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Weird suburbia: How atomic bombs and UFOs created modern America

Weird suburbia: How atomic bombs and UFOs created modern America 86

Ken Hollings

After World War II, nuclear anxiety and flying saucer fantasies altered our understanding of suburban life

Levittown— You can imagine how it will look from space: the houses and roads and backyards arranged in neatly ordered rows, a framework of streetlights and driveways in a perfectly arranged grid at night. Located on what was once an expanse of potato fields, midway between New York City and the munitions plants of Long Island, the first Levittown, formerly known as “Island Trees,” is opened to the public in February 1947. A planned community of six thousand households offering affordable housing in the form of small, detached single-family units, this new conurbation quickly expands to embrace a further eleven thousand homes, each situated sixty feet apart on their own patch of ground. Constructed from prefabricated sections and components, Suburbia has at last begun to extend its grand conformity into space.

An accomplished publicist, William J. Levitt trades in myth as much as in real estate. To help his community grow, he presents it as a new form of American life: one that offers the comfortable ideals of middle-class existence, with no money down. To thousands of returning servicemen, most of whom are young and raised in the big cities, this represents a sweet deal for both them and their families. A white picket fence, a front lawn, and a backyard to call your own, far from the crowded urban squalor of the streets, and all at such low, low prices: how can William Levitt and Sons afford to do it?

Simple.

Levittown’s original inspiration is the planned community created in secret at Oak Ridge, Tennessee, to house the technicians and scientists of the “Manhattan Project” busily engaged in developing the first atomic weapon. For ease of orientation, the identical housing units that make up Oak Ridge are arranged along a series of precise grids and identified by numbers and colors. Levitt developed the basic models and techniques for preparing low-cost suburban homesteads out of prefabricated units while fulfilling military housing contracts during the closing years of World War II when storage facilities, dormitories, and administrative buildings had to be built quickly, cheaply, and in vast numbers.

From the start Levittown constitutes a strategic response to modern warfare. The Atomic Bomb has done its job too well. A future conflict in which whole cities might be obliterated does more than demoralize the enemy: it demoralizes everyone. The masses are defined and affirmed to the point of their own destruction. As a result, the politics of Total War, in which the entire resources of one nation are pitched against those of another, don’t just call for proliferation but diffusion as well. A dispersed population is so much harder to find.

William Levitt’s new suburban grid and the existing global one are becoming superimposed. What the Marshall Plan and the Truman Doctrine both have at their core is the concept that there is just one world, a single sphere of influence. The same month Levittown opens its gates to the public, the Voice of America starts broadcasting to the Soviet Union for the very first time.

An ever-expanding, subdivided tract of land, the suburbs constitute the location for a project that will connect humanity directly with outer space, with the future, and with its own emergent inner self. The possibilities are limitless. Levittown homes come with a television set already installed. What was formerly designated the “living room” is now a domestic environment, irradiated by the blue-gray glow of the cathode ray tube.

High-fidelity stereophonic sound systems will extend the boundaries of this new sensory laboratory even further. In 1947 Capitol Records releases “Music Out of the Moon,” a suite of compositions on a set of 78 rpm platters with characteristically mellifluous arrangements by Les Baxter. This sequence of six themes features the mysterious sounds of Dr. Samuel Hoffman at the Theremin, the electronic musical marvel from the Soviet Union that can be played by the simple expedient of waving one’s hand in what appears to be empty space. even more otherworldly in their effect are the wordlessly lush close-harmony choruses Baxter has set running through the course of each song. eerily streamlined and enigmatic, they flesh out what titles like “Lunar Rhapsody,” “Moon Moods,” and “Celestial Nocturne” can only hint at. More importantly, as the sleeve notes suggest, the record requires its own specific setting.

“Take it home,” the listener is advised. “Set the stage, in the evening when you are perhaps a little weary of the work-a-day world; its hypnotic beauty assures a unique musical experience.”

More specifically, it articulates the concept of encountering space-age technology in a space-age home. In its self-contained isolation, the suburban colony becomes a model for life not just on this planet but on all the others too. At the same time, this self-contained isolation will eventually establish the suburbs as a complex psychiatric community where aberrations such as alcoholism, schizophrenia, and sexual deviancy can be studied in clinical depth by an increasing number of sociologists, psychiatrists, and cultural anthropologists. It will also supply the pharmaceutical companies with a growing number of customers for a new generation of drugs. In other words, Suburbia will not only radically transform methods of perception but models of behavior as well.

If the skies above Levittown seem particularly dark in 1947, it’s because the Nuclear Clock has been set running for the first time on the front cover of The Bulletin of Atomic Scientists. Intended to show the close proximity of humanity to total annihilation, the clock’s minute hand is periodically shown edging its way toward ultimate midnight. Featureless and brand new, standing where there had once been only fields and wasteland, the suburbs seem not so much isolated in space but in time as well.

There is, after all, something mythic about the idea of an advanced civilization perishing overnight in some single vast cataclysm. Named after the lemurs that once populated it, the lost continent of Lemuria is said to have disappeared beneath the Indian Ocean centuries before the start of recorded history, an early utopian center that had managed to combine technical achievement with advanced spiritual knowledge.

Like another Atlantis, Lemuria’s submerged contours mean that it is no longer subject to the physical confines of normal geography: Lemuria can be everywhere and nowhere, even here on this former stretch of agricultural land between Long Island and New York City. Lemuria is a phantom island, one of those agreements made with the facts that can sometimes go on, untroubled, for centuries. In fact, the enormous timescale involved, the passage of entire millennia ruptured by the devastating events of a single night, has pushed the Lemurians and all their works far beyond the narrow calibrations of human progress.

Which is fine for a bunch of backward foreigners, but this is the United States of America, and things are done a little differently around here.

In 1947, at the same time as Levittown is being constructed, David Henken locates a ninety-seven-acre site in Pleasantville, Westchester County, New York, for a cooperative housing project. The Pleasantville community is to be called “Usonian Homes II,” its name and design both derived from architect Frank Lloyd Wright’s plan for “Usonia,” a colony of simple but elegant single-family homes to be built on circular one-acre plots of land. Wright came up with the name by combining the words “utopia” and “USA,” thereby expressing precisely the kind of spiritualized manifest destiny Henry R. Luce would have applauded. “The Usonian dwelling seems a thing loving the ground,” declares Wright in The Natural House, “with a new sense of space, light and freedom to which our USA is entitled.”

Mathematical logician Albert Wohlstetter, a close friend of the modernist architect Le Corbusier, following the example of William J. Levitt and Frank Lloyd Wright, also immerses himself in prefabricated house design. Having worked at the National Housing Agency on a program to develop prefabricated modular living units that can be easily transported and quickly assembled into low-cost homes, Wohlstetter moves to Los Angeles in 1947 to start a private company that applies the rigorous architectural ideals of the International Style and the Bauhaus to the same basic approach.

That November the Broadway-Crenshaw Center opens to the public in south Los Angeles. Occupying 550,000 square feet, with thirteen acres of parking, a Broadway department store, a Woolworth’s, a cluster of smaller shops, and Von’s supermarket, it can claim to be the first outdoor shopping mall in existence. At the other end of the timescale, carbon dating is used for the first time in 1947 to establish the antiquity, and in many cases the reality, of historical artifacts. It’s a tacit reminder that each fabulous new age that dawns, each great new city built, comes shadowed by its own loss. But for now let us content ourselves with the fact that Lemuria really does exist once more, reconstructed out of prefabricated concrete, mass-produced shingles, and precut drywall. The dream can be yours, no money down.

From Outer Space to the Military-Industrial Complex

Organizing the Future— Mere progress is the preoccupation of lesser beings. Lemuria begins and then it ends: it neither grows nor develops. Marvels of the modern age require more than that. The first Polaroid Land camera goes on public display in New York in 1947. In California, the Ampex electrical Corporation demonstrates its Model 200 tape recorder, the first professional machine designed for commercial studio use, at Hollywood’s Radio Center.

Quickly finding a home for themselves in the suburban environment, thereby helping to usher in the Pushbutton Age, such devices require the marshaling of considerable resources, capital, specialized equipment, and man-hours. It’s not surprising therefore to note that some of the major organizational structures of what will be denounced by decade’s end as the “military-industrial complex” suddenly start falling into place in this year of miracles.

The Atomic energy Commission assumes active civilian control of America’s nuclear program from the very first day of 1947; and Project RAND, an Air Force think tank of scientists and mathematicians, starts its slow move toward incorporation as a nonprofit business venture based in Santa Monica, California. established at the end of 1945, Project RAND became an independent division of the Douglas Aircraft Company in March 1946. Retaining its original Air Force name, a streamlined modernist shortening of “Research and Development,” RAND is the first organization to bring those two concepts together formally. Its first official publication, commissioned by Major General Curtis e. LeMay, on the feasibility of earth-orbiting satellites, was published in May 1946. As Deputy Chief of the Air Staff for Research and Development, LeMay sees United States airpower extending beyond the sky into outer space, ultimately reaching into the future itself, thereby fundamentally altering the way in which the earth itself is viewed, and at what remove, in the decade to come.

Speculating on the potential design, performance, and possible use of a manmade satellite, Preliminary Design of an Experimental World-Circling Spaceship is only the first of many RAND reports exploring the possibilities of man in space. Its cover art shows a missile, the world, and a mathematical grid in an abstract freestanding relationship with one another. One of the simplest yet also the most elegantly complex expressions of human thought and ingenuity, the grid offers up a perfect reflection of the times. Precise and potentially limitless, it contains within its blank uniform spaces all the possibilities of the future; its vectors reaffirm the connection between Levittown’s suburban divisions and the lines of latitude and longitude encircling the globe itself.

One person to look more deeply into the grid than the rest is James Lipp, head of Project RAND’s Missile Division. “Since mastery of the elements is a reliable index of material progress,” he declares early in 1947, “the nation which first makes significant achievements in space travel will be acknowledged as the world leader in both military and scientific techniques. To visualize the impact on the world, one can imagine the consternation and admiration that would be felt here if the United States were to discover suddenly that some other nation had already put up a successful satellite.”

Lipp’s observation indicates the extent to which it is not the unpredictability of the future but the changeability of the present that concerns industrial society. Capable of constructing its own world, the future is already here. It’s merely a question of dealing with it.

Primarily concerned with defense strategy, bombing patterns, and long-range military planning, the experts at RAND are less interested in hardware than in behavior: how systems develop and take on a creative life of their own. To this end, Project RAND holds a symposium in New York in 1947 as a first step toward enlisting economists and social scientists in its work on national defense. “I assume that every person in this room is fundamentally interested in and devoted to what can broadly be called the rational life,” mathematician and RAND consultant Warren Weaver declares in his keynote address. “He believes fundamentally that there is something to this business of having some knowledge, and some analysis of problems, as compared with living in a state of ignorance, superstition and drifting-into-whatever-may-come.”

Responsible for organizing this event, having also coauthored parts of RAND’s Preliminary Design of an Experimental World-Circling Spaceship, is the writer and political analyst Leo Rosten. The man who persuaded Walt Disney to make animated propaganda films for the Pentagon during World War II, Rosten is asked by John Williams, head of RAND’s Mathematics Division, to invite key figures from the social sciences to attend. This Rosten proceeds to do while working at night on the screenplay for The Velvet Touch, a murder mystery for RKO Radio Pictures starring Rosalind Russell.

When finished, the movie will tell the story of a Broadway actress who murders her producer and then, conscience-stricken, helps the investigating detective to uncover the clues that will solve the case. Its cat-and-mouse plot owes more than a little to the mathematically precise methods of determining rational strategies in the face of uncertainty developed by John von Neumann, consultant to the Theoretical Division at Los Alamos National Laboratory. Known informally as “game theory,” its principles have been outlined in Theory of Games and Economic Behavior, written by von Neumann in collaboration with Princeton economist Oskar Morgenstern and first published in 1944. A seminal work that will influence the thinking of corporate executives and military planners for decades to come, it suggests how game theory might be applied to both economic theory and the social sciences. Among the book’s more enthusiastic readers is RAND’s John Williams, who persuades von Neumann to join Project RAND as a part-time consultant in December 1947.

The adoption of game theory at this time indicates a moment of transition: one in which the physicists and mathematical logicians at RAND are no longer obliged simply to predict the random motion of subatomic particles but to contemplate how their effects might influence human outcomes. Arthur Raymond, chief engineer at Douglas Aircraft, further articulates this shifting relationship in 1947 when he defines RAND’s main preoccupations as “systems and ways of doing things, rather than particular devices, particular instrumentalities, particular weapons, and we are concerned not merely with the physical aspects of these systems but with the human behavior side as well.” A quantitative approach to the unpredictable complexities of human psychology, behaviorism is still a relatively new science; assessing its subject as little more than a species of responses, it helps place the rat inside the maze and pit the cat against the mouse.

In its impact on such soft sciences as economics and sociology, game theory represents the mechanization of policy by other means: the hardwiring of strategists and soldiers, mathematicians and logicians into the decision-making process. More importantly for those wishing to see an evolutionary process at work within the technological advances of progress, it reveals how the short-term and the long-range have become closely related by the same factors. Game theory’s interdisciplinary applications eventually prompt John Williams, despite some initial resistance from Major General LeMay, to broaden RAND’s range and scope by creating divisions at Santa Monica for the study of economics and the social sciences.

The analysts RAND subsequently brings into these new departments represent a cross-section of the very sociologists, psychologists, and anthropologists who will descend upon the suburbs, testing and probing its inhabitants. Top wartime psychiatrist Brigadier General William Menninger makes this clear in his keynote address as newly elected president of the American Psychiatric Association at their 1947 conference, held at the Pennsylvania Hotel in New York that year. Although there are still fewer than five thousand practicing psychiatrists in the United States, Menninger takes great pains to spell out to his colleagues the vital importance of bringing the potential benefits of psychiatry to the masses and of his ambition to “offer its therapeutic effort to a world full of unhappiness and maladjustment.”

Under Menninger’s kindly interest, the suburbs will gradually be transformed into Suburbia: as much a state of mind as a dispersed geographical location. As such, Suburbia can only give birth to itself. Its inhabitants, their expectations, and the way they intend to live their lives are merely by-products of that process, the raw material of social engineering. In relocating from the cities, the new suburbanites have left their extended families behind, together with their traditional values and knowledge. The door is thus left wide open for the psychologists and social scientists to walk in and take a look around.

Those who view with alarm the bodying forth of the military-industrial complex might do well to consider for a moment the third part of this descriptive proposition. That military and industrial interests should be seen coming together so intimately to form a “complex” says a great deal at a time when the nation’s psychiatric elite is set to exert greater public influence. Such a thorny interlocking of drives and inhibitions, obsessions and barely suppressed urges is sure to have a deleterious effect not only on the physical aspects of these systems, to paraphrase Arthur Raymond of the Douglas Aircraft Company, but also on the human behavior side as well.

It is perhaps not altogether surprising, therefore, to discover that it is a pilot who is destined to report one of the most aberrant pieces of technological behavior to take place in this modern age.

“They flew like a saucer would if you skipped it across water,” Kenneth Arnold tells Bill Bequette of the East Oregonian, referring to the nine unidentified flying objects he has seen speeding through the skies toward Mount Rainier on the afternoon of June 24, 1947. According to Arnold’s written report submitted to the US military, they moved “in a definite formation but erratically” in a “diagonal-like chain, as if they were linked together.” It is the image of the “flying saucer” that sticks in the popular imagination, however; its flashing and darting establishes an erratic but discernible visual rhythm that will continue to reverberate for years to come. A few weeks later, when the July 8 edition of the Roswell Daily Record appears in New Mexico with the headline “Army Air Force Captures Flying Disc in Roswell Region” spread across five columns of its front page, the transformation of motion into archetypal form is complete.

Although both stories have originated from local newspapers, they are quickly picked up all over the world, following the global grid now being comfortably imposed upon the earth’s surface. Never has a message been so clear, or its implications so ambiguous. “They’re more than atom bombs or falling stars,” runs the stark warning in “When You See Those Flying Saucers,” a hillbilly ballad written in 1947 by Charles Grean and Cy Coben. Released as a 78 rpm disc on the RCA Victor label, the song links religion and atomic devastation with the “trouble and unrest brewing” on the far side of the Iron Curtain. If it came out of the sky, the assumption goes, it can only be a judgment from on high. The other assumption, exemplified by the lack of a conditional preposition in the song’s title, is that it’s only a matter of time: of “when,” rather than “if.”

Both Arnold’s Mount Rainier sighting and the crashed saucer in Roswell will go on to assume mythic status, subject to endless lines of speculation, research, and argument. It is worth reflecting at this point, however, upon just how close both these incidents are to the ragged edge of aviation technology as it exists at this time. According to his own account, Arnold was piloting his “specially designed mountain airplane” in search of a crashed C-46 Marine transport. The flying disc reported to have come down in the New Mexico desert is investigated by officers from Roswell Air Force Base, home to the US nuclear bomber wing. Less than two years previously the Enola Gay took off from Roswell AFB into the blinding light of summer on its way to Hiroshima.

The Atomic energy Commission and Project RAND are soon studying the flying saucers, AeC chairman David Lilienthal going so far as to make a public statement discounting any direct relationship between such sightings and the effects of atomic radiation. However, the main connection between the saucers and the emergent military-industrial complex will inevitably be supplied by the United States Air Force: an organization that has had to wait until now for an Act of Congress to bring it into being. The 1947 National Security Act does as much to recalibrate the American war machine as von Neumann and Morgenstern’s Theory of Games and Economic Behavior. It establishes the Department of Defense, creates the National Security Council, and separates off the United States Air Force as an independent entity from the rest of the Armed Forces. More importantly, it replaces the old wartime Office of Strategic Services with a brand new organization: the Central Intelligence Agency.

Great organizations create themselves out of confusion, and the United States Air Force is no exception. Glimpses of the future start to flash up at random. Over one weekend in the summer of 1947, a bunch of bikers go on a drunken rampage through the little town of Hollister, California, establishing the renegade motorcycle gang as another modern myth. Most of these mechanized outlaws are ex-servicemen, many of them former Army Air Force, bored with peacetime and looking for excitement.

They are clearly not alone in their frustrations.

At exactly the same time as Kenneth Arnold’s account of flying saucers over America is making headlines around the world, the May 1947 issue of Mechanix Illustrated devotes its cover to the US Navy’s “Flying Flapjack”: a disc-shaped twin-propeller aircraft boasting a bold new arrangement of cockpit and engines within a circular fuselage. “It hovers like a helicopter: will it fly faster than the speed of sound?” the magazine wonders. Painted bright yellow with a futuristic silver undercarriage, the airplane’s advanced “discoidal” shape is tested in June 1947 along Long Island Sound for a Navy Day display, causing excited bathers to report seeing a “flying saucer.” It is the Flying Flapjack’s first and only public flight. The Navy quickly drops the project to concentrate on jet-propelled craft instead.

The chaos continues.

On June 21, 1947, a marine salvage operator in Puget Sound sees a group of flying saucers over Maury Island, three miles out from Tacoma, Washington. Seemingly in distress, one of the saucers scatters hot debris over the island’s bay area in the form of light metal and black, rock-like slag. Investigating the incident, Air Force intelligence officers Lieutenant Frank M. Brown and Captain Davidson dismiss it as a hoax. They are transporting some of the debris back to Hamilton Field AFB on August 1, when their B-25 crashes, killing them both. All the remaining pieces of saucer debris are then immediately impounded by Major Sander of S-2 Army Intelligence, McChord Field AFB.

Although the Maury Island incident is soon dismissed as a tragic hoax, it indirectly helps the USAF and the flying saucers to extend and define their presence through each other. Just as LeMay predicted, issues of air supremacy and the threat of outer space have helped to position the USAF ahead of all the other organizations, especially in a year when the prototype Bell 47 helicopter gets wheeled out of the hangar and the jet plane is offering unprecedented levels of speed and maneuverability. It is the flying saucer’s shape, however, that really speaks of the future. For those on the ground, the flying saucer doesn’t appear to depend on the same stresses and strains as the helicopter or jet plane do to get into the air. Rather than heaving itself up toward the sky, it seems to swoop effortlessly down from above. Its rounded design continues to mock the forward momentum of the jet plane, even after Chuck Yeager, piloting the Bell X-1 research plane, breaks the sound barrier for the first time in October 1947.

But where exactly does it come from? Initial speculation is that it may be the Soviets at work. Or it could be some secret project whose existence is hidden somewhere in the small print of the National Security Act.

At the end of 1947, the US Air Force sets up Project SIGN to investigate public sightings of strange things in the sky. As the name suggests, SIGN is an indication of that which has hitherto gone unnoticed: a signifier for what has so far passed without comment. By determining the significance of what may or may not exist in the skies over America, the Air Force impresses itself with greater clarity upon the popular imagination.

Except that at the very beginning it is movement and speed that define the flying saucer as a mass phenomenon, not its shape. Its overall visual appeal is one of metallic lightness, of reflective surfaces that glint and flash as the saucer maneuvers at high speeds. It has no stabilizing tail and leaves no trail.

The Maury Island saucer inadvertently marked itself out as a fraud by leaving that blackened trail of slag and scrap metal behind. While such a display may not be out of place among the ore-smelting operations of Tacoma Bay, slowly poisoning the islands in Puget Sound with toxic deposits of arsenic and lead, this saucer’s sheer physicality denies it a presence in the future. It is only by removing all trace of its existence from the scene that the Air Force belatedly confers significance upon the incident.

The flying saucer becomes associated with forms of technology so superior that they can no longer be adequately detected by the human senses. As such, it is the elusive representative of an emergent invisible order of energy: of rays and beams, wireless transmissions and radiation bursts.

In a year when technicians at Bell Laboratories begin tests on an early model transistor, the US government formally takes control of General Electric’s cloud seeding experiments, and military contractors Raytheon come up with a basic idea for the microwave oven, the appearance of the flying saucer in popular culture marks a transition from mechanical forms of energy transfer to electronic ones. Like radio waves, TV signals, and atomic energy, whatever powers and steers the flying saucer remains a strange and unseen mystery. As the pragmatic era of edison appears to give way to a visionary Age of Tesla, the flying saucer also marks the deep gulf that has opened up between the actual accomplishments of technological progress and those who feel the future really can’t get here fast enough. Suddenly the Raytheon microwave oven may not seem so humble anymore.

Excerpted from “Welcome to Mars: Politics, Pop Culture, and Weird Science in 1950s America” by Ken Hollings, published by North Atlantic Books, copyright © 2014 by Ken Hollings. Reprinted by permission of publisher

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Aliens & UFO's

“Canadian Roswell”: Jacques-Yves Cousteau family investigating a UFO crash near Shag Harbor

"Canadian Roswell": Jacques-Yves Cousteau family investigating a UFO crash near Shag Harbor 99
Front page of the Canadian newspaper The Chronicle Herald, October 7, 1967.

Jacques-Yves Cousteau gained worldwide fame as one of the largest and most successful explorers of the sea and depths. His grandchildren decided to devote themselves to the study of a completely different sacrament. 

Already in August, they are going to go to the waters near Shag Harbor, a small fishing village on the coast of the Canadian province of Nova Scotia, in search of an unidentified flying object (UFO) that allegedly crashed into the sea here in 1967.

As reported by the Shag Harbor Incident Society, which is still investigating the case, the grandchildren of the famous explorer of the seas, Selina and Fabian Cousteau, announced their upcoming visit to the traditional UFO Conference of Shag Harbor “and said they want to take a direct part in the research and search at the alleged crash site of an unknown object”.

Background

At about 11 pm on the night of October 4, 1967, local fishermen and residents of the village of Shag Harbor watched in the clear and moonless night sky the crash of a brightly luminous object that fell into the sea. Among the witnesses were three members of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP), as well as civilian pilots who were flying over the southwest coast of Nova Scotia at the time.

Despite the undertaken searches, no wreckage or bodies were found, therefore the observation is still considered inexplicable today – 51 years after the incident. True, countless government and military protocols and documents are dedicated to the incident, which is why it is considered one of the most extensively documented UFO incidents in the history of Canada.

According to the president of the research society and one of the witnesses of the incident, Lauren Wickens, Cousteau’s grandchildren will visit the scene in preparation for the filming of a series of new investigative documentaries. 

“On their arrival, Brother and Sister Cousteau will dive accompanied by local diver David Queta, who has been involved in the investigation of the incident since 1967.”

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Aliens & UFO's

Another TR-3B? Huge triangular UFO flew over New York

Another TR-3B? Huge triangular UFO flew over New York 100

A resident of Bronx, New York, on January 16, 2021, saw three UFOs above the houses in his area, moving synchronously in the form of a huge triangle. The brightly shining points were very clearly visible in the night sky.

The man managed to capture a triangle slowly floating in the sky on video (see below) and posted it on his YouTube channel.

Since he was a very modest blogger who had only a few subscribers, his video went unnoticed for several days by UFO lovers, until finally it was re-posted on social networks, and from there it got to news sites.

Huge triangular UFO flew over New York

The video shows how the author of the video is very surprised by what is happening, he looks up into the sky and says:

“They fly nearby and look like stars. It’s a triangle and I don’t know what it is.”

Then he tried to ask someone from the passers-by about whether they knew that it was in the sky, but they could not answer either.

On social networks, this video caused a lot of comments from curious people who offered their versions of what they saw. From the fact that someone has programmed the drones to move in the form of a triangle, to the fact that they are actually Chinese lanterns.

The lantern version was quickly criticized, as the lights move at such a high altitude that Chinese lanterns could not continue to burn so brightly.

The drone version also drew a lot of criticism, because in order to launch several large drones over residential buildings in New York, you need to obtain special permission and it is not so easy.

The most popular was the theory that what he saw was a secret American reconnaissance aircraft TR-3B, about which there have been many rumors for a long time. Allegedly, it was developed on the basis of an alien ship that fell in Roswell, it can move silently and is practically invisible to radars.

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Aliens & UFO's

Indians and aliens – “I was told that there are four aggressive species in the universe, and humans are one of them.”

Indians and aliens - "I was told that there are four aggressive species in the universe, and humans are one of them." 101

Dr. Ardi Sixkiller Clarke, professor emeritus at Montana State University, who is a native of the Cherokee tribe, has studied Indian stories about the “Star People” and collected stories of encounters between aliens and native Indians over the years.

Here is one of the stories she recorded, which she recorded from the words of a female elder named Tali:

I have seen star creatures all my life. The first time I was about 8 years old. I picked berries by the river. I watched the ship descend and land across the river. I crossed the river, stepping carefully over the rocks so as not to get my feet wet. I was curious; I’ve never seen anything like it.

As I approached, the door opened and I went inside. I remember that the star beings greeted me. There were two women. One combed my hair and said that I was beautiful. After that, I often met with them.

Sometimes I brought them flowers, sometimes stones. My grandmother told me that stones have a soul, and I tried to explain it to them. I don’t think they understood. But they taught me to heal with my hands. Star doctors taught me how to treat diseases with my hands. They taught my grandmother how to heal.

When my grandmother died, the star beings were very saddened and I was tasked with continuing her work and learning about herbs and healing people naturally and metaphysically.

They are light, tall and thin. They are much smarter than us, but they are interested in our development. They travel the stars and learn from others throughout the star system. They collect information about the aging process of earthlings. They are trying to understand why we die so young.

Star people live much longer than we do. The normal age for them is 1000 Earth years. They do not have such diseases as we do. Their civilization does not consume alcohol and tobacco.

They choose who they will be, their job and stay on it forever. They become experts in their field, which leads to many discoveries that improve their lives. Star physicians visit Earth constantly. They mostly watch, but all over the world there are “helpers” who serve them. Both my grandmother and I were their assistants.

Star people call themselves observers.

They weren’t cruel. I was told that there are four aggressive species in our universe. People are one of them.”

Dr. Clarke ends the story like this:

“For the next five plus years, I frequently visited the reservation to meet Tali. She remained strong and mobile until her death at 95. On the day of her funeral, several people saw a UFO appear and hover in the sky. I was one of them.”

Observers

In the stories of many people who have come into contact with representatives of extraterrestrial civilizations, there are references to the fact that they are just observers. It seems that some of these creatures are just curious observers of planet Earth, collecting data, as if some of them are carrying out scientific missions to bring information about other planets and civilizations back to their planet.

We are not alone in the universe. Perhaps one day we ourselves will become aliens for someone exploring another planet.

Can we change?

As for the fact that humans are one of the most violent species in the universe … We are empathetic beings with tremendous potential for good. We really can, but we do not change, and if you were an alien watching what is happening on our planet, you would probably be intimidated by how aggressive and cruel we are …

It is a pity that we are in a group of worlds characterized as aggressive, but I really hope that we will change. People can change, but only by standing at the edge of the abyss and realizing that if they do not change, human civilization will simply disappear. We are already on the edge of the abyss. We have actually destroyed the house we live in and the name of this house is Earth.

Humanity has only two ways – to change or die out.

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