Somewhere near the beginning of the final decade of last century, I began writing for a Portland publication, THIS WEEK. And I was given anew the opportunity to explore. The following is one such exploration. The Director’s Cut. – JDW
***
Anybody who buys a lottery ticket probably believes intelligent life exists in outer space. The odds are better.
According to a poll commissioned by people who believe the movie E.T. was a documentary, 2% of the U.S. population have been abducted, often repeatedly, by alien life forms.
ALFs.
Five million Americans are missing for some period of time, victims of sexual and scientific intrusions, and we never read about it in the local paper.
Inquiring minds wonder, is there a cover-up?
Another thing. How do we know Carl Sagan was not an alien? One of those pod creatures who takes over a host animal.
Losing my way each time I attend a meeting of the Northwest Unidentified Flying Objects Group (NUFOG), I wonder how it is that intergalactic public transportation (Star-Met) can travel across a billion light years of perilous space, and then land safely in some trailer park on Portland’s eastside.
They are probably not driving a Chevy camper.
***
The third Sunday of each month, at Mt. Hood Community College, NUFOG hosts nearly a hundred of your neighbors, for a serious discussion of spacey phenomena.
A very normal looking group. A lone black male sits in the audience; A brother from another planet, no doubt. Outwardly, this organization of UFOlogists appears no different from the OCA or the Beaver Boosters or the Portland Bar Association. Normal Oregonians by any other description, exceptional only by their openness to star search. NUFOG exists, like the llama breeders’ association, to share a common interest which means nothing special to most everybody else.
Blazermaniacs, another good example.
***
DO SPACE MEN GET IT ON? AND, HOW CAN I MEET A SPACE MAN?
Transplanetary date rape is no joking matter.
Last time I was here, some burly, bearded guy named Bruce in a plaid shirt confessed to repeated sexcapades with aliens. I Was Stalked By Sex-Crazed Space Babes was his story.
Bruce lost my vote, when he launched into the part about how he knows now he lost his virginity at age 14 to an alien, how his Boy Scout Camp tentmate was an alien.
And how Bruce was taken to a big spaceship where there’s a nursery of all his interspecies progeny.
And how he just felt used, used….
After all, admit it, there is something so very dirty about alien sex.
Initially, Bruce thought these visitations were just bizarre dreams. But… one night, he awoke, glanced out the window, and saw, surprise!, a UFO.
He tried to move but couldn’t budge a muscle. When he finally forced one hand to lift from the bedcovers, the UFO disappeared.
Night after night this went on. Bruce just knew an alien woman was lusting for him out in the woods behind the house.
He knew she’d come inside if he asked. “I felt debauched,” Bruce confessed.
Then one night, accompanied by “two little guys,” an alien woman actually showed up in Bruce’s boudoir. Naked except for a black bouffant wig, about five and a half feet tall.
“Not bad looking” with very weird eyes.
Vive le big difference!
“I’m proud they picked me,” boasted Smith later. “I’ve got kids in space.”
***
Anyway, at a recent NUFOG meeting, there appeared a mental health professional, a hypnotherapist. Don’t try a hypnotic regression at home. “This is not Las Vegas nightclub hypnotism.” He mentions he’s eaten fire.
The hypnotist, a family counselor during the week, puts two women under an hypnotic trance. “It’s gonna look easy, it’s gonna look simple…”
The first subject has experienced lost time episodes. She doesn’t think she’s been abducted, but there’s no doubt she’s been contacted.
She went to bed and in the middle of night, it could’ve been a dream, she saw a woman standing in her bedroom.
Bingo! The shrink leads her, or allows her to lead him, next thing you know, the woman in this dream is actually an alien.
It’s the only thing that makes sense.
Turns out the first witness, who was by the way very convincing, her face turning crimson, real tears streaming, is a professional re-birthing therapist. She has rebirthed herself a lot.
When she finishes her tale about the excruciating pain suffered in the process of exterrestrial health care, somebody hollers, “We’re with you,” and everybody applauds.
Nary a doubt is heard.
***
We take a break and I surprise the shrink with a question.
“At what point in a mental health care professional’s career, when a client comes in and says, ‘Doc, uninvited guests from another galaxy have been forcing their antennae on me, when do you stop calling the men with the rubber stretchers and start suggesting your client ask for Frequent Flying Saucer Miles?”
That’s what I wanted to know.
The second witness casually mentions she’s clairvoyant and clairaudient. Not only can she see the future, she can hear it, too. About then I drifted off in a trance of my own.
These people believe in flying saucers and everybody knows that’s, well, FRINGE THINKING.
The world, this one, was flat once, too.
I have had nocturnal visitations by wolves. It’s true.
When I ran 100 miles a week, I dreamt about running.
When I was in a Czechoslovakian Immersion School, I dreamt in Czech. People spoke a foreign language in my dreams.
It seems to me, if you are some lonely guy, who ain’t been getting any cuddling for, let’s say the last decade, who spends a lot of time reading science fiction romances about little men from outer space, I think it’s likely you will have a dream about sex with aliens.
I don’t think that makes your dream an alien visit, abduction, contact, whatever.
As an adolescent, I was reading Playboy constantly. Astrid Schulz, September, 1964, check it out. I dreamt about heavenly bodies, with staples in their tummies, coming to my bedroom. Smother Dearest sent me to the school psychiatrist. The doctor did not try to tell me I had been contacted by Hefner’s centerfolds.
Imagine my disappointment.
***
“Eggs.” I drifted back from my trance, as if cued by the word.
“Eggs.”
I should have known it would come to this.
Eggs.
Sure enough, five little men had tried to force five little eggs upon this lady. She resisted them. It was very painful, but she is “a very strong, stubborn person.”
Her husband, an invalid himself, was also contacted but he didn’t want to come testify because he was worried people would think he was crazy.
The lady didn’t talk about her husband doing, you know, the alien wild thing. We can only hope he didn’t get… Bruced.
After protecting her own virtue, the woman soon found herself outdoors in her worst nightie touring a space ship, shaped like a garbage can lid. Everywhere little men were spitting tobacco juice. She could smell it.
“Does your husband chew?,” a skeptic queries. Another voice from the NUFOG crowd, trying to find REAL evidence, asks, “That was a snowy night. Was your nightgown damp when you
woke in the morning?”
***
Some folks have all the proof they need.
Like Ron of Molalla. It was years ago. Ron was driving down Highway 213 when he saw a pulsating fifty-foot red orb hovering over his car.
Wouldn’t you know it. A couple of days later, beautiful, wrinkleless humanoids from WAY out of town were in his living room, plain as day.
In 1982, the aliens told Ron the United States, i.e., where we live, was headed toward a nuclear war. Within three years.
Thus forewarned, Ron decided to go public with his story. Almost immediately, he says, his phone was tapped and his mail intercepted. Men in grey suits and sunglasses, governmental types, visited him at work.
Gives you some idea what alien contactees are up against.
The alien life forms, beautiful, wrinkleless, told Ron of Molalla, normal looking, they wish human beings to continue to exist on Planet Earth.
But, this is important, pay attention, but, if we destroy ourselves, if we continue to litter, cut the last old growth, let’s say, then the third planet from our sun, otherwise known as Jolly Old Sol, will be repopulated by some tribe better able to care for it.
And you can just guess who that might be. I’ll give you two clues.
Beautiful. Wrinkleless.
These ALFs, by the way, are not gods, they assured Ron of Molalla. More like science officers working on a research project.
***
WE ALL HAVE A NEED TO EXPLAIN TO OURSELVES HOW THINGS WORK.
One part of me has to believe, hey, it’s stupid, spacemen.
Another part asks, why not? In the gazillion miles of OUT THERE, with more planets than dimes in the national debt, a few intelligent alien life forms seem inevitable.
How special is Earth, anyway? How do we know we’re so unique? How egotistical we’d be to presume, we human beings are one of a kind.
On the other hand, Earth will always be Number One with me.
I don’t care who visits.
Although I’d much prefer some alien heavenly body to a little green man.
I know what I’d say, too.
“Lose the staple, babe.”
Call me clairvocal.
***
NUFOG COVER STORY THIS WEEK
SIDEBAR
NUFOG is a not-for-profit organization which offers no membership. NUFOG provides a networking environment to present the most up-to-date information available about UFO’s, ETs and related phenomena. Bigfoot, for example. Crop circles. Cattle mutilations.
The Northwest UFO Group adheres to no particular viewpoint. “Recognizing an unusual and wide-ranging phenomenon is presenting itself to human experience, we believe only by considering all available information can we hope to have an adequate understanding of what may be taking place. As a group, we adhere to no specific viewpoints, and welcome the exchange of all ideas in an open-minded atmosphere.” – NUFOG.
I just wanted to make that clear. You can’t judge a group by its brothers. Every congregation has its stranger brethren.
“I don’t think people are ready to accept this reality,” concedes Charlene Elliot, NUFOG Director, who has never been abducted herself. “Individuals are having these experiences. That is basically how we are being shown what’s really out there. People from all over the world, from all walks of life, report contact and someone has to listen to them. You have to assume a small percentage are crazy, but most are normal people of average or above-average intelligence. There’s something going on. We just want to know what it is.”
NUFOG offers a newsletter, book& video checkout library, books & literature for sale and information about local support groups for abductees. You can reach NUFOG by calling 503-[redacted]-UFOS.
Another organization active locally is the Portland UFO Contact Center, a satellite of the UFO Contact Center International. UFOCCI, comprised of 61 centers in the U.S. and Canada, was established primarily for those who have already made contact with Extraterrestrial beings.
“The statistics show 2500 to 3000 people report being abducted every year, with more than 10,000 sightings in the United States alone,” notes Bob Anthony, Director of PUFOCC. “Proving the phenomenon is no longer a general issue, we are concerned with the contactees themselves.”
By sharing information on a worldwide basis, Anthony has come to see extraterrestrial contact as a global concern. “The ETs are interested in Earth in general, and the stories are remarkably similar everywhere,” Anthony explains. “If nothing else, these contacts are more than just some sort of coincidence.”
Anthony, Elliot and a surprisingly large number of other Oregonians are convinced UFOs are as real as anything else.
You don’t have to be a believer yourself, but if an alien life form should have a little too much box wine and drop in unannounced and grab you in the reception area, contact your local contactee support group.
“We are interested in hearing all stories of contact, from the contactees,” Anthony says. “As well, we are trying to get information from our less than responsive government, who even though (they) know more about the phenomenon than anyone, will not reveal information, based on the guise of National Security.”
Contactees may report extraterrestrial contact by calling [redacted.]
My work here is done.
Beam me up.
Jack D. Welch is not a debunker. We asked him if he’d ever seen an alien life form.
“Just a glance at my first wedding reception. Coulda been one of my ex-wife’s relatives.”
How about a Lost Time Experience, a common phenomenon, where a part of your life is missing and you have no clue what happened?
“Oh, sure,” said Jack D. “High school.”
***
