Unidentified Finale, Part 2

DATELINE: Biting Audience Hand

 Elizondo

The series may smell its own doom and climbs out of the box in which it has placed itself for two seasons:  instead of video footage of UFOs, the show switched to alien abduction stories.

Lou Elizondo calls abduction of Americans an “act of war,” and an attempt to regain audience support. Like John Casey on World War 2 Gold, Lou Elizondo may be pushing out his costars. He takes the reins completely in the final two shows of the season.

The victims of close encounters are all, of course, former military non-coms who have retired and now are willing to speak their stories. Nearly all are serving at nuclear facilities when they had their bad meetings and missing time.

At least one witness adds a new wrinkle: that the UFO was gaseous with no sharp edges and had changing colors. The witness was left with odd burns from the encounter, but military tests are never shared with him.

These vets often mention black-outs and sleep paralysis.

Host Elizondo talks to one expert, Dr. Susan Clancy, who completely shreds and debunks all these witness experiences as “false memory.” Elizondo readily accepts this.

She insists that the belief of these memories is important for validation for an individual whose life is devoid of meaning. She also takes a shot at Dr. John Mack of Harvard who came to accept abduction as real.

In a last-ditch effort to throw a sop to the fans who usually are faithful to these kind of shows, Elizondo claims there are real physical effects to these witnesses. It may be too little too late.

Elizondo notes that there are six billion earth-like planets in the galaxy and may have “brothers and sisters” of the human race. The final few minutes become a desperate plea to continue the investigations, but History channel may more than likely pull the plug on this series.

Unidentified Beats a Hasty Retreat from UFOs

DATELINE: Drones!

Unidentifiedis coming down the pike for a second season finale at two hours. It seems History Channel cannot end this series fast enough. The final two episodes are lumped together in one extravaganza.

Whether this series returns for a third year is dubious, as it has run the string of material and seems highly repetitive. In its swan song of season two, the experts tackle the recent (?) surge in UFO sightings.

We suspect that, if a UFO lands at the White House and abducts Trump not to return, this show may receive a reprieve.

The opening part of the finale mentions that there have been twice as many sightings of UFOs in 2019 than the year previous. This is attributed to the dominance of smartphone cameras being handy to document any and all odd scenes.

Of course, as the show points out, phone cameras are not designed for long distance pictures and their reliability is poor. Yet, red-orange orbs are seen regularly as blobs. Most of the newer UFO appearances are in places like North Carolina where a Navy training area is off-shore.

The theory is thrown out there that these could be drones: even Russian spy drones. These could be tests done by the United States, though the hosts want to discount this.

Other experts note that 60 satellites have been launched within the past few years, and they create a new conga line of strange lights in the sky at night.

These are not happy notions to those who have fought the Blue Book coverup put forth by the government for years.

Yet, Elizondo goes to New Jersey to find a runway of red-orange drones that fly in formation. These 130 drones create optical illusions of solid flying discs, tick-tacs, triangles or saucers,  Take that, believers.

Endeavour Takes Turn for Worse

 DATELINE: Unpleasant Developments

 Morse, We Hardly Knew Ye! 

In this abbreviated seventh season, the second or middle part of the trilogy of related chapters will continue to indicate to us something bad has happened to the psyche of Endeavour Morse, our stalwart and brilliant young detective.

Perhaps the constant and unrelenting crimes of violence are having a terrible effect on all the characters. Well, in a thoughtful series like Endeavour, this means your characters are developing into something you may not like.

The three major characters (including James Bradshaw as the amusing coroner) watch a woman view her teenage son on the morgue slab and go mad with denial that he is dead. Not pleasant stuff for our hardened police.

In this case, we saw veteran Fred Thursday (Roger Allam) finally fed up with murders and cruel treatment people inflict on each other. When the old cynical pro goes obsessive, you know that he will have a more divisive relationship with his sergeant Morse (Shaun Evans) likely to destroy their relationship.

The overlap of the first episode is that Thursday still believes another man killed young waitress Molly. He is now obsessed, trailing the suspect off hours when another is going on trial for the crime.

We see more of Morse’s personal beliefs than ever before: He opines the “dead deserve justice,” as to why he does a job he dislikes. He also admits he is not the forgiving type (which we think may include forgiving himself). He loses his moral scruples at last and in disappointing fashion, going after the married woman after all.  Well, actually she goes after him with wanton disregard for her millionaire husband.

Morse’s quondam friend, the woman’s husband, we suspect, knows all about this and has been observing. We will find out in the final episode of the season whether our detective skills are up to Morse’s level. He seems not to see it.

The show is overlaid with racism against Pakistani immigrants in 1970, and cruel violence even among themselves in their diaspora. We were reminded of the old chestnut movie, My Beautiful Lauderette, from the 1980s that also covered the Pakistani prejudice in England.

If this is how the show will ultimately evolve, we may at long last lose our taste for the characters and the series, whether it returns for an eighth season or not. Morse’s moral scruples have been compromised and that is never a good sign for heroic TV detectives.

Triangulated Triangles: Identified

DATELINE: Unidentified: America’s UFOs

The use of triangle shaped craft by some entity seems to have gained traction on the series Unidentified: America’s UFO Investigations.

 

In the second episode of the second season, AATIP’s Luis Elizondo and Chris Mellen tackle the issue of mysterious black triangles now dominating the UFO scene.

For decades we have heard of saucers, then orbs, then tick-tacks. Now we find that the predominant military sightings are of silent, slow-moving craft of varying sizes, some as big as football fields. They are usually cloaked from radar. We can only note that most triangular shaped ships are designed by terrestrials here on earth.

Why would extra-terrestrials simply change their design in the past few decades? It’s illogical, if not unlikely. Of course, those saucers were crashing all over earth for decades. Perhaps the space creatures have smartened up and are designing safer space crafts.

Once again, notably, the witnesses are all highly reliable and credible military men who have retired and are now willing to come forward. It gives this show far more believability than so many others.

Mellen’s troubling conclusions are that, if unknown visitors are inspecting American territory, there is a big problem of national security and motives.

In the 1980s a massive sighting occurred over the Hudson Valley, not far from New York City. No one can fathom the legal and moral decision of the government to fly experimental craft over a populated area. It leads to a frightful conclusion: they are not US airships.

It is ultimately a distressing conclusion that these triangular ships could be like Cortes landing among the Aztecs. They had no idea how dangerous and deadly to their civilization this interloper would become.

Another Trump Supporter & Assassin!

DATELINE: Den Hollander

In case you missed it, another killer (Roy Den Hollander) is a trump supporter. The man who tried to kill an appointed Obama judge Esther Salas, but only managed to kill her teenage son and shoot her husband, was a Trump fanatic.

How many of these killers in the past two years seem to be working under the aegis of Preisdent Trump’s agenda. This anti-feminist shooter (the polite way of avoiding to say he was for Trump’s agenda) probably has a MAGA hat somewhere in his closet, but police won’ discuss his motives.

He killed himself, which may be the best solution for failed Trump fanatics. Usually they try to kill themselves by refusing to wear a face mask and trying to spread the corona virus.

You can expect Trump apologists will say he is not responsible for deranged followers. Yet, he sends storm troopers into Portland, Oregon, and incites racist rhetoric for Confederate causes. Well, that is hardly the work of independent followers. They are responding to the dog whistle, as apologists like to say.

How many more killers will attempt to subvert the Constitution, undercut the judiciary, and stop the next presidential election? You can bet your bottom dollar more is coming.

Oh, yes, the judge target, Salas, was also involved in Trump’s bank case (Deutsche Bank) where she found connections to the Jeffrey Epstein money laundering situation. They are all related, folks.

 

 

 

Junk Food Impresario

 DATELINE: President Goya, Not Artistic

 

When Donald Trump poses with junk food, you know in your heart he’s right of heart disease. Now, the burger king of hamburglars is posing with Goya beans.

Trump never heard of Goya the artiste, but he knows his hot sauce. The picture of a United States president with cans aligned is enough to put you off your feed.

You know he’s never eaten that stuff: too healthy.

The man with thumbs up on his empty Oval Office desk is tanking in the polls, but not in the hearts of taco lovers.

A few purists of integrity might claim that the POTUS has cheapened his job to that of a TV huckster. Well, he already consults with Chuck Woolery of game show fame for advice on science and medicine.

Trump only plays a president on TV. In real life, he is an escaped inmate from some madhouse of the 18thcentury. This is a man who knows haute cuisinefrom the back of his hand where he usually spills the ketchup. Gourmands of the world have a new pinup boy, the man who loves a can opener only as a last resort. He prefers to unwrap his lunch from cheap paper.

We seldom see Trump smile except when he thinks he is making a profit. The smile on the face of this man is so fake that it ought to become the yardstick for fake news.

If hunger pains are consuming you, your president is now a man strictly from hunger for supporters who refuse to remain distant (and how we wish they’d be distant) and only wear masks when they are about to steal your election and right to vote.

If Goya foods survive this endorsement, they will be using Nazi insignias on the next K-ration can.

If Trump plugging nachos is your idea of humor, you have been outside the box with Alexander Pope far too long.  Generic fish and chips would have been adequate to put us off our feed.

Racist? Not According to Hoyle or Trump!

DATELINE: A Rose by the Name of Racist?

 aka Karen?

Yes, you can be a virulent Nazi-styled genocidal racist, but just don’t let it slip out. For years, these closet racial purists have kept mum. Now they are emboldened to strike out at coronavirus masks and the old ladies who wear them.

We don’t share Harvard birder Chris Cooper’s charitable view that Amy aka Karen, the racist, has suffered enough.

These so-called “Karens,” (what an oddly almost-innocent sounding term) are ready to call the police on their smartphones and accuse any black birdwatcher of attacking and threatening.

You have these people filmed by witnesses, which is fairly damning, but they immediately issue an apology (through legal advice we suspect) and pronounce this aberration is not proof they are racist.

But they are!

We seem to be in a world where self-knowledge is about as far-fetched as Trump’s SAT scores. Deny, deny, deny, and then claim the Nazis are those who don’t want to die of coronavirus and want people to show some humanity.

In America in the 21stcentury there is no educated redneck. They are illiterate slobs only interested in the next beer and football game. These are all civil libertarians ready to defend their freedom against science, medicine, and common sense.

You may have a sense that the Black Death was perpetuated by the same idiocy—but the world of the United States is a special location in history that may self-destruct owing to its own hubris.

So, next time a Karen or Ken mouths off some vile race-baiting hate, you know they are part of the effort to destroy the greatest experiment in liberty and freedom in the history of the world. And, their fearless leader is the one who thinks he belongs on Mt. Rushmore with a couple of other slave-holders, a monument created by a KKK sympathizer (sort of like Trump’s father).

 

 

 

 Not Birds of a Feather: Birders

 DATELINE: Central Park 

 Cooper, Starr with director Kimball.

 

If you want to escape viruses and racial problems, you may go to Central Park in New York City where over 200 varieties of birds come to spend time each year. The film is from 2012 and is called Birders: the Central Park Effect..

Seasonal birders are bird-watchers who come in spring or fall to see the most friendly and unusual birds ever to congregate in a small urban space.

One of the most charming of people in this documentary is Chris Cooper, a gay African American man who calls the art of birders “a treasure hunt,” and explains he disappears for a month of delightful fun every spring. He compares birding to stamp collecting.

You may recall the incident (not in the movie) about the white woman (clearly a racist who could never apologize with a name, only calling her victim “that man”) who called police on Cooper who complained her dog was not on a leash and was frightening the birds. Her attack on Cooper went viral.

That shows how even birdwatching has become dangerous in our racially charged world lately.

What a shame about the racist attack on Cooper, but it draws attention to how real the problem is—even when we try to escape the horrors of our society lately.

Cooper is articulate, intelligent, and a marvelous birder to introduce the artful hobby that entails The Central Park Effect on birds.

Other birders in the film include an old woman named Starr Saphir who charged a few dollars to lead people on watching tours. She usually finds a dozen birds, identify them, and give their history. She kept records for each year for decades before her passing in 2013.

Another character in the story compares birders to those seeking movie stars. The stars are not pigeons or geese, but rare birds you may know from books and pictures. To see one in person is like meeting a movie star, according to Jonathan Franzen.

The film now resonates in ways never intended, but it remains a delightful study of human nature in natural setting. If there is bad news, the number of birds is declining everywhere.

 

Dive Bomber Alert on Mill Circle!

DATELINE: Robin Bobbin’ on Squirrel

When a plethora of robins showed up this spring in my yard near the big tree, I thought—there goes the neighborhood. However, they started rummaging through last year’s flower stems. Each one was yanked out and taken to some unknown spot for a nest.

That’s when the first wave of bombers hit.

Under the eaves of my side-door porch, I saw birds flying toward the storm door. They never hit because they were building a nest, which I promptly discouraged.

So, the freeloaders went to the big tree not far from the dining room picture window. There, for the first time, they started their architectural work. As if for good measure, they regularly cleaned out the yard of ants and other crawling insects.

 

The good neighbor policy continued until I saw the squirrels and chipmunks arrive.

It was war.

A half-dozen robins attacked with all the ferocity of kamikaze flights. They chased the squirrels out of the tree and around the yard. I had never seen such nimble flight—and they worked often in pairs till the squirrels ran for cover.

Then, they began chasing the chipmunks out of the yard. Less inclined to climb the tree, the chipmunks were nonetheless not welcome in this yard anymore. They were attacked with zooming claws outstretched.

I thought I watched out-takes from Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds.

You may have thought the hawk patrol had been replaced.

Regular bombing runs can be seen during morning coffee break whilst sitting at the window. Warfare never looked so natural.

Trump’s Confederate Roots

DATELINE:Pass the Buttersworth!

Is there an official tally somewhere?  Just how many slaves does Donald Trump own?

Trump will miss Aunt Jemima when she’s gone.

Based on his vehement defense of Confederate generals, flags, and plantation mentality, we presume he is the last slave owner in America. Or, are we mistaken? Those people surrounding him are zombies, not slaves.

Maybe it was Fred Trump, the KKK wannabe wizard, who owned the slaves or treated his workers like slaves.

The brain dead seem to gravitate to the man whose billions of dollars may well be in Confederate currency.

Throw anyone in jail who dares to malign Gone with the Wind.

Donald Trump may be the only person in the United States who is standing on the dock awaiting the arrival of  Mississippi gamer boat, Waiting for the Robert E. Lee, of Al Jolson fame.

No doubt Trump prefers Jolson in black-face singing, “Mammy,” as he pours Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup on his Uncle Ben rice.

He likely hums “I Wish I Were in Dixie,” before going onstage for his notorious political rallies.

Jeff Davis would be proud. John Wilkes Booth would not shoot Trump.

Jerry Jones & Bill Belichick: Birds of a Feather

DATELINE:  Systemic Problem in NFL

The two foremost social thinkers of the 19thcentury remain powerful symbols of racial injustice:  the NFL now claims it did not listen to those uppity black players who believe they are living in an unequal and unjust system of police rioters.

The two biggest symbols of the NFL –Jerry Jones and Bill Belichick—have maintained their deafening silence on the subject of George Floyd and racial brutality.

Their defenders claim that, in private, both are dismayed that their black players are not happy.  But, they are not moved much more than Trump on the scale of justice. Oh, yes, they are both MAGA men.

In the Massachusetts senator debate last night, Joe Kennedy, grandson and great-nephew of Robert and John Kennedy said the Patriots ought to sign Colin Kaepernick. Fat chance: that white snowball in hell belongs to the NFL.

Oh, yes, Robert Kraft is a Trump supporter too.

Defenders of the symbols of NFL victory lappers will never come out and admit their worlds are backward and their views are racist.

It’s hard to draw any other conclusion in the face of such rampant ostrich head burying.

There are those rednecks who line the streets holding automatic weapons as a show to intimidate peaceful demonstrators. There are those resemble the Boston Strangler who put a knee to the neck of the helpless victims but wear police uniforms or NFL neckties.

85% of America think the country is out of control. Among the minority here are Jerry Jones and Bill Belichick: they are always in control, even if your civil rights are thrown out the window.

These are members of the Orange Pips.

Acorn Falls from KKK Tree

DATELINE: KKK and Fred Trump

New York March of the KKK on Memorial Day, 1927!

President Trump practically gave himself a hernia in his latest apoplectic denial to the Twitterverse. He denies vehemently that his father attended and may have been arrested at a Klu Klux Klan rally (one of those big events Trumps appear to like) in Brooklyn in 1927. It came only a few years after KKK burned down a black neighborhood in Tulsa, Oklahoma, in the notorious Wall Street Massacre.

Trumps like to repeat history.

Police are pictured above rounding up the usual suspects.

Donald Trump may deny till he is blue in the white hood, but there was a parade of Klansmen on Memorial Day in 1927—and police took five or six stalwart marchers aside. The big issue is whether Fred Trump was detained, or simply arrested.

We also don’t know if he had a deluxe Klan robe.

Whether the President’s father’s wizard-style caused him to be detained or arrested is a matter of, you guessed it, inflammatory semantics. They didn’t have stun guns back then, or Fred Trump might have been knocked on keester. Fat keesters also run in the Trump family.

Apparently, to be detained by police, your questioning must be “brief and cursory,” and after that, if you seem to be suspicious, they can arrest you.

Whether there was probable cause is the big issue. Knowing the Trump family, we suspect that “probable cause” is their middle name.

Police records are not being provided to the media from the arrest, but newspaper accounts are rife from the era. We provide one picture here from the Brooklyn fake news media.

Twenty years before the President’s birther records were faked, his father was one of six dubious marchers who were pulled aside for belligerence and racial intolerance (that’s the suspicion).

Whether Nature or Nurture, we now have more evidence, however circumstantial, that the acorn does not fall far from the Grand Wizard’s old oak tree.

Fat Cells Unite!

DATELINE: When a Pound is not a Lb.

 Moby Trump?

Someone is not telling us the truth. The relative weight of blubber is not fluid.

According to Nero Trump’s latest physical exam, he stands 6’3” and weighs 244 pounds. This is a growth of height and weight since he became president.

When we looked at Ryan Allen, formerly of the New England Patriots, another athletic individual, he is listed as 6’3” and 230 pounds. Clearly someone has his numbers skewed.

When you look at a man 40 years younger than Trump, one expects to see more muscle. In this photo comparison, it is clear that Trump has more muscle around the ears and around the waist.

We think it cruel that Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi believes that Ryan Allen is morbidly obese as she characterized a man who is tall and athletic. Oh, wait, she was calling Mr. Trump “morbidly obese.”

We must castigate the House Speaker because Trump is merely “clinically obese,” if we believe the poundage presented by his ever-truthful doctor.

It is not possible that Trump is 275 pounds, though his shape more naturally matches the size girth of NFL linemen more than a place kicker.

Trump defenders insist that the President’s fat cells have been photoshopped.  We think it is more possible that they have been distorted by hydroxy treatments. Couple that with the lack of exercise caused by his daily couch-watching habits determined by Fox TV binges, and you have put a bullseye on the below-the-belt hitting Democrats.

Trump’s Heart of Darkness

Behind Trump’s Hitler persona, there lurks the heart of Josef Stalin.

The POTUS called governors of the states “weak.”  He wants to crack down on protestors by putting them in jail for ten years so “we never see this stuff again.”

Now we know why he wanted to buy Greenland, he was planning on turning it into a gulag where all political dissidents would be housed.

It isn’t enough to round up illegal immigrants and throw them into prison without due process, he now wants to either shoot American citizens or lock them up. Oh, where have we heard that mantra before?

If anyone needs to be locked up in a looney bin, it is Trump.

Never mind the Constitutional guarantees of free assembly or speech. The only right he believes in is having a gun to shoot people on Fifth Avenue.

If the sociopathic nature of Trump were located in the heart of Jack the Ripper we would not be surprised. He is nothing short of a billionaire twin of Robert Durst. He is the emotional twin of Jeffrey Epstein. If it does not please him, he plucks it out.

He loves to quote racist rants of the 1950s and 1960s that is music to the ears of his racist supporters. We have never met a racist who knew what it was or thought it was all that important. Self-knowledge is impossible to an idiot.

He hunkers down in his bunker like Hitler during his last ten days. And he calls out to his vicious dogs and deadly weapons to smite his enemies.

Can it be that Trump’s insanity has grown worse? Those who defend racism as a minor infraction are quick to join the genocidal gang that want to unmask oldsters and give them coronavirus. The rest of the unwanted ranks can be killed in the streets.

Trump values the heart of the dollar more than the human heart.

Tom Brady: Oh, Say, Can You See?

 DATELINE:  Charitable De-pants of Brady

 Splitsville for Tom? Pulling an Elvis?

Tom Brady’s golf game has brought a split decision. It was a new low for the Super Bowl man without a pocket.

The big televised charity golf tournament with Peyton Manning, Phil Mickelson and Tiger Woods, came apart at the seams during the match.

It seems Tom Brady bent over and found himself flying by the seat of his pants. How could a man so thin break the laws of physics? Or maybe he just broke the wind speed for a tee-off swing.

We haven’t seen such roughage to a wardrobe since Janet Jackson pulled her prank. Yes, Tom, we see you for all your worth. He needed his copper-infused pajama pants to play the rest of the game.

If we recall clearly, Elvis used to regularly split his pants in his final concert tour. Some believe it was sewn into the act.

Tom needed a diversion, and a pair of Sponge Bob’s pants fit the bill, harry, and tom. Underneath it all, there came a subpar moment in sports history. This seemed to parallel Spygate, Deflategate, and the general run of fake news.

Now this has nothing on Trump on Memorial Day, swaying in the breeze like the American flag. Supporters wanted to support the unsteady President who played golf the day before and showed his handicap: standing still.

In front of the Unknown Soldier during a ceremony, Trump looked like a man who had a few too-many swigs of Clorox before the game. He needed his club to act as a walker. We expect to see Trump split voters and pants, but never Tom Brady, his ardent supporter friend.

We gasped to see what color Tom’s undies might be: at least he wore undies, unlike some NFL players on Sunday games day.

Tom’s world tour of torn pants and broken promises will continue in Tompa Bay where the sea breeze will send a cooling cool to the Elvis stunt.