This post is for Ian
After our conversation today on Tap’s post from 7th December, see today’s comments
I happened to look at the blog of Allan Weisbecker just now [picture above], as I have been doing occasionally recently, I once used to look every day hoping for something new. Allan was a great free thinker, writer, screen writer and photographer who had his own blog, here:
Sadly, he passed in September in slightly mysterious circumstances and I have been hoping to understand what happened to him. The first post on his blog page was his last but the comments have been left open and they led me to this, see first comment
The 3 archetypes are towards the end Ian. There are some good vids of Allans earlier on in this ladies post too.
RIP Allan: you really made me think hard about “How The World Really Works” as you always put it
“Allan Weisbecker dies; I meet his doppelganger in Chaco Canyon
I hear Allan Weisbecker died sometime in the last week of September. The only place I know of to read more about it and interact with followers is in the comment section of his last blog post. There’s also an obituary in Surfer Today.
I think Allan, having written a lot about his conversations with ChatGPT, would be both amused and bothered by the apparently AI-generated video memorials for him that have emerged on the web, such as the one below called In Memoriam Allan Weisbecker Novelist and screenwriter, delivered by a high-quality digital male voice. Or, if you prefer a digital female voice, try What Happened to Allan Weisbecker : Shocking Reason for His Death – which, incidentally, doesn’t mention any reason for his death at all, much less a “shocking” one.
I hate to admit it, but these memorials are good, in a conventional, predictable sort of way–they really do celebrate Allan Weisbecker’s life, with great pics, a positive spin on everything, and plenty of admiration for his many accomplishments in writing, photography and surfing, The only thing is, they left out the most important writing he did in his life, which was the writing he did in recent years on his blog. It pains me to know there will never be any more of it. There’s nothing else like it on the web.
NASA and SpaceX Fraud
One way Allan changed my point of view in a big way was his fearless attack on NASA fraud, and later, on SpaceX fraud—both monumental deceptions that are verboten topics among the Serious Minded. Why? First, because media and research funding sources are mostly owned by the overlords running this show. Second, because those overlords maintain crews dedicated to the defense and promotion of everything that comes out of NASA’s piehole. They hold themselves out as anything from experts to average Joes on the internet, and pretend to be anything from zealous NASA defenders to truth-seekers exposing NASA fraud.
A routine strategy of these propaganda thugs is to shame and degrade anyone who questions anything NASA. Similar strategies are used by thugs defending and promoting every other official agenda, such as mass-vaccination, and man-made climate change. This effectively silences most people, for whom social approval, especially the approval of apparent authority, matters more than truth. The result is an insane world, where intelligent people who know better pretend not to notice reality right in front of their eyes.
Talking about Apollo 13 in this 20 minute interview, Allan points out (starting at minute 11:00) that even though the narrative was flat-out impossible and contradictory, there was no revolution about the lies we were told, saying:
“Picture the whole world goes to see Apollo 13 [the movie], and amongst the whole world there are thousands and thousands of physicists, and astronomers, and cosmologists, and guys that are just scientists. Now, what I’m asking is, how come the day after the world went to see Apollo 13, why wasn’t there a revolution the next day about us being lied to? […] It scares the hell out of me that I have to think of this.”
It scares me, too. It’s time to stop NASA’s massive lies.
Eclipses, cannibals and doppelgangers in Chaco Canyon
Do you think the dead ever visit the living, especially soon after they die–maybe in a dream, or in the form of an animal or found object; or maybe, like the story I’m about to tell you here, in a parable played out by the living?
I didn’t find out about Allan’s death until a few days after the eclipse on October 14; the events below all happened after he died, but before I found out about it.
Allan’s friends and followers may know he had a particular fascination with eclipses, having had something of a mystical experience during a total eclipse in August 2017. I found an email exchange I had with Allan at the time, and I don’t think he’d mind me sharing it. I’d written to Allan asking if he thought it was possible the eclipse had been faked. He had a surprising response:
“Funny you should ask. I drove up to ground zero of totality, a rest stop on Interstate 5 at the Santiam river.
Fake? When totality hit and it suddenly went dark and the stars were visible I was quivering and speechless. I’m still unable to describe the sensation.
If somebody faked it, fine, I’ll do whatever he/she/it asks.
I’ll attach a couple of photos but they don’t mean anything other than ‘I was there.’”
In early October this year, I was on the road in my camper in southwest Colorado, planning on heading next to the Grand Canyon, when I got an unexpected email that caused me to change plans and head toward Texas instead. I wound up in a strange and mysterious place called Bisti-de-na-Zin, which I had mostly to myself for a blissful week or so…that is, until dozens upon dozens of other campers suddenly started flooding in. It turns out chance had landed me directly in the path for prime viewing of the eclipse.
Allan crossed my mind as I sat on a boulder alone in the crowd, watching the sun dim, with a tiny lone bird fluttering around in the brush, confused by the untimely dusk. Unaware Allan was dead, I wondered if he was photographing the eclipse, and if he would write about it. I thought about getting in touch, but didn’t.
The day after the eclipse, I decided to visit nearby Chaco Canyon, ancient home of the Anasazi cannibal culture, which I previously wrote about here. By “cannibal culture,” I mean a culture where cannibalism was a significant regular food source by choice, not necessity. This conclusion was largely the result of a lifetime of research by the late husband-and-wife team of archeologists, Christy and Jacqueline Turner, who published their findings in the weighty book Man Corn.
Although this subject tends to raise ire, it’s unclear why. At least according to Navajo historian Wally Brown, the Anasazi have no living ancestors today. Building huge and sophisticated structures reminiscent of the Aztecs and other early Central and South American cultures, the Anasazi were an entirely different culture than the cliff dwellers (who lived in the rocks and cliffs) and the pueblo peoples (who lived out in the open). The Anasazi were outsiders who came later; they were known to enslave other cultures, and eventually, according to Mr. Brown, were totally destroyed.
What happened the day after the eclipse in Chaco Canyon reminds me a lot of the theme of Allan’s movie Water Time, in which he struggles in vain to get people of all kinds to see that the official 9/11 narrative, and other official narratives, were false. At Chaco, the topic was cannibalism. I spoke with 3 male-female pairs that day, each seeming to represent a different archetype of humanity.
1: The uninterested majority
The first pair was a couple in the Chaco Canyon museum, where the 3 of us were looking at a large model of the famous Pueblo Bonito complex. The couple looked to be in their 30s, tall and blond, tidy and bland, both diligently ingesting the information provided by the museum—which, not surprisingly, included nothing about cannibalism. When I interrupted their learning with the observation that the museum said nothing whatsoever about the Turner’s findings, they desperately tried to ignore me.
Now, maybe they were really a very interesting couple who just weren’t in the mood to be bothered by a total stranger; but unfortunately for them, they landed here in my parable, where they represent the uninterested majority, for whom social approval, especially the approval of apparent authority, is far more important than truth. They probably have a college education, a home in the suburbs, government jobs with a good pension, and they are both fully vaccinated. It would never occur to them that any important information about the Anasazi might lie outside the museum plaques—and if it did, they wouldn’t want to know.
2: The willfully blind with vested interests
The next pair I spoke with worked at the Visitor Center desk—an older male park ranger in uniform, and a younger Native American woman in civilian clothes. I registered my complaint at the desk that the museum had failed to include any mention of the Turners’ findings—because, unfortunately for them, I was just in that kind of mood. The ranger, sincerely looking concerned, checked their library for the Turners’ book Man Corn, assuring me they had virtually every relevant book on the subject in existence. He informed me that Man Corn was out of print. I told him it was not out of print, and could be purchased on Amazon.
At that point the younger woman chimed in with the dreaded proclamation, “It’s been debunked!” delivered with the tone of complete certainty always used to deliver such proclamations. The ranger quickly echoed, “It’s been debunked!” the relief on his face apparent, as if it offered a legitimate reason why the book was not contained in their ostensibly comprehensive library. After a few minutes of back and forth, the exact details of when, where and how this debunking occurred remained elusive, but their certainty that it did occur never wavered. That’s how this pair of park employees wound up in this parable, as an example of how people with a vested interest in the official narrative will deliberately turn a blind eye to any evidence it’s false. They don’t want to know.
3: The open-minded thinker
I was outside walking through the ruins of the Pueblo Bonito complex when I encountered a man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Allan Weisbecker, with a female companion. He was about the same age, height and weight as Allan, with the same hair, and above all, he was rocking the classic Weisbecker mustache.
Unlike my previous encounters that day, the doppelganger responded to my out-of-the-blue cannibal comment with interest, saying he had not only heard about it, but had noticed a room in Pueblo Bonito that looked like an abattoir. I felt enormous relief to find someone with a curious and open mind—2 of them, as it turned out. They are the hope for the future of humanity, the kind of people I write for, the kind of people Allan wrote for. Other types of people may go along for the ride, but the ride was not designed for them.
The 3 of us ended up having an interesting conversation about the false reality we live in. I told them about the ‘debunking’ of the Turners’ book, and we all had a good laugh. Obviously, this doppelganger’s resemblance to Allan Weisbecker was much more than skin deep.
But there was one big difference between the doppelganger and Allan: the doppelganger was chill. His voice was relaxed; his demeanor was calm; he had an easy smile. I don’t think anyone who knows Allan would ever describe him as chill—“tightly wound” would be closer to the mark.
Meeting the doppelganger got me wondering about Allan, so that night I went to his blog, where I read about his death in the comments of his last post.
I’ve thought about the entire series of improbable events that led me to the path of the eclipse, and to Chaco Canyon to meet Allan’s doppelganger. It feels like it was a message from Allan—a personal message of hope and encouragement to keep writing, and a message, delivered through his chill doppelganger, that Allan is at peace. I hope so.”