But I must not dwell on it. Otherwise I am undone.
At home in US I usually awaken instantly, in full possession of my faculties. But that's not the case here.
It takes me some minutes to collect my wits; I seem to be groping in cold reaches of interstellar space, lost and bewildered. The room is a non-dimensional darkness, without shadow or substance; even after all these days I sometimes ask myself: Where am I? What am I doing here? The slightest move, disturbing the nice temperature balance in the sleeping bag, sends a blast of frosty air down my back or stomach. My skin crawls at the thought of touching foot to the deck. But up I must for the 8 a.
Clear of the bag, I feel around on the shelf at the head of the bunk, until I locate the silk gloves, which I wear to protect my fingers, while handling cold metal. After putting these on, I light the lantern, which hangs from a nail over the bunk. The wick, hard with frost, seldom takes fire easily. The flame catches and goes out, catches and goes out. Then, as it steadies on the wick, the light gradually pushes a liquid arc into the room, bringing my possessions one by one into its wavering yellow orbit. I suppose it is really a gloomy light.
Things on the opposite wall are scarcely touched by it. But to me, that feeble burning, is a daily miracle. With light the day begins, the mind escapes from darkness, and numbness leaves the body. I sleep in my underclothes, with my pants and shirt and socks heaped upon the table. Needless to say, I dress faster than a fireman It was still very dark, but an impalpable fog lay close to the surface, giving the day a gray look The days I don't read I feel like a barbarian brooding over a chunk of meat.
A moment ago there came a tremendous boom, as if tons of dynamite had exploded in the Barrier This is what is known as a Barrier quake Because of the fog and the threat of blizzard in the air, I decided not to go very far The last half of the walk is the best part of the day, the time, when I am most nearly at peace with myself and circumstances. Thoughts of life and the nature of things flow smoothly and so naturally as to create an illusion, that one is swimming harmoniously in the broad current of the Cosmos The negative aspects — the betrayals, the disappointments, and the bitternesses — I shut out entirely.
Only by ruthlessly exorcising the disillusioning and unpleasant thoughts can I maintain any feeling of real detachment, any sense of being wholly apart from selfish concerns But I find, that I crave light, as a thirsting man craves water; and just the fact of having this lantern alive in the night hours makes an immense difference.
I feel like a rich man My whole life here in a sense is an experiment in harmony, and I let the bodily processes achieve a natural equilibrium So bright was the moonlight at the beginning of my walk, that I could read the second hand on the wrist watch. The whole sky was bathed with light, and the Barrier seemed to exhale a soft, internal luminescence of its own. At first there was not a cloud anywhere, and the stars glittered with an unnatural brightness.
Overhead, in the shape of a great ellipse, was a brilliant Aurora Waves of light pulsed rapidly through the structure. Beyond the south end of the ellipse, scintillating in the sky, was what appeared to be a drapery hanging over the South Pole. It hung in folds, like a gigantic curtain, and was composed of brilliant light rays. The snow was different shades of silver gray not white as one would suppose with the brightest gray making a pathway to the moon When Antarctica displays her beauty, she seems to give pause to the winds, which at such times are always still.
Overhead the Aurora began to change its shape and become a great, lustrous serpent moving slowly across the zenith. The small patch in the eastern sky now expanded and grew brighter; and almost at the same instant the folds in the curtain over the pole began to undulate, as if stirred by a celestial presence. Star after Star disappeared as the Serpentine folds covered them.
It was like witnessing a tragedy on a cosmic scale; the Serpent, representing the forces of evil, was annihilating beauty. Suddenly the Serpent disappeared. Where it had been only a moment before, the sky was once more clear; the Stars showed, as if they had never been dimmed. When I looked for the luminous patch in the eastern sky, it, too, was gone; and the curtain was lifting over the pole, as if parted by the wind, which at that instant came throbbing over the Barrier.
I was left with the tingling feeling, that I had witnessed a scene, denied to all other mortal men Yet, this harmony was mostly of the mind: a temporary peace won by a physically occupied body. But the glory of the celestial is one, and the glory of the terrestrial is another. Even in my most exalted elevated, noble moods I never quite lost the feeling of being poised assured, held balanced over an undermined footing, like a man negotiating a precipice extremely steep cliff , who pauses to admire the sunset, but takes care, where he places his feet Fright and pain are the most transitory of emotions.
And, since they are so easily forgotten, I never ceased drilling into the men, who served under me the absolute authority of safety rules. Relax once in the polar regions, and the artificial wall of security, which you have so painstakingly erected about yourself, may give way without warning. That appreciation of discipline I carried with me to Advance Base; and, though at times I had to drive myself to respect it, the necessity was always there.
As I saw it, three risks stood out before all the others. One was fire. Another was getting lost on the Barrier. And the third was being incapacitated, either by injury or illness. Of the three, the last was the most difficult to anticipate and prepare for. Yet, the possibilities were authentic enough, and I had carefully taken them into account. My health was sound. A thoroughgoing medical examination, before I left New Zealand, had confirmed that fact. From disease I had little to fear.
Antarctica is a paradise in that respect. It is the germless continent. Vast oceans, frozen most of the time, seal it from the germ-laden civilization to the north And on occasion the path led back down the eons, while I watched the slow pulsations of the Ice Age, which today grips the once semi-tropical Antarctic Continent even as it once gripped North America. By speeding up the centuries I could visualize a tidal wave of ice flooding down from the Arctic and crushing everything before it. I could see it surging forward until the advancing edge made a zigzag line from what is now New York to what is now California, blotting out everything but the peaks of the mountains, and forming towering barriers on the margins of the sea.
I could see bottomless chasms and enormous ridges thrown up by pressure, and blocks of ice strewn about in endless confusion. And for centuries I could see nothing, but the obliterating ice, hear nothing, but the wind, and feel nothing, but the rigidity of death. But finally, I could see the ice imperceptibly sinking; and the ocean rising as the ice melted; and the land resurrecting under the Sun, with the mountains scoured and planed, and the rivers pushed into new courses.
And along the edges of the land in Europe and Asia I could see men with primitive tools laying the foundations of history. Thus it was in the Northern Hemisphere, and so it will some day be in the Antarctic, where the ice still holds mastery over the land. Except, I used to tell myself, that long before the ice rolls back, excursion boats will be steaming down from Sandy Hook and every moraine will have its tourist hotel.
All this was fun. But, if I wasn't careful, it could also be dangerous, as an experience, which I went through just about this time, will testify.
CONTINUE TO BILLING/PAYMENT
Being in a particularly fine mood, I had decided to take a longer walk, than usual. It was drifting a bit, and the Barrier was pretty dark, but that didn't bother me. After parading up and down for half an hour, I turned around to go back. The line of bamboo sticks was nowhere in sight! In my abstraction, I had walked completely past and beyond it; and now, wondering, which way to turn, I was overwhelmed by the realization, that I had no idea of how far I had walked, nor the direction, in which I was heading.
On the chance, that my footsteps would show, I scanned the Barrier with a flashlight; but my boots had left no marks on the hard sastrugi russian - long wavelike ridge of snow. It was scary. The first impulse was to run. I quelled that, and soberly took stock of my predicament. Since it was the one fact I had to work with, I again pulled the flashlight up out of my pants, where I carried it to keep it from freezing, and scratched into the snow with the butt end an arrow in the direction whence I had come.
I remembered also, from having glanced at the wind vane as I started, that the wind was in the south.
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It was then on my left cheek and was still on the same cheek, but that meant little. For the wind might have changed, and subconsciously I might have veered with it. I was lost, and I was sick inside.
In order to keep from wandering still farther from the shack, I made a reference point. I broke off pieces of sastrugi with my heel and heaped them into a little beacon about eighteen inches high at the butt end of the arrow. This took quite a little while. Straightening up and consulting the sky, I discovered two stars were in line with the direction, in which I had been walking when I stopped. This was a lucky break, as the sky had been overcast, until now and had only cleared in a couple of places.
In the navigator's phrase, the stars give me an range and the beacon a departure. So, taking careful steps and with my eyes on the stars, I started forward; after paces I stopped. I swung the flashlight all around and could see nothing but blank Barrier. Not daring to go farther for fear of losing the snow beacon, I started back, glancing over my shoulder at the two stars to hold my line. At the end of a hundred steps I failed to fetch the beacon. For an instant I was on the edge of panic. Then the flashlight beam picked it up about twenty feet or so on my left hand. That miserable pile of snow was nothing to rejoice over, but at least it kept me from feeling, that I was stabbing blindfolded.
On the next sortie, I swung the course 30 degrees to the left. And as before, after a hundred steps, I saw nothing. You're lost now, I told myself. I was appalled. I realized, that I should have to lengthen my radius from the beacon; and in lengthening it I might never be able to find the way back to the one certainty. However, there was no alternative, unless I preferred to freeze to death, and I could do that just as thoroughly 1, yards from the hut, as So now I decided to take 30 steps more in the same direction, after scraping a little heap of snow together to mark the pace point.
On the 29th step, I picked up the first of the bamboo sticks, not more, than 30 feet away. No shipwrecked mariner, sighting a distant sail, could have been more overjoyed Chapter 5 I was learning what the philosophers have long been harping on — that a man can live profoundly without masses of things. For all my realism and skepticism there came over me, too powerfully to be denied, that exalted sense of identification — of oneness — with the outer World, which is partly mystical, but also certainty.
Freed from materialistic distractions, my senses sharpened in new directions, and the random or commonplace affairs of the sky and the Earth and the Spirit, which ordinarily I would have ignored, if I had noticed them at all, became exciting and portentous Later, during my walk, I saw a moon Halo, the first since I've been here that wasn't the moon; it was one of Inner Suns - Green. I had remarked inwardly, that the moon seemed almost unnaturally bright, but thought no more about it, until something — perhaps a subtle change in the quality of moonlight — fetched my attention back to the sky.
When I glanced up, a haze was spreading over the moon's face; and, as I watched, a system of luminous circles formed themselves gracefully around it. Almost instantly the moon was wholly surrounded by concentric bands of color, and the effect was as if a rainbow had been looped around a huge silver coin. Apple-green was the color of the wide outer band, whose diameter, I estimated, was nineteen times that of the moon itself. The effect lasted only five minutes or so. Then the colors drained from the moon, as they do from a rainbow; and almost simultaneously a dozen massive streamers of crimson-stained aurora, laced together with blackish stripes, seemed to leap straight out from the moon's brow border.
Then they, too, vanished. May 3. I again saw in the southeast, touching the horizon, a Star so bright, as to be startling. The first time I saw it several weeks ago I yielded for an instant to the fantastic notion, that somebody was trying to signal me; that thought came to me again this afternoon. It's a queer sort of Star, which appears and disappears irregularly, like the winking of a light May 5 This has been a beautiful day.
Although the sky was almost cloudless, an impalpable haze hung in the air, doubtless from falling crystals. In midafternoon it disappeared, and the Barrier to the north flooded with a rare pink light, pastel in its delicacy. The horizon line was a long slash of crimson, brighter than blood; and over this welled a straw-yellow ocean, whose shores were the boundless blue of the night. I watched the sky a long time, concluding, that such beauty was reserved for distant, dangerous places, and that nature has good reason for exacting her own special sacrifices from those determined to witness them.
An intimation of my isolation seeped into my mood; this cold, but lively afterglow was my compensation for the loss of the Sun, whose warmth and light were enriching the World beyond the horizon Then I had a horrible feeling of falling, and at the same time of being hurled sideways. Afterwards I could not remember hearing any sound. When my wits returned, I was sprawled out full length on the snow with one leg dangling over the side of an open crevasse.
I lay still, not daring to make a move lest I shake down the ledge supporting me. Then, an inch at a time, I crawled away. When I had gone about two yards, I came slowly to my feet, shivering from the closeness of the escape. I had broken through the snow bridging of a blind crevasse — a roofed-over one, which you cannot tell from the solid surface. I edged back with my flashlight and took a look. The hole I had made was barely two feet across; and I could see.
Stretched out on my belly, I pounded the roof in with the marker stick for a distance of several feet; then I turned the flashlight into the crevasse. I could see no bottom. My guess was, that the crevasse was at least several hundred feet deep. At the surface it was not more, than three feet across; but a little way down it bellied out, making a vast cave. The walls changed from blue to an emerald green, the color of sea ice.
The usual crystals, created by the condensed exhalations from the warmer depths, did not festoon the walls; their absence indicated, that the crevasse was of fairly recent origin. I was glad to leave that place. Good luck had carried me across the crevasse at right angles to its length.
Had I been walking in any other direction, I might well have gone to the bottom. Odd, I thought, that it hadn't let me through, when I had hit the one weak spot. So as not to make a similar mistake, I fetched back two bamboo poles and planted them in front of the hole Suppose the disorder is organic and lies in a deep-seated complaint. Suppose it comes from bad food, from germs, or from the gases given off by the stove. How much resistance, then, can my mind impart to the body if the mind is properly directed? Possibly something is harming me physically, and I am making things worse by some negative subconscious emotion.
Then my mind and body are both sick, and I have a vicious circle to break. Do the mind and the body exist separately, along parallel lines? Is the physical part mostly mental, or the mind mostly physical? Indeed, how much division is there between mind and body? The body can take charge of the mind, but isn't it natural and best for the mind to take charge of the body?
The brain is part of the body, but I am not conscious of my brain. Which is it, then? My mind or my body or both? It is of vital importance, that I find the truth May 11 At midnight I went topside to have a last look at the Aurora, but found only a spotty glow on the horizon extending from north to northeast. I had been playing the victrola while I waited for the midnight hour.
I was using my homemade repeater and was playing one of the records of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. The night was calm and clear. I left the door to my shack open and also my trapdoor.
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I stood there in the darkness to look around at some of my favorite constellations, which were as bright, as I had ever seen them. Presently I began to have the illusion, that what I was seeing was also what I was hearing, so perfectly did the music seem to blend with what was happening in the sky. As the notes swelled, the dull Aurora on the horizon pulsed and quickened and draped itself into arches and fanning beams, which reached across the sky, until at my zenith the display attained its crescendo. The music and the night became one; and I told myself, that all beauty was akin and sprang from the same substance.
I recalled a gallant, unselfish act, that was of the same essence as the music and the Aurora My table manners are atrocious — in this respect I've slipped back hundreds of years; in fact, I have no manners whatsoever. If I feel like it, I eat with my fingers, or out of a can, or standing up — in other words, whichever is easiest. What's left over, I just heave into the slop pail, close to my feet.
Come to think of it, no reason why I shouldn't. It's rather a convenient way to eat; I seem to remember reading in Epicurus, that a man living alone lives the life of a wolf. A life alone makes the need for external demonstration almost disappear. Now I seldom cuss curse , although at first I was quick to open fire at everything, that tried my patience Perhaps this period was just the repeated pattern of my youth.
I sometimes think so.
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When I was growing up, I used to steal out of the house at night, and go walking in Glass's woods, which were a little way up the road from our place. In the heavy shadows of the Shenandoah Valley hills, the darkness was a little terrifying, as it always is to small boys; but, when I would pause and look up into the sky, a feeling, that was midway between peace and exhilaration would seize me.
I never quite succeeded, as a boy, in analyzing that feeling, any more, than I did when it used to come to me as a naval officer, in the night watches at sea, and later when, as an explorer, I first looked upon mountains and lands, which no one before me had ever seen. No doubt it was partly animal: the sheer expanding discovery of being alive, of growing, of no longer being afraid.
But there was more to it, than just that. There was the sense of identification with vast movements: the premonition of destiny, that is implicit in every Human; and the sense of waiting for the momentary revelation. Byrd's Diary; III. Agartha In The Hollow Earth! Admiral Richard E. Both were good, experienced pilots, both were writing books, both were born Scorpios: Bob, born 30 October, Richard, born 25 October; both were true warriors; Bob Monroe organised Monroe Institute with his own money; Admiral Byrd organised his expeditions with his own money; both spent considerable part of their life in Virginia.
Artistic interpretation. Olaf Jansen's Amazing Story. Two Earths. Pictures are from Guiliana Conforto's video: 3. This video was made in Inner Earth I recommend to watch a video about Hollow Earth! Aquamarine Hollow Earth with internal Violet Sun! This is how the Inner Earth really looks! Aquamarine Arctic zone. North Polar Opening! I haven't read this book, but we took the picture on the cover of this book and changed it the way it should look!
North Polar Opening to Hollow Earth! The Hollow Earth by Raymond Bernard. Alex Collier at the Conference, Antarctic Portal. Is our Earth hollow? Scientist finds tropical paradise inside the Earth: There's a hole in the Pole! Impressive Evidence. Voyage to Hollow Earth Trip Information. Larry Gedney is a seismologist at the Institute. One can never be sure just how serious they are about it, but there does exist a group of people, who call themselves the "Flat-Earth Society" remember the news item about the old gentleman, who was invited to Cape Kennedy to watch an Apollo moon launch, but came away convinced that it was all a hoax?
There is another group, equally vocal, who believe that the Earth is Hollow. Several years ago, a group of "believers" informed a member of the Geophysical Institute staff that there was an opening to the center of the Earth in the Alaska Range, and that this was an entry and exit point for flying saucers. Bernard, judging from the initials he lists behind his name, holds just about every advanced academic degree, but is apparently somewhat of a recluse.
As a spokesman for the publisher states in a foreword to the book, "I will not enter into any correspondence regarding this book--or the author. Whether you accept or reject the content of this book is your privilege. No one cares. In the polar regions there are holes miles across, with edges that curve smoothly from the outside of the shell around to the inside. A sea or surface traveler could proceed over an edge of the hole, like an ant crawling over the lip of a coffee mug from the outside to the inside, and not be aware, that he was actually entering the interior of the Earth.
Bernard explains, that the holes have never been seen from the air because pilots are fooled by their compasses into believing, that they are crossing the pole, when they are actually following the hole's "magnetic rim". Thus aircraft never really fly over the geographic poles, which naturally mark the centers of the holes themselves. As irrefutable proof of his claim, he cites Admiral Byrd's statement, "I'd like to see that land beyond the Pole.
That area beyond the Pole is the Great Unknown. Symmes believed, that there were miles of wondrous unclaimed domain beneath our feet, with lush vegetation and fish and game for the taking. Apparently, there were those, who took him seriously. Howgate had recently been in the news, proposing, that an expedition be made to discover "Symmes' Hole. They were to observe the animals, that presumably wintered over within the earth each year and emerged during the spring to bear young. Eventually, the colony of men were to follow the animals in the fall to find where they entered into that marvelous land at the center of the earth.
Sadly for this romantic concept, if today's believers are correct, the only thing that they would find there now are flying saucer. For a long time I have been intrigued by the concept of the Hollow Earth. I remember reading Raymond Bernard's book on the subject The Hollow Earth - in the mid 's and felt a strong affinity for the whole idea. Next, I read a strange book called "Etidorhpa" by John Uri Llyod written in the late 's about a person, who traveled from the Outer Surface to the Inner Surface of the Earth and carrying when he arrived at the center of the Earth crust. But before I lose our readers, let me define what the Hollow Earth Theory states!
According to Mr. Bernard see diagram above our world is hollow, with the crust of the earth being miles thick. There exists two openings at the North and South Pole, each hole having a circumference of miles wide. At the center of the earth is not a molten core but an inner sun, which is six hundred miles wide and is miles from the Inner Surfaces.
The diameter of the lip at the opening at the poles is miles long, thus a person can not see the other side of the opening. Therefore, there exists three worlds on our planet, the outer surface, where we live, the middle earth, which purportedly is lined with many caverns, tunnels made by someone , Inner Cities and people, who live there and lastly the Inner Surface.
How Gravity works then is the following. For the people, who live on the outer surface, Gravity holds them down. For the people, that live in the middle earth, the closer they get to the center of the crust i. In the book, "Etidorhpa", when this individual traveling down into the earth reached the center of gravity, i. He described gigantic vegetation, that lives under the earth as this lesser pull of gravity allows things to grow larger. Lastly for the people, who live on the inner surface, they would also feel gravity pull on them to walk on this surface, but since there is an inner sun they would have sunlight 24 hours a day.
There is supposedly land masses and water bodies, that exist on the Inner Earth, the same as the outer surface except the vibration and energy in the Inner Earth is more pure and of a higher vibrational frequency some say a 4th dimensional frequency. For people, who have claimed to travel to the Inner Earth, they state, that the people they encounter in this region, are usually very tall.
Some other individuals have speculated, that descendants of Atlantis and Lemuria live in this Inner Utopia and therefore they are thousands of years ahead of us technologically and spiritually. Some others say, that possibly the Mayans may have gone into this location as well, to explain where they disappeared. Again, according to our channeler Michael Kant, he claims that 12 Galactic Races came to our Earth long ago and created their first city underground in the 4 Corners area.
Each race brought with them a crystal skull and body, which contained the gentic coding of their race and cosmic knowledge. Six tribes decided to stay on the surface of the Earth and Six tribes went into the Inner Earth. Now all twelve tribes exist in the Inner Earth.
Willis George Emerson
It is also believed, that other Extraterrestrial races have bases in the Inner Earth as well. Michael describes in our book being taken by a Pleiadian Space Ship and given a tour of the Inner Earth. In , while traveling on faith throughout the western part of the U. Ed told us a very strange tale about how he was an exchange baby, that he was originally from Orion, but when he was very small, the true Ed Palmer was exchanged for him.
He claimed, that when he has had a physical examination, that there were some differences in his body and also, that he had some type of mental plate in his head, in which if a UFO comes close, he hears a buzzing sound. Even though Ed was in his 70's or 80's, he definitely had more energy and excitement of life, than I at this time being In any case, Ed gave us a pamphlet, that he shared with others about the Hollow Earth. In this pamphlet it said, that all planets are Hollow in Bernard's book, Mr. Bernard explains, that what appears to be the Pole Cap we see on Mars, is actually the light of Mar's Inner Sun, shining out of the pole.
Furthermore Bernard states, that the Aurora Borealis, that is only visible up north is the reflection of the inner sun off clouds passing over the opening of the pole. This is not right. Auroras are the colors of Vibrations of those Beings, who live in Inner Earth! For instance, if you see Red Color of Auroras, it means very low level of Beings mainly reptillian or sirians live there. Often you see multicolored Auroras. It means there are many races of different Vibration, who live in Inner Earth esp.
Also that some explorers of the North Pole have discovered: the closer they get to the Pole, the warmer it gets instead of the colder. Could the Mammoths discovered frozen in Siberia with fresh food in their mouth be actually Mammoths, that live in the Inner Earth, which has a warmer climate, and somehow got lost and wondered into the outer surface? Ed explains, that when a planet is formed, it is first just gas, which is rotating.
He said, that the heavy particles eventually expand out and create the Planet's surface and the lighter particles contract to form the Central Sun. Another connection with the Inner Earth relates to Admiral Byrd. It is purported, that when the Admiral went to explore the North Pole, that he actually entered into the Inner Earth at the opening at this pole.
Included below, you will see a purported diary by Admiral Byrd, that discusses he made contact with an advanced people in this area, who showed him their world and asked for him to take a message back to the surface dwellers and government of their concern about a future vision they had of our destroying our world and since this is their home as well, they of course wanted to prevent this.
If such a people do exist, it is theorized, that possibly some of the UFOs we see, are not extraterrestrial, but intraterrestials It would require a spacecraft, that can negate the force of gravity to fly out ouf the Polar Openings as gravity would pull any boat or airplane to follow the outer-to-inner surface. Holow Earth- Dennis Crenshaw. Vostok station, Antarctica. D: Why do these people come to Earth? S: Well, the Earth is great. Everything is coming to Earth. Beings from everywhere are going to put part of themselves on Earth. All over, every kind of Being is going to be on Earth.
The Earth got hurt too. D: Why are they going to do that? All kinds of things. And you know how they do that? Strands of light. They change strands of light. When they take these little strands of light, anything can happen. They change everything. It can make anything happen with it. D: Where do the strands of light come from? S: Oh, my gawd! Their minds? When the Life of Old Universe is over, the Beam is switched off! LM They take it in their mind and then they make stuff form.
They put a point of light into something and then it takes shape around it. I knew they were here from a past trip. They have a way of creating things. They make things. They take light and they make any form out of it. The light goes in the middle. They can take one cell and change it by changing the light in the middle. They can make anything different just by changing the pieces, the part of the light.
They make things happen that way. They stay to themselves. D: You said the other ones were coming to leave parts of themselves, too. S: Yes. They let in whatever light they want. The light is in everything Wavy energy is in everyone and everything on Earth? There are animals on Earth, and everyone of them has a little piece of light. And if you change that piece of light, it becomes a different looking animal.
D: But you said there were black people. D: Are those people from Earth? The group is working with that. The bodies came from animals, but the Beings themselves are not animals. And they look different, less hair. D: Do you know if somebody tells this group to do these things? D: To do the creating. D: But you said the other groups come and leave parts of themselves. S: Oh, yes. Every group of animals came from a different place. Where judicious critical thinking might have been found, Knopper inserts hostility and moral judgment instead. Often the hostility takes inappropriately personal forms.
This kind of thing is everywhere. The constant undertow of disparagement and disapproval intensifies as MJ proceeds. Mixing a presumption of moral superiority with a tendency toward swift and reductive judgment untroubled by complicating evidence or nuanced thinking, Knopper defaults, increasingly, to smirking recitals of salacious gossip that, over and over, reveal his supercilious approach to his subject — and to his own readers. He seldom suggests there might be a variety of interpretations of anything, or asks readers to hold apparently opposing possibilities in tension.
Opportunities for many-layered analyses, chances to see a messily detailed picture or exercise empathy — these are consistently foregone. Instead, following his predecessors, Knopper takes pains to create the impression of careful analysis. Knopper fails, overall, to think for himself or to imagine readers who think.
You might expect that, now that years have passed, Knopper would reflect in original ways, or at least with verified and corrected information, on those matters. But in fact, he offers virtually nothing not already found in Sullivan, Taraborrelli, or Halperin  , while at the same time barely acknowledging his debts to those earlier authors their books are cited, but not often. He wants ownership over this story, not insight into the artist or the art.
The dearth of original interpretation here may be due in part to a simple failure of curiosity. Everyone, according to Knopper and many before him , began crying, collapsing, hugging in grief and shock. Knopper never does. Knopper likes to recount controversy when it concerns Jackson, but he has no appetite for sifting evidence and reaching informed conclusions for which he might have to take responsibility. When it comes to the charges that provoked the trial and that have now been demonstrated to have been part of an extortion attempt, for instance, Knopper is noncommittal:.
Was Michael Jackson a child molester? All evidence points to no — although sleeping in bed with children and boasting of it on international television did not qualify him for the Celebrity Judgment Hall of Fame. The man had a fair trial. In contrast, I found significant evidence demonstrating that most, if not all, of his accusers lacked any credibility. In place of responsible analysis, Knopper falls back on his trademarks — snide tone, passive-aggressive nondeclaration, easy judgment.
A Voyage to the Inner World
Then he scurries for cover. This alternative tradition makes available a more rounded Michael Jackson, an artist and a person rather than a cartoon. Knopper ought to have known and learned from this material. Strangely enough, though, he mostly proceeds as if the internet did not exist, and he cites very few of the most respected alternative voices. A parallel development has been unfolding in alternative biographical work.
As a young man, Gray photographed the Jackson brothers, and became friendly with Michael. George takes what seems to me an excellent approach. Though in each work we see Jackson only partially or within a limited time frame, when they are taken together we see him far more authentically than in mainstream writing. These authors admit that the pictures they offer are partial; they give what they can give with integrity, and leave it there.
Readers are expected to think for themselves and to put many pieces together, not all from one place. None of these alternative works is perfect, but every one of them is immeasurably better than Taraborrelli, Sullivan, or Knopper. There is a rich fund of such sources — works that proceed from modest assumptions, default respect, and actual documentation of claims.
From work like this — not pre-determined or pre-digested, not encyclopedic, not making claims to definitive truth — Jackson turns out to have been much more than Knopper imagines. For one thing, it turns out that he was a lifelong man of faith. Religious belief shaped his actions, leading him to be an active defender of the disenfranchised, especially children and the environment.
He also subscribed to liberal-humanist values and hopeful bourgeois narratives self-help, the innate virtue of optimism, the rewards necessarily attendant on hard work and fair-dealing. One need not share his specific beliefs and values to respect him for holding fast to them throughout his life and behaving accordingly.
Knopper gives us no sense of the principled character revealed in less presuming accounts. Indeed, Knopper follows precisely the compartmentalizing model Tanner Colby criticized in Knopper attempts no such excavation. The result is a same-old biography that obscures the art, insults the audience, and degrades the artist. Knopper maintains at all times a tone of superiority toward Jackson. I think children are this wonderful thing, and they bring me happiness.
He bought into the notion that Michael was an eccentric recluse who seized on children as an innocent life raft to help him navigate the world. It was easy to give Michael the benefit of the doubt. Several things here are characteristic. Notice, first, how assiduously Knopper keeps himself safe. Vinton is made to stand in for any reader who might be uncomfortable with all this nudge-nudging. Given the miles of evidence we now have, though, the most logical conclusion is precisely the one Jackson provides in this anecdote: he idealized and trusted children, and he enjoyed, even needed, their company.
Is that unusual? Is it criminal? This is remarkable because during that period, there was far less publicly available evidence that Jackson was not guilty of the charges leveled against him. Why, then, does Knopper parrot the tone of the least reputable tabloid media more than a decade ago? Because he wants to. Knopper has to work hard to make Jackson look sinister here, and he has to insult Vinton and thinking readers in the process, but he manages it.
By the time Knopper is done, it is as if there had never been a globally publicized trial in the course of which Jackson was entirely exonerated and his accusers exposed as career grifters. It matters less that Jackson appeared at news conferences with his pet chimp than that his music simultaneously addressed groups previously kept apart as audiences and as citizens.
He moved with preternatural grace among an unprecedented range of body languages and gestural vocabularies, vocal tones, postures, and sartorial traditions. Sony Music vetoed this image for the cover of Bad. His work fundamentally complicated the reductive categories that pass for reality. That is one of the ways in which Jackson embodied an historically particular postmodern sensibility. Art was at once a sensual delight, an epistemology, a spiritual awakening, and a political intervention. Du kanske gillar. Invisibility and Levitation Commander X Inbunden. Spara som favorit.
Skickas inom vardagar.