Skeptophilia (skep-to-fil-i-a) (n.) - the love of logical thought, skepticism, and thinking critically. Being an exploration of the applications of skeptical thinking to the world at large, with periodic excursions into linguistics, music, politics, cryptozoology, and why people keep seeing the face of Jesus on grilled cheese sandwiches.

Monday, June 17, 2024

Silence is golden

Yesterday over at The Anomalist, a website I frequent that acts as a sort of clearinghouse for News of the Weird, I ran into a link to a post at the Jamza Online Forum by Paul Dale Roberts, whose title apparently is "Esoteric Detective" at Sacramento Paranormal Investigations.  Which, I have to admit, is pretty badass-sounding, and puts me in mind of Carl Kolchak running around chasing werewolves and vampires and zombies and succubi, not to mention special offers like Spanish Moss Monsters where you can actually see the zipper running up the front of the Monster Suit.

It's a job I'd like to have, although living as I do in the middle of abso-freakin-lutely nowhere, opportunities for esoteric detection have been pretty slim.  I've only done one in-person esoteric investigation, which fortunately happened to focus on a place not far from where I live, and once visited a haunted hotel in Arkansas.  My experience both times was that absolutely nothing happened other than in the first case I met a stoned guy who was extremely impressed that I was a paranormal investigator even though it was technically the only actual paranormal investigation I'd ever done, and in the second I saw some old ladies in period dress and had to be reassured by the other members of my party that (1) they saw them, too, and (2) the old ladies were tour guides.

So my experience as an esoteric investigator is kind of slim, but I'll just put it out there that if an opportunity arises, I'm all in. 

Anyhow, what Paul Dale Roberts tells us about is a place that sounds well worth investigating.  It's nicknamed "the Zone of Silence," and is located about four hundred miles from El Paso, Texas, near the point where the borders of the Mexican states of Coahuila, Chihuahua, and Durango meet.  From the sound of it, the Zone of Silence is a little like the Mexican version of the Bermuda Triangle.  Within this area, "radio and TV signals... are gobbled up," "strange lights or fireballs (maneuver) at night, changing colors, hanging motionless and then taking off at great speed," and there are falls of "small metallic balls... known locally as guĂ­jolas," which are "collected by locals and visitors alike, and treated with great reverence."

My thought on this last part is that if you are the sort of person who might be tempted to treat a small metallic ball with great reverence, you probably should not be allowed to wander about in the desert unaccompanied.

One difference between this place and the Bermuda Triangle is that being dry land (extremely dry, in this case), the Zone of Silence can also host honest-to-Fox-Mulder Close Encounters of the Third Kind.  There have been several reports of meetings with "tall blond individuals," who spoke flawless Spanish "with a musical ring."  In one case, they were wearing yellow raincoats, and helped some lost travelers whose car was stuck in the mud during one of the area's infrequent, but torrential, downpours.  This is encouraging; most of the other aliens I've heard of seem more interested in evil pastimes, such as infiltrating world governments, dissecting livestock, and placing computer chips in the heads of abducted earthlings, after the obligatory horrifying medical exam on board the spacecraft, about which we will say no more out of respect for the more sensitive members of the studio audience.  Myself, I find reports of helpful aliens distinctly encouraging, and hope you won't think me self-serving if I just mention briefly that if there are any like-minded aliens visiting upstate New York soon, I could sure use a hand weeding my vegetable garden.

I found this image of a "Nordic Alien" on a website that cautions you against getting into a spaceship piloted by tall blond extraterrestrials, which honestly seems like good advice, although it must be said that this one is kind of hot-looking.  It also says that The Matrix was a coded message warning us about the dangers of being harvested by aliens. The good news is that if you are approached, all you have to do is say, "I decline your offer to a contract," and they'll have no choice but to retreat in disarray.

Of course, my more scientific readers will be asking themselves why, exactly, is this spot a "zone of silence?"  Answers vary, as you might expect.  One explanation I've seen proffered is the presence of uranium ore in nearby mountains (because diffuse deposits of radioactive ores clearly attract aliens, cause small metal balls to fall from the sky, and interfere with radio signals).  Another is that this spot represents a "concentration of earth energies."  Whatever the fuck that means.  It is also claimed that there is an "astronomical observatory thousands of years old... a Mexican Stonehenge" in the area.  Well, that's enough for me!  Uranium ore + "concentration of earth energies" + anything that can be compared to Stonehenge = some serious shit!  The Upstate New York Esoteric Detective is on it!  Mobilize the troops!

Well, not really.  Sadly, I'm not able to mobilize in this direction at the present time.  The disappointing fact is that given the current state of affairs in northern Mexico, it's not all that appealing to go down and visit the place.  I mean, tall sexy blond aliens with yellow rain slickers are one thing; dodging bullets from members of mutually hostile drug cartels is quite another.  I think the field work will have to wait until things calm down a little.

Until then, however, keep your eyes open for any other esoteric phenomena that may pop up -- I'm ready to investigate, especially if it's close enough to where I live that I can be back by nap time.  Should such opportunities come to my attention, I'll post further research notes here.  You'll be the first to know.


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