Archive for October, 2010

Gliese is Nice (581(g)

Saturday, October 23rd, 2010

Gliese 581g

art by don dixon

EarthSourceMedia Reports for October 23rd, 2010

‘Come to Gliese

It’s really nice

It smells like spice

The sun rises twice

See rainbow mice

and roll three dice

Take my advice

Just come to Gliese’

It’s Nice on Gliese (581g)

Intercom: “Dr. Bell, it’s nearly 7:30 and I have to get home. Will there be anything more before I go?”

Dr. Bell: “Thanks Alice, no. It looks like it’s going to be another long one for me. You go ahead and get home to your family- they’re mad enough at me already!”

Lab Assistant Alice: “Nonsense, Dr. Bell. My kids talk about your work all the time. They’re fascinated, really. See you tomorrow and don’t overdo it now!”

Andromeda Laboratory

A glance at the calendar showed there would be a new moon and the night would be a dark one- great for ‘seeing’ if you had time to stargaze. From as high up on the rural mountain as Andromeda Laboratory was situated, the night skies smacked with stars, each one a diamond, glued to a black velvet curtain and backlit with a laser.

Back on the desk, a hot cup of coffee sat steaming among a sea of papers, whose equations seemed to be drawn up in the mist and now swirled on the walls. The Doctor was tired, already having worked more hours than he cared to recount. Such was the curse of the Bell name. He was a direct descendent of Alexander Graham Bell, and like his great-great grandfather, the good Doctor was determined to enable long distance communication. In this case however, long distance was a bit more than a few rooms away using cups and a string. If the theoretical science could be worked out, in the words of Lily Tomlin, the ‘party to whom I am speaking’ was going to be 20 light years away! Dr. Bell’s message would be directed toward a newly discovered and decidedly Earth-like planet called Gliese 581g, located in the constellation Libra.

Beamatons

Having always been intrigued by the idea of particles, Dr. Bell’s work naturally began by focusing on photons, the little dashes that carry light to your eye. These light particles come in separate little cars, like a train. Of course, you don’t see light in little blinks, because the eye is sensitive to the particles and not the spaces in between. We see light as a steady, unbroken beam. And as some of Dr. Bell’s colleagues had discovered, even time is broken up in much the same way, in little train cars called chronons. Some even suggested the spaces between the chronons could be populated by inhabitants of an alternate dimension- they and we occurring in the same place, but at alternating times.

It was with this in mind Dr. Bell created his theory of particles called ‘beamatons’, capable of not only winding their way across vast expanses of space, but even, perhaps to carry mass within them. Mass, such as, say, the chemicals and electronic impulses complex thought requires. But the theory was scoffed at, and endless hours, months, and years seemed to go down the drain like so much soapy old bathwater.

That is, until one brainstorming session when Dr. Bell came to idea-to-try #97 on his list; to add a boost in power to the photon using radioactive laser-light. And thus, the ‘streamaton’ was born! Faster than light and with greater penetrating power than a neutrino, this new and exciting particle caused the previously separated photons to fuse together in a steady, swift stream, which then allowed complex chemical reactions to take place within. He continued his work secretly, working mostly late at night and told no one of his new discovery- not even Alice.

Gliese 581g

If the universe were a hot frying pan, and the great chef splashed in water to dance upon the sizzling oil, that would be a perfect way to imagine the hot, random, and energetic dispersion of star matter. The majority is empty space, like an atom, but the bits of substance that make up the rest are a force to be reckoned with- everywhere and every when. And one of those force-filled little tasty bits is Planet Gliese 581g.  Picture the Garden of Eden, sans the zoos, contractors, planners and economic development departments. The place was gorgeous, unspoiled and earthily-soiled. Pot grew so fast the leaves reached your nose before the smell did. The coffee and tea –both shade grown- were the pride of the Milky Way Galaxy.

The planet’s official tree was the common willow, official sea animal was the Rainbow Whale and the official bird was the Golden Eagle- whose feathers were tipped in actual gold! But no one cared, because gold had no meaning there. Metals were not considered precious; instead, blue damsel flies were- and there were plenty of those. Red ones too.

Planets full of life out in the void of space weren’t so rare- but ones of this beauty were. The wise inhabitants of Gliese knew it, and they took great pains to keep it that way.

That was why Dr. Copernicus had invented planetary call waiting. Picture an answering machine with the receiving power of SETI, the complexity of NASA, and run on the star power of their sun, Gliese, and you’ve about got it. The thing was turned on 7 days a week, 252 weeks a year (Gliese was known as a ‘hyper-spinner’– a very fast turner, with 252 weeks every year).  Dr. Copernicus always had an ear to the night sky. And then came the night of that fateful call- from Earth!

Dreamatons

Intercom: “Dr. Bell, I’m back, and I’ve brought you some leftover pasta. I’ll put it in the fridge”.

Dr. Bell: “Thank you Alice. I’m starved! Bring it right in, will you?”

“Sure”, she answered, and the security door buzzed a moment later.

He let her in and she smiled as he gobbled it all down.

“Alice, you simply won’t believe what we’ve found. I can’t talk about it yet, but soon”

“Alright, she said. But when it’s done, I implore you to let the authorities know. You deserve credit for all this work, and goodness knows the president can use some good news as well. Promise?”

Dr. Bell: “OK, Promise”.

She left the office and the good doctor dove back into his toils.

come on down

The clock turned. A cigar burned. The clock struck. A theory got stuck. The lights flashed. A computer crashed. A bunson burner flared. The intercom blared.

Intercom: “Dr. Bell, it’s eight o’clock. See you in the morning”.

But the doctor didn’t hear. He was drifting off to sleep. The machinery was on full blast, the radioactive laser poured power into the beam, and the igniter continued to add spark. As the good doctor drifted into a deep sleep, the beam rocketed into deep space- toward Gliese 581g!

<<<calling gliese** calling gliese **come in this is planet earth **your sister planet can anybody hear me please come in>>>

Back on Gliese 581g, Dr. Copernicus shot right up out of his chair and stared wide-eyed at the screen-ceiver. <<YES THIS IS GLIESE WHO’S CALLING OVER?>>>

At just that moment, the doctor had awoken from the dream. “Oh my goodness”, thought he. What the.. I’m too tired. Got to stop working so hard…

Dr. Bell turned to shut down the laser when another transmission spilled from the peakerspeaker:

<<YES THIS IS GLIESE WHO’S CALLING OVER?>>>

Suddenly, the good doctor realized that by falling asleep, the streamatons had become dreamatons, enabling the long-sought, long-distance communication!

<<<calling gliese** calling gliese **come in this is planet earth **we read you loud and clear!!** please stand by while I get the president on the line**be back in 1 hour!!>>>

<<YES THIS IS GLIESE ONE HOUR IT IS-OVER AND OUT>>>

(one hour later…)

Ringrang—Ringrang—Ringrang

Secret serviceman: “Mr.President, a Mister…uh, Doctor. Bell to speak with you, he says it’s urgent- something about dreamatons?”.

President Pave-a lot: “Yes Doctor, so you finally have some results? This funding can’t last forever you know- stimulus or not, we’re 54 generations out now. Those people are gonna be pretty broke by then and hopefully, still registered democrats..”

Dr. Bell: “Sir, I’ve done it! I’ve established contact with another world- Gliese 581g! They’re calling back in a moment, so here, let me put you through”.

President Pave-a-lot: “If this is some kind of a joke…”

Dr. Bell: “No sir! Hold the line…”

Dr. Bell: <<<calling gliese** calling gliese **come in this is planet earth **your sister planet can anybody hear me please come in>>>

<<YES THIS IS GLIESE WHO’S CALLING OVER?>>>

President Pave-a-lot: <<<calling gliese** this is the president of the united states **come in this is planet earth **your sister planet can anybody hear me please come in>>>

<<YES THIS IS GLIESE WHY ARE YOU CALLING OVER?>>>

President Pave-a-lot: <<<gliese** this is the president of the united states **the people of planet earth **your sister planet **we want to share our culture with you***>>>

<<GLIESE HAS ITS OWN CULTURE BUT THANK YOU MR PRESIDENT>>>

President Pave-a-lot: <<<and we value that culture to be sure***planet earth **your sister planet***we seek to share raw materials and mineral rights for fuel***to explore space>>>

<<GLIESE DOESN’T USE MINERALS ANYMORE OR FOSSIL FUELS GLIESE HAS ITS OWN CULTURE AND WE TREASURE NATURE BUT THANK YOU MR PRESIDENT>>>

President Pave-a-lot: <<<and we value nature too but***planet earth **your sister planet***has been chosen by god***raw materials and mineral rights for fuel***to wage war**to keep our planets safe from terror>>>

C*l*I*c*K  *!

President Pave-a-lot: <<<come in gliese***planet earth **your sister planet***we seek to share raw materials and mineral rights…come in gliese**gliese?***gliese?***come in gliese***>>>

Dr. Bell: “Um, Mr. President?”

President Pave-a-lot: <<<come in gliese***planet earth **your sister planet***>>>

Dr. Bell: “Um, Mr. President?”

President Pave-a-lot: “Bell, what in the hell’s gone wrong with this…”

Dr. Bell: “Um, Nothing’s wrong with it Mr. President”

President Pave-a-lot: “Well, why don’t they answer?…”

Dr. Bell: “Um, I believe they have ‘hung up’ on us, Mr. President.”

President Pave-a-lot: “What!? On the President of the United States? Hung up? I’ll have them martians for breakfast! Griswald, call in the marines-“

Dr. Bell: “Mr. President, sir, it’s 20 light years away sir, and we..uh..haven’t got the..”

President Pave-a-lot: “Shut your mouth Bell-brain! Your funding is dry, d’ya hear me? Dry! Dry, dry,…Why, the nerve of those- and with all we had to offer!-…”

C*l*I*c*K  *!

our founder

our founder

Tags: gliese, planet, new planet, raw materials, marines. President, president of the united states, laboratory, light year, space, rocket, communication, telephone, computer, burner, experiment, theory, particle, photon, neutrino, galaxy, Andromeda, milky way, earth, whale, willow, nature, Alexander graham bell, joey racano, earth, source, media, activism, story, journalism, website, military, extinction, oil, gold, birds, golden eagle, damsel fly

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Beam with Pride

Tuesday, October 19th, 2010

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EarthSourceMedia Reports for October 19th, 2010

Beam with Pride

by joey racano

‘Watch it gleam

the Sacred Beam

A nation’s soul

a hero’s dream

Flags, not flowers

strife, not stream

Kill what’s green

and love machine’

With an urgency, the truck bob-tailed down the empty highway, hitting speeds upwards of 90 mph. A motorcycle escort wound behind, ridden by a string of paramilitary bikers. All were jack-booted, leather britched, and eyeing the precious cargo through sunglasses, darkly.  

Farmer Jake and wife stood at the roadside, reveling in the whirlwind as the convoy whooshed by, sandy grit on their tongues proving to themselves and all the world their love for the country. They hadn’t been this excited since they stood right here at this very spot to watch the Olympic torch-bearers jog by at 3:30am that patriotic night 45 years ago, you betcha.

The opaque windows of the truck’s cab shielded prying eyes from the important secret doings going on up there, and heck, thought the farmer- that’s how come our nation hasn’t been attacked again since 9-11.  “Ready Edith Ann?” he asked. She nodded. “Then hang on!” He maneuvered his old Indian onto the roadway and gunned the throttle, joining in a line of what was now hundreds of motorcycles, motorbikes, Vespas, BMW’s, Harley’s, Hondas and dune buggies. This was it- a real and factual ‘I’ beam from the wreckage of the New York World Trade Center, blown up on that fateful day of September 11th, 2001, coming through Coatesville, Pennsylvania on the back of a flatbed on its way to a place of honor. The tears made driving difficult for the riders.

“Look at that, daddy!” said the young boy standing with his pop on the freeway overpass, “Here it comes!”

The convoy was now a thousand or so strong and had slowed to 70mph to wave at the cheering, flag-waving crowds lined up along either side of the road. Many chose to stand on the overpasses and bridges above, where heaven could see their patriotic fervor.

Suddenly, a women up ahead was entering the crosswalk where the freeway wend through town, her child at her side and brown shopping bags in hand. She never saw it coming.

SCKREEEEEEEEECH!! went the truck, burning rubber wafting through the air on a soft breeze. The heavy iron beam clanged as it bounced along the pavement, finally stopping an inch from the now unconscious woman.

“Christmas, what the heck was she thinking?” lamented the driver. “Mommy!” cried the little girl.

One by one, as the paramedics snapped into action, ambulance doors opened wide. “She’s heavier than she looks”, said one of them.

“Sure!”, said the other- “She had to be, to support all that weight from the 100 stories above! ”Together, gently, gingerly, with ever-such-care, they cradled the precious beam and placed her in the ambulance. A doctor in a military uniform listened intently for a moment through his stethoscope, and declared that everything was ok- the beam had a close call, but was going to be fine. Soldiers dragged the woman to the curbside and gave the little girl a pat on the head. “Now there there, doncha worry, little one- she didn’t hurt it none”.

Like the chariot of Helios, the truck and I beam resumed their sacred journey westward.  As the convoy reached the wooded regions, all was snowy save for the tall grasses growing by the roadside. They swayed in the wind like a Polynesian dance troupe and a small herd of deer nibbled at them.

On a nearby side road, a long line of privately owned camouflaged vehicles waited to join in on the patriotic display. There were jeeps, pickups, vans and all covered with military netting stuffed full of leaves and such. The trees along the road sported autumn leaves that swirled in the wind as the procession wheeled past, fall colors shouting a color-cacophony that rivaled the trucks own din.

“Dang!” shouted a man in a duck hunters cap. “Dang! I hope them leaves don’t get all over that shiny beam of metal now. Dang!”“Aw, don’t worry Maury” said his co-pilot. “At this speed, them leaves’ll get blowed away anyhow. Besides, this place looks like it’ll make another great spot for one of these 9-11 memorial tributes, soons we cut back all them old Fir Trees and what. They look like they’ve been here 200 years now, and that’s long enough I reckon!”

Up ahead, the truck driver sounded a blast from his air horn, scattering deer across the roadway and causing a small avalanche in the surrounding mountains. The picturesque whiteness lost its icy grip and plunged deep into the valley, leaving behind barren dirt where the snow had shown resplendent. At 75mph, it took a hundred yards to slow the vehicles to a stop. Several policemen and National Guardsman emerged from the truck and walked over to where a fawn lay bloodied and dying. “Filthy creature” spat the Guardsman, as he used a clean white rag to wipe blood from the precious I-beam.

They re-entered the truck and in a few minutes were rolling along west again at high speed. Many miles rolled beneath their wheels without a stop. By the time the truck and it’s sacred cargo had run out of continent, there was a 50-mile line of vehicles behind them. The giant convoy might be likened to a serpentine animal, one having swallowed up all manner of tea baggers, republicans, democrats, fireman, policeman, code enforcement people, pesticide bug-spray guys, loggers, commercial fisherman, christians, hunters, contractors, tradesmen, clergy, neo conservatives and Nazis, all swimming in cammo and American flags, wearing flag lapel pins and Oakland raiders jackets.

When the truck finally reached the end of the line somewhere south of Big Sur, California, the entire procession never got a chance to stop as they all careened over the 1400 foot cliff. But they did get one last moment to reflect upon what truly is or isn’t sacred as they were swallowed up in the timeless blue of the mighty Pacific. 

 joey racano

our founder

Tags: 9-11, world trade center, 9 11 attacks, terror, terrorism, terrorists, america, american, patriotism, agenda, republican, democrat, politics, imperialism, fascism, nazi, military, soldier, sacred, holy, heart, violence, weapons, bible, brainwashing, brainwashed, cult, programmed, programming, fooled, war crimes, politics, nature, doomsday, us policy, patriotic memorials, ultra nationalism, nationalism, antichrist