldn't have said why, at that moment, but he had a feeling this story was going to be a desperate one for a lot of people. All by himself, he felt as if he could almost blow away some of the secrecy of this world with a single breath, scattering the desert sands and unveiling a whole new universe beneath it. He decided right then that he was going to find those Braceros and determine for himself if Mack Brazel had discovered and been forced to keep secret a wrecked flying saucer and a bunch of dead aliens, or the wreckage of an old produce truck and a bunch of dead Mexicans.

At that very same moment, he understood exactly the precision so inherent to one man's illumination.

The first step to wiping away the secrecy overlaying the Roswell flying saucer claims was to walk the area, the original locale of this alleged story of dead Mexicans. Craggett reasoned that Mack Brazel would have never gathered up all ten bodies, transported them to another location, and buried them in secret. Accepting that what he had supposedly told Patient-X his real intentions were as basically a truthful account, he concluded that Brazel would have most likely buried the bodies very close to where they had originally died. He clearly suggested as much in the story Ardajio Jonas had told, suggesting as well that the burial would most likely only be a temporary one, that family and friends in Mexico would eventually reclaim their missing sons and fathers. None of this was borne out by the evidence, however, so Craggett assumed that the bodies were still buried in the desert, probably near the original accident site.

According to Roger Craggett, he spent the next five weeks looking for the mass grave he fully expected to uncover. He was not successful. It's possible, he reasoned, that he was looking in the wrong place, so he went back to Ardajio Jonas, who showed him all of the recordings he was in possession of. They discussed the matter with other witnesses at the long-term care facility where Patient-X had awakened and then died. Being a thorough researcher, Craggett exhausted every possible resource he could find, including what additional witnesses have discussed in relation to the reports of a wrecked flying saucer. He reasoned that if one story had been based on another, there would still be common elements to both, and that common element may well be location, location, location.

So Craggett went and bought himself one of those metal detectors that old white men in bermuda shorts and bright legs the color of fish bellies will sometimes pick up in their retirement so they can comb the beaches for something a little more entertaining than sand castles and old towels soaking up the sea salts and the hermit crabs, a handful of old keys and hunks of bent up metal screws and washers rattling about and telling the world that this is what retirement's like when you've got little enough to give and nothing to do except dream of pirates and treasures to be found.  And then he hit the desert with both feet burning in his old sneakers. Over the course of the next two months, Craggett checked every site even remotely associated with the Roswell crash stories and found nothing, just as every other investigator has also found nothing. There was no sign of an accident, no sign of burials, no sign that something large had plowed into the earth at high speed, and no sign of anything that might indicate an actual event of some importance may have occurred. In his despair, he decided that there was only one possible solution that incorporated every known crash site and yet started with the assumption that some type of incident actually took place: every known crash site was wrong. Dead wrong.

As you can probably guess, this negativity was not a good place for an obsessive man to start from -- not if he had any hopes of actually discovering something. The assumption that the answer can only be found in the one place that has never been proposed and still meets all the requirements dictated by Patient-X, i.e., off a dirt road near the Foster ranch on one side and the desert on the other, didn't exactly limit the focus of his search, especially given the fact that those requirements had to be applicable to the region in June 1947 and therefore might be completely different now. He was forced to reexamine every source available, recover every scrap of information possible that would enable Craggett to locate the site of the events discussed therein. And just like every other investigator who found it necessary to backtrack and reassess, he discovered nothing.  Again.

Thus ends our Part Three...

This work is the culmination of The Saucerologist's most complex and lengthy investigation to date. As a result, the necessity for travelling throughout the States of New Mexico, Maryland, Georgia, and Utah to conduct interviews and to access numerous archives of personal records has increased significantly the expenses and time required to complete the task. While it's true that we would prefer not to incur such a taxing condition, we would nonetheless be far more dissatisfied were we to ignore such obstacles that fate has placed before us. Expenses are relatively easy to ignore. Doing so, however, tends to increase the relative effect of the time we have invested in our pursuit of the truth. The Saucerologist therefore finds it necessary to apologize for the increased time between the varied Parts of our present examination of the alleged crash of a flying saucer north of Roswell, New Mexico. The Saucerologist apologizes for the sometimes inconsistent and untimely character of our publishing timetable. We are genuinely working towards a more palatable and consistent solution and hope to reduce our present consumption of minutes in the day. Please remember as well that ...

Part Four will be published right here in a bit of time measured out by clockwatchers in steps of quality found primarily at the end of grace! And always remember:

This is a Saucer Press International Publication