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Showing posts with label paranormal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paranormal. Show all posts

Thursday, April 10, 2014

#A-TO-Z CHALLENGE - LETTER "I" - EDDIE IZZARD

EDDIE IZZARD

Edward John “Eddie” Izzard. Born 7 February 1962, is an English stand-up comedian, actor and writer.

Izzard is another of those comedians that I knew I would be writing about, when I decided on my HUMOR AND HUMORISTS theme. He first came to my attention during the run of his 1999 HBO special, Dress to Kill, which I tuned into about 5 minutes into the start of his monologue, only to be faced with this:


 . . . and I thought, "hmm, a transvestite (he likes women, as do most transvestites) stand-up comic. Here's something you don't see every day!" and proceeded to laugh my butt off through his entire show. His comedic style is sharp, but he has a tendency to jump the track with "um, yeah" and veer off into other topics, but it's a hell of a ride! In Dress to Kill, we get to hear Izzard's version of how the singer Engelbert Humperdinck got his name; how the native aboriginal people were conned by the Druids, or whoever built the thing, into moving the Stones of Stonehenge 200 or 2000 miles, and his famous take on the Anglican church, "Give me cake or give me death" which is basically my view of the Anglican and Episcopal church. Catholics are pretty tough; we did manage to come up with the Spanish Inquisition and an ex-communication rite is pretty hair-raising; Catholicism is not for sissies. Of course, I should have kept that to myself; once my mother in some sort of ecumenical fit had an Episcopal Priest over for Sunday Dinner after Mass, and I made some comment about "Catholic Lite; all the ritual, only half the guilt." She didn't think it was funny, but my father thought it was hilarious. But, I digress. He often referred to himself as an "Executive Transvestite" in Dress to Kill.


How Jerry Dorsey became Englebert Humperdinck

He patterned his comedic style after much of the Monty Python's Flying Circus troupe's style and has been acknowledged as the "lost" member of the troupe by John Cleese. He was also heavily influenced by Spike Milligan Rather than just list his c. v., which you can easily read for yourself and I urge you to do so, and watch some of his shows, I did run across something of great interest. After his triumphant tour in 1999, with Dress to Kill in the U. S., he was on the last leg of his tour in Great Britain, when several complaints were launched with the BBC consumer program Watchdog that he was using recycled material of his jokes. Upon investigation, and copious explanation by Izzard, it was explained that the material he had used in the show in the U. S. had been released on DVD in Great Britain prior to Izzard's final leg of his U. K. tour. 


Izzard, understandably upset, has rarely allowed his stand-up act to be televised, as it takes so much time to re-write and work new material into a show. He has acted in several movies and in television, both in the U. S. and the U. K. He maintains, he is from "Europe, where the history is." He participates regularly in sports events and runs for charity and his latest endeavor that he is deadly serious about is his attempt to persuade Scotland to remain part of Great Britain. A few posts back I mentioned my father, who, like every other Wallace, and many, many Scots wish to declare themselves independent from Great Britain, much the same way northern Ireland has. Izzard is earnestly trying to retain Scotland by launching a campaign of "charm" including admitting that the name "Edward" is not one that Scots are likely to respond warmly to, as it was King Edward II who, ultimately, captured my ancestor, William Wallace and put him to death, most viciously and put the country under shackles. Although that was in 1305, as my late father would say, the "son of a bitch is sittin' in the next room! We hae to avenge him!" Like the bastard died last week. It may be time to lay William to rest; with charm like Eddie's, who can say? I never was an anglophile, but I could make a wee exception. . . Mayhap.


BOOK RELEASE ANNOUNCEMENT AND RAFFLE-COPTER!!!



Title: Golden Dawn
Author: Aldrea Alien
Genre: Paranormal


Release date: April 18th, 2014

From now until April 18th, I will be show-casing Aldrea Alien's newest release, Golden Dawn. This will include an raffle-copter (be sure and enter!) and well. . . I'll let her take it from here!

 Family and blood.

After 1100 years, these simple words mean everything to Herald. His life has been ruled by keeping his siblings safe, keeping them from becoming prey whilst feeding on the weaker. His failures have been many and measured by those he has lost. People like his twin brother.

There has always been an enemy to push back or defeat.

Just who the enemy is comes into question when Herald meets the dangerous, angelic creature he is to guard. Wondering where his true loyalties lie is a dangerous thought. No matter whether he chooses family over the heart, it will mean death.

Only the right choice will ensure the life taken is not his.

Buy Links:


Andrea Alien

Author Bio:
Born and raised in New Zealand, Aldrea Alien lives on a small farm with her family, including a menagerie of animals. Since discovering a love of writing at the age of twelve, she hasn't found an ounce of peace from the characters plaguing her mind.



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Sunday, May 12, 2013

#ROW80 2ND QUARTER 2013 - SUNDAY CHECK IN – POST 5

PARANORMAL CENTRAL OR AREA 51 ANNEX?

I mentioned during the A to Z Challenge for my letter “V” for Visitors that I sometimes, usually once a week, have some visitors. They only show up when my compilations for SETI@home is NOT running. I also run Cosmology@home and SAT@home, for both Cambridge U.K. And Russia and my guests don't care about those functions, but they hide when SETI is running. Fair enough. For a few months, I just watched them, breathless, they are so beautiful; shimmering, delicate, lacy figures.

Initially, there were 6 of them, ranging in size, from about 2 to 5 feet in height. They have several appendages, that are also shimmering, and move about. When I first saw them, I assumed I was dreaming, or still asleep and didn't move at all. I just laid there, still as a stone. Recently, I became a bit more bold and moved my head to look at each of them. They cluster around the bed. Our place is small, and I can see into each room. My blindness is odd. I see better at night, I still have a great deal of trouble trying to focus, but I can for brief periods. I have 20/20 vision in each eye. My brain is the problem; it will not integrate the 2 images into one. I digress.

A few weeks back, I started wondering what on earth these beings could possibly want and what they really are. I'm not having much luck beyond the fact that I know they are harmless and in fact, I think they see me as some sort of refuge. There is another entity that lives here, as well. Some little being one of our neighbors has seen. He says it's a little old lady who lives here and she jumps on the bed and is also harmless. I've felt her and so has JC.

Of course, I've had all of these debates with my friends over this; some say tell them to get lost. They'll drain me, they don't pay rent, yada yada. But, hey, they're my aliens or whatever. The little old bat was here before we moved in, so she isn't going anywhere. I've heard the aliens like the electricity in my computers, which is probably true. I just find it so very odd that they won't come when SETI@home is running. We seem to have plenty of coming and going and lots of activity in this house, and as my own physical senses have degraded, other senses have taken up the slack, I believe. So I seem to be more acutely aware of things I may not have noticed when I was fully sighted and in my supposed “right mind.”

My mother was rather like that, and was always telling me to keep “both feet in this world,” whatever in the hell that meant. She was the emotional one; I was logical and distant, or so I thought, as was my father. He was a Captain in the Air Force, flying B-29s and had some interesting postings prior to Korea, but after 1947; the timing is important. He trained at Lackland AFB in 1950 and was sent to Nellis Air Force Base, (near Area 51) and then down in Florida, where he regularly flew through the Bermuda Triangle, until that one night.... the fact that the entire squadron of 5 B-29s manned by 13 men apiece decided nap time was a good thing all at the same time, during a peaceful run to Morocco, became decidedly unpeaceful, when my father awoke and began hollering into headphones, as his colleagues in the other four planes slumbered, possibly, into oblivion. A new training route was found after that. He maintained for years that all were exhausted as they had flown down from Alaska blah blah, the day before. He never admitted that maybe, just maybe, the Triangle was after them. He didn't buy into the Area 51 thing, blah blah blah. I heard that for years. Daddy and my uncle argued about all of that for years and years and years.

My Dad hung out with my uncle; my mother's brother, the Mad Scientist, as we called him, ran Nuclear Testing out at Jack Ass Flats, and not far from Jack Ass Flats, and Nellis Air Base is the notorious Area 51. My uncle has published papers based on mathematical theorems that work; built on observations of massive objects suddenly shifting direction. Up, down, backward, forward, or come to a complete stop, while airborne. The math works. He fell off the grid about 30 years ago and retired. I don't know if he gets messages via the fillings in his head or messages from Garcia, but the one time I contacted him on FB, he told me to “write him a letter.” Errant nonsense. If everyone is listening via electronic whatsis, pen and paper is no obstacle. He was always a bit dimmish about computers. When I worked at IBM, he kept sending me all of his Nigerian email scams, saying they were viruses. He knows his math and physics. But, for all I know, they were all eating peyote buttons and sitting in sweat lodges and having walkabouts and beating drums.

Three days before my father died in his sleep and this was in July of 1987, during the Iran-Contra hearings, after a lifetime of semi-paranoia, while trying to uphold principles of free speech and being true to the idea of what the Constitution and Bill of Rights stood for, after having witnessed the McCarthy era witch hunts, in which he saw as a college student (he left the Air Force, but kept in contact with several of his colleagues in 1954) who had served his adopted country not once, but twice, his college professors hounded out of their careers and in some cases, they took their lives.

Later, my father spent 6 months playing cat-and-mouse in the mid-70s with the FBI because 2 of his employees had somehow managed to smuggle, lock, stock and barrel two personnel carriers to the Saudis, who at the time were not our friends. My father had not knowledge of that, since he wasn't on that particular project. The FBI were showing up at our front door at odd hours, in pairs, wearing sunglasses. My father would have to leave work early to pick me up from school, then we would cruise aimlessly, around San Jose and go to Shakey's Pizza, or Farrell's Ice Cream Parlor. My mother was going to work at odd times. It all seemed rather a game to me, but in retrospect, it wasn't. The FBI could never find any direct connection leading back to my father. Eventually, they moved on to other things. This was shortly before the Patty Hearst kidnapping.

In 1980, I was in Ann Arbor, which has a thriving Eastern European and Russian Studies School. He went into full panic mode when I was on national television standing up for Solidarność and against General Wojciech Jaruzelski, I got this frantic call from him. “What the hell are you doing? Don't you know people are watching?” He hollered. We almost never fought and when we did, it was on principle. “What have you told me all my life? What have you always done? You stand up for presonal freedoms and what is right.” I shot back “This is different. You're my daughter. You're name is on a list, now.” He was almost in tears. “You're the only thing I have. I don't want anything to happen to you.”

Well, what do you say to that? But, I got it; the McCarthy thing really unnerved him, but seriously? we can't just hand over our freedoms like that, and I told him so. I also said, I'd be careful and would do nothing to inflame authorities were I arrested and I loved him more than anything. He died 7 years later in his sleep. Just before he died, he told me about Area 51. “I've been thinking about this. You must know; it is real. All of the obfuscation, weather balloon nonsense, is just that.” I'm thinking , “Gee thanks, Daddy.” He was gone 3 days later and my uncle is in the wind, I guess. This is one of those posts that start out one way and end up something else. I do so look forward to my “guests” and my father was not in the habit of lying to me.

Anyway, a few weeks back, I made the decision to try and “communicate” or let them know that I meant them no harm, which they must have known, or they wouldn't keep showing up. So, one night, when they came, I just thought to them, or at them, “look, I won't hurt you, I won't let anybody hurt you, you are safe here.” They must have understood that because they're appendages waved a bit more excitedly. I didn't hear anything back. They generally stay about 5 or 10 minutes, I really don't know how long. It could be an hour. Then they just gradually fade.

The next time they came, the littlest one, which had always been back behind the bigger ones was in the front, and he or she was trying it's damnedest to climb up onto the bed. I looked down and I could see what looked like a flat hand, with a thumb, and 3 fingers. The hand was a light blue. My comforter is white. The illumination in the room comes off of their bodies. I was amused and touched, but again, I didn't try to touch its hand or get up. I just kept thinking the thoughts I mentioned before; “safe, welcome, no harm here.” Again, after a period of time, the 6 of them disappeared. I wished them a goodbye.

All hell broke loose one night. Something dark came tearing through the house, and exited; on its way to whatever Valhalla or hell was awaiting it. It was definitely not happy, nor especially malevolent, but terrified and sick. JC saw it and it woke me. I didn't see it, but I felt it. JC mentioned it, got up and looked out the window but saw nothing. He fell back asleep. I did too, but it was an uneasy sleep. Shortly after that, my 6 showed up, all tremulous, agitated and nervous. I woke up and “told” them it was okay. Just gentled them along. Pretty soon, they were lulled and I got the feeling they understood they were not alone. They stayed a bit longer and waited until I fell asleep.

JC and I talked about them. I get the feeling they're a family; especially with the younger ones. There are 2 of them. But again, they're not like anything I've ever heard about or read about. The night they showed up scared was actually a night when someone in our old homeless shelter committed suicide. JC and I wondered if that was Adam's tormented soul running away. We knew him briefly, but not well. What is so sad about things like that is that no one ever came to claim his body; he had no family here. These things happen more often than we know.

Last week, while I was sleeping, and SETI@home wasn't running, there was a thump on the bed that woke me up. The 6 were back and they brought some of their friends. There were 18 of them crammed into the bedroom around the foot of my bed. The little one was wedged between my viola and me. I was delighted. I think we had a mutual admiration society for a while and I got to appreciate them up close. Pale copper and silver. Gold and lilac, blues, rose and greens. So beautiful. I, again, let them know that they were welcome and safe. They are amiable guests. I really look forward to their visits.

* I was going to add some of my famous pictures, but Blogger is being ass. Sorry

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