Roswell Aliens; Hot Mermaids
The other night I got a call from Australia and soon found myself on Richard Glover's radio show, "Drive." Glover is very smart and funny and clever -- why does he have to work at the bottom of the world? In any case, he told me about this new revelation about the Roswell flying saucer crash. It seems that the fellow who first sent out the bulletin saying a crashed disk had been recovered by the military --Walter Haut -- declared near the end of his life that he actually saw a couple of dead aliens.
"Also from a distance, I was able to see a couple of bodies under a canvas tarpaulin. Only the heads extended beyond the covering, and I was not able to make out any features. The heads did appear larger than normal and the contour of the canvas suggested the size of a 10 year old child. At a later date in Blanchard's office, he would extend his arm about 4 feet above the floor to indicate the height."
OK. I'm now convinced! Creatures got in a flying saucer and crossed 900 trillion miles of interstellar void and ran into some turbulence over New Mexico and the saucer crashed and they tragically perished, though with their bodies nicely intact for subsequent examination "from a distance" by a guy who FAILED TO MENTION THIS DETAIL for, let's see, about 55 years or so.
That's what we call proof.
Um, is there a photo? Or was photography not yet invented in 1947? How about a tissue sample? What happened to the bodies? How about the crash debris? Is there anything here that we can examine with modern forensic technology and scientific methodology?
And as Richard Glover puts it: How come the aliens never visit countries like India or China?
Happy Anniversary, Roswell Flying Saucer Crash. Sixty years and still going strong.
More Starbucks: A friend sends me this great link to a mermaid site. Note how the Starbucks mermaid -- excuse me, siren -- has really cleaned up her act. Much more demure:
'As some readers may know, Starbucks had to change their corporate logo because some consumers found the suggestive split tail of their topless siren too lurid and sexually suggestive. A simplified logo was introduced, hiding the siren's breasts under waves of hair, and that in turn was cropped and enlarged so the split in the siren's tail would no longer show. The only indication now that the female icon is a sea creature is in the wavy lines, which originally were part of the representation of the two tails. And yes, although the image is that of a split-tailed sea creature, it is a siren. More specifically, it is a double-tailed siren, a baubo siren, which The Woman's Dictionary of Symbols and Sacred Objects points out, is "a cross between a mermaid and a sheila-na-gig" and is found as a decorative motif in many European churches and cathedrals. "Her suggestive pose, like that of the sheila-na-gig, referred to female sexual mysteries in particular."'
Michael Gerson has a column today on Second Life, an online role-playing game/world/universe. Not surprisingly, people use it for uninhibited sexual capers and random acts of violence. (Why does technological progress depend so much on sex and war?)
'... Second Life, as you'd expect, is highly sexualized in ways that have little to do with respect or romance. There are frequent outbreaks of terrorism, committed by online anarchists who interrupt events, assassinate speakers (who quickly reboot from the dead) and vandalize buildings. There are strip malls everywhere, pushing a relentless consumerism. And there seems to be an inordinate number of vampires, generally not a sign of community health.
'Libertarians hold to a theory of "spontaneous order" -- that society should be the product of uncoordinated human choices instead of human design. Well, Second Life has plenty of spontaneity, and not much genuine order. This experiment suggests that a world that is only a market is not a utopia. It more closely resembles a seedy, derelict carnival -- the triumph of amusement and distraction over meaning and purpose.'
[Don't tell the editorial page editors of The Wall Street Journal!]
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