Exit To Tasmania

(Suggest Music for this blog "God's Whisper" by Raury) There’s a whole industry built on the fact that children are scared of the dark.  Throughout all the homes in America you will find night lights, that little flickering flame guiding children through their dreams as they sleep so soundly in their bedrooms. Unfortunately, night lights don't keep away all the monsters.  The dog barking startled him awake, tearing him out of dreamland, the unfamiliar sound of fear and aggression in his loving little dog's voice. He had never heard the little house dog sound so angry as it howled into the darkness.   All the boy knew in the core of his being was he was scared and that he had to get to his parents room as quickly as possible.  He flew back the covers and moved towards his door that was cracked open. He crossed the small distance to his parents room and with a glance down the hallway, he saw his little dog now flinging it's little white body against th...

    Let me begin being completely candid that this blog is completely a theory based on a theory probably based on a conspiracy.  Now we can begin.   I remember the first time I heard Tom on Coast to Coast a few years ago when he spoke with a passion that was clearly recognizable.  These were the days before the Academy and before he had a board that was known by name and resumes.  These days were the days when his advisors were as mysterious as the occupants of UFOs themselves.  While the gifts have been plentiful from the TTS Academy and those really honest with ourselves in the UFO community appreciate all the group has done we should not forget the days before Elizondo and Mellon.   Why do you ask?  Within those few passionate interviews Tom gave, there was some really interesting information.  The cog that turns in the progression of Confirmation of the Phenomenon is guided in a strict order.  First, where we are now, ...

  I remember as a child sitting in a pew next to my parents listening to the baptist preacher's voice rise and fall with emotion as he pleaded to lost members of his flock to come in from the woods and welcome Christ into their lives, into their heart.  I'm not sure now how one could fit a living Deity in the midst of chambers, valves, vessels, and walls.  Perhaps he would have persuaded more of his flock to move to the front of church and gather at the altar on their knees to be sheared of their sins before the Lord if he had replaced the heart with the mind.    At the end of "American Cosmic," by D.W. Pasulka I quite honestly find myself contemplating my own beliefs.  Don't worry I'm not about to go down a rabbit hole of theology but would like to make some comparisons that her book have challenged one to consider when examining the UFO mystery.  These comparisons will play into the theory that we (in the UFO community), are viewing and partaking...

  Chris Cornell once sang, "you are tired of walking and loathe the ground."  Sometimes when I close my eyes I picture myself not as myself but more like some ghostly presence speeding across the great expanse of space and in my mind's eye there is another ghostly dust cloud coming from the opposite direction.  We are both screeching across the universe to some predetermined location in which we will collide in a some sort of cosmic blast of light and color.    If we as a consciousness build and project the reality in which we interact with, I am just thankful that our own self's have such a grand sense of humor to allow for synchronicity to weave in and out of our lives.  As with all forms of entanglement I wonder if synchronicity are actually so prevalent in life or is it absent in your reality until you begin to consider the possibility of it existing.    I remember searching through YouTube for the best UFO interviews or such that I could...

   I swear I could almost see the stale smell of cigarettes that enveloped the young looking man that sat across from me, like some classic cartoon.  If he (Alex) hadn't offered his age in our initial introduction through email I would have sworn him to be only in his mid twenties not his actual mid thirties.  Alex's age was only glimpsed in his eyes from time to time while we spoke, but the window's of his soul would have fooled you as well to think that he was much older than his thirties.   Alex was a chameleon without a doubt, the definition of not judging a book by it's cover.  When he spoke he spoke eloquently, graceful and mindful with the choice of wording and narrative.  As he vocally danced about he would quietly slip in a fuck or some other curse word that would jar you for a split second, I am almost convinced he did this to keep his disguise up.  Just looking at Alex one would question his motives or his background.   Alex...

  Sonora, Texas 4:28 a.m. 1995.   3,140 souls slept soundly in the early morning hours of a warmer than normal July.  The county seat of Sutton County, Sonora was just a typical small town in the Western Hill Country of Texas.  Sonora was just one of a half dozen small towns that Jim had deliver to that Friday morning.  Sweeping across the darkness he drove the highways and roads that connected these towns on his milk delivery route.  One stop after another like some version of a lactose infused Santa he made his deliveries six mornings a week climbing into his delivery truck at three am.   Jim didn't really mind the odd hours, the endless miles, or even the hard work, hell he couldn't remember a job he had that haven't at least involved one of those demands.  He enjoyed being off early enough to pick his boys up from school, one just out of kindergarten and the other in elementary school.  That was truly his career, being a father, th...