Alien Jesus Collective

Sometimes I wonder why I never got heavily obsessed with The X-Files. I fit the show’s core demographic of a somewhat geeky sci-fi fan. I’ve contemplated wearing a tin foil helmet. I’ve posted to Usenet, and might do so again at any time. So what’s the fly in the ointment? What fostered my “take it or leave it” attitude towards the show? I’m forced to conclude that the show was successful on many levels, but something was fundamentally wrong. An undercurrent that made every episode feel like a cold shower administered by a CDC emergency response team. What was the the poison in my Sunday night kool-aid? Upon carful reflection, I’ve realized the fly in the ointment is Scully.

Gillian Anderson’s portrayal of Scully is supposed to represent the ideal woman for my demographic, the brainy geekette who prefers deductive reasoning to brute force. Pretty in a school teacher way, the kind of pretty that resonates with memories of your junior high librarian. So why does she leave me cold? Nice body (well, except for the season when she was pregnant), red hair (who can resist a redhead?), but there’s something lurking beneath the surface that I can’t quite put my finger on, something that’s just a total turn off. Now that the series has come to some sort of closure, now that I’ve had time to reflect, I think I know what that something is…Scully spends at least half of her screen time wearing a look on her face, a look that I’ve seen before. I’ve seen it in the aisles of my local pharmacy. I’ve seen it in the mirror when I don’t get enough fiber. The look of….CONSTIPATION!!!!

This was a huge revelation. Scully’s irregularity poisons her system, and poisons my ability to see her as the thinking man’s sex object she’s obviously intended to be. The built up toxins in her colon seep out through her pores and into the ether, and all we can do is watch. Watch and think. Think about some of the other leading ladies in Chris Carter’s shows. Millenium is the first show that comes to mind. Frank Black’s long-suffering wife seems to share Scully’s colonic woes, perhaps to an even greater degree. Meagan Gallagher, the actress who played Mrs. Black, has established that her acting range is somewhat broader than pure constipation. Her role on Hill Street Blues showcased her as the tough but sexy cop, and her character on The Larry Sanders Show was put upon but still fairly attractive. But once Chris Carter drew her into his evil orbit, her intestines seized up like an engine without oil. The tone of her acting fluctuated between constipated and not quite as constipated, and colons across America clenched in sympathy as she filled the screen with her ever present expression of excretory woe. Even more frightening were the episodes which featured Mrs. Black and Laura (played by Kristen Cloke). One can’t help but shudder when thinking of the explosive tension these two share on screen. I hope the bathroom is stocked with a double roll of Charmin!

Carter’s next foray into production was the short-lived Harsh Realm. Although there were only a few episodes produced, one couldn’t help but wonder if Carter was slipping Metamucil into the actresses’ coffee, as the classic pained look of the Carter women was present on the faces of all the females from the pilot on. Fortunately, the show was cancelled before any of the actresses reached critical mass. Meanwhile, the X-Files continued to serve up bowel obstructions in the form of Mimi Rogers. Ms. Rogers has appeared in a wider variety of features than most of Carter’s female leads, but never has she looked so plugged up. Although she’s generally got a glamourous, sexy look about her, the Carter magic replaced her normal sexy presence with a gastrointestinal wasteland of unattractive grimaces. Not satisfied with two constipated women, Carter introduced the character of Monica Reyes (played by Annabeth Gish). Funny, but she seemed a lot more regular in Mystic Pizza. Although the pains don’t seem to have affected Agent Reyes as severely as Scully, you can feel the pressure building with each successive episode. If the series had continued on, I’m sure she would have reached the Ex-lax gobbling desparation displayed in Gillian Anderson’s performance every week.

With the end of the X-Files as an ongoing series, what new frontiers await Chris Carter? Other than talk of another X-Files movie, Carter is silent. But rest assured, wherever there are women praying for a bowel movement, Chris Carter will be there!

There’s a whiff of scandal in the air over Washington D.C., and it isn’t just a leak in Strom Thurmond’s colostomy bag (at least not this time). No, this month the unmistakable scent of inpropriety is blowing in from Wall Street. Another charge of corporate greed, another huge company accused of accounting improprieties. Who’s our contestant this week? Let me give you a hint: they provide a variety of services, products, maintenance, engineering and construction to energy, industrial and governmental customers. They’re based in Dallas. And their former chairman and CEO left the company a couple of years ago for a job in the public sector. Give up? The company is Halliburton Co., and the former CEO is your Vice President and mine, Dick Cheney. The charges? That the company overstated revenues by $445 million from 1999 thru 2001. The big question: is this a charge that’s going to stick?

Corporate financial scandals have been all the rage of late, and so far three corporations have borne the brunt of bad press: Enron, Arthur Andersen, and WorldCom. In the flood of stories being written about these three card monte dealers, there’s a real danger that the actvities of Halliburton will be overlooked. And that would be a real shame, because none of the other scandals have such a direct tie to September 11th. In the wake of the terrorist attacks, the American Military-Industrial complex has gone into high gear. Somebody has to support military operations in places like Afghanistan, and at least one of those somebodies is KBR, a unit of Halliburton Corp. The Army and Navy have awarded KBR a ten year contract as their exclusive logistics supplier, and have given KBR a blank check to do the job. KBR’s contract with the US Army is the Army’s only logistical contract without an estimated cost. Its anyone’s guess how much this agreement will funnel into Halliburton’s coffers, but last year the company attributed $13 billion in revenue to government contracts. Now that America has “lost it’s innocence” and the Pentagon is contemplating action against Iraq, that figure could easily double or triple in 2002. Compare the dollar amounts with those in the Enron or WorldCom cases, and you’ll find that Halliburton is easily in the same league. Add the White House connection and you’ve got a scandal far more compelling than any of the questionable deals the Clintons made in Arkansas.

So why isn’t the Cheney/Halliburton connection making bigger headlines? There are a number of factors at play:

So will this turn into a major league scandal? I think it depends on all the other scandals. Cheney’s Halliburton dealings can be managed for the time being. An Arthur Andersen promotional video from 1996 featuring Dick Cheney surfaced last week. Cheney’s comments from the video are pretty embarassing for him:

“One of the things I like that they do for us is that, in effect, I get good advice, if you will, from their people based upon how we’re doing business and how we’re operating, over and above the, just sort of the normal by-the-books audit arrangement.”

However, the spectacle of WorldCom CEO Bernie Ebbers taking the fifth in front of Congress took most of the attention away from the Andersen video. There were also rumblings about some loans Dubya received from Harken Energy Corp. when he served on their board of directors in the 1980’s. The more play people like Bernie Ebbers get in the press, the less Cheney has to worry about. But if the press uncovers more dirt on our President’s past business dealings, Cheney may be in trouble. Managing the Cheney scandal is a priority for the administration, but managing Dubya’s scandals will trump all other concerns. Cutting Cheney loose on the pretense of his heart troubles would be a quick and easy way to distance the President from the scandal, and the code of the Beltway would require Cheney to “take one for the team”. But if that ever comes to pass, one has to wonder if Dick Cheney will take any comfort in what happened to Spiro Agnew’s boss?

Phoenix, AZ July 2002

An extended stay in Phoenix during the summertime.

“Buck”, I hear you saying “why not go someplace cooler that sells legal fireworks?”

It’s a fair question and one I’ve asked myself quite a few times in the last weeks of my 111 average degree stay. hokey, Toronto is 100 degrees on a Sunday afternoon, that’s just one place that shouldn’t be, look around on the weather channel, where would you go? Fireworks. We’re still close to the mexican border, fireworks are plentiful.

“But Buck, fireworks are illegal in Arizona.”

You don’t say? Well, the guns aren’t. I’ve got a concealed weapons permit and a load of ammo set to go off should the terrorists decide to jump into action.

Except they wont. Why should they? All they have to do is sit back and let the media do the terror for them. Every top government official has issued irresponsible statements of “terror coming to your town. Terror coming to our shores”. Don’t that make your astral nads shrivel? This fourth of july is just about an open invitation for someone to strap on some half-sticks and light the fuse for Allah. Headlines goading the faithful into a reverent gut oozing puddle. Or just some homegrown nutcase who let’s the voices take over. The voices are probably coming from the television newscast or the 18 hour Chuck Norris-a-thon on USA network.

Who needs terrorists when you got Beavis in the Woods?

good god. Colorado and Arizona scorched, burned, altered forever in the recent fires. Dreadful damage, lives of pets and people put in the balance. and it goes back to folks that were actually a part of the services keeping us safe from fire.

The stories are sketchy on two fire causes. The one for Chediski in Northern Arizona was admittedly started by a man who was lost in the forest and he was signalling for help by lighting a fire. I’d like to personally beat that snivelling pussy to a pulp. Any four hour survivalist training tape would have showed him all he needed to know about getting around in the forest. There is no reason why every single american shouldn’t have this information.
The Colorado fire was started by a forest ranger gal who’s story changes with the telling. The most told though is that she recieved a letter from her ex-husband that so enraged her she had to set fire to it. Fair enough, my three ex-wives could have that same effect on me and there are more than a few bullet holes in the side of my barn after having to deal with one of them.

But lady, you were in charge of your section of forest, you knew the fire danger level was at the highest alert, such a high alert that even the average citizen was being warned by emails, news bulletins, weather channels, local fire depts. The information was everywhere and I know it was it even more so for you not to mention you had extensive training and experience in your field. That you were so furious with your ex-husband is understandable but your reckless disregard of nature and man is criminal. For what you are going to get sentenced for this fire you could have gone and killed the guy, maybe his new young, skinny, girlfriend (I’m speculating here) and still got less time for a crime of passion.
There is no crime of passion excuse when you’ve burned up and out animals, people, forests. Lost people their liveliehood to even attempt to make a comeback in their home area.
You do the maximum time, sister.

And speaking of Livelihood, Leonard from the Apache Resevation wanted to have one so bad that he started a fire so he could be called up in his volunteer fireman capacity. Told a lady he was talking to a fire was coming and he had to go home and wait for the call. Leonard said he didn’t know the fire would start so fast or so big. What kind of volunteer fireman wouldn’t know that? Volunteer Retard is what Leonard is. You get an indian who actually wants to get a job and this is what he does. Was the casino not hiring, Leonard? Bullshit.
You too should have the maximum sentence.

At the Command with God

The 4th of July will be a working day at the Alien Jesus Command. Re-doing the webpage, re-filling the beer cooler. All of us went down to Old Navy and bought our 4th of July t-shirts that we’ll be wearing. God Bless America. Can I say that anymore?

Sure I can say it, just not in a school or public building.

You may be suprised that I am in favor of dropping the God from our Pledge of Allegiance.

I don’t like what God means in this country. Falwell’s God, Pat Robertson’s God, Joseph McCarthey’s God. They all get up there (well not Joe, he burns in hell) and say the founding fathers would be rolling in their graves at this being left out.

No, no they wouldn’t. There was no pledge of allegiance during our founding father’s day. there was no flag either. The founding fathers didn’t want to pledge allegience to king or country, they were adamant about that. The pledge, the flag, the god, were all introduced a century after the founding fathers in much the same way that santa was introduced by Coca Cola and Mother’s Day was by Hallmark.

And talking about the “founding fathers” in such reverent tones. Read up on your history. They started this country so they wouldn’t have to pay taxes and debt to england, so they could sell their goods here at higher prices. It was a financial political move on their parts. Boston Tea Party? They burned the british tea because it was going to be sold cheaper than the tea they were selling, it would have wiped them out. It was for personal profit that this country was started. A tradition that is more evident than ever these days.

I wouldn’t want a God from the Founding Fathers even if they had introduced one. well they did, but it was secret masonic one eyed, three penis’d god. Put that on the flag you morons.

So another 4th of July in the desert with my friends and collegues.

The fires burn out, the burgers burn up, and the heat is always on. I hope a kinder, wiser God blesses you, your country, your world.

A really A-1 god doesn’t give a crap about your flag though.

I’m Buck Huff, Happy Trails.

It isn’t easy getting old, and it must be even harder when you know you’ll never scale the heights of fame and glory you conquered in your younger days. The good old days, before there were 200 channels of cable TV, when the Tonight Show was the only game in town and Johnny ruled late night television. And in those prehistoric days of the 70’s and 80’s, Kreskin was a regular guest, perhaps the best known mentalist in America. But after Johnny left, Kreskin was an act without a TV home, and realization set in that he’d never hit that high water mark again. Today, the man who once headlined at some of the premier casinos in Vegas is headlining at the Silverton Casino, an off-off strip joint popular with those too cheap to splurge for an RV hookup at Sam’s Town. Not an easy room to fill: “Should the wife and I spend $29.95 each to see Kreskin, or invest in one of the Silverton’s nickel slots?” What a mentalist needs is a gimmick, some way to convince people to make the drive from their plush hotels on the strip out to a casino on the road to Parumph. I know…predict that hundreds will see a UFO, and offer to donate $50,000 to charity if the UFOs don’t show!

In the days leading up to the promised UFO sighting, Kreskin was all over the local Las Vegas news. Outside of the Vegas area, his biggest national press came from a series of appearances on Art Bell’s show. After getting the fish hooked, he began reeling them in a couple of days beforehand, insisting that spectators for the UFO event attend his show beforehand so they could be “prepared” for the event. Ka-ching!

During the show, Kreskin called a portion of the audience down to the front of the auditorium and planted a post-hypnotic suggestion regarding the UFO sighting. He then led the entire crowd out of the showroom and out to a vacant lot behind the Silverton’s RV park. Next to the banks of a drainage ditch, directly beneath the flight path for McCarran Airport, a large spotlight shone up into the desert sky. Many onlookers who didn’t attend the show parked along the streets around the field, waiting for the promised sighting. This is the scene Buck Huff came upon after a hell for leather drive up from Phoenix. We drove past the cop directing traffic, took a parking space next to the field, and waited. As it turned out, we didn’t have long to wait…although the window was predicted from 9:50 to Midnight, Kreskin declared the event over around 10:20 and headed back to his suite at the Silverton, presumably to count his money. Sensing the show was over, Buck and I headed back to the strip for some much needed R&R.

After the “event”, Kreskin declared that his intention had been to show what power the enemies of America could wield if they possessed a mentalist of Kreskin’s abilities. God help us if Flip Orley falls into Al-Qaeda’s hands! Kreskin also announced that he would not donate the $50,000 to charity, as some 41 spectators claimed to have seen a green light moving around in the sky. Suprisingly, he had the cojones to make an appearance on Art Bell’s show the following night, and declare the event a success. Art gave him a thourough dressing down, and ended it with the supreme sanction, banning Kreskin from the show for life. Kudos to Art Bell for articulating the thoughts of all but 41 of the spectators who stood in the vacant lot next to the Silverton Thursday night. And here’s a tip for you: the next time Kreskin predicts something like this in Vegas, a few cases of cold beer sold from the trunk of your car should cover the expense of the trip, and perhaps leave a few extra dollars for the slot machines.

How could I NOT say yes to Ed’s invite of doing some investigative reporting? I got my snakeskin boots and headed north over the mexican border to meet up in Phoenix.

The drive was very pleasant despite 107 degree temps and air hazard warnings. The men and women at the security checkpoint just south of the Hoover damn were looking for nothing less than Osama himself in the sweltering conditions, and we glided by without even a full stop ’til we hit the strip and our luxury suite on the 22nd floor of the Aladdin Hotel.

The room was gorgeous and cool, room service was speedy and suprisingly delicious. A corner room that curved around in windows showing a full view of Las Vegas Blvd, even from the huge bathtub. Why did we have to go out? oh yeah, Kreskin. The UFOs. shit.

Tiredly, we forced ourselves back into the heat of a still 107 degrees at 9:30pm and headed off strip. Off, off strip to the Silverton Casino where Kreskin just happened to be wrapping up his engagement. There was alot of traffic and police were there with their flares and flashlights directing about a thousand locals doing burnouts and heaving beer bottles.
Kreskin had said UFOs would appear between 9:50pm and Midnight, and he would take people in busesout to the desert to witness it. “Out in the desert” really was a vacant lot in the back of the Silverton’s RV parking lot. We parked on the other side of the vacant lot by the luxury condos. Oh yeah, way out in the desert.

We turned on Art Bell and were just getting out our equipment for recording when a caller said that Kreskin had declared the event over with. We hadn’t even recorded the big billboard that said “Kreskin” “UFOS TONIGHT 7:30″ “Spagetti Dinner 1.99″ “R Slots R Hot”.

We figured with the surly local crowd being nuts to begin with, we needed to get out of there before they all heard the news of “over” and turned the dusty lot into a tornado. We headed back to the luxury room we didn’t want to leave in the first place. Over, just like that.

Now the thing is, had we any belief whatsoever that UFOs were going to show up we would have been as far away as possible. UFOs are nothing to fool with. Yes, I do believe in them, that’s exactly why I wouldn’t want anything to do with them. But the idea that this has-been quack playing at a RV Casino in Vegas was predicting UFOs was so tempting. He was putting up 50k to charity if there wasn’t the biggest mass sighting of UFOs, so what was the gimmick? We had to see. But we didn’t see anything but a few hundred 21st century beehives and naked girl mudflaps. Oh sure, there were things in the sky. The vacant lot sits under the very busy McCarren Airport’s flight path. Talk about a loaded dice scenario. Well, no need being too disappointed, this was Vegas, surely there was something to occupy us for the next 48 hours.

The Friday night following the “event”, Kreskin was on Art Bell’s show and rambled something about 9-11 and how terrorist deception could be used and he was merely demonstrating how you could hypnotize somebody to see a UFO. Frankly, after listening to the phone call a few times I’m not sure what he was saying, I don’t know what his intention was in the first place. The 50k is not being given to charity because Kreskin claimed people saw UFOs and whether they were real or hallucinated doesn’t matter. Art Bell was quite mad and banned Kreskin from the show.

I’m baffled. Was this stunt done for him personally? Was the Silverton Casino in on it? What did he hope to accomplish past having one sold out show? He had the ear of Art Bell, and love him or hate him the ratings are high, millions of listeners and Kreskin blew that on such a bullshit hoax that even Barnum himself would be ashamed. Banned from Bell (quite a huskter himself) , engagement at the RV park over with…where do you go from there, Mr Mentalist? shouldn’t you know? like really KNOW?

I guess the 50k Kreskin is keeping in his pocket really is going to charity.

Sunday has come and gone, and with it the first wave of American air strikes against Afghanistan. Donald Rumsfeld was rather subdued at his Pentagon press conference. Rumsfeld talks a lot, but if you want the real story you should watch his hands. He’s the only senior Cabinet member who makes me want to learn sign language. Typically he makes a number of gestures worthy of Merlin (or at least David Copperfield), but today his hands were strangely silent. I think he’s feeling the gravity of the current situation. There’s a huge difference between deploying forces and having them attack something. I find Rumsfeld’s silent hands strangely comforting; I think he realizes that innocents will die along with the guilty.

Interesting spin on the air campaign: we need air superiority in order to deliver relief supplies to the Afghan population. In the media age, perception is everything. Civilian casualties were never an issue in World War II; they were to be expected, and there was no television to carry images of villages littered with the dead into our homes. Imagine Franklin Roosevelt bombing Dresden so that American forces could deliver relief supplies to the German people. As ridiculous as that sounds, it’s what our government claims to be doing today in Afghanistan.

I’m not suggesting that it’s a bad idea to destroy training facilities used by Al Qaeda to train soldiers for the war against America. To do otherwise only invites Osama bin Laden to strike again. But let’s not delude ourselves about what we’re doing half a world away. America’s objective is to topple the Taliban rulers of Afghanistan because they refuse to turn bin Laden over to the US government. The Taliban is an oppressive regime which has repeatedly violated the human rights of the Afghani people. But as the saying goes, “If you’re making an omlette you have to break some eggs.” American military action has and will lead to the deaths of many innocents. Whether the Taliban places dissidents in the line of fire, or one of our “smart bombs” rides the short bus into a preschool, people with no responsibility for the World Trade Center attack or any other terrorist actions will die. Innocents will perish as a direct result of our government’s action. That places the responsibility for those deaths directly upon the shoulders of the American public. You and I.

I’m dissapointed. Dissapointed in our leaders, who feel the need to sugar coat what’s going on in Afghanistan right now. We’re all adults here Mr. President. Don’t tell us we’re achieving “air superiority” so that we can feed the Afghani people. We’re clearing the skies over Afghanistan so that our planes can strike with impunity against our targets of choice. Calling the current conflict the “War on Terrorism” draws an unfortunate parallel with the “War on Drugs”:

The third parallel is the one I find the most worrysome. I’m reminded of the Gulf War. Whether you feel America was justified in the Gulf War, you have to question the decision not to press on into Bagdad and capture or eliminate Sadaam Hussein. Imagine the Allies stoping short of Berlin in WWII! If you’re waging war against the Hitler of the month, you damn well better kill him if you don’t want to be accused of using empty rhetoric and hyperbole. Is Osama the new Hitler? What is our goal in bombing Afghanistan? Are we trying to kill bin Laden? Destroy all the facilities of Al Qaeda? Topple the Taliban? Because “eliminating terrorism” is a great idea, but as a military objective it’s horribly nebulous.

Dr Strangelove just got Stranger, and even more dangerous as the sinister chuckles flowed from Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfeld on Tuesday, May 8, announcing the United States would proceed with a Space War strategy. “Space Pearl Harbor” chuckle chuckle “no, we don’t know what it will be yet” chuckle chuckle. Put this footage into black and white and you could drop him into the film Dr Strangelove and easily convice people it was missing footage restored. Rumsfeld chuckled that the administration wants to experiment with as many as a dozen different missile defense systems. “To the extent they work, terrific, we’ll put more money behind them. To the extent they don’t, we’ll try to find a better way to do these things”

“People think, you know, ‘My goodness, they obviously have something in their heads that’s all firm and all fixed, and they’re going to suddenly pull open the curtain and there it is.’ Not true,” Rumsfeld said during a Pentagon news conference.

He should have added “There’s nothing in our heads but saving our precious bodily fluids.”

So face it, your tax dollars are going to this win or lose. or lose. or lose. Past expirements with missile defense have been less than deadly with missiles not reaching the target. Last December’s launching cost 90 million dollars and with a party atmosphere of defense bigwigs flying out to see the show it was the hottest ticket in KillTown. But the super secret,ultra- high security missile launch started with those greenpeace buttinskis rolling across the lawn in a golf cart with a dennouncing banner and jinxed the project from being a success. Back to the expensive Drawing Board. Might want to start with figuring out how to keep GreenPeace protestors out of your small earth missile range before you attempt the vast expanses of space, fellas.

In a major address last week, President Bush denounced the Anti-Ballastic Missile Treaty (ABM) as antiquated and vowed to fulfill his campaign promise to build a global missile shield. Rumsfeld yesterday spoke of how the policy (probably a simply worded poster with stick figure pictures) will be given to the scores of countries that have shown grave concerns that the administration wants to do away with the ABM Treaty because it’s the one weak hope they have that they wont be blown to smithereens.

“There is no question but that the ABM Treaty has prevented research and development and testing and experimentation with a host of things . . . and that is the subject of the consultations that are taking place,” Rumsfeld said.

“Consultations” meaning they are patting them on the head like children after a nightmare and soothingly saying “you don’t want us to cut off all this foreign aid do youuuuu?”

Dumbass foreigners anyway, you really think some jihad’ing arab is going to hurl himself into space with a bomb on his back? Sure, they would if they *could* but alot of these terrorists are still mastering the fine details of using a flashlight.

When Rumsfeld went before the Senate Armed Services Committee, Sen. Pat Roberts (R-Kan.) asked , “What keeps you up at night?” Rumsfeld gave his menacing know-it-all grin and said “The importance of considerably improving our intelligence capabilities so that we know more about what people think and how they behave and how their behavior can be altered and what the capabilities are in this world.”

wow, can we do that from space? I thought that’s what the men in black and Scientologist were for.

People, there are energy crises from coast to coast of this country, the air is foul, the water is poison, and the republicans are back in office, many of them have served in office starting from Nixon (how old are these people!) and they know how to clear cut a forest and slant drill the fields. They know how to get you to believe that we need to spend billions on un-renewable sources of fuel that they can control the price. They get you to just not care how you get your heat and run your car. Solar energy and alternative fuel cars have been around for a long long time and you could implement this nationwide with a fraction of what it takes to launch a few test missiles that have yet to work in any test that have been performed.

Every single one of you need to really think about what you want this country to focus on. Wars in Space or Peace on Earth? It’s your money, folks, and I don’t want to hear one peep out of you when the lights are out and your bill is triple what it was a year ago.

I’ve seen the “Crossing Over” show from time to time with John Edwards. He talks to the dead and is supposedly stamped with a few University paranormal departments seal of approval. It’s a fluffy li’l entertainment piece that could benefit from a few bent spoons and a tamborine floating in the air. A woman who was left in a terrible financial state at her husbands demise wanted to tell him the dog doesn’t sleep and asked if he had stopped smoking. For heavens sake you welfare dumbshit, ask him for some winning lotto numbers!

I turned on “Survivor” which has much better taunting potential and forgot about the dead accept how I wished they all were.

But a few weeks letter I received an email from a shaken Rosaic who had just had another dream of the End Times. Rosaic has been correct in so many visions that I always give them top priority and much creedence.
with her permission I reprint her dream of the dead:

Rosaic’s Dream/Nightmare:
I was in the backyard, Ed and I had only been married a few days before and were planning on going for a Sedona Honeymoon in a few days.
But electronics and telephones were breaking worldwide, television was being taken over by “talking static” and we felt we had better stay put and see what was going on. Ed was going to go out and get us something for the trip and I begged him not to go but all of a sudden he was gone. I called the cellphone number and it was a party line of voices. Human voices and then there were voices that were anything but. Discordant, using all energy to get through but the more people talked back to them the stronger they became. I knew the veil of here and there was being breached and those on the other side were getting stronger, the vibrations of transmissions through television and phone lines were a rich conduit for entry. The air went cold and stale, the sky was darkening and screams the likes of which I have never heard accept on real life programs of women calling 911 as they were being beaten to death were so loud and reverberate that I could feel every syllable being tormented out of them in my bones.
Fearing terribly for Ed’s safety I got on my bike and rode to the store he would have been headed for. The streets had turned into chaos and bloody, brutal death. The dead were indeed back, and they had become so attuned with earth energy that they were barely discernable from their thug earth friends who they were sucking off of. I saw people ripped limb from limb, the cheers and glee from the living and dead hooligans was orgiastic.
The sky darkened more and the usual sign I have always had in previous visions, the palm of jesus in the sky, appeared, every line, every detail was visible. I knew it was time to go to the safe place. But where was my new husband? There was no way he could have survived this slaughter and I was thinking if I should find his body or become one myself when..honest to God, Buck, this is funny but I’m not making it up, Ed showed up in a bright red semi truck, biggest thing I have ever seen. He helped me up and as I was getting in he pointed out the picture of Art Bell he had attatched to the door and said that this would keep us safe til we got to where we were going. We drove away, I woke up extremely shaken, I’m still shaking. Don’t talk to the Dead, Buck! Tell everybody you know, this is not real, this is not good! The only ones coming back are the ones so filled with hate they weren’t allowed anywhere else and the stupid ones just follow the others.

I took this very seriously.

Then within the next few weeks my attention was drawn to just how many books, shows, and articles are being devoted to talking with the dead! The kicker came when the folks at Astrobella sent me the article about The Univerisity of Arizona conducting experiments of talking to the deceased. This is going on right now.
“A series of experiments at the University of Arizona has produced evidence that researchers say could indicate that some “mediums” might indeed be able to communicate with the dead.” (full article availabe by clicking on the link in the right column)

The Dead know alot. What else do they have to do but try to contact us and tell us what we want to know? And who knows the information flow where they are at? If the Akashic Records are real, a filing system of every deed, thought, belch, scratch, ever done by something living, everything that has ever happened on the earth and beyond is recorded and is freely accessible to those within reach, if this is true then any deviant spirit too hate filled to go on, or any complete idiot who was too stupid to see a big white light to go into, has access.
Consider how bored these entities are, and any bit of energy that comes their way is grabbed and gives them strength in this realm.

It’s alot like calling a New York payphone outside the subway and whoever answers you say “Is this My dead husband, Pete?” Chances are about 99 out of 100 hundred that they will indeed be Pete and ready to chat on your dime.
I believe this is just what happens when people are talking to the dead.

Now I don’t want to take away any bit of relief a grieving loved one gets by being assured that the darling departed are ok. Losing someone is the toughest thing a human can endure and hearing that the loved ones are fine is a great consolation.

But questions come to mind.

Why has this person not travelled on? Somebody who passed in 1949 is still hanging around ready for his Q&A ? Maybe the spirit, the energy is only that of the persona last left behind, maybe the soul has already reincarnated a few times. Maybe the dead are talking to themselves 50 years from now! Can you be a complete soul while travelling back and forth between heaven and earth? Is that not just for angels anymore?

I do not believe we are talking to who we think we are talking to. I think we are talking to hungry parasites looking for a host and there are far too many people willing to roll out the guest bed.

Folks, stop this. We only bridge the way for entities that want only what they wanted on earth. Base, disturbed, violent, stupid, entities that are between worlds and looking to get back in. Ignore the dead! Rebuke the dead. Or at the very least, for Christ’s Sake, ask them for the damn Super Lotto numbers.

I’m very interested in all of your thoughts on this subject and would appreciate you dropping me a line. The dead need not apply.

I’m Buck Huff, thanks for listening.

Art’s extended absence from the air begs the question: what’s he been up to over the last year? I’ve been monitoring Art’s activities, and in celebration of his return to public life I present the unabridged true story of Art’s retirement.

So what do you do when you’re in Nevada with no job and a late model Firebird? You go to Las Vegas! The free liquor alone is worth the trip, but on this trip Art had time for more. So he fulfilled one of his lifelong dreams and visited…The Star Trek Experience. Lots of folks these days are into that Next Generation crap, but not Art! Just like you and me, Art knows that there was only one Captain of the Enterprise…KIRK! So when it came time for souvenir photos, Art went for the understated elegance of the original series.

Of course, after a few weeks even the world famous Slots-O-Fun casino can lose some of it’s glamorous luster. Just as Art was thinking about heading home to Pahrump, Dame Fortune smiled upon him once again. While eating dinner at the five star Circus Circus buffet one night, he bumped into Fred Durst. It turns out that Durst is a big fan of Art’s hard hitting talk radio journalism. Coincidentally, Durst was thinking about following Art’s example and retiring at the height of his popularity. A few drinks later, the two of them hatched an ingenious plan: Art Bell would secretly replace Fred Durst on Limp Bizkit’s summer tour. Given the size of the venues on the tour, and the uncanny physical resemblence the two share, they reckoned that no one would even notice. This would give Durst the chance to “try out” retirement, and give Art a chance to live out some of his rock star fantasies. The deception worked flawlessly for several dates, and could have gone on indefinitely if it weren’t for Art’s tendency to ad-lib raps about anal probes, storable food, and prostate formulas. The band’s management forcibly removed Art from the tour bus one night outside of LA, and told Durst they would cut off his allowance if he didn’t rejoin the band.

Stranded in California with no money, and too proud to call Ramona for a ride home, Art did the only sensible thing he could: he tried out for Survivor II. Although Australia was even further from Pahrump than LA, Art figured he could get enough money to make it home if he could last at least two or three episodes. Since CBS was looking for unknowns, he lied and told them his name was Richard Hoagland. In no time at all, Art was on a Quantas flight to Sydney. Unfortunately, as Art and the rest of the Survivor group were waiting in the baggage claim area, they bumped into Peter Garrett, lead singer for Midnight Oil. Garrett, who mistook Art for Fred Durst, immediately launched into a diatribe about rock music’s oppression of women and the blatant commercialism of Limp Bizkit. A fistfight ensued, and Art wound up in a Sydney jail cell.

Imprisoned in a third world country, with only a CBS advance check that couldn’t even cover his bail, Art did the only sensible thing he could do…he used his one phone call to contact Premiere Radio and ask them if he could have his radio show back. Coast to Coast had languished after Art’s departure, and the network could see the writing on the wall. Coast to Coast with Art Bell is a winner; Coast to Coast with Mike Siegel isn’t. The only question was what to do about Siegel. He wouldn’t relinquish the show willingly…so the network would have to “persuade” him. During a late night strategy session, a plan was hatched…

Bail money was soon wired to Sydney, followed by a package containing various documents and Art’s secret instructions. Art was to lay low for a few days while Premiere set the stage for Siegel’s departure. Several Premiere executives made the trek to Seattle, to meet with Mike personally. “Mike, you’ve been doing one hell of a job with the show, and as a token of our appreciation, we’re giving you an all-expense paid vacation in beautiful Australia! Go take a couple of weeks off and bask in the glow of a job well done.” The next day, Siegel boarded a flight bound for Sydney.

After getting settled in, Siegel headed down to the hotel bar, where he bumped into Art sitting at a table with a couple of Aborigines. Drinks were ordered, and as Art launched into a description of a race of subterranian humanoid lizard-men living under the Australian Outback, Sigel was so transfixed he didn’t even notice the strange powder one of the Abos was discreetly adding to his drink. Several rounds later, Siegel was starting to see the lizard-men lurking in the dark corners of the bar. Soon, the group was headed out the door and into a waiting car, with Art driving and Siegel babbling incoherently in the back seat. Art and the Abos dropped Siegel off a few miles outside of town and headed for the airport, where a private jet waited to carry Art back to Pahrump. Siegel wound up spending his vacation in an Australian mental hospital, and ended up returning to America a day later than planned, allowing Premiere Radio to exercise an option buried deep in his contract and replace him with Art. Bad break for Mike Siegel, but an uncanny stroke of good luck for the rest of us. Art is back on the air, and all is right in the wee hours of the night.

What better way to celebrate the true millennium than with the triumphant return of Art Bell to the airwaves! Nothing against Mike Siegel, but how do you fill the shoes of a giant? Art brings a unique style and personality to the late night airwaves, and given the topics discussed on his show, his impartiality and willingness to let listeners decide for themselves provide a forum where guests feel comfortable discussing topics that would draw ridicule and derision almost anywhere else. This entices experts from both ends of the spectrum to step forward and wax eloquent upon their topic of choice. When the speaker is believable, the results are informative and fascinating; when they are obvious hoaxters or crackpots, hijinks ensue! Every imaginable topic from Mel’s hole to Art’s parts has been investigated thoroughly in the wee hours of the night. But Art’s show has never depended exclusively on guests; callers are also an integral part of the mix. From the ever present wildcard line to the specialty antichrist, vampire, ghost story, and cannibal lines, the phone calls of ordinary listeners provide laughter, tears, and a heaping dose of the drama that is the human condition. Art Bell isn’t the only host who can provide interesting guests and callers, but he does bring his mellifluous tones and dry wit to the proceedings on a nightly basis. Many listeners find Art’s voice a soothing sleep aid, providing information and entertainment as he lulls them to sleep. For every listener who loses sleep to catch Art Bell on the radio, there’s another who has been struck with insomnia since his retirement. Make no mistake: the sleep patterns of a nation hinge upon Art’s nightly broadcast! Please join me in welcoming Art Bell back into our lives and our ears, and may he never be taken from us again!

Ed, Rosaic and I like to do a sweatlodge trance channel right before the Winter Solstice to see if we need to head underground for New Year’s Destruction or continuing decking the halls and flocking the hogs. so to speak. This year was a pleasent get-together at the J&B Family Restaurant in Prescott, AZ and afterwards we drove under a UFO free desert sky to a Sacred Spot in Sedona aptly called “Blanca Dinero Hot Springs Sacred Spot”. You can’t miss it off of Highway 89-A since they bought an old Indian Casino neon billboard. You mostly can’t see Bill Cosby’s face anymore on it since they put the big kokopelli on an Aztec chocolate bar in the shape of a sundial. (Get the sweatlodge in the back for those of you who can read auras or else you’ll see nothing but red from the sign and diagnose everybody with constipation and repressed father issues.) We passed around the ancient tribal drinking cup that was two parts Fresca, one part liquid peyote, and 100 percent red man majick. After the initial “laughing” gateway experience to the other side we waited for one of us to contact the Elder Guide who would tell us of the coming year. Rosaic spoke of “riding the pink pig” through her animal totem but given her latest Oliver Platt infatuation we dismissed it. I spoke through a 14 year old indian girl coming into the full fruit of womanhood but was unable to get the full message and feel my new, young breasts at the same time. Finally after another round of dream potion Ed contacted the Elder guide and gave us our message. None of us can quite figure it out but it is our duty as journalists and pro-human advocates to pass it on to you in hopes that you can glean the meaning and enrich your lives.
We still don’t know if we are going underground or not. Maybe Vegas.

as channeled by Ed:

the city of the dead sleeps
while Art Bell Jr weeps
and Art Sr takes a leak
ask not for whom the urine flows
it flows for all of us
splashing through the sewers beneath Parumph
flowing under whorehouses where cattlemen hump
mingles with the circle K clerk’s dump
later he will stick the tanks
and vomit up the mad dog he drank
but we decide which is real booze
and which provides real absolution
-the moody booze

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I’m Buck Huff