Yes . . . At least some Extraterrestrials are here among us

Footnote to the previous two articles on the origins of the X-Files TV series

Susan presented a classified report to her superiors. I gave testimony, lasting several hours, under oath, to the DOJ Task Force on State and Local Government Corruption. Without perjuring ourselves, both of us intentionally left out experiences, which strongly suggest that extraterrestrials with differing agendas were influencing human behavior and major events. We were concerned that such information would discredit the descriptions of criminal activities.

Prior to these testimonies, (September 1991) we discussed some of these bizarre experiences at Harpers Ferry National Historical Park with Vivi the French Courtesan and a woman, Susan’s age, who turned out to be a “USA Today” reporter. The topic was triggered by the recent view by several thousand people of two types of UFO’s battling in the night-time sky above Northern Virginia. This is the reason that I think the VP of “USA Today” gave someone in Hollywood, copies of the Georgetown Hearings depositions.

But there was an even more bizarre experience

Readers may recall that when Susan realized she was pregnant in December 1994, she pretended to dump me and pointed out a Sumatran lady in our Sunday School class as my future girlfriend. I was hurt that Susan would suddenly dump me without cause, so easily bonded to Julie the Sumatran Princess. Oddly, Susan continued to drive her Volvo pass me on interstates, smiling and waving.

In the spring of 1995, Julie absent-mindedly left her keys and cell phone in her locked car, when we went into a barbecue restaurant near Dawsonville, GA. Susan’s Volvo pulled up into the parking lot out of nowhere. She was wearing a ponytail and sunglasses. She called a locksmith for us, honked her horn and departed. I noticed that she had put on a little weight. It didn’t dawn on me that she was carrying our daughter.

In July 1996, I drove Julie and her two young sons to Asheville, NC for a weekend mini-vacation. I showed her the former farm in the Reems Creek Valley, where I had lived for a decade and where several key scenes of the movie, “Last of the Mohicans” were filmed. We then drove past several buildings I had designed then ate at restaurant in Downtown Asheville that I had designed.

We then walked over to Pack Square to attend Shindig-On-The-Green. These are free traditional mountain music concerts that date back to 1928. They are held on Saturday nights during the summer months.

We were having a grand time, listening to a bluegrass music performance, when I suddenly picked up “mind control waves” like those Susan and I had experienced in Northern Virginia. I have 20-5 vision, so was able to quickly zoom over to two strange figures at the edge of the crowd, who were staring at me.

They were not quite human, but probably most, less observant, people would not have noticed them. They had grayish, wrinkled skin, but the physiques of typical American men in their late 30s. They were wearing winter clothing in 84 F. degree weather. The colors of the clothing were miss-matched.

A few seconds after my eyes locked on to the two extraterrestrials, a White boy around 10 years old, charged us from about 20 feet away. He was shouting “Kill the Holy Man! Kill the Holy Man!”

Once he reached us, he lunged at Julie’s youngest son, Vincent, with a dog leash. Still shouting “Kill the Holy Man!” he began to strangle Vincent. The boy was not particularly muscular, but Julie and I were not having much luck pulling him off.

Then his horrified mother rushed up and began beating him like he was mad dog and screaming at him. She looked quite affluent and obviously had nothing to do with this attack. With his mother’s assistance, we finally managed to loosen the boys grip on Vincent’s purple neck.

I stood up and zapped the two extraterrestrials. They sauntered away into the darkness with slow gaits like ostriches.

The crazed boy collapsed on the ground and looked stunned. His poor mother exclaimed over and over again that this had never happened before. I guess she thought we were going to have her arrested. She had to help her son walk back to where they were sitting.

We raced back to my Ford Explorer, filled up the gasoline tank and then didn’t stop until we reached Julie’s house near Roswell, GA . . . 200 miles away.

Yes, this is the stuff of the X-files, but it really happened.

The Truth Is Out There . . . Somewhere