Friday, April 28, 2006

You Couldn't Make This Drivel Up
(Actually, you can, because someone just has)

In the past I have given those two old duffers, Harney and Rimmer, more than a fair dose of stick. There's nothing wrong with sceptics but when they present themselves in such a naive and often almost childish manner, they are just ripe for having a poke at. And because they are soft targets, it's fun. Cruel fun, but it's fun nevertheless.

So here goes another effort.

They have started a blog. Fair enough. Somebody ought to tell them though that when you write one, something longer than a sentence or two is generally required. It helps a bit as folk actually like to have something to read.

But the latest entry, by Harney, is a gem.

As it's so short, here it is in it's entirety;

Ufology as Modern Folklore
I am attempting to write an article for the next issue of
Magonia Supplement on the general theme that the whole UFOs and ufology business is nothing more than a modern myth, which is best studied by folklorists, psychologists and sociologists, rather than astronomers, physicists (nuclear or otherwise!), and self-styled "Serious Ufologists", most of whom are self-deluded buffoons.The general idea is to dispel the lies, delusions and paranoid fantasies, by such methods as pointing out that reports of apparent "true UFOs" never stand up to critical examination. Your comments on this theme are welcome (but remember that comments are moderated).

And then afterwards, John is going to find a cure for cancer and arrange for global warming to err stop.

The word "clown" seems to keep trying to force it's way to the front of my brain, but Lord knows why.

There are I suppose many comments that one could make. But the real cause of Harney's problem is that he is British and of a certain age and upbringing. As such, he has no imagination that can be traced and above all, is anally retentive. This thing about us Brits having a "stiff upper lip" is really another way of saying that many of us walk around with six foot iron rods shoved up our asses - except that in Harney's case, his is twelve foot long. The man has spent a life time around the paranormal and yet seems convinced that everything is buttoned down and explainable. In his little world perhaps it is. The real world is another matter entirely.

I invite you all to help John in his quest by submitting helpful comments to the blog but am distressed to notice that comments are moderated, which says an awful lot about not very much.

I thought I was the clown prince of Ufology but I recognise a better talent when I see one.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

Desperate Old Fart Shouts "Look At Me - I'm Over Here".

You may not have noticed but Rich Reynolds has been back with a blog for the last month or so. If you haven't noticed, not to worry because very few others have either. You see, his time came and went and he is now of no interest to anyone anymore. His little posse of possums appear to have been disbanded and it's just old Rich banging out the same old twaddle.

Rich has noticed that no one else gives a flying fuck anymore as well. As a consequence, his postings have become more desperate. The latest one, published yesterday, has hit a new low. Not a "Gosh, how disgusting" type low so much as a "What a sad old tosser he's turned into" kind of low.

Why ufologists are ignored: they're ugly

Read it if you want but you don't have to. The title says it all.

Perhaps Rich needs some help about possible future titles for blogs. Let's give him a hand;

1. All Ufologists smell.

2. They started it first.

3. It's not fair, they've got more than me.

4. Mummy, I've wet myself.

5. I hate you. You're horrid.

You get the gist.

Personal note to Rich; any chance of you behaving like a grown up?

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Posturing Poseurs

The fall out from the Alien Autopsy debacle has been a social study to behold. I don't know if it's just Ufology or if what I'm about to say applies in life generally but there is so much arrogance around that it's staggering.

And just how stupid are people? Very, it would appear. You see, when Ray Santilli was declaring to all and sundry that he had on film an autopsy of an alien, no one believed him. OK, some did but many didn't. However, now he is saying that the film was a fake and that he made it, people are prepared to believe him. So when he delivers the message they want to hear, they believe. When he wasn't, they wouldn't. These people are cretins. Not surprisingly, these are the same folk who also fervently and religiously believe that science will solve all of Ufology's ills. Therefore it follows that all scientists are cretins.

Now of course amongst well mannered and mature grown ups, if someone makes a mistake, we don't finger point. Instead, we "understand". After all, we're all human etc. and we all recognise that any of us can make a mistake. That's the party line anyway. But it doesn't take too much insight to read between the lines to work out that in fact that's what many people have been doing; finger pointing. One twerp, Jason Pork Chop, or is it Gammon, declared that all those pseudo scientists (i.e. AA film believers) should leave the field. I was left wondering just exactly which field he meant and in the end was forced to conclude he meant the field in which he slipped on some cow's shit and left his brains behind in. Moron.

And now that Santilli has lied again, sorry fessed up, everyone is prepared to wash their hands of the whole debacle and mentally draw a line under yet another travesty that has seriously harmed ufology. In their desperate rush to do so, they have ignored the obvious inconsistencies in Santilli's latest statement and the obvious tie in with the release of the feature film on the subject. Those who heaved a sigh of relief at Santilli's statement have prematurely expunged their emotions. In other words, they've come too quickly and made a right mess. This thing will not go away and in fact, will be around for quite a while.

You know, I'm sure that the alien in Santilli's film is winking at us in one frame.