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buzz-aldrin

Buzz Aldrin with Mickey Rooney

In 2002, Buzz Aldrin made the news again when he punched moon landing skeptic Bart Sibrel in front of Café Rodeo at the Luxe Hotel in Beverly Hills. Sibrel, making a nuisance of himself, had planted himself in Aldrin’s path and demanded that the astronaut swear on a Bible that he had landed on the moon in 1969. Aldrin’s reaction was that of a self-important and temperamental actor rather than that of a disciplined man of science. Aldrin discusses the episode in his 2009 autobiography, Magnificent Desolation.

Like most Americans, I’m quite skeptical about conspiracy theories. I’m someone who has dealt with the exact science of space rendezvous and orbital mechanics, so to have someone approach me and seriously suggest that Neil, Mike, and I never actually went to the moon – that the entire trip had been staged in a sound studio someplace – has to rank among the most ludicrous ideas I’ve ever heard. Yet somehow the media has given credence to some of the kooky people espousing such theories, and my fellow astronauts and I have had to put up with the consequences.1

Hollywood, indeed, alluded to the possibility of a faked lunar landing as early as the 1971 James Bond film Diamonds Are Forever, and the 1977 thriller Capricorn One concerns the cover-up of a faked Mars mission.

The media treated Aldrin like a hero again, however, after assaulting conspiracy theorist Sibrel – and it is interesting to note that the story received news coverage coinciding with the first anniversary of the September 11th attacks. Here is Aldrin’s account of the “Blow Heard ‘Round the World” in his book Magnificent Desolation:

Because of the publicity the hoax theorists have garnered, occasionally even in a serious interview a reporter will broach the subject. One September morning in 2002, I was in Beverly Hills at the Luxe Hotel, filming a television interview for a Far Eastern TV network, when the interview began going in a direction that I knew was out of bounds. At first I tried to be cordial, adroitly answering the question, assuming the interviewer would recognize my reluctance to talk about inanity, and bring the focus back to a bona fide space subject. Instead the interviewer began playing a television segment that had aired in the United States on the subject of hoaxes, including a section suggesting that the Apollo 11 moon landing never happened. I was aware of the piece and had been livid when it originally aired. I did not appreciate the interviewer’s attempts to lure me into commenting on it. Lisa [Cannon, Aldrin’s stepdaughter] had accompanied me to the interview following her early morning triathlon training in the Santa Monica Bay, and she immediately recognized that this was a flagrant violation of our willingness to conduct the interview in good faith, so she called a halt to the production. We weren’t belligerent, but we did not linger long over our good-byes, either.

lisa-cannon

Lisa Cannon

We left the hotel room and walked down the hall to catch the elevator, only a matter of seconds away. I pressed the button for the ground level, and Lisa and I looked at each other and smiled. It had been a strange morning already. When the elevator doors opened on the ground level, it got worse.

As we stepped out into the hotel foyer, a large man who looked to be in his mid-thirties approached me, attempting to engage me in conversation. “Hey, Buzz, how are you?” He had his own film crew along, with the camera already rolling to document the encounter.

I greeted him briefly, acknowledging his presence, and kept moving – standard procedure for life in Hollywood. As Lisa and I walked through the foyer toward the front door of the hotel, however, the man kept getting in my way, peppering me with questions, none of which I answered. Lisa took my arm and glared at the man. “That’s enough,” she said, as I could feel her pressure on my arm guiding me toward the door. “Please let us alone; we’re leaving now.”

We stepped outside under the hotel awning, and the film crew continued right along with us. Lisa’s car was parked across the street on Rodeo Drive, but there was no crosswalk nearby, and the traffic was brisk.

Meanwhile, the “interviewer” had taken out a very large Bible and was shaking it in my face, his voice becoming more animated. “Will you swear on this Bible that you really walked on the moon?”

I looked back at the man and gave him a look as if to say, Will you swear on that Bible that you are an idiot? The man was becoming more virulent, inflammatory, and personally accusatory in his outbursts. I tried not to pay any attention, but he was saying things like, “Your life is a complete lie! And here you are making money by giving interviews about things you never did!”

astronauts-gone-wild

Mardi Gras will never be the same after this.

Lisa approached the cameraman and insisted, “Please turn off that camera! We’re just trying to get across the street to our car.”

I’m a patient man, but this situation was silly. “You conspiracy people don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

Lisa spied a break in the traffic, so she grabbed me by the arm again, and said, “Buzz, let’s go.” We started walking across the street, but the large man kept getting right out in front of us, standing in the middle of Rodeo Drive, blocking our path as his cameraman kept rolling film. Lisa seemed nervous about trying to go around him, while searching for her keys to unlock the car with the man in such close proximity, so we turned around and walked back to the bellman’s station outside the hotel.

“Okay, this is ridiculous,” I said to Lisa and to the bellman. “Call the police. This guy is not letting us get to our car.”

I was under the awning, and Lisa turned away from me to approach the cameraman again. “Please turn that camera off,” she said. Meanwhile the large man was nearly screaming at me, “You’re a coward, Buzz Aldrin! You’re a liar; you’re a thief!”

Maybe it was the West Point cadet in me, or perhaps it was the Air Force fighter pilot, or maybe I’d just had enough of his belligerent character assassination, but whatever it was, as the man continued to excoriate me, I suddenly let loose with a right hook that would have made George Foreman proud. WHAAP! I belted the guy squarely in the jaw.

While I prided myself on staying in relatively good shape, it was doubtful that my septuagenarian punch did much damage to the follow, except perhaps to his ego. But he was not at all concerned about the punch, anyhow. It was obvious that he had been goading me in that direction, and he seemed ecstatically happy that I had finally grown exasperated and hit him.

“Hey, did you catch that on tape?” he called out to his cameraman. That was all he cared about.

Lisa turned around and walked back to me. She cocked her head slightly, looked up at me, and asked quietly, “Buzz, what happened?”

I looked back at my stepdaughter rather sheepishly, and said, “I punched the guy.”

“You what?” Lisa’s hand instinctively flew to her mouth in disbelief, as though already postulating in her mind any potential legal ramifications.

The film crew and “interviewer” hastily packed up and headed for their vehicle. They had gotten what they were hoping for – and more. Before the night was over, the film of me punching the guy was on the news and all over the Internet. The interviewer went to the police, threatening to file assault charges against me.

In the meantime, Lisa contacted our legal representative, Robert O’Brien, and told him everything that had happened. Robert suggested that we hire a criminal lawyer, just in case the encounter actually led to charges.

On the following Tonight Show, Jay Leno included the incident in his standup routine, cheering, “Way to go, Buzz!” They doctored up the video of my punch, and edited it to make it appear as though I had given the guy about twenty rapid-fire punches instead of the one.

David Letterman also came to my defense in his opening remarks for The Late Show, and threw in a double feature on the story the next night, since they had “dug up” some old archival footage of a reporter accosting Christopher Columbus, accusing him, “You didn’t really cross the ocean and land in the New World. You’re a liar!” And of course, Columbus decked the guy.

By then, television networks and evening entertainment news programs were calling, suddenly wanting me to appear on their shows. Ordinarily I would have been delighted, but our legal advisers said, “No interviews.” Eventually the matter died down. The city of Beverly Hills did not bring charges against me, and there were witnesses to the harassing behavior that provoked my response. It still cost me money to hire a lawyer to defend myself, and the hoax advocate received the publicity he sought, so I suppose, in the end, he won. But the punch provided me with some satisfaction, at least, and I was gratified by the calls and notes of support. CNN Crossfire commentator Paul Begala gave me a thumbs-up, and many others sent encouraging messages. Ironically, some of the most supportive words came from my fellow astronauts, to the effect of, “Hey, Buzz, I wish I’d punched the guy! Finally, somebody has responded to these hoax theory perpetrators.” More than my knowledge of rendezvous techniques, more than my actions under pressure during the initial lunar landing, more than anything in my career as an astronaut – it seemed as if nothing elevated me more in their estimation than “the punch.” From that day on, I was a hero to them.2

Some have alleged that the scene was staged and cite, for instance, the fact that Aldrin and Sibrel went on to collaborate on the 2004 documentary Astronauts Gone Wild. It is strange, too, to note that Sibrel, in publicizing a theory that ought to hinge on forensic examination and logic, instead decides to interject religion into the showdown, obnoxiously brandishing his Bible and thereby setting himself up for ridicule by progressives. The cameraman is also careful to get a clear shot of the restaurant’s sign and street address, which – if, indeed, this confrontation was a hoax – might have been a condition set by the Luxe Hotel for permission to use the Café Rodeo as a location. Begala’s response, not the typical one for commentary on an assault, was to give the “thumbs-up”, the gesture made synonymous with film criticism by Siskel and Ebert. Lisa Cannon, the woman seen with Aldrin in the video, has been credited with a “significant role” in “developing Buzz Aldrin’s brand”.

Regardless of whether the “Blow Heard ‘Round the World” was a planned event, it served as an object lesson for the public during the politically crucial period following 9/11. As Aldrin’s account makes clear, the media treated him like a hero for punching Sibrel. Aldrin also makes a very deliberate reference to his military service in describing his thought process leading to the moment of violence. The takeaway for the audience is that hitting “conspiracy people” is the laudable thing to do in these turbulent times following the destruction of the World Trade Center. Laugh at them if possible, but punch them if they become too insistent. This was before the advent of YouTube, when critical analysis of the 9/11 matrix was in its comparative infancy. Connecting “conspiracy people” with superstition, socially awkward behavior, and lack of patriotic reverence would pay off in preconditioned public responses as inconvenient scrutiny of these events would become much more common over the years.

apollo

Destination Moon

Notwithstanding his touchiness about the reality of the Apollo mission, Aldrin is eager to emphasize his connection with the entertainment industry, and one of the chapters in Magnificent Desolation is titled “Pop Goes Space Culture”. He boasts of his friendship with science-fiction illusionists like James Cameron, the director of The Terminator, Aliens, and The Abyss. “For several years, Lois and I had been spending a lot of time driving up to L.A. on business and to attend a variety of Hollywood events in the evenings,” he writes, adding that they eventually moved into “a luxury high-rise condo along the Wilshire Corridor of Los Angeles, just west of Beverly Hills, because so much of our business was now connected to the entertainment industry.”3

“A little-known Hollywood fact is that my name had already been firmly ensconced in Hollywood lore long before Lois and I moved there,” he continues. “On the famous Hollywood Walk of Fame, at the corners of Hollywood and Vine, Neil Armstrong, Michael Collins, and I have not one star but four, one on each corner of the intersection. Actually, our ‘stars’ are in the shape of moons.”4 Recognition on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame is a rather unexpected tribute for a veteran of NASA’s Apollo 11 program – either that or a tellingly fitting one.

Rainer Chlodwig von K.

Endnotes

  1. Aldrin, Buzz; and Ken Abraham. Magnificent Desolation. New York, NY: Harmony Books, 2009, p. 281.
  2. Ibid., pp. 282-285.
  3. Ibid., p. 256.
  4. Ibid.

28 weeks laterLong-range predictive programming in play?

The New York Times, from wholly neglecting to report the Holodomor to its readers during the 1930s to touting Saddam Hussein’s alleged stockpile of Weapons of Mass Destruction, does have a history of playing fast and loose and creative with the facts. Now Free Radio Revolution alleges that America’s “Newspaper of Record” is actually staging Ebola victim footage to brainwash the public into accepting what some commentators allege is a wholesale hoax. Red Pill Revolution is of the same mind, and both channels point to what they claim is a comprehensive multimedia campaign to condition the public to accept eventual vaccination. The number of movies with plague and zombie outbreak themes has certainly skyrocketed in recent years, with the likes of Contagion, World War Z, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, and others ratcheting fears of biological catastrophe. Jew’s Analysis, making specific reference to I Am Legend, has also cried “predictive programming”.

Free Radio Revolution, this writer will concede, does point to some strange and suspicious features of the New York Times video; but it is rather a gigantic leap next to assume on the basis of this and some green t-shirts that the whole outbreak is nothing but an elaborately orchestrated hoax. It may only be that reporters, fearful of venturing into proximity with the disease, but still wanting to score some sensational footage, simply opted to cook it up and pay some African locals to look sick for their cameras. Whatever the case, the theory is interesting and warrants consideration. Is the whole Ebola scare only that – a ruse to make a quick buck for pharmaceuticals manufacturers? International Business Timesfor whatever it may be worth, reports a surge in stock prices for companies working on an Ebola vaccine.

Hat tip, Murder by Media.

The Howling poster

The Howling (1981)

National Socialists have traditionally appropriated wolf imagery as an expression of their movement’s fierceness, masculinity, and pagan mystique. Hitler’s first Eastern Front headquarters was named the Wolf’s Lair, and Werwolf was the name the Nazis selected for a German guerrilla resistance force during the waning phases of World War II. White nationalists of today will sometimes refer to themselves as werewolves, as well. A close reading of Joe Dante’s horror hit The Howling (1981), however, may convince viewers that Jews are the ones who deserve the mantle of the wolf.

Ilsa She Wolf of the SS

Lupine-themed pop Nazi iconography

“Signed his work,” explains television news producer Christopher (Dennis Dugan), with reference to the gruesome clues furnished by the artistic creations of a murderous maniac – and, as it turns out, a werewolf – in dialogue suggestive of what may be The Howling’s ulterior intention of cluing viewers into the nature of its Hollywood provenance by way of a revelation of method.

The madman is Eddie Quist (Robert Picardo), a sexual pervert stalking anchorwoman Karen White (Dee Wallace). The latter, in an attempt to help police capture Quist, agrees to meet him in an adult video shop, where he lures her into a private booth, activates a sadomasochistic sex loop, announces his intention to possess Karen’s body, and then proceeds to transform and to reveal his true physical nature – that of a wolf.

Dee Wallace

Dee Wallace as Karen White

Thus, in this crucial encounter, key subtext is set into motion. Quist is in his element when surrounded by filth and shows a pronounced interest in pornography – an industry dominated by Jews – and he also seeks to dominate Karen, a character who is significantly beautiful, blonde, surnamed “White”, and a representative, furthermore, of her local news media – another Jewish near-monopoly. Karen’s employer at Channel 6, Fred Francis (Kevin McCarthy), would seem to be one of the last of the WASP old boys’ club.

Picardo

Robert Picardo as Eddie Quist

A search of Quist’s apartment reveals obsessive drawings of monsters (i.e., autobiographical deviant art) and newspaper clippings illustrative of his resentful preoccupations with violence and Christianity. Two visible headlines from articles on his walls read, “The Dismembered Corpse in the Burned Out Church” and “Weird Case of the Murdering Messiah”. Murdering or murdered? Either way, the headlines speak to Quist’s sense of Jewish supremacy and hatred of gentiles.

Appearing as a guest on Channel 6 is a pop psychiatrist, Dr. Waggner (Patrick Macnee), who advises his audience of the benefits to be had from slackening their moral standards when he says, “We should never try to deny the beast, the animal within us.” Psychiatry, of course, being another field famously lorded over by Jews hostile to the traditional ways of Christendom. Dr. Waggner, like Quist, has designs on Karen White, and – using the pretext of her post-traumatic stress resulting from the meeting with Quist – invites her to his rustic retreat, suggestively named the Colony, for what is supposed to be group therapy along with her husband, Bill (Christopher Stone).

Elisabeth Brooks

Elisabeth Brooks as Marsha Quist

The Colony, unfortunately, is a forested den of werewolves, among them folksy locals Charlie (Noble Willingham), Erle (John Carradine), Jerry (James Murtaugh), deceptively friendly sheriff Sam (Slim Pickens), and shapely seductress Marsha (Elisabeth Brooks), a quintessential scarlet woman who sets about dissolving the bonds of Karen’s marriage by making herself aggressively available to Bill. Marsha’s love shack in the woods is adorned by pelts, which – with their six points of paws, head, and tail – abstractly approximate elongated Stars of David.

Pelt of David

Pelt of David

“Karen, you’re really gettin’ paranoid,” Bill accuses when his wife confronts him about his infidelity. “I know,” he says sarcastically, “it’s all a big conspiracy as far as you’re concerned.” Bill’s tactic, then, is to attempt to distract from the fact that he has plainly sold his soul and his services to the alien by smearing his accuser as a “conspiracy theorist”. Sound familiar?

Karen’s new Colony acquaintance Donna (Margie Impert), also a crypto-werewolf, lets slip a hint of her hidden identity when she and Karen happen upon a mutilated cow. “Oh, Jesus,” she blurts with embarrassment, to which Karen automatically tacks on “Christ”. It is Karen, and not crypto-werewolf Donna, who identifies Jesus as the Messiah and not a head of slaughtered cattle.

Donna and Karen

Donna (Margie Impert) and Karen (Dee Wallace)

An isolated redneck community might seem an unlikely representation of Jews, if not for their legendary prowess at passing themselves as common whites. “Your classic werewolf can change shape anytime it wants, day or night, whenever it takes a notion to. That’s why they call ‘em shapeshifters,” explains occult bookseller Walter Paisley (Dick Miller). “Silver bullets or fire,” he goes on. “It’s the only way to get rid of the damn things. They’re worse than cockroaches.”

Joe Bob Briggs

“That’s why they call ’em shapeshifters.” An example of the crypto is John Irving Bloom, who made a career as ersatz good ol’ boy Joe Bob Briggs

The strength of the wolf is in the pack. A single Charles Schumer or Dov Zakheim might pose no threat to the United States; but taken together, as an organized infestation, Jewry comprises a nearly unbeatable hydra. “A secret society exists and is living among all of us,” Karen duly warns her viewers when she returns to television. “They are neither people nor animal, but something in between.”

The less-than-sympathetic and decidedly utilitarian view this secret order of carnivorous creatures takes toward the goyim is made explicit during the scene in which they reveal themselves. The script is worth quoting at this pivotal juncture:

     Jerry: It was a mistake to bring her to the Colony.

     Erle: We should have stuck with the old ways. Raising cattle for our feed. Where’s the life in that?

     Charlie: The humans are our cattle.

     Erle: Humans are our prey. We should feed on them, like we’ve always done. Screw all this “channel your energies” crap.

     Dr. Waggner: But the danger of exposure! We need this shelter to plan! To catch up with society! Times have changed and we haven’t! Not enough.

     Marsha: Shut up, Doc! You wouldn’t listen to me! None of you! “We can fit in,” you said. “We can live with them!” You make me sick.

True to the bookseller’s lore, the werewolves prove to be vulnerable to silver bullets and fire – which is, of course, to say Holocaust – when gentile news producer Christopher, presumably following in the imaginary footsteps of Julius Streicher, rides to the rescue and burns the lot of the flesh-devouring good-for-nothings alive in their barn-synagogue of Satan.

Marsha, the Zionist Werewolf Whore of Babylon, is seen to be the only survivor of this horrible Howlocaust, and one can only assume that she will now be more bloodthirsty than ever, an assumption corroborated when she gazes into the camera and orders a hamburger – specifying that it be cooked rare. The Howling’s end credits then roll over a close-up of the sizzling hamburger patty – a macabre reminder of the final significance of what is meant by “goy cattle”.

“Rare.”

Wolfshiem

Jewish werewolf Meyer Wolfsheim (Amitabh Bachchan) in The Great Gatsby (2013)

Paul Wolfowitz

Jewish werewolf, warlord, nose picker, and comb licker Paul Wolfowitz

Wolf Blitzer

Jewish werewolf Wolf Blitzer, fiendish face of Cabal News Network

Director Sam Mendes made his fortune with American Beauty, one of the most overrated films of the 1990s.  He did something to begin redeeming himself with Road to Perdition and now continues his foray into legitimately earned accolades with Skyfall, a solid entry in the Daniel Craig James Bond series.  The action set pieces are top-notch or close, with the opening sequence being a particular doozy; and the writing team has injected a valuable uncertainty into the story by presenting a battle-damaged Bond somewhat past his prime and perhaps in over his head in confronting a foe of similar background and prowess.

Javier Bardem has fun as Silva, a quirky, almost Batman-style supervillain and hacker extraordinaire with a private army.  Silva, a former MI6 agent, has a bone to pick with M (Judi Dench), holding his ex-boss responsible for torture he endured at enemy hands.  She is also the subject of his unhealthy mother fixation, so that 007’s current favor with her irks Silva as a kind of sibling rivalry.  M is closer to the action than usual in Skyfall and gets to play with the boys a little.

Packed with lovely ladies, unusual perils, and several exotic locations, Skyfall is a film that should satisfy spy action fans.  It also functions as an interesting character study, with Bond’s psychology and backstory receiving more attention than in most of the films.  Unfortunately, this is where Skyfall strikes its few false notes, with the masculine mystique of the character done something of a disservice in overly generous revelation.  Have any Bond fans been clamoring, for instance, to see 007’s childhood home or to meet his parents’ old groundskeeper?  Happily, Skyfall‘s many merits more than make up for the few missteps, and build solidly on the previous groundwork, ensuring future adventures.

4.5 stars.  Ideological Content Analysis indicates that Skyfall is:

8. Anti-family.  “Orphans always make the best recruits,” M confides (cf. no. 1).

7. Drug-ambivalent.  Bond has become an alcoholic and pill addict, but cigarette smoke retains its sexiness as blown by Severine.

6. Mildly xenophobic.  The Orient and the Middle East are, as always, the lands of mystery, danger, and intrigue.  (The Turkish government must be offering discounts on licenses for filmmakers to run roughshod over Istanbul rooftops, as Skyfall is, along with Taken 2, one of two recent movies to enjoy that privilege.  Not one, but two Third World produce stands are overturned during the opening chase.)

5. Pro-slut/pro-miscegenation – a James Bond tradition.  007’s new girlfriend, fellow agent Eve (Naomie Harris), is black.  In addition to some lucky Turkish babe (Tonia Sotiropoulou), Bond’s other conquest of note is sultry Eurasian maneater Severine (winner of Tastiest, Scariest Seductress of Year 2012, Berenice Marlohe), who, particularly as costumed and colored in the Floating Dragon sequence, is exquisite.

4. Pro-gay.  Computer genius Silva is a mean one, admittedly; but gays have come a long way when they can give James Bond a run for his money.  Skyfall thus has its cake and eats it as well with regard to glorification and vilification of homosexuality.

3. Macho minus.  Craig plays Bond as the alpha male who can outrun a fireball, but the screenplay occasionally seems to want to undermine this familiar characterization, implying that Bond may have dabbled in homosexuality and that he is motivated partly by unresolved childhood trauma.  Oy vey . . .

2. Multiculturalist.  Skyfall acknowledges the contributions to international security of minorities, women, the elderly, and the nearsighted.  Javier Bardem’s hair has been dyed blonde (blonde being the color of evil) to mitigate the insensitivity of portraying a Hispanic homosexual as a villain.  London appears as a representative orderly multiracial society.

1. Statist.  After MI6’s headquarters are attacked, their operations move into the underground command center from which Winston Churchill’s war effort was directed, thus establishing a parallel between the “good war” and superpower intelligence agencies’ struggle with fourth generation adversaries today.  Now terrorists and hackers, not the Soviet Union or SPECTRE, are the primary threats to civilization, so that Julian Assange replaces Blofeld or Goldfinger as governments’ primier bogeyman.

State enterprise and covert intelligence agencies bring mankind salvation.  MI6 achieves its apotheosis when one of its worthies is martyred in a Scottish church, effecting a spook-as-self-sacrificing-savior conceit.  Bond has earlier referred to his own “resurrection”.

Gun control gets an endorsement when Bond is shown at a disadvantage in having to change clips when pitted against a terrorist’s high-capacity magazine.  Also, MI6 has invented for Bond a handgun that is palm-programmed so that only he can fire it – unlike the common firearm or “random killing machine”.  (Are mandatory consumer models next?)  The government-media complex receives a nod when we see that Bond gets his news from CNN’s Wolf Blitzer.  Picturesque Shanghai, meanwhile, puts in a good word for state capitalism, depicting in its futuristic architecture and technology the new type of society on the rise.

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