You realize, of course, that there are some among us who steadfastly refuse to acknowledge that visitors from another planet (other planets?) have dropped in at Planet Earth from time to time.
Determined to resolve the issue once and for all about interplanetary and intergalactic visitors, Belinda and I journeyed in mid-June to Roswell, N.M., committed “to boldly go” (“Star Trek” split infinitive be damned!) to the locale of one of the world’s most heavily publicized UFO incidents.
As was preliminarily reported in the space two weeks ago, although we didn’t personally experience any confirmed aliens walking around Roswell, some of our fellow tourists certainly provided abundant cause for scrutiny. But first and foremost among our concerns was to get to the bottom of the outer-space visitors whose flying saucer allegedly crashed near Roswell back in July 1947.
The Cowboy Café (1120 East 2nd St., a few minutes’ drive from the International UFO Museum) seemed like a good place to launch our inquiry, since Belinda had read a favorable review about it on the Internet. The café’s quaint, hospitable ambiance, with rough-hewn plank-wood tables and wall-mounted black wrought-iron cowboy and cattle figures — garnished with a barbed wire motif — made a perfect setting for our lunching experience. Belinda ordered the green chili cheeseburger ($7.99), which came with perfectly prepared french fries. As smoke poured from her ears from the potent chili, I sensed she was having an out-of-this-world culinary experience.
While she ate, I savored a very nice hamburger, meanwhile eyeballing the crowd for any indicators of alien presence. Our harried waitress was too busy serving the indigenous clientele to pause for an interview, so Belinda and I went on to the Roswell Chamber of Commerce and Visitors Center, where we learned from the two young women in attendance there that virtually everyone in Roswell has stories of grandparents, aunts and uncles who had had personal encounters with aliens. Our search was heating up!
Thus emboldened, we struck out for the UFO Museum and Gift Shop. (Belinda has never met a gift shop she didn’t like.) From books I bought there, together with a green flying saucer model for our 6-year-old grandson (Spinning UFO Infini-Top, 32 different light patterns, uses three AAA batteries included, $8.99, allegedly made in Shantou, China), and from the museum’s elaborate displays and dioramas, I’ve pieced together a definitive account about the “Roswell UFO Incident,” which I’m now prepared to go public with for the first time. Are your space-capsule seat belts fastened? Here are my uncensored, unedited findings:
An enormous thunderstorm rocked the J.B. Foster sheep ranch 75 miles northwest of Roswell the night of July 4, 1947, rousing ranch foreman William Ware “Mack” Brazel from sleep. Mack slept in a bunk at a shack on the ranch, with no phone, electricity or running water, while his family resided in the town of Tularosa. With the nearest neighbor 10 miles distant, Mack was certain that what he had experienced was no Independence Day fireworks; rather, he sensed he had heard something crash, perhaps an explosion in the sky. He was 48 years old and a solid, dependable citizen, according to all accounts.
The following day, he drove his truck around the hardscrabble grazing grounds, noting that his sheep were sheepishly avoiding one particular area, so he drove there first, encountering a debris field he estimated at three-fourths of a mile long and the width of three football fields. The “bright wreckage” consisted of smoky-gray rubber strips, tinfoil, tape, some form of rough paper and sticks, all of which he gathered up, uncertain what to do with it.
But on July 6, 1947 — 67 years ago this very day! — Mack drove to Roswell to sell some wool and decided to pay a call on Sheriff George Wilcox, to whom he “whispered kinda confidential like” that he might have discovered the remnants of a crashed object from outer space.
Wilcox acted promptly to bring Brazel’s find to the attention of authorities at nearby Roswell Army Air Field (RAAF), causing the Roswell Daily Record to run a four-column banner headline on page one of its July 8 edition, “RAAF Captures Flying Saucer on Ranch in Roswell Region.” At this point, the cover-up begins. Base commander Col. William Blanchard, who initially had authorized the press release, was overruled by Fort Worth-based 8th Air Force commander, Brig. Gen. Roger Ramey, so that Brazel’s finding was turned into a crashed “weather balloon” which was perhaps part of a hush-hush military project dubbed Project Mogul. (Mogul was a top-secret activity that involved flying microphones in high-altitude balloons to monitor sound waves created by Soviet A-bomb tests.) Brazel was placed in custody at the air field from July 9-12, where he may have been intimidated or perhaps bought off by the Army. (It’s worth noting that not long afterward he was seen driving around Roswell in a brand-new pickup truck and was rumored to have purchased a meat-packing company!)
Despite the fact that alien bodies may have been treated at the RAAF base hospital, despite the fact that military pilot “Pappy” Henderson claims he secretly flew alien bodies to other airfields, to this day the military maintains that no spacecraft bearing extraterrestrial life ever crashed in the Roswell area.
So those are my findings resulting from our Roswell excursion. To this day, the UFO cover-up continues. Have you noticed that the new movie, “Earth to Echo,” about an E.T.-like character, which opened in theaters this week, has been almost universally panned, with reviewers using adjectives such as lame, exhausting, senseless, unfortunate, annoying, charmless, oppressive, and unwatchable to describe it? Let me ask you: What’s going on here? Simply that our governing establishment doesn’t want us to learn what there is to know about visitors from outer space and wants to discourage any renewed interest in the subject.
Undaunted, I’m now prepared — after careful scrutiny and investigation — to publish here for the first time my roster of aliens currently operating at high levels of our governments in Washington, D.C., and Austin. Doing so, I realize that my disclosures are subject to censorship and expunction, but I do so in the hope of revealing the identities of the aliens among us.
To begin with: In Washington, aliens can be found
Bob Orkand, an Elkins Lake resident, vanished under unusual circumstances while he was preparing this article for publication. His loving wife, Belinda, immediately reported the disappearance to Huntsville police authorities, prompting Police Chief Kevin Lunsford to file an immediate MDR (Mysterious Disappearance Report — HPD Form 1947A, Alienation of Affections) with state and federal alien-monitoring task forces. Commenting about her missing husband, Mrs. Orkand said, “This is highly unusual. It’s just not like him to leave the house without letting me know.”