UFO's Over Giles

1

         Whitley Strieber is the author of two runaway best-sellers about Ufo’s, “Communion” and “Transformation.” The former was published in 1987, followed a year later by it’s sequel.

         Very, very interesting reading material. Supposedly based on fact, millions of copies sold faster than pancakes. Several editions were necessary to meet the overwhelming demand.

         From the opening paragraphs of  “Communion” these books are filled with what UFO investigators refer to as “high strangeness factors.” Meaning Mr. Strieber and others have tried to describe something totally beyond human conception, a subject so alien to our senses that our feeble minds are left reeling.

         The very real possibility that “we are not alone” in this sprawling universe , which is exactly what these books suggest, is truly mind-boggling. Within the walls of my humble hovel is a rather extensive library of Ufo books. Included are two of the best known, John Fuller’s “The Interrupted Journey,” and Raymond Fowler’s “The Andreasson Affair.” Both deal with direct contact between earthlings and super-advanced alien beings, humanoid crewmen of the enigmatic flying saucers.

         I’m thoroughly convinced that somewhere out there in those infinite voids of space…something waits. With all-seeing eyes focused in our direction. Too many billions of stars to think otherwise. Millions of ‘em must have planets capable of producing life-forms. After all, our own Earth was shaped from the same dust and gaseous materials that are common throughout the spiraling galaxies. I’m tellin’ you podnuh, “we ain’t alone!”

         I even believe THEY ARE HERE, have us under close scrutiny, and are waiting for the proper moment to make overt contact!

         Course now, expressing such beliefs is a sure-fire way to get yourself branded an oddball: “That imbecile believes in flying saucers!” You’ll note a sudden dwindling in your circle of friends. Even close relatives will shy away: “Let’s disown him!”

         I respond to the skeptics by quoting a passage from the Bible: “In my Fathers house are many mansions.” I find it rather easy to believe this particular scripture probably means an endless universe filled to the brim with intelligent species. Time to trash this silly notion that the entire cosmos revolves around planet Earth.

         Rather egotistical  to think we are the supreme creation among the stars. Our solar system is located way, way out in spiraling arms of the Milky Way Galaxy, far from it’s center where the real action is. The boondocks, folks! Nowheresville! That’s where we are!

         It’s a miracle the Saucerians found us. I’d say they were cruisin’ thru our neighborhood at warp-speed and stumbled upon us by accident. That’d be my guess.

         In his books Mr. Streiber coined a phrase that’s now very popular with ufologists, “Screen Memories.” The human being often uses screen memories  to guard his or her sanity from a reality much too horrible to cope with…

2

         The theme of Whitley Streiber’s books ( THEY are already here ) leaves the mind spinning and numbed.        
         Readers are hard-pressed to keep abreast of the “high strangeness” printed within those pages.

         In the foreword to “Comminion” he expresses some startling beliefs. Whitley claims he was “subjected to an all-out frontal assault from unknown forces.” He quickly added a sinister tid-bit: “by apparent non-human intelligences.”

         Now ladies and gentlemen, the word “non-human” means but one thing to me. Ask yourself a simple question: “What is the meaning of non-human?”
         I posed this query to myself and came up with an answer without even consulting a dictionary: “A non-human …is somethin’ what ain’t human.” Tell you right now, I wuz tempted to lay “Communion” aside before finishing the foreword.

         My mind conjured up the whole package of Hollywood horror films beginning with that creepy silent gem of the 1920’s, “Nosferatu.” Long fangs, delicate feminine necks, gore all over the place, the undead…vampires!

         A man changes into a wolf, bringing terror to all denizens of fog-enshrouded swamps and surrounding areas. Larry Talbot, portrayed by Lon Cheney Jr., sought advice in finding a cure for his debilitating disease: “Doc, can you prescribe a medicine to prevent my teeth, hair and nails from growin’ when the moon is full?”

         The able and caring doctor, sounding a cheerful note , gave Larry a reassuring pat on the back and said: “Certainly Larry, certainly. I recommend a silver bullet through the heart!”

         And how about that creation from hell unleashed on an ill-prepared world by a certain Dr. Frankenstein? An eight-footer he wuz, with strength equalling 20 weightlifters. An evil, diabolical ghoul forged by an unholy alliance…grave-robbers and mad scientists.

         An arm from this burial vault, a leg from that freshly opened mound of earth, a torso snatched surreptitiously from a local morgue. It was almost impossible to conduct a peaceful autopsy with Dr. Frankenstein working feverishly in his lab.

         Those discarded body parts, once pieced together, made a truly aggressive monster! His threatening posture caused instant evacuation of entire villages. Every fleeing resident carried a lighted torch to guide them thru the night.

         Let’s not forget the latest flicks to make hair stand on end. They have computers and outer-space creatures playing villain roles. 

         Somehow that God-awful thing in “Alien” is imbedded utmost in my mind. That living monstrosity, seemingly immune against the most formidable weapons, munched on humans  like teen-agers wolfing down a favorite pizza. No space-faring voyages for me…not with things like that out there!

         A question asked frequently in these days of trash TV and movies goes like this: “Will movie and television viewing have an impact on my child?”

         Well Moms and Dads, you can bet the bank it does. I watched Frankenstein, the Mummy, Count Dracula and Wolfman some 50 years ago at the tender age of ten. Five decades…seems it happened last week.

         So then, allow your lad to watch monsters and, no matter what the child – psychologists might say, monsters will be his life-long companions.    

          Aliens are a connector here with our current story. Whitley Streiber’s books deal wholly with aliens, describe in detail the unique and amazing talents of Ufonauts.

         For instance, an ability to shield themselves and their covert activities behind “screen memories”…                                                             

3

         Whitley Streiber, by his own admission, is a man beset with humongous problems. Fer durn sure the lad ain’t living an ordinary life. Since 1982 this fella’ has undergone trials and ordeals unending. Sadly, his irksome troubles continue even unto this day.

         Mr. Streiber has an office in New York City, but he doesn’t spend weekends in the Big Apple. Traffic congestion, horns honking, smog, muggings  in the street, weirdos on every corner…the famous “rat race.” New Yorkers endure those trashy conditions for 5 days, then lam it on outta’ there.

         Old Whit follows a routine religiously. Immediately after a noontime snack on Friday he loads his wife and young son in the family sedan and heads for upstate New York. There he owns a cabin deep in a remote woodlands.                                                     

         Pay heed to this cabin, the focal point of not only these next few chapters, but this entire story. Cause podnuh, within it’s walls some very, very unusual activity occurs. It acts as a catalyst for setting in motion a number of peculiarities. The old place really gets to jumpin’ after the Streibers arrive Friday night.

         Let me emphatically stress one fact here and now. I wouldn’t spend a weekend in that forest with Whit and his family, nor even one hour. I’d turn down any invitation  promptly. You see, that cabin is infested wall to wall and floor to ceiling with something Streiber calls “the visitors.”

         Ten years have lapsed since the commotion began, and still the chap isn’t sure what confronts him out there in the pines.  Whitley has narrowed the list of possibilities however, now down to two. Not  quite able to make a decision, he wavers back and forth with his pair of likelehoods.        

         Firstly, Whit believes he’s being visited by extraterrestrials, an alien life-form from an unimaginable realm far, far away. It’s unclear where their point of origin among the stars might be, but certainly they’re not from this neighborhood.

         Secondly, Streiber is a man of changing moods. Quite often this gent believes he’s facing a part of nature that has always been with us, but remained hidden thru the millenium. Only now, Whit says, are we advanced enough to understand our intricate surroundings…trolls, elves, gnomes, sylphs, fairies. Mr. Streiber strongly believes in their existence!

         Whitley says his mind might be “projecting the visitors”, springing them to solid form and life. Living creatures, real as you and I. Hmm, interesting. Very, very interesting.

         A vital bit of information is dispensed here. Heed this data, swing open the gates to wonderland! Instead of sitting glued to yer TV set, start flippin’ through the pages of books. Haul that idiot-box to the nearest landfill. Discover how the real world is far more intriguing than any sleaze conjured up in the sick minds of Hollywood kooks.

         Read books and stay informed. Know what’s really goin’ on out there! Ufonauts, fairies, “screen memories,”. Heady stuff, far more thought provoking than afternoon soap operas.

         Accessible to all interested parties. Between the covers of books…

4

         Always the “visitors” come in the wee morning hours when an entire world is slumbering. Wholly nocturnal, these humanoid beings from other galaxies, secretive, sneaky and sly, shun the daylight like we avoid outbreaks of influenza and AIDS.

         Wishing to remain discreet, Ufonauts seldom cavort thru our skies during daylight hours. I’ve been doin’ some deducing and, adding two and two together , have stumbled upon a possible reason for their ungodly operational hours…the glare of our sun hurts their eyes!

         Which means, in all probability, the place from where they originate is a dark and gloomy realm. A planet, most likely, on the outermost fringes of their system, much like Pluto in our solar system. The light of suns shine only faintly on planets so distant.

         Given time though, alien eyes will become adjusted to the brightness of our sun. Maybe a few months, perhaps a few years. Or possibly many centuries. Quite alright; time seems of little consequence to them!

         Whitley Streiber does not sleep soundly in his woodland cabin. Between midnight and dawn the popular author will surely play host to, and entertain “company.” Not a visit from Grandma! Instead, a most unusual company…spacefaring humanoids from the stars!

         Mr. Streiber is faced with a terrifying dilemma, yet by a strange twist of fate, an enviable one. For darn sure the fella’ should never run short of material for his typewriter. Man, he oughta’ be turnin’ out paperbacks in assembly-line fashion!

         A huge market is available for written works pertaining to Ufo’s. Earthlings wait nervously with bated breath, pacing back and forth, biting fingernails, desperately reaching out, eagerly seeking tidbits of information concerning these elusive alien beings.

         And well we should be inquisitive. One question is paramount above all others. Are THEY here as our benefactors, or as tools for our undoing? Two possible answers, and are very important for you and yours. Either they've come to solve our problems, or the complete opposite. The latter is a chilling prospect indeed, cause we’s be powerless against alien technology that’s a million years advanced from anything known to man!

         One UFO investigator lays it squarely on the table: “We are property!” Meaning, of course, that you and I are little more than laboratory guinea-pigs in the presence of these super intelligencies.

         Already thousands of our fellow citizens are being forcefully “abducted” and taken aboard the puzzling flying saucers . Once inside our friends and neighbors are subjected to horrible biological experimentations. These “visitors” are totally enthralled with human DNA and their ultimate goal seems a genetic manipulation of the human race…

5

         The routine is never varied, rigid like a prepared script. Whitley is sleeping, albeit fitfully. With a low moan he awakens in a stupor, a dream-like trance. Intuitively it registers…THEY are in his bedroom once again!

         Streiber feels nauseated, afraid to open his eyes. Whit cannot resist however, and those protective lids covering his orbs of vision open ever so slowly. Mr. Streiber braces himself, for he knows all too well the heart-jolting shock when a human looks into the insect-like eyes of these non-human entities.

         From a place far, far away they’ve journeyed…flying saucer crewmen with amazing talents, awesome powers. The extraordinary ability to project “screen memories” into our feeble human minds is one example ( the human can’t recall seeing an alien being from the stars. Instead, he “remembers” seeing a timid deer, or large rabbit ).

         Cold beings they are, devoid of all emotions known to us. In their over-sized craniums is stored the knowledge of the universe ( aliens have made a million interstellar voyages ). These “visitors render earthlings completely helpless with instant paralysis and are in absolute control of every “encounter.”        

         Whitley’s eyes finally open fully, the only part of his body that reacts to brain command. Apart from the eyes, he can’t move a muscle. Streiber’s umpteenth meeting with these mysterious beings is as frightening as his first.Head on pillow, he gazes up into a pair of huge eyes just inches from his own. Oriental-type eyes, penetrating, membrane-like as those of a fetus. They slant upward and around the sides of a pear-shaped head. A “wrap around” effect, giving peripheral vision to the aliens who are maybe  from Zeta Reticuli, perhaps from Epsilon Eridani. Black eyes that have gazed upon many galaxies, glittering like shiny metal. Streiber says the most terrifying moment of his life was when he looked into those fierce eyes and saw his own reflection.

         The skin is coarse textured and gray in color. Two small holes are where a nose oughta’ be. The mouth is a thin straight line, bluish, and seems made of a scar-like tissue. Oh well, the “visitors” don’t need mouths that open wide. These long-distance travelers use telepathy, a “thought transference” from their super minds. Over and over the telepathic message comes ringing through: “We recycle souls.”

         Certainly not NBA material, these diminutive space voyagers with definite Mongoloid features are a mere 4 feet in height.

         Mr. Streiber has made a strenuous effort to keep the aliens outta’ his cabin. Bolted doors, locked windows, drapes closed.  Futile, all to no avail. The creatures once again demonstrate a unique talent…they walk thru solid walls, even those built of sturdy logs.

         I’ve been perplexed since reading “Communion” and the follow-ups dealing with this alien invasion. My puzzlement is gnawing and constant. Evidently Whitley is a glutton for punishment. The man is as strange as the “visitors” who gather nightly by his bedside.

         Why does he persist in going deep into the forests of upstate New York? Why doesn’t this bloke spend weekends in his New York City apartment?

         Lets suppose I held the deed to that cabin. Them there extraterrestrials would, in the blink of an eye, find themselves harassing a new owner. I’d sell that piece of property!..

6

         Trying to make sense of the UFO phenomena is a work of futility. Many dedicated people have tried to unlock this most elusive of mysteries and all have failed.

         Evidence of the existence of interstellar spacecraft and their non-human crews mounts with each passing day. Nonetheless we know as little about flying saucers now as we did 50 years ago.

         This lack of progress, our “inability to forge ahead” in this field has caused widespread frustration among ufologists , the people who study this puzzle. Lotsa’ good men have pulled out their hair by it’s roots, paced the floor thru long sleepless nights and held midnight seances with mediums. Quite a number of investigators have held prolonged consultations with Tibetian Lamas. More than a few “outerspace detectives”, wishing to solve the UFO enigma, have enlisted the services of Haitian voodoo practitioners. Others actively seek the advice of medicine-men who cater to the whims and needs of American Indian tribes.

         Some are even trying to establish communications with dolphins, stating adamantly that these sea-going mammals know the secret of flying saucers!!

         One ufologist I’m acquainted with, a proud native of Glen Lyn, relies on “dem bones” to stay informed about what’s happening with Ufo’s. Ten times per day he rolls those stinkin’ dice on the ground. The direction in which they point seems to be the key and provides him with lotsa’ data.

         This Glen Lyn lad informs me that these interstellar commuters come from Tau Ceti, a star which is really quite distant from Earth. Flying at it’s mere 17,000 mph, NASA shuttle vehicles would require 730,000 years to reach that star ( I’ll wager we’re not going there. I’ll also wager NASA will ask for funds to go there! ).

         For many years the Russians have said radio emissions are coming from Tau Ceti. My Glen Lyn pal is certain Ufo’s originate from there, and are about to announce the purpose of their mission to Earth. I believe we should take these reports seriously, cause “dem bones” are saying it!

         The fate of our civilization could well hinge on that “purpose.” If their mission is a benevolent one, well and good…we’ll be walkin’thru high cotton.

         If, however, malevolence is in their hearts, then I greatly fear the human race is doomed.

         But here we must be careful. One must use extreme caution when analyzing alien life-forms. Perhaps they don’t have a heart as we know those vital organs. Maybe an alien equivalent to a computer pumps a life-sustaining liquid to their body extremities. Not necessarily blood of aa healthy red hue. Possibly a green syrup-like concoction makes ‘em tick, perhaps with a greenpea soup texture. Maybe a powder-base substance makes ‘em go. Take my word, nothing is too far-fetched when exo-biology is being discussed!

         Which is superior…them or us? The answer is very simple…they’re here, but we can’t go there. No need to explain further.

         Folks, our civilization is confronting an alien technology that renders us as ants.