Posts Tagged ‘Ancient Astronaut’


“Bat City”, they call it. I’ve been waiting under this Congress Street Bridge for so long my undershirt is tie-dyed a variety of tequila-infused sweat-stains. There is so much bat-shit dripping along this bike trail from the humming bridge above I fear I will develop Spelunker’s Lung. Yet, there is a payoff. His name is Abel Archer. Or so he calls himself. He is a veteran of the First Persian Gulf War and his business card reads of career choices your high school guidance counselor never bothered to mention. On the back of the business card are GPS coordinates and a time written military style (p.m. be damned!). What isn’t on the card is the whispered instruction from Colonel Archer “less three” before he disappeared amidst a haze of guano fumes. Less three… so if anyone happens upon his business card they will arrive at GPS coordinates 3 degrees too far that way and 3 degrees too far this way, not-to-mention 3 hours too late.

I, Drunk Robot, came here to Austin to meet with the elusive Abel Archer, who was in town for a birding watching convention. Had I not been vetted by Erasmus of Otter Dam Military Academy, chances are Colonel Archer would not have given me the time of day (or he would, just three hours askew). My mission was to interview this outspoken futurist for his take on the Artificial Intelligence, robots and clones. I came away bloated on borscht and an increased sense of existential dread.

Able Archer

X minus 3 = the Russia House

Why the Russia House?

“They’d never think I would come here.” Colonel Archer responded as his eyes peered from our table within towards the entrance, flicking on occasion to the window beside our table. His was the furrowed forehead of a proper paranoid, always fifteen or sixteen ladder rungs between his arched eyebrows and his crew-cut widow’s peak.

Fair enough. So, bird-watching?

naZdorovye Russia House in Austin, Texas

naZdorovye Russian House in Austin, Texas

His eyes focused on mine, darted away, returned back to squint then resumed their stance guarding the doorway. He spoke with what was formerly a southern drawl before the rest of the world rolled it flat, “Bird-watching is a built-in alibi. If the secret police nab you in La Paz and attempt to torture you to find out why you traveled to Bolivia with surveillance equipment, you just keep to your story that you came to track down the elusive Andean Peckerwood. Sooner or later, they will let you go. But you can’t just claim to be a birdwatcher, you need to walk the walk, squawk the squawk, if you will.”

Fair enough. We supped on borscht, which was a lot tastier than I imagined beet soup would be. You’ve been very critical of “the Fermi Paradox” which speaks to how the universe is so large and yet we’ve never been visited by aliens. What’s your beef, dude?

“It’s a joke, the Fermi’s Paradox says we haven’t been visited. Imagine spending your life in Plato’s Cave, watching the shadows of fire and saying ‘there is no greater light than the light upon this wall’ when you have never emerged from the cave to experience sunlight. It is ignorant to say we have never been visited by aliens when any alien race who could visit would come equipped with vastly superior cloaking skills, so vast we’d never even know they were beside us.”

Beside us? My paranoia arrived with gooseflesh and spine shivers. I shifted in my seat, turning my 180 degrees to spot an an elder Muscovite indulging in duck. I continued my interview, Cloaked like Predator?

“Better than Predator. Through anti-gravity, they could bend the light spectrum so any observers looking their way can see past them. Notice, I did not say ‘look right through them’ because that would be almost impossible. Instead, I said ‘see past them’ because the light they project will bend around their bodies so your perception is just taking a detour.”

You call yourself an Exo-Genealogist. What is that?

Russian Bear

“You have genealogists who look at your birth certificate and try to track down where your grandparents were born. I am an Exo-Genealogist and an Exo-Geneticist, which means I am not worried about the migration patterns of your Earth-bound ancestors, but rather the aliens who bred your ancestors. Some of us are born with more alien genes than others and this is what I measure. If I had a sample of all the geniuses in this world, I would reason to bet they all have highly enriched alien blood.”

If you could guess, how much alien do you think I have?

“Probably not much. Your ancestors were likely monkeys who began mimicking the apes who were fucked by aliens in order to create humans.”

Fair enough. So you believe the “Missing Link” in the evolution chain is the sabotage of ape-fucking extraterrestrial beings?

“To put it politely. Earth is just a meat-puppet farm for our galactic overlords.

Why would they, these faraway, nearly invisible aliens, come here to start a hybrid? And what does this have to do with your “Tom Brady Clone Syndrome”?

Two-Faced Tom Brady and the dangers of genetic manipulation.

Two-Faced Tom Brady and the dangers of genetic manipulation.

“The extra-terrestrials experienced their own TBSC (Tom Brady Clone Syndrome) which is what brought them here, y’know, Earth. Putting the ETs aside for the time being, imagine, for the sake of this argument, we are the first and the only intelligent & self-aware being to ever reside in this ever-expanding universe. Eventually, we will master genetic-manipulation of the human race and when we do, we will realize it is wiser to not give birth naturally. There is just too much chance involved if you let Nature roll the dice. Instead, we will just clone ourselves. Or in my case, I would clone my wife because twice amazing is something special indeed.”

Not to mention creepy.

“Eventually, you will want to not just clone yourself, but add a few minor adjustments. Artificial Intelligence so you are never stumped at trivia again. Then, next thing you know, everyone is cloning Tom Brady to be their surrogate child and implanting their own consciousness within Tom Brady’s head.”

Could my Tom Brady clone play for the Miami Dolphins? What if I say “please”?

“Over time, you will have half of the world’s population resembling Tom Brady and Gisele Bundchen. Or Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. Over time, with the shrinking of the genetic pool…”

What does the genetic pool matter if no one is procreating the old fashioned way (by earning it)?

the borscht man

the borscht man

“The Law of Diminishing Returns. If you keep a steady output of Tom Bradys, your culture is going to wither and dry up. Sport would become redundant. Trivia night, redundant. Everything would be superfluous. Society would freeze into static apathy. A homogeneous goo of sameness. We could attempt to alter genetics through technology, but ultimately it would be too late, it would fail and we would be nothing more than drunken robots like you, wishing we weren’t Tom Brady.”

Story of my life. How does this relate, then, to our concept of extra-terrestrials who are present among us?

“Because they reached the Type 1 Civilization we aspire to be millions, if not billions, of years ago. And over that time, they cloned a bunch of Tom Bradys.”

For real? WTF?

Abel Archer put up a hand suggesting calm… “They cloned the Tom Brady equivalent of their civilization. He may, or may not, be a different entity altogether. Nevertheless…”

He’s a dirty cheat and a liar. I mean, a decent quarterback of course…

“Nevertheless, the aliens around us found they were living in that static genetic dead-end and sought catharsis via manipulating their genes with another alien species: us. Or the apes we used to be. To this day, they experiment on us with chemicals and ultraviolet radiation. And our cattle.

And our Puerto Rican goat-suckers!

They, the aliens… though they may be less foreign to Earth than we are, hard to say… but they spray or inject their chemicals and they come back to harvest and experiment because, who is going to stop them? Anyway, this is how you have these cow mutilations and these trailer-park abductions by UFOs. They are continually splicing our DNA to see what the best combination might be to bring back to their home worlds and inject into their own peoples.”

So Earth is just a petri dish for aliens to calibrate their future race of Tom Bradys?

“More or less, yes. Earth is a theater of meat puppetry.”


There is no missing link. The gap between ape and man was bridged by the gods.

– Brother Rufus

Brother Rufus, in a scene from his 'Hurricane Survival Inflatable Rufus Board' brochure

Brother Rufus, in a scene from his ‘Hurricane Survival Inflatable Rufus Board’ brochure


Testing, 1, 2, 3… this is Vic Neverman narrating to you, an audio-recording device I have set to record my vocalized words.

On close inspection, you wouldn’t think Brother Rufus a proponent of Intelligent Design theories. His hair is sun-bleached, the wrinkles around his eyes are a murder of crow’s feet and his chipped teeth are representative of a few too many beer caps pried-off unconventionally. I find this leathered beach-monger on the backyard patio of a suburban South Daytona (long-vacant) home, standing beside a pool filled with rainwater, palmetto leaves and brackish soot from the risen inter-coastal waters nearby. He climbs aboard an unstable raft within the pool, his white-knuckled monkey-toes clinching to the synthetic fabric beneath his soles. “This board” Brother Rufus tells a crowd that consists of: yours truly – Vic Neverman, and then beside me there is a scowling California girl in jean shorts and next to her a wayward online consumer whose instinct is to wear t-shirts a size too small so that his flabby breasts give life to the eyes of the game fish depicted in the print there. “This board is made from NASA technology and is the future of doomsday TEOTWAWKI preparation.” The wayward consumer may assume TEOTWAWKI is some Native American term for oatmeal, when in truth it is a popular apocalypto-prep acronym for the end of the world as we know it.

“I know what TEOTWAWKI is!” The wayward consumer bleats at me like a damn ninny goat, his hyper-caffeinated eye balls jiggling in perfect sync with the chins beneath his quivered lip. “Spare me the play-by-play narrative. Okay, buddy?”

The California girl is condescending in her tone as she points her thumb at me and makes note of my behavioral pattern, “He does this… speaks about people aloud as if he is writing their obituary.” Her dialogue is directed to Brother Rufus, which means there is one bloke free from her wrath of silence. Her determination to not speak to me has the strength of Legion.

Brother Rufus, from his peaceful perch aboard the inflatable raft, nods at the demonstrative wayward consumer in the shirt with the dancing fish-eyes and points at me, “Yuh, tell him I don’t have monkey toes.”

“He doesn’t have monkey toes.” Wayward consumer confirms, a bit of spittle hanging to his bottom lip. He wipes the regurgitate free with his bare forearm. “Gosh darn it!” He curses and stares at me before turning to our host. “That’s it, I am out of here. Have fun with mister stream-of-conscious.”

Brother Rufus is still standing on his paddle-board as it floats in the pool. He turns towards me as the wayward consumer leaves the patio. Rufus is a little stoned, so his words are slow, “I think that was you he was referring to you as ‘mister stream-of-conscious’. Where did I leave off?”

“TEOTWAWKI.” I hint. “But, I’ve already bought one of your doomsday boards. What we are here for is to hear about what happened with you and Volusia County School Board.” The “we” I speak of is inclusive of my guest from California: a former-sushi chef with a Portuguese temper and an Irish grudge who isn’t speaking to me for god know’s why.

“He knows why.” Desdemona Riley tells Brother Rufus, who stands aboard his stupid board in the tumultuous pool. She certainly isn’t telling anything to me. Not that I know why she isn’t speaking to me. “He does. He knows why.” she insists, when, in fact, I don’t.

“Ahh, shit.” Brother Rufus shakes his head and reaches for an aluminum can of cheap domestic swill that is sitting in his left ass pocket. He offers his board to Des Riley, “Maybe you’d like a turn.” Des, in her jean shorts and bikini top (which reveals the fox tail tattoo on the small of her back) hovers over to the pool to climb aboard the doomsday craft and, as could be expected of a dune-buggy racer, is at complete ease with imbalance.

See the paranoid profiles of both Brother Rufus and Des Riley

Genetic engineering via Angels fornicating with 'daughters of man'

Genetic engineering via Angels fornicating with ‘daughters of man’

At last, the discussion can begin. The oft barefoot monk known as Brother Rufus, who describes himself as “an aerospatial engineer”, has recently given his intelligent design argument to local schools in attempt to get his theory included within the science curriculum. He begins his presentation to me as Des Riley balances upon one of his synthetic rafts in the dark pool, “We have as much freewill as a genetically modified soybean can tell Monsanto which insecticide it prefers. The gods that made us, made us in the image of slaves. We are ape-hybrids with big egos that assume we’re built from a better cookie cutter mold. But really, if you want to read the Bible and want to talk about God’s image you have to examine the fact the original Hebrew word was ‘Elohim’ which doesn’t mean ‘God’s’ but rather ‘gods’, in that there were more than one God. Elohim is plural for ‘god’. The power-that-be was actually the powers-that-be when they made us. Man was made in the image of gods. Made to be slaves.”

“So what are we then, a science experiment?” I mumble as I watch Brother Rufus monitor the California girl’s progress on the paddle board.

“No, bro. We’re way beyond experimental phase. Have you heard of ‘Nephilim’?”

“Bad angels.” I nod. “They came down from Heaven and fell in love with our women.”

“Nephilim are not the angels.” Des Riley says as she balances on the board. She isn’t correcting me directly, but rather speaking for the sake of Brother Rufus. “Nephilim are the byproduct of angels coupling with man.”

Brother Rufus’ bleached eye-lashes flutter as he watches with admiration, “Man, yeah, she’s good. Yeah, so, no the Nephilim aren’t angels, they are the offspring from when the angels met the ape-ladies of earth. Follow? Yeah, so the Nephilim were born when the ‘sons of god’ sought ‘daughters of man’ for unlawful carnal knowledge. Y’know, ‘FUCK’. Excuse my french, miss…”

Des Riley scowls at him from atop his rig, “Fuck your french, continue.”

“Nephilim are the giants of Canaan. They are Goliath. This is all just Bible story, but what we have is celestial creatures coming down from the heavens to genetically engineer the people of earth. If they are putting Bible stories in science class, then my theory fits too.”

“Which is fine.” I shrug from the pool deck, which is hot enough to keep my soles dancing. “But why do your gods want to make ape-man hybrids? My problem with the Ancient Alien theory is that I don’t understand why they would come all this way across the universe to play god and then disappear.”

Des Riley critiques to Rufus about me, “He can fathom a higher intelligence, but cannot fathom how a higher intelligence might have different reasoning capacity than he.”

“Yeah! L-O-L, right?” Brother Rufus’ sun-burnt eyebrows dance a quick tango on his leathered forehead. “But those aliens, you know, they aren’t gone. I mean, do you know why we love money? Why we love currency? Because it has value. Why? Because it has purchasing power? Why? Because it is backed by gold. Gold. Gold, so the fuck what? So what the fuck is gold? Gold looks pretty, sure, but if I had my choice of what to adorn a beautiful naked woman with…” Brother Rufus pauses and smiles his stoned smile up at Des. “I would choose pearls.”

“Ehh.” Des shrugs, her cheeks betraying a blushing smile.

Brother Rufus continues, “Give her a few pearl necklaces bouncing around; that’s my vote. So what do I care about gold? Why do you? Tell me, Vic, what is it we want with gold? If you are a knight from the iron age, you would love to encounter a knight with a golden sword. You would cut through it like butter. So why gold? What is the true value of gold?”

Feeling I should know the answer, I give a guilty shrug.

Nephilim - the giants of yesteryear & the offspring of gods and daughters of men

Nephilim – the giants of yesteryear & the offspring of gods and daughters of men

Brother Rufus, monk of the Sacred Order of Uncanny Punters, taps his temple with a forefinger, “We love gold because we have been programmed to love gold. The engineers that came down to make man – they programmed us to lust for gold. They did this because the Elohim want us collecting gold to put in big old stockpiles that they can take from us when they visit Earth.”

“This is ridiculous. Your claim is that aliens created homo erectus (upright man) just to mine gold? Is this what you told the school board? Why would aliens come from Elohim-knows-where on the other side of the universe just to take a bunch of gold flakes home? You yourself prefer pearls, why do aliens prefer gold?”

Brother Rufus grins in his typical eat-shit grin that he grins when he knows he has just won. Check-mate. “I give you credit, bro. You ask the obvious question, so at least you are not entirely oblivious.”

Des Riley zinged, “He has that on his business card, right next to ‘conspiracy theorist’ it reads ‘not entirely oblivious’.”

“Don’t make me ask thrice.” I beg. “Why do aliens want our gold?”

“Uranium.” Brother Rufus smiled. “What’s better than lead for containing uranium for a long period of time?”

“Gold!” Des Riley smiled with the epiphany.

Gold & Pearls: secrets of the universe

Gold & Pearls: secrets of the universe

“Gold.” Brother Rufus winks at her. “Uranium is quickly contaminated if it rubs elbows with unstable elements. Gold and lead both have radioactive shielding properties, but gold is a much more stable element which makes it ideal for storing uranium 235, a rare isotope that can sustain an expanding fission chain reaction. We know this because we make nuclear bombs so that we can drop said bombs on people and make them go ‘boom’. The aliens may very well use fission to propel their craft through wormholes. Hell, they might use fission in some way to open wormholes! Combine our creators’ ability to genetically engineer apes into cognizant homo sapien with whatever heightened quantum physics they possess to manipulate Higgs-Boson dark matter –  who knows what they can do?”

“Fold space and time into an origami swan.” Des Riley suggests. “They exist beyond our sight – these engineers, yet they come and go as they please. Our ancestors had plateaued as a species until some 12,000 years ago when something set the Agricultural Revolution into motion. All of a sudden you have Nazca Lines, Giza Pyramids, fucking Tupperware. Tupper-fucking-ware! This wasn’t all by accident.”

“Exactly.” Brother Rufus nods along in admiration.

“Okay, so who are the unmoved movers? If these aliens put us into play, who created them?” I ask.

Des Riley turns towards me and made eye contact for the first time in hours, “that’s like asking the cannon ‘Who shot the Big Bang?'” Des, quickly realizing the mistake of acknowledging my existence turns away and scowls at a lizard doing his mating dance along the patio.

Brother Rufus offers his answer, “You’d have to ask them. Of course, you would be like the split-pea that asked Gregor Mendel who invented him. But it’s worth a shot!”

(image taken from

After 20 years of drilling, the scientists employed by the mafia-state of Russian have dug over 12,000′ into ice to discover one of the largest bodies of water in the world. Lake Vostok had been relatively untouched for at least 14 million years… until now. The Russians brought back a glass of melted ice for their thirsty dictator, Vladimir Putin, who called it “a drink fit for dinosaurs”. It can only be speculated how much vodka he mixed with the lake water before consuming. Let us hope, for the sake of his innards, that his KGB nickname of Vlad “Old Iron Gut” Putin still holds true.

What secrets lie in this murky glass of water? What might be discovered from the distant past… or, perhaps, the more recent?

“They say the Vostok waters are heated by geo-thermal springs.” Spake Brother Rufus, a self-proclaimed expert in all things ancient who is also known as the barefoot profit in Central Florida. “And that the concentration of oxygen is higher than any other known body of water. Cosmologists and exo-geologists think the creatures that live within Lake Vostok could resemble those found on the icy alien moons of our solar system. I am more curious about the aliens living in Lake Vostok.”

Brother Rufus can seem a bit ridiculous during interviews when he hypothesizes about ancient aliens with donut jelly dripping down his stubbled chin, but he makes an interesting point.

“You’ve seen a lot of what I have seen, Vic. The Inca fortresses, the Rig Veda scriptures, all of the evidence for a pre-historian super-civilization. They say Atlantis sank beneath the waves… what if it just fell beneath the ice? An advanced civilization would be able to take advantage of the high amounts of oxygen and be able to subsist, though in a different state than what we are accustomed to. No satellite television, for example. They would probably have poor sight and develop sonar over thousands of generations. The water in Vostok is a temperate 65 degrees. An evolved homo species is not out of the question.”

I asked Brother Rufus if he believes the Russians are drilling into the ice to find these Atlantean manatee-monkey hybrids. “No…” Rufus shakes his head, the dribble of jelly lingering. “Putin doesn’t give a shit about mermen. Vlad is is looking for Nazis.”

Vic Neverman in New Zealand where he studied the reactions of skin to varying levels of heat

And here is where the Antarctica story becomes a little hazy. For such a gigantic landmass where so little is known, Antarctica harbors many mysteries. When I visited the Antarctica Research Center in Christchurch, New Zealand, I learned the human epidermal system works over-time in extreme cold (faster growing nails & body hair), but nothing about Nazis and mermaids. In my travels, the most interesting thing I have learned about Antarctica came in a fishing village near Galipoli in modern Turkey. It was the hometown of one of the world’s greatest navigators, the Ottoman corsair, Piri Reis, who helped give the Turks a naval advantage in the Mediterranean during the height of Ottoman rule of the Renaissance period. One of the keys to Piri Reis’ navigational mastery was his collection of maps… maps collected by the Byzantines of Constantinople… maps originally taken from the library of Alexandria before its destruction…. maps which accurately describe the true terrestrial coastline of Antarctica… coastline we can only now locate using satellite and sonar technology due to the mass of ice that has been sitting atop it for millions of years.

Bust of Ottoman Corsair Piri Reis (photo taken by Vic in Turkey)

What I, Vic Neverman, love most about history is the missing pieces of the puzzle. How can it be that the ancient libraries of Alexandria have maps of Antarctica drawn based on knowledge of the land from a time before civilization? A map older than mankind!?!?

And then, there are the Nazis.

South of Africa is an area of Antarctica called Neuschwabenland where the Germans built a scientific base that has long been rumored to have been a Nazi refuge after WWII. Kapitan Alfred Ritscher claimed vast territories of Antarctica in his 1938 expedition, supposedly including caverns heated by geothermal springs, rich with plant life. During the mid-1940s, the Nazis began building submarine bases in Neuschwabenland to increase their U-boat influence between South Africa and Argentina. Base-211 would become nicknamed “New Berlin.”

At the close of WWII, 100 German U-boats were not accounted for (based on the math of British historian Basil Liddell Hart). In July, 1945, the Argentine Navy captured U-530 at Mar del Plata. The Chief Torpedo Officer aboard U-530, Wilhelm Bernhart, claimed his U-boat had just returned from a trip to Antarctica where they delivered a vast amount of supplies, documents and Nazi relics.

What is most intriguing is the post-war expeditions underwent by the Brits and the Americans in the years following the 2nd World War.

British historian James Robert has interviewed surviving members of “Operation Tabarin” about “Britain’s secret war” against Nazis in Antarctica in 1945. Curious stories exist about genetically modified “Polar Men” who were hairier than the typical Nazi, better suited to extreme cold and possessing a propensity for ripping out throats.

(seriously, look this shit up…)

Torpedo man, Bernhart, also explained to American historian Colonel Howard Buechner that U-530 delivered the ashes of Hitler, Hitler’s still-living honey pot Ava Braun, and the true (mythical) Holy Lance (Longinus’s spear used to coup de gras Jesus) to Antarctica.

Seems far-fetched, sure… But in 1946, the United States initiated “Operation Highjump” led by famed polar explorer, Admiral Richard E Byrd, which was the largest Antarctica expedition ever (4700 men, 13 ships). Was this expedition, military in-nature according to Byrd, an attempt at grabbing land and uranium? Or was it a force meant to destroy the remaining Nazi forces? While the expedition was supposed to last 6-8 months, Byrd’s troops returned home after 6 weeks in what was declared a success.

If there is, or was, a Nazi base in Antarctica, what would the Russians hope to find in Lake Vostok?

“Nazi UFO technology.” Brother Rufus replied with a straight face. “Admiral Byrd warned us about flying craft in Antarctica that could reach the north pole in startling speed. Who knows what sort of toys are frozen in that ice?”

Of course, if this German Shangri La did exist, its vacancy would prove useful to a mafia-state looking to exploit the natural resources that will become available in the polar regions thanks to global warming. Russia is already circling its ice-breaking wagons around Santa’s Shop up north, why not get a toehold in the south?

“Well yeah, I guess there is that.” Brother Rufus admitted. “That and the UFOs.”

If you spotted the shadowy figure order his latte and lurk into the back of the cafe for a seat where his internet transgressions digressions might go unnoticed, you may have recognized an extra twitch to my squinted glare. Trust me, friend, this is not Vic Neverman making nice with a friendly wink. My nervous system is more tweaked than norm thanks to this additional latte and the endless hours of scouring the Gobi Desert via GoogleEarth in search of the mysterious formations the Chinese military has made in their desolate backyard. Indeed, the only thing more horrifying than the bulge of my twin orbs from their ornery sockets is the enigma that lies in wait, mystifying, from the other side of the planet.

View from Google's Spy Sat of criss-crossed runways in Chinese desert

I’ve stared at the pictures below for so long, their images remain burnt into my eyelids where they dance mockingly every time those lids find the nerve and moisture to blink. Like the unheated leftovers of Szechuan pork, this enigma brought my innards to the point of revolt. Yet, in that enlightened state of dehydration and reverse-nourishment, I, Vic Neverman, managed to flush out some theories…

The Neverman Theories on the Desert Weirdness in China:

1 – Satellite calibration. Yes, this is a popular theory and I will say it has some merit. In Casa Grande, Arizona, there is the white cross with which US satellites were calibrated against during the 1970s.

A strange grid of massive roads to nowhere

2 – China is practicing using their giant earth movers. Why does China have giant earth movers? Simple. Either to reform the land bridge over the Bering Straits and invade North America or to create an Arctic Island (a chilly Hong Kong if you will) to claim as their own to assist in the future war for resources in the melted North Pole.

3 – Message to Mars (or elsewhere). This much is obvious. These Chinese formations can be seen from space, it is possible the Chinese are trying to communicate with some sort of extra-terrestrial dragon riders. This would parallel nicely to the Nazca Lines in Peru where the ancient Nazca civilization created various mysterious shapes and geometric figures (which I, Vic Neverman, have studied first hand) as a display to their old “gods” who descended from the sky and taught them the ways of agriculture and animal husbandry.

4 – Spy satellite testing grounds. Certainly not everything in these desert photos can be clearly defined by the almost all-seeing eye of GoogleEarth. These various formations may be something of an eye chart, judging the effectiveness of China’s latest spy satellites.

Giant fortune cookie is missing, this script is translated: "remove all obstacles to strive for victory"

5 – Perhaps the most probable explanation is that the Chinese Capitalist Machine (faux Maoists they are) has allowed a wry sense of sarcasm to develop amongst the secret masters. Sardonic behavior is rare in non-competitive environments, but heightened in the more ruthless dog-eat-dog climates (especially where dog is a delicacy). It is possible China’s economic whore house behavior has developed such a sinister sense of humor amongst its madams of ill repute that this entire demonstration is a “fuck you” prank to their great antagonist, Google.

What in GoogleEarth? Chinese Stonehenge with jetliners running the obstacle course

Now, one would think an expert of South America’s Nazca Lines – someone who has also studied Cereology (cereal manipulation, or in layman’s terms, crop circles) at a uni in the United Kingdom – would be of value to the Central Intelligence Agency in deciphering the Asiatic mind-fuck in the Gobi Desert. But, alas, my phone remains silent (which I mean only figuratively, of course, I have no fixed number with which to be contacted). I call you out, Spook Central. Is there that much bad blood between us we cannot work together on this one? Come on, Petraeus, I reach to you, Afghan conqueror. Call off the dogs and put Vic Neverman on the payroll… You already have my resume and you may consider my work here as a pro bono offering.

Sincerely, Victor Ulysess Neverman.

Should the reader fancy a look at the Chinese Stonehenge themselves, put this google map address in your browser pipe and smoke it:,93.31314%09&hl=en&ll=40.458626,93.313301&spn=0.003265,0.005724&sll=40.458018,93.392587&sspn=0.0208,0.040426&vpsrc=6&t=h&z=18

UFOlogy is often viewed by mainstream media as being an obsession with alien spacecraft, but the UFOlogy question is merely, “What is in our skies?” Alien technology is just one possible response to this question, but not the only. Unmanned drones have been seen over American skies for decades, but until these craft became popularized in modern warfare publicity these flying metal insects were classified by investigators as “unidentified flying objects”. Well, now they are identified and they are striking fear in “the bad guys” from Libya to Pakistan and many points in between. My point is this: UFO investigations cover more ground than just the extra-terrestrial lifeform question. Still, UFOlogy is constantly drawn back into a discussion on aliens.

common alien portrayal

To examine why, let us go back to the birthplace of modern UFOlogy – Roswell, New Mexico. In 1947, as the story goes, a crashed UFO and its inhabitants were transported to Area 51, a “non-existent” military base in Nevada. The events around the Roswell crash are the genesis of both UFOlogy and the popularization of bipedal aliens that emerged in the contemporary media. Now, there is a new book “Area 51” that claims the crew of the Roswell craft were not aliens at all, but rather deformed Russian science experiments designed to strike fear in America.

Through her research, author Annie Jacobsen posits this: inspired by the hysteria of the American panic in 1938 caused by Orson Welles’ broadcast of “War of the Worlds”, Joseph Stalin used captured Nazi* technology and science to build and send a remotely piloted craft full of genetically mutated children on a fateful trip to the American Southwest to purposely crash and set American media ablaze with paranoia. Stalin wanted to scare the shit out of the American public.

From Roswell springs forth the bulk of alien conspiracy thought. Consider the familiar image of the alien: one head, four limbs, two eyes, nostrils and a mouth – all positioned much as it would be on a human. How can an advanced race of extra-terrestrial beings exist on a parallel to our own civilization (assuming no cross-pollination**) and evolve to have such overwhelming similarities with us Earthlings? If you consider the vast differences between New World monkeys and Old World, or even of terrestrial iguanas and marine iguanas of the Galapagos, then it is ridiculous to think any alien race of separate origin would so closely resemble homo Sapiens (sorry Star Trek fans). It is akin to tossing two water melons off two different ten story buildings and expecting the splatter of seeds on the street to be exactly the same.

Supposed autopsy footage of Roswell alien

Popular thought on aliens all derives from origins in New Mexico and Nevada. All of the alien images: those bulbous heads, almond eyes, small mouths, spindly arms, comes to us from images of the alien autopsy supposedly performed at Area 51. The new book on the subject of this military base would have us believe these “alien” features are those from the bodies of humans (perhaps children) genetically altered by Russian (ex-Nazi) scientists. The aliens of popular media might not be so extra terrestrial after all…

This, of course, does not disqualify the existence of aliens. It should, however, change how we perceive the suggestion of alien life in our skies. The widely held thought of bipedal humanoid aliens may just be a smokescreen, distracting us from the truth. In her book, Area 51, Annie Jacobsen quotes sources who say the alien hypothesis was useful by the CIA/Military present at the base as disinformation guarding the true work of what was being done at Area 51 – mainly espionage technology.

Stalin wants you to think aliens are in the White House

If Joseph Stalin was the progenitor of the bodies found in Roswell, then he could be called one of the greatest contributors to conspiracy theory and science fiction ever!

*Nazi scientists were collected by Russia at the close of World War 2 just as the American space program originated with the smuggling of German scientists back to Huntsville, Alabama, in “Operation Paper-Clip”

**The assumption of no cross-pollination is in reference to Ancient Alien theory. This premise, of which I continue to study greatly, suggests that there did (perhaps does) exist a superior race of beings that directly engineered the current civilization of man on Earth. This theory supports bipedal aliens being similar to humans as the two races would come from a similar origin. The recent series of Battle Star Gallatica popularizes the reverse version of this theory where refugees from Earth are the “gods” that populate planets in a separate solar system.

Part 1 of 2 blogs on Pisco, Peru

When it comes to drawing lines in the sand, no one outdoes what the Pre-Columbia peoples of modern Peru have done. While the Nazca Lines (another topic, another time) were actually created by turning over stones, the “Candlestick of the Andes” is nothing more than a series of trenches dug into the hard sand thousands of years ago. The great question is why?

Candelabra: Holy Trinity? Alien Antennae? Divine Lightning?

My Spanish interpreter and redneck buddy, Jahosephat, and I had come to the Ica Region of Peru’s Pacific Coast to find this Candelabra. Having recently concluded my studies on Cereology (the study of cereal manipulation, or more commonly, the study of crop circles) in England, I was familiar with strange phenomena of the sort, especially hoaxes. There was some talk the Candelabra was a hoax, but rest assured, after my visit to Peru I do believe we can put this talk to rest. This is no contemporary trick to draw tourists, there are Paracas pottery shards from the first millennium BCE as well as accounts from the marauding conquistadores who saw this as a sign of the Holy Trinity.

Through our investigation, Jahosephat and I stayed at the nearby town of Pisco, known for its grape (and more so for its grape brandy), a flourishing fertilizer plant, and Paracas National Reservation “the Peruvian Galapagos” (as someone who has been to the Galapagos Galapagos, trust Vic Neverman when I say this was no Galapagos). The islands of the reservation habitat furious flocks of birds and barking sea lion, but ultimately, these isles are no more than thousands of years of fossilized bird shit. The only thing keeping these islands from rivaling the height of the Andes is the local fertilizer industry that mines the guano as a production resource. The result of living near the factories of ‘Guano Beach’ is that everything in Pisco literally smells and tastes like shit. And not just any shit, but bird shit – that noxious mixture of white feces, undigested fish bits, and avian urine. Everything that gets close to Guano Beach reeks of this smell – clothes, pillows, sleeping bags, pop-tarts.

But they say necessity is the mother of invention. To combat the overwhelming guano fumes from the smoking stacks of the factory, the locals cultivated pisco grape brandy. While there is a long-standing dispute between Peru and Chile over who has the right to market and sell grape brandy branded as “pisco”, both countries do find a common ground in their national drink: the pisco sour. This queer, frothy, concoction is made with egg whites, lemon or lime juice, bitters, and of course, pisco brandy.

But I digress…

The Candelabra is called thus because of its similarity to a candlestick. I think it greater resembles an antennae or cactus in bloom. It is approximately 595 feet long and a meter deep into the hard sand of the island. It faces east and can be seen as far away as 12 miles out at sea. Below are some of the theories many have devised on what exactly these mysterious lines in the sand represent:

– Conquistadores, as mentioned, believed this to be a good omen representing the Holy Trinity. Certainly not a good omen for the Peruvian peoples who dug the damn thing.

– Frank Joseph hypothesizes it represents the jimson weed, something that could be smoked for hallucinogenic purposes. His theory does require Paracas-era sailors from ‘before Christ’ to journey to California to collect this weed, where it naturally grows. I do not know about that, but I have long thought there was great seafaring civilization lost to history (i.e. Atlantis) and such a possibility would certainly corroborate with this story. Let’s just assume the Chinese were that advanced seafaring culture that traded with all ancient Pacific peoples (Polynesia, Oceania and the Americas). Perhaps the Paracas people were eager to buy some jimson root from the Chinese and thus perhaps the Candelabra is the very first billboard – not to advertise a product, but a demand…

– Ancient Astronaut theorists like Erich von Daniken (author of “Chariots of the Gods”) claim the nearby Nazca Lines are some sort of communication with the “Gods” and are perhaps even “drawn” by the celestial beings, as navigational instructions. While the Ancient Astronaut theory, that posits humans were seeded by an extra-terrestrial race/specie, is certainly gaining in popularity, I do have my doubts about the use of Nazca and Candelabra in this theory. Yes, perhaps the primitive hybrid apes left behind by the aliens were drawing in the desert to get the mothership to return, but I do not believe any superior advanced race would need a candlestick in the sand as a compass for them to find their way.

Viracocha, creator god

– Local legend will likely suffice as truth for now. Folklore tells us that Candelabra was made to represent the lightning rod of god Viracocha. Viracocha is a story unto itself. He rose out of Lake Titicaca to create the universe. He first created giants by breathing life into stones. Displeased by these giants, he drowned them in a massive flood (Gilgamesh anyone?). He then used smaller stones to give life to man. Viracocha would disguise himself as a beggar and walk amongst his peoples in a white robe, with a staff and a book, preaching on how they should live their life. Viracocha eventually left his people, walking on water across the Pacific with the promise of return in times of trouble. Oddly enough, Viracocha like the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl, was a bearded god amongst a bare-faced people. It is no wonder the canon-blasting, bearded, Europeans were confused as gods upon their arrival before the indigenous peoples of the new world.