One of the other writers on this blog expressed the sentiment that he still feels that this is my blog, and that he needs to tread carefully. While I have an ego, I don’t have a hard shell “I am fantastic don’t step on my toes” attitude about anything. I am good at enough things to be happy in my skin. Other people are better at most things, and that is part of the fun too. That is why I was so thrilled that five other people agreed to share writing duties here, and that three of them have jumped in.

I view this blog as a laboratory, and anyone of the six of us can come in at any time, day or night, and run experiments. I don’t care if they fail or succeed. Experiments that fail are as enriching as those that succeed. I just want this room to be available for these five people, in addition to myself. They have all shown me that they have active imaginations, that they are intensely curious and not afraid to make mistakes in search of truth. They are also, and this helps immensely, very bright people.

So, lady and gentlemen, do not worry about stepping on toes. The forum is your omelet. While I don’t care for spinach, mushrooms or green pepper, that you do is what makes this research fun.

(I do not like kale, will not eat kale. It is a weed. Whole Foods can get away selling weeds as nutritious food, but they don’t fool me.)

Continue reading “The importance of not eating kale” →

Does anyone here remember Penthouse magazine and the reader’s letters section, Penthouse Forum? I’ll cop to reading these phony baloney letters when I was (very) much younger- Anyway, these letters invariably began with “I don’t usually do this…” as a way of gaining trust in the reader that the letter in question was written by a genuine person, not a staff writer- At the pivot point of the sexy story/confession, the phrase “Needless to say…” was always employed, as the “writer” cops to his/her own temptation and describes some outré behavior that was deemed shocking forty plus years ago-

Well, needless to say, when I saw these two phrases pop up in an email sent to Miles Mathis by a reader, which MM published as an addendum to his Lennon paper, the alarms went off- There are two emails he’s posted in the addendum, the first being a literary hand job to Miles’ greatness, which, on many occasions, I would concur- Um, the greatness, not the, um… The second email is from “Kyle” who informs Miles immediately that he doesn’t usually do this (What, I don’t know- Send emails?) but then Kyle proceeds to disperse conspiracy candy corn with a shovel- Please read the litany of clues Kyle has listed and agree that Let Him Be is indeed a psy-operetta concocted by the same bureau that has been maintaining The Beatles operation lo these many years (Wait for it…. MASONS!)- Also please note that the email, with Miles’ assent, buttresses the “self-evident” nature of the character labeled John Lennon and his singular integrity as an historic artist-

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Though we don’t dwell on it here, we realize that many people are preoccupied with political contests. I am no psychic, and have not understood until recently how it is going to shake out. But seeing now what will happen in twenty days makes it a little easier to understand what came before.

Bernie Sanders we have long understood to be a sheepdog. His job was to keep progressives interested in the political process. They allowed him to tail Hillary closely, even throwing the Michigan primary for him, before giving all his energy over to her.  Hillary was to be the Democratic nominee from the start.

Trump is a little more difficult to understand, as he is a terrible candidate, and would even lose in a real contest. He was put in place because Hillary is so undesirable, so un-electable, that the only way to make her ascension to the office seem natural was to run her against a candidate worse than her. That is why they chose Trump.

Hillary was selected to be on the Senate Watergate Committee at age 27 in 1973, having no qualifications, in fact having just flunked the DC bar exam. This is a sign of a rising star, to never be allowed to fail even when she fails. She was a chosen one, as was her future husband, Bill, whom she was sent to Arkansas to marry after leaving  the Watergate Committee.

Both she and Bill are most likely gay. It was a marriage of convenience from the start, and is to this day. Bill’s many affairs are both the stuff of legend, and misdirection. If they can keep the partisans asking the wrong questions, then the answers do not matter.

[Note: See footnotes dated 10/20/2016 and 10/25/16.]

When you ask how I’ve been here without you,
I like to say I’ve been fine, and I do.
But we both know the truth is hard to come by.
And if I told the truth, that’s not quite true.
(Some Days Are Diamonds, by Dick Feller, Performed by John Denver)

The National Transportation Safety Board on January 26 1999 held a public meeting regarding the 10/12/97 death of singer John Denver, real name Henry John Deutschendorf, Jr. I called NTSB earlier this summer to get hold of a copy of that report, only to be told that they have no record of it. I did find it, eventually, in the Wayback Machine.

That’s odd, NTSB missing a report on one of the most high-profile plane crashes in recent memory. But it makes sense from another standpoint: If the death was faked, and if higher powers were involved, then people of integrity at NTSB might simply want to back away from it. They would not want their careers or character sullied by such an affair of deceit. So they allow the report to circulate, but do not claim ownership.

Here at this blog we do a lot of research of fake deaths, and on the surface, Denver’s had all the earmarks. He died at an appropriate age (53, 5+3 = 8, Spook marker*), and the circumstances of his death are completely hinky. He is said to have been struggling with the fuel tank switch in his Long EZ, a second-hand home-assembled model he bought and flew even as he could easily afford something new, something factory built. It doesn’t read well. Denver, a smart man and accomplished pilot with hundreds of hours of flight time, was not going to perish in an act of idiocy.

Other markers of fake death are present as well. Denver’s once-prolific output had dwindled, his more current offerings were just not very good. As with Elvis, Karen Carpenter, John Lennon and most recently Prince, faking death is a business decision that maximizes the monetary value of the body of work. Denver’s Greatest Hits, along with his cutting room debris, have all been repackaged and resold to the tune of millions of dollars, as with the others who fake their deaths.

I’ve been working on this issue for months now, off and on, and am convinced now that John Denver did not die that day. Too many things are wrong with the picture. And yet, I don’t think I will ever be able to prove beyond reasonable doubt that he didn’t. While the people who planned the charade were sloppy and while the whole day of his death seems a cheap and contrived detective novel, there is enough “evidence” to keep the myth alive. There is a fingerprint match, probably facilitated by Monterey Sheriff Norman G. Hicks, and the absence of two toes on the corpse, said to be a link to the real Denver, but probably contrived and circular. While I cannot disprove these two pieces of evidence, I will cast doubt.

Continue reading “John Denver’s death: Another hoax” →