First port of call was the International UFO Museum And Research Center in Roswell. I ponied up my five bucks in anticipation of a cheap morning looking at tqt1 and then spent twenty-two on a T-shaped shirt. Pshaw and, moreover, fiddlesticks. Some highlights:
|Mayan camera bike, c. 683 AD. Derek von Heineken has his own theories about this, but they're a Rubbish...|
|Some aliens, looking for the Gents. They do actually have arses!|
|Woman looking for the form guide for Newton Abbot|
|Klaatu is unable to work out why he's having trouble hailing a taxi|
- No two "experts" can agree on what, if anything, was involved.
- No two "experts" can agree on where anything took place. If it did.
- No two "experts" can agree on when anything happened either. "Summer 1947" is a bit vague.
- No single "expert", or team of "experts", has the faintest idea of how to design a legible web site.
- The "experts" are, by and large, totally Hornchurch2 sorts who think The Illuminatus Trilogy is a true story and/or that The X-Files was a documentary3.
Borag Thungg, Earthlets!["Are you sure we can trust this bloke?" - Ed.]
Here's the Truth (which is, of course, out there):
Splundig Vur Thrigg
- Something SEEKRIT, but not very scrotnig, crashed
- Or possibly more than one Something SEEKRIT but not very scrotnig
- The US Army didn't want the Soviet On!on to find out about it
- The US Army organised a cover-up, which is not unheard of
- But they didn't do a very good job of it, which is also not unheard of, the great grexnixen
- Some thrill suckers told lies in a quest for fifteen minutes of fame
- There were no alien bodies
- There are no black helicopters either
- David Cameron is not a lizard
Tharg the Mighty, Quaxxann (near Betelgeuse)
No mention of The X-Files chiz so I cranked up the Mudstang and wandered lonely as a person sharing a State Highway with a few other people down to Carlsbad Caverns. These hav a very interesting history if you are interested in hist. which few boys are. The main cave is home to a myriad of bats, who come out at night to hunt insects; this being how it was discovered in 1898 by lonesome cowboy Jim White. Obviously the Native Americans had been aware of the place since forever but they never bothered to tell anyone.
You can get in via the "Natural Entrance" and the Batcave (srsly) but that involves more walking than my feetses care to do these days, especially with it threatening to chuck down. Alternatively you can go down in the lift, from the bottom of which I joined up with the guided tour of the King's Palace, ably led by Ranger Jim.
|Ranger Jim tries unsuccessfully to get his torch to work|
|This is supposed to resemble an elephant's bum, but I can't see it myself|
It wasn't raining when I got out, but this lot was on the horizon
and the bats' agent won't allow them to be photographed when they come out, so I made my excuses and left. As noted above, Carlsbad is a tourist trap and the place I'm in now is charging about twice the price I paid in Kremmling for a similar level of nastiness. Anyway, it's time for Proper Tea, so it's a good job I wrote half of this rubbish last night.
On Business Opportunities: On Wednesday morning a chap bearing an uncanny resemblance to my former cow-orker Mr Wyatt strolled up to the motel reception desk and asked if there was a marijuana shop in town. Colorado, y'see, legalised the sale and use of cannabis sativa on January 1st. I am given to understand, however, that the sellers are having a hard time investing their not-inconsiderable profits. The Feds regard such monies as being the proceeds of CRIME and will, I'm told, not allow it to be deposited in any bank ultimately insured by the Feddy-Bears. Do any Readers know anything about USAnian banking La?
- Sheddi abbreviation for "top-quality tqt"
- Half a dozen stops beyond Barking
- Usual disclaimer about Lie...