Deliver Us, Oh Lord, from a Bad Sci-Fi Film

As I have said before, once one takes a first step into the preposterous reality of the UFO/UAP phenomena -- a step that our own government has taken already -- then the question is where to stop on the path to the land of the crazies, on the path to madness.  I think we should all be able to agree, for example, that the pyramids at Giza were built without ET engineering assistance.  When you have half a million slaves at your disposal, it's amazing how much you can get done.

David M. Jacobs is a Ph.D retired professor from Temple, whose field of study was 20th century U.S. and intellectual history.  By all accounts he is sober-minded and well grounded generally.  In the last book he has published, "Walking Among Us," from 2015, he attempts to summarize for us hundreds of interviews that he conducted with people who claim to have been abducted by aliens over a long period, most of the interviews under hypnosis conducted by Jacobs himself.  Like the first of the well-publicized "abductees" in American history, Barney and Betty Hill of New Hampshire, many of Jacobs' subjects report that they were taken aboard craft, where sperm or ova were extracted from them against their will.  Later, the abductees are visited repeatedly by beings that seem to be set in a fixed hierarchy, with so-called "insectalins" -- utterly cold-hearted creatures who look something like mantises -- apparently on top and in charge of the program.  Below them are the familiar "greys," but also and critically a series of more and more humanoid beings, culminating in creatures that Jacobs calls "hubrids," who are physically indistinguishable from those of us on Earth of more conventional origin.

The hypothesis is that, via genetic/DNA experimentation, the insectalins are creating a race of alien/human hybrids, with the ultimate goal of "appropriating" our planet for themselves, without a laser/taser having been fired.

This agenda is not made express.  It is inferred from the fact that Jacobs' human subjects are charged with teaching the humanoids how to "pass" in Western society.  One might think that this would not be necessary, because the aliens are all-powerful and all-knowing.  But they are not all-knowing.  What they don't know, and need great help in navigating, are the rules of our culture.  These rules are alien to them in part because their own culture is characterized by strict collectivism/authoritarianism and a complete void in the place where, in our own culture, the values that are dearest to us -- love, friendship, family ties, high culture and popular culture -- reside.

The humanoids expect their abductee assistants to lay out for them all of our cultural rules as if they follow simple algorithms, and the abductees get intensely frustrated with their "cascading questions" for the same reason that a father gets tired of trying to explain to his little son or daughter why the sky is blue:

He likes the carpet too -- that's got a lot of color.  We go upstairs and he stops me on the bottom step and he wants to know why the carpet changes color there and I told him they brought the upstairs carpet down the stairs, but the downstairs carpet is different.  It was like this when we moved in.  He tells me he doesn't like that, he thinks it should all be the same.  We go up the stairs and go into the kitchen.  He's asking me about different things in there.  The color changed on the floor again and he really doesn't like that -- that's like a whitish color and he doesn't like that at all.  He wants to know if I can put the blue carpet in there and I said "No, no, you don't put that kind of carpet in the kitchen."  I'm telling him you can have things spill on it and everything, and you wouldn't be able to keep it clean.

Thus these little lessons are mundane in the extreme, and the jarring juxtaposition is that this army of infiltrators who will take away our world, in the same way that our Manifest Destiny was destined to steamroll the native Americans, is made up of creatures who are plain stupid when it comes to human culture and values.

Professor Jacobs is now 79.  He says that the picture he has painted in all of his alien books has now more or less defeated him morally, and so, from now until his demise, he wants only to sit home and watch television.  Accordingly it is left for us to decide whether he is a great fabulist in the manner of Swift and "Gulliver's Travels," showing us our foibles from the point of view of a naïve witness to an imagined race or imagined races, or rather that he is somehow plugged into an awful secret, the most awful secret.  In this I return again to the chilling 2021 statement of Lue Elizondo, to the effect that it will be hard for us to accept when it is made clear to us, perhaps as early as 2022, that we are not zookeepers but inhabitants of the zoo.