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Old 29-11-2013, 09:54 AM   #41
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interesting thread -with good links - must return later to some of the old threads -
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Old 01-12-2013, 12:33 AM   #42
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Lightbulb Hells Angels - A Strange and Terrible Saga


By some accounts, the Hells Angels were hired as security by the management of the Rolling Stones, on the recommendation of the Grateful Dead (who had previously used the Angels for security at performances without incident), for $500 worth of beer — a story that has been denied by parties who were directly involved. According to Rolling Stones' road manager Sam Cutler, "the only agreement there ever was ... the Angels would make sure nobody tampered with the generators, but that was the extent of it. But there was no way 'They're going to be the police force' or anything like that. That's all bollocks." The deal was made at a meeting between Cutler, Grateful Dead manager Rock Scully, and Pete Knell, a Hells Angel, from the Angels' San Francisco chapter.. According to Cutler, the arrangement was that all the bands lined up for the free concert were supposed to share the $500 cost for beer to pay the Angels, "[but] the person who paid it was me, and I never got it back, to this day.”


"California, Labor Day weekend . . . early, with ocean fog still in the streets, outlaw motorcyclists wearing chains, shades and greasy Levis roll out from damp garages, all-night diners and cast-off one-night pads in Frisco, Hollywood, Berdoo and East Oakland, heading for the Monterey peninsula, north of Big Sur. . . The Menace is loose again." Thus begins Hunter S. Thompson's vivid account of his experiences with California's most no-torious motorcycle gang, the Hell's Angels. In the mid-1960s, Thompson spent almost two years living with the controversial An-gels, cycling up and down the coast, reveling in the anarchic spirit of their clan, and, as befits their name, raising hell. His book successfully captures a singular moment in American history, when the biker lifestyle was first defined, and when such countercultural movements were electrifying and horrifying America. Thompson, the creator of Gonzo journalism, writes with his usual bravado, energy, and brutal honesty, and with a nuanced and incisive eye; as The New Yorker pointed out, "For all its uninhibited and sardonic humor, Thompson's book is a thoughtful piece of work." As illuminating now as when originally published in 1967, Hell's Angels is a gripping portrait, and the best account we have of the truth behind an American legend...

Beelzebub is identified in the New Testament as the Devil, "prince of the demons".. Biblical scholar Thomas Kelly Cheyne suggested that it might be a derogatory corruption of Ba‘al Zəbûl, "Lord of the High Place" (i.e., Heaven) or "High Lord"..In Arabic, the name is retained as Ba‘al dhubaab / zubaab (بعل الذباب), literally "Lord of the flies"...

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Old 01-12-2013, 09:27 AM   #43
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• "Only by forgetting this primitive world of metaphor can one live with any repose, security, and consistency: only by means of the petrification and coagulation of a mass of images which originally streamed from the primal faculty of human imagination like a fiery liquid, only in the invincible faith that this sun, this window, this table is a truth in itself, in short, only by forgetting that he himself is an artistically creating subject, does man live with any repose, security, and consistency. If but for an instant he could escape from the prison walls of this faith, his 'self consciousness' would be immediately destroyed. It is even a difficult thing for him to admit to himself that the insect or the bird perceives an entirely different world from the one that man does, and that the question of which of these perceptions of the world is the more correct one is quite meaningless, for this would have to have been decided previously in accordance with the criterion of the correct perception, which means, in accordance with a criterion which is not available."

• "Between two absolutely different spheres, as between subject and object, there is no causality, no correctness, and no expression; there is, at most, an aesthetic relation: I mean, a suggestive transference, a stammering translation into a completely foreign tongue — for which there is required, in any case, a freely inventive intermediate sphere and mediating force. 'Appearance' is a word that contains many temptations, which is why I avoid it as much as possible. For it is not true that the essence of things 'appears' in the empirical world. A painter without hands who wished to express in song the picture before his mind would, by means of this substitution of spheres, still reveal more about the essence of things than does the empirical world. Even the relationship of a nerve stimulus to the generated image is not a necessary one. But when the same image has been generated millions of times and has been handed down for many generations and finally appears on the same occasion every time for all mankind, then it acquires at last the same meaning for men it would have if it were the sole necessary image and if the relationship of the original nerve stimulus to the generated image were a strictly causal one. In the same manner, an eternally repeated dream would certainly be felt and judged to be reality. But the hardening and congealing of a metaphor guarantees absolutely nothing concerning its necessity and exclusive justification."

• "If each of us had a different kind of sense perception — if we could only perceive things now as a bird, now as a worm, now as a plant, or if one of us saw a stimulus as red, another as blue, while a third even heard the same stimulus as a sound — then no one would speak of such a regularity of nature, rather, nature would be grasped only as a creation which is subjective in the highest degree. After all, what is a law of nature as such for us? We are not acquainted with it in itself, but only with its effects, which means in its relation to other laws of nature — which, in turn, are known to us only as sums of relations. Therefore all these relations always refer again to others and are thoroughly incomprehensible to us in their essence."

"The drive toward the formation of metaphors is the fundamental human drive, which one cannot for a single instant dispense with in thought, for one would thereby dispense with man himself. This drive is not truly vanquished and scarcely subdued by the fact that a regular and rigid new world is constructed as its prison from its own ephemeral products, the concepts. It seeks a new realm and another channel for its activity, and it finds this in myth and in art generally. This drive continually confuses the conceptual categories and cells by bringing forward new transferences, metaphors, and metonymies. It continually manifests an ardent desire to refashion the world which presents itself to waking man, so that it will be as colorful, irregular, lacking in results and coherence, charming, and eternally new as the world of dreams. Indeed, it is only by means of the rigid and regular web of concepts that the waking man clearly sees that he is awake; and it is precisely because of this that he sometimes thinks that he must be dreaming when this web of concepts is torn by art."

~ Fredrich Nietzsche, "On Truth and Lie in an Extra-Moral Sense" (1873)


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Old 01-12-2013, 06:16 PM   #44
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Thus Spoke Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche (complete)


Not the best translation, but since translations have copyrights too, apparently that's the only one currently in the public domain.

For reading, the Hollingdale English translation is probably the best (although keeping other translations on hand to compare is always a good idea):












01:18:51 XI. THE NEW IDOL.


01:31:19 XIII. CHASTITY.

01:33:56 XIV. THE FRIEND.







































































Richard Strauss - Also sprach Zarathustra, Op. 30


Also sprach Zarathustra, Op. 30 (Thus Spoke Zarathustra or Thus Spake Zarathustra) is a tone poem by Richard Strauss,
composed during 1896 and inspired by Friedrich Nietzsche's philosophical treatise of the same name.
The piece is divided into nine sections played with only three definite pauses. Strauss named the sections after selected
chapters of the Nietzsche's book:

1. "Einleitung" (Introduction): according to the interpretations, it should represent the Creation or the coming of the new age
of the Overman and so, because of its evocative and declaimed aspect, it is led back to the Overman's motto.
2. "Von den Hinterweltlern" (Of the Hereaftergo'ers): here the brass quote the gregorian cento "Credo in unum Deum" or "I believe
in one God" to represent faith at the top synthesis.
3. "Von der großen Sehnsucht" (Of the Great Longing): maybe it represents the age of "Sturm und Drang"; here there's a liturgical
quotation from "Magnificat".
4. "Von den Freuden und Leidenschaften" (Of the Joys and Passions): the word to the strings, at the top tension; the trombones
expose the theme of "Taedium Vitae".
5. "Das Grablied" (The Grave-Song): part where the strings prevail.
6. "Von der Wissenschaft" (Of Science): it is a fugue whose subject all only the twelve notes to represent scientism, positivism and
maybe, to ridicule the rising dodecaphony.
7. "Der Genesende" (The Convalescent): it completes the tension of the previous movement, then, after a rough pause determined
by a rip of the strings in the bass register, it starts again from the mystery to go to the atmosphere of the following movement.
8. "Das Tanzlied" (The Dance Song): the theme of "Taedium Vitae" is taken again trasfigured in a waltz.
9. "Nachtwandlerlied" (Song of the Night Wanderer): coda where the finale is suspended avoiding the cadence on the tonic.

Paintings by J.M.W. Turner and Caspar Friedrich.

Conductor: Georg Solti & Chicago Symphony Orchestra.

Richard Strauss: "Also sprach Zarathustra" op.30


L'Orchestra Nazionale di Santa Cecilia, Roma
Direttore d'orchestra: Antonio Pappano

Note: this is an orchestral video with cameras on the orchestra so you get to see who plays what. It's a more passionate
and hot-blooded interpretation than Solti's, but not necessarily better.

Nietzsche Also Sprach Zarathustra 8Std Komplett - In the Original German


The Antichrist Friedrich Nietzsche - Audiobook Full


For reading, the Hollingdale English translation is probably the best (although keeping other translations on hand to compare is a good idea):


Beyond Good & Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche - Audiobook Full


Ecce Homo by Friedrich Nietzsche - (Anthony Ludovici translation) - Audiobook Full


"Ecce Homo is an autobiography like no other. Deliberately provocative, Nietzsche subverts the conventions of
the genre and pushes his philosophical positions to combative extremes, constructing a genius-hero whose life
is a chronicle of incessant self-overcoming. Written in 1888, a few weeks before his descent into madness, the
book passes under review all of Nietzsche's previous works so that we, his 'posthumous' readers, can finally
understand him, on his own terms. He reaches final reckonings with his many enemies, including Richard Wagner,
German nationalism, 'modern men' in general, and above all Christianity, proclaiming himself the Antichrist. Ecce
is the summation of an extraordinary philosophical career, a last great testament to Nietzsche's will."

The Twilight of the Idols - Friedrich NIETZSCHE (1844 - 1900) - full audiobook -
translated by Anthony Mario LUDOVICI (1882 - 1971)


"Of The Twilight of the Idols, Nietzsche says in Ecce Homo: 'If anyone should desire to obtain a rapid sketch of how
everything before my time was standing on its head, he should begin reading me in this book. That which is called 'Idols'
on the title-page is simply the old truth that has been believed in hitherto. In plain English, The Twilight of the Idols means
that the old truth is on its last legs.'

Certain it is that, for a rapid survey of the whole of Nietzsche's doctrine, no book, save perhaps the section entitled
'Of Old and New Tables' in Thus Spake Zarathustra, could be of more real value than The Twilight of the Idols.
Here Nietzsche is quite at his best. He is ripe for the marvellous feat of the transvaluation of all values. Nowhere is
his language -- that marvellous weapon which in his hand became at once so supple and so murderous -- more forcible
and more condensed. Nowhere are his thoughts more profound. But all this does not by any means imply that this book
is the easiest of Nietzsche's works. On the contrary, I very much fear that unless the reader is well prepared, not only
in Nietzscheism, but also in the habit of grappling with uncommon and elusive problems, a good deal of the contents of
this work will tend rather to confuse than to enlighten him in regard to what Nietzsche actually wishes to make clear in
these pages. (Excerpt from A. Ludovici's Preface)"


The following is section no. 38 of “Skirmishes of an Untimely Man” from Friedrich Nietzsche’s The Twilight of the Idols.

38. My conception of freedom. — The value of a thing sometimes does not lie in that which one attains by it, but in
what one pays for it — what it costs us. I shall give an example. Liberal institutions cease to be liberal as soon as they are
attained: later on, there are no worse and no more thorough injurers of freedom than liberal institutions. Their effects are
known well enough: they undermine the will to power; they level mountain and valley, and call that morality; they make men
small, cowardly, and hedonistic — every time it is the herd animal that triumphs with them. Liberalism: in other words,

These same institutions produce quite different effects while they are still being fought for; then they really promote freedom
in a powerful way. On closer inspection it is war that produces these effects, the war for liberal institutions, which, as a war,
permits illiberal instincts to continue. And war educates for freedom. For what is freedom? That one has the will to assume
responsibility for oneself. That one maintains the distance which separates us. That one becomes more indifferent to difficulties,
hardships, privation, even to life itself. That one is prepared to sacrifice human beings for one’s cause, not excluding oneself.
Freedom means that the manly instincts which delight in war and victory dominate over other instincts, for example, over those
of “pleasure.” The human being who has become free — and how much more the spirit who has become free — spits on the
contemptible type of well-being dreamed of by shopkeepers, Christians, cows, females, Englishmen, and other democrats. The
free man is a warrior.

How is freedom measured in individuals and peoples? According to the resistance which must be overcome, according to the
exertion required, to remain on top. The highest type of free men should be sought where the highest resistance is constantly
overcome: five steps from tyranny, close to the threshold of the danger of servitude. This is true psychologically if by “tyrants”
are meant inexorable and fearful instincts that provoke the maximum of authority and discipline against themselves; most beautiful
type: Julius Caesar. This is true politically too; one need only go through history. The peoples who had some value, attained some
value, never attained it under liberal institutions: it was great danger that made something of them that merits respect. Danger
alone acquaints us with our own resources, our virtues, our armor and weapons, our spirit, and forces us to be strong. First principle:
one must need to be strong — otherwise one will never become strong.

Those large hothouses for the strong — for the strongest kind of human being that has so far been known — the aristocratic commonwealths
of the type of Rome or Venice, understood freedom exactly in the sense in which I understand it: as something one has or does not have,
something one wants, something one conquers.


The Will to Power - Fredrich Nietzsche - Kaufmann & Hollingdale translation


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Old 15-12-2013, 01:00 PM   #45
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Discourse on the Arts and Sciences by Jean-Jacques Rousseau - audio of Rousseau's mind-blowing treatise:






translation: Ian Johnston, Vancouver Island University


Preliminary Notice
First Part
Second Part
Rousseau’s Notes
Translator’s Endnotes


In the following text there are two sorts of endnotes, those provided by Rousseau as footnotes in his text and those provided by the translator. Rousseau’s notes are indicated with numbers in brackets: (1), (2), (3), and so on. The translator’s notes are indicated with an asterisk.

Jean Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778) wrote A Discourse on the Sciences and the Arts (commonly called The First Discourse) in 1750, as his entry in a competition set by the Academy of Dijon. His essay won first prize, and that success very quickly elevated him from obscurity and made him a celebrity.


which was awarded the prize by the Academy of Dijon

in the year 1750

On this Question, which the Academy itself proposed,

Has the restoration of the sciences and the arts contributed to purifying morality?

By a Citizen of Geneva

I am a barbarian here, because they do not understand me. (Ovid)*


What is celebrity? Here is the unfortunate work to which I owe my own. It is certain that this piece, which won me a prize and made my name, is mediocre at best, and I venture to add that it is one of the least in this whole collection. What an abyss of miseries the author would have avoided, if this first book had been received only according to its merits! But it was inevitable that an initially unjustified favour gradually brought me severe treatment which is even more undeserved.*


Here is one of the greatest and most beautiful questions ever raised. In this Discourse it is not a question of those metaphysical subtleties which have triumphed over all parts of literature and from which the programs in an academy are not always exempt. However, it does concern one of those truths upon which depends the happiness of the human race.

I anticipate that people will have difficulty forgiving me for the position I have dared to take. By colliding head on with everything which wins men’s admiration nowadays, I can expect only universal censure. And I should not count on public approval just because I have been honoured with the approbation of a few wise men. But still, I have taken my position. I am not worried about pleasing sophisticated wits or fashionable people. In every period there will be men destined to be governed by the opinions of their age, their country, and their society. For that very reason, certain men who nowadays act as free thinkers or philosophers would have been nothing but fanatics at the time of the League.* One must not write for such readers, if one wishes to live beyond one’s own century.

One more word, and I am be finished. Little expecting the honour I received, since I submitted this Discourse, I had reorganized and expanded it, to the point of making it, in one way or another, a different work. I thought myself obliged today to restore it to the state it was in when it was awarded the prize. I have only thrown in some notes and left two readily recognizable additions, of which the Academy perhaps might not have approved. I believed that equity, respect, and gratitude demanded I provide this notice.


We are deceived by the appearance of good.* (Horace)

Has the restoration of the sciences and the arts contributed to the purification or to the corruption of morality? This is the matter we have to examine. What side should I take on this question? That, gentlemen, which suits an honest man who knows nothing and who does not, for that reason, think any less of himself.

It will be difficult, I sense, to adapt what I have to say for the tribunal before which I am appearing. How can one venture to criticize the sciences in front of one of the most scholarly societies in Europe, to praise ignorance in a famous academy, and to reconcile a contempt for study with respect for truly learned men? I have seen these contradictions, and they have not discouraged me. I am not mistreating science, I told myself; I am defending virtue in front of virtuous men. Integrity is cherished among good people even more than erudition is among scholars. So what am I afraid of? The enlightened minds of the assembly which is listening to me? I confess that is a fear. But it is a fear about the construction of the Discourse and not about the opinions of the speaker. Equitable sovereigns have never hesitated to condemn themselves in doubtful arguments, and the greatest advantage in a just cause is having to defend oneself against an enlightened and honest party who is judge in his own case.

To this motive, which encourages me, is added another which makes me resolute: after I have upheld, according to my natural intelligence, the side of truth, no matter what success I have, there is a prize which I cannot fail to win. I will find it in the depths of my heart.


It is a great and beautiful spectacle to see a man somehow emerging from nothing by his own efforts, dispelling with the light of his reason the shadows in which nature had enveloped him, rising above himself, soaring in his mind up to the celestial regions, moving with giant strides, like the sun, through the vast expanse of the universe, and, what is even greater and more difficult, returning into himself in order to study man there and to understand his nature, his obligations, and his end. All of these marvelous things have been renewed in the past few generations.

Europe had fallen back into the barbarity of the first ages. Nations from this part of world, so enlightened today, a few centuries ago lived in a state worse than ignorance. Some sort of learned jargon even more despicable than ignorance had usurped the name of knowledge and set up an almost invincible obstacle in the way of its return. A revolution was necessary to bring men back to common sense, and it finally came from a quarter where one would have least expected it. It was the stupid Muslim, that eternal scourge of letters, who brought about their rebirth among us. The collapse of the throne of Constantine carried into Italy the debris of ancient Greece. France, in its turn, was enriched by these precious remnants. The sciences soon followed literature. To the art of writing was joined the art of thinking, a sequence which may seem strange but which is perhaps only too natural. And people began to perceive the main advantage of busying themselves with the Muses, which is to make men more sociable by inspiring in them the desire to please one another with works worthy of their mutual approbation.

The mind has its needs, just as the body does. The latter are the foundations of society; the former are its pleasing ornaments. While government and laws take care of the security and wellbeing of men in groups, the sciences, letters, and the arts, less despotic and perhaps more powerful, spread garlands of flowers over the iron chains which weigh men down, snuffing out in them the feeling of that original liberty for which they appear to have been born, and make them love their servitude by turning them into what we call civilized people. Need has raised thrones; the sciences and the arts have strengthened them. You earthly powers, cherish talents and protect those who nurture them (1). Civilized nations, cultivate them. Happy slaves, to them you owe that refined and delicate taste you take pride in, that softness of character and that urbanity of habits which make dealings among you so sociable and easy—in a word, the appearance of all the virtues without the possession of any.

It was with this type of civility, all the more agreeable for being less pretentious, that Athens and Rome earlier distinguished themselves in the days when they were so praised for their magnificence and splendour. In that civility our age and our nation will, no doubt, surpass all ages and all peoples. A philosophical tone without pedantry, natural yet considerate manners, equally remote from Teutonic boorishness and Italian pantomime: there you have the fruits of a taste acquired by good education and perfected by social interaction in the world.

How pleasant it would be to live among us, if the exterior appearance was always an image of the heart’s tendencies; if decency was a virtue; if our maxims served us as rules; if true philosophy was inseparable from the title of philosopher! But so many qualities too rarely go together, and virtue hardly ever walks in so much pomp. Richness in dress can announce a man with wealth, and elegance a man with taste. The healthy, robust man is recognized by other signs. It is under the rustic clothing of a farmer and not under the gilt of a courtier that one will find physical strength and energy. Finery is no less a stranger to virtue, which is the strength and vigour of the soul. The good man is an athlete who delights in competing naked. He scorns all those vile ornaments which hamper the use of his strength, the majority of which were invented only to conceal some deformity.

Before art fashioned our manners and taught our passions to speak an affected language, our morals were rustic but natural, and differences in behaviour announced at first glance differences in character. Human nature was not fundamentally better, but men found their security in the ease with which they could see through one another, and this advantage, whose value we no longer feel, spared them many vices.

Nowadays, when more subtle studies and a more refined taste have reduced the art of pleasing into principles, a vile and misleading uniformity governs our morals, and all minds seem to have been cast in the same mould. Politeness incessantly makes demands, propriety issues orders, and people incessantly follow customary habits, never their own inclinations. They no longer dare to appear as they are. And in this perpetual constraint, men who make up this herd we call society, placed in the same circumstances, will all do the same things, unless more powerful motives prevent them. Thus, we never know well the person we are dealing with. For to get to know our friends we must wait for critical occasions, that is to say, to wait until too late, because these are the very occasions when we would have needed to know who our friends are.

What a cortege of vices accompanies this uncertainty! No more sincere friendships, no more real esteem, no more well-founded trust. Suspicions, resentments, fears, coldness, reserve, hatred, and betrayal will always be hiding under this uniform and perfidious veil of politeness, under that urbanity which is so praised and which we owe to our century’s enlightenment. We will no longer profane the name of the Lord of the Universe by swearing, but we will insult it with blasphemies, which will not offend our scrupulous ears. People will not boast of their own merit, but they will demean that of others. No man will grossly abuse his enemy, but he will slander him with skill. National hatreds will die out, but so will love of one’s homeland. In place of contemptible ignorance, we will substitute a dangerous Pyrrhonism. * Some excesses will be forbidden, and some vices held in disgrace, but others will be honoured with the name of virtues. It will be necessary to have them or to affect them. Let anyone who wishes boast about the sobriety of the wise men of our time. As for me, I see nothing there but a refinement of intemperance as unworthy of my praise as their affected simplicity (2).

Such is the purity our morality has acquired. In this way we have become good people. It is up to literature, the sciences, and the arts to claim responsibility for their share in such salutary work. I shall add merely one reflection: an inhabitant in some distant country who was looking to form an idea of European morals based on the condition of the sciences among us, on the perfection of our arts, on the propriety of our entertainments, on the politeness of our manners, on the affability of our discussions, on our perpetual displays of good will, and on that turbulent competition among men of all ages and all conditions who appear to be fussing from sunrise to sunset about pleasing one another, then this stranger, I say, would guess that our morals are exactly the opposite of what they are.

Where there is no effect, there is no cause to look for. But here the effect is certain, the depravity real, and our souls have become corrupted as our sciences and our arts have advanced towards perfection. Will someone say that this is a misfortune peculiar to our age? No, gentlemen. The evils brought about by our vain curiosity are as old as the world. The daily ebb and flow of the ocean’s waters have not been more regularly subjected to the orbit of the star which gives us light during the night than the fate of morals and probity has been to progress in the sciences and the arts. We have seen virtue fly away as their light has risen over our horizon, and the same phenomenon has been observed at all times and in all places.

Look at Egypt, that first school of the universe, that climate so fertile under a bronze sky, that celebrated country, which Sesostris left long ago to conquer the world. It became the mother of philosophy and fine arts, and soon afterwards was conquered by Cambyses, then by the Greeks, Romans, Arabs, and finally by the Turks. *

Look at Greece, populated long ago with heroes who twice vanquished Asia, once before Troy and then again in their own homeland. The early growth of literature had not yet carried corruption into the hearts of its inhabitants, but progress in the arts, the dissolution of morality, and the Macedonian yoke followed closely on one another’s heels, and Greece, always knowledgeable, always voluptuous, always enslaved, achieved nothing more in its revolutions except changes in its masters. All the eloquence of Demosthenes could never reanimate a body which luxury and the arts had enervated.*

It is at the time of Ennius and Terence that Rome, founded by a shepherd and made famous by farmers, begins to degenerate. But after Ovid, Catullus, Martial, and that crowd of obscene authors, whose very names alarm one’s sense of decency, Rome, formerly the temple of virtue, becomes the theatre of crime, the disgrace of nations, and the toy of barbarians. This capital of the world eventually falls under the yoke it had imposed on so many peoples, and the day of its fall was the day before one of its citizens was given the title of Arbiter of Good Taste.*

What shall I say about that great city of the Eastern Empire which by its position seemed destined to be the capital of the entire world, that sanctuary for the sciences and arts forbidden in the rest of Europe, perhaps more through wisdom than barbarity? Everything that is most disgraceful in debauchery and corruption—the blackest of treasons, assassinations, poisons, and the most atrocious combinations of every crime—that is what makes up the fabric of the history of Constantinople; that is the pure source from which the enlightenment for which our age glorifies itself spread to us.

But why seek in distant times for proofs of a truth for which we have existing evidence right before our eyes. There is in Asia an immense country where literary honours lead to the highest offices of state. If the sciences purified morals, if they taught men to shed their blood for their homeland, if they inspired courage, the people of China would become wise, free, and invincible. But if there is no vice which does not rule over them, no crime unfamiliar to them, if neither the enlightenment of ministers nor the alleged wisdom of the laws nor the multitude of inhabitants of this vast empire was capable of keeping it safe from yoke of the ignorant and coarse Tartars, what use have all these wise men been to it? What fruit has it reaped from the honours lavished on them? Could it be that of being populated by evildoers and slaves?

Let us contrast these pictures with those of the morals of a small number of peoples who, protected from this contagion of vain knowledge, have by their virtues created their own happiness and set an example to other nations. Such were the first Persians, a remarkable nation, in which people learned virtue the way we learn science, a country which conquered Asia so easily and which was the only one to acquire the glory of having the history of its institutions taken for a philosophical novel. Such were the Scythians to whom we have been left such magnificent tributes. Such were the Germans, in whom a writer who had grown weary of tracing the crimes and baseness of an educated, opulent, and voluptuous nation found relief by describing their simplicity, innocence, and virtues. Rome had been like that, even in the time of its poverty and ignorance. And finally in our own day that rustic nation has shown itself to be like this, so lauded for its courage, which adversity has been unable to defeat, and for its fidelity which no example could corrupt (3).

It is not through stupidity that these nations preferred other exercises to those of the mind. They were not ignorant of the fact that in other lands idle men spent their lives disputing the sovereign good, vice and virtue, and that proud reasoners, while giving themselves the greatest praise, lumped all other nations together under the contemptuous name of barbarians. But these nations took note of the other people’s morals and learned to scorn their teachings. (4).

Could I forget that it was the very heart of Greece that saw the emergence of that city as famous for its happy ignorance as for the wisdom of its laws, whose virtues seemed so much greater than those of humanity that it was a republic of demigods rather than of men? O Sparta! How you eternally shame a vain doctrine! While the vices, led along by the fine arts, were being introduced together in Athens and a tyrant there was collecting with so much care the works of the prince of poets, you were chasing the arts and the artists, the sciences and the scholars from your walls.*

The way things turned out indicated this difference. Athens became the abode of politeness and good taste, the land of orators and philosophers. The elegance of the buildings there corresponded to that of its language. In every quarter one saw marble and canvas brought to life by the hands of the most accomplished masters. From Athens came those amazing works which will serve as models in all corrupt ages. The picture of Sparta is less brilliant. “In that place,” other nations used to say, “the men are born virtuous, and even the air of the country seems to inspire virtue.” Nothing is left for us of its inhabitants except the memory of their heroic actions. Should monuments like that be less valuable to us than those curious marbles which Athens has left us?

It is true that some wise men resisted the general torrent and avoided vice while living with the Muses. But one needs to hear the judgment which the most important and most unfortunate among them delivered on the learned men and artists of his time.

“I examined the poets,” he says, “and I look on them as people whose talent overawes both themselves and others, people who present themselves as wise men and are taken as such, when they are nothing of the sort.”

“From the poets,” Socrates continues, “I moved to the artists. No one was more ignorant about the arts than I; no one was more convinced that artists possessed really beautiful secrets. However, I noticed that their condition was no better than that of the poets and that both of them have the same misconceptions. Because the most skillful among them excel in what they do, they look upon themselves as the wisest of men. In my eyes, this presumption completely tarnished their knowledge. As a result, putting myself in the place of the oracle and asking myself what I would prefer to be—what I am or what they are, to know what they have learned or to know that I know nothing—I replied to myself and to the god: I wish to remain what I am.”

“We do not know—neither the sophists, nor the poets, nor the orators, nor the artists, nor I—what the True, the Good, and the Beautiful is. But there is this difference between us: although these people know nothing, they all believe they know something; whereas, I, if I know nothing, at least have no doubts about it. As a result, all this superiority in wisdom which the oracle has attributed to me reduces itself to the single point that I am strongly convinced that I am ignorant of what I do not know.”

So there you have the wisest of men in the judgment of the gods and the most knowledgeable Athenian in the opinion of all of Greece, Socrates, speaking in praise of ignorance! Do we believe that if he came to life among us, our learned men and our artists would make him change his opinion? No, gentlemen. This just man would continue to be contemptuous of our vain sciences; he would not help to augment that pile of books with which we are swamped from all directions, and he would leave, as he once did, nothing by way of a moral precept for his disciples and our posterity other than his example and the memory of his virtue. It is beautiful to teach men in this way!

Socrates had started in Athens. In Rome Cato the Elder continued to rail against those artificial and subtle Greeks who were seducing virtue and weakening the courage of his fellow citizens.* But the sciences, arts, and dialectic prevailed once more. Rome was filled with philosophers and orators, military discipline was neglected, and agriculture scorned. People embraced factions and forgot about their homeland. The sacred names of liberty, disinterestedness, and obedience to the laws gave way to the names Epicurus, Zeno, and Arcesilas.* “Since the learned men began to appear among us,” their own philosophers used to say, “good people have been in eclipse.” Up to that time Romans had been content to practise virtue; everything was lost when they began to study it.

O Fabricius! What would your great soul have thought if, to your own misfortune, you had been called back to life and had seen the pompous face of this Rome saved by your hand, the city which your honourable name had distinguished more than all its conquests? “Gods,” you would have said, “what has happened to those thatched roofs and those rustic homes where moderation and virtue once lived? What fatal splendour has succeeded Roman simplicity? What is this strange language? What are these effeminate customs? What do these statues signify, these paintings, these buildings? You mad people, what have you done? You masters of nations, have you turned yourself into the slaves of the frivolous men you conquered? Are you now governed by rhetoricians? Was it to enrich architects, painters, sculptors, and actors that you soaked Greece and Asia with your blood? Are the spoils of Carthage a trophy for a flute player? Romans, hurry to tear down these amphitheatres, break up these marbles, burn these paintings, chase out these slaves who are subjugating you, whose fatal arts are corrupting you. Let other hands distinguish themselves with vain talents. The only talent worthy of Rome is that of conquering the world and making virtue reign there. When Cineas took our Senate for an assembly of kings, he was not dazzled by an empty pomp or an affected elegance. He did not hear there this frivolous eloquence, the study and charm of trivial men. What then did Cineas see that was so majestic? O citizens! He saw a spectacle which your riches or all your arts will never produce, the most beautiful sight which has ever appeared under heaven, an assembly of two hundred virtuous men, worthy to command in Rome and to govern the earth.”*

But let us move across distances of space and time and see what has happened in our countries, before our own eyes, or rather, let us set aside the hateful pictures which would wound our sensitivity and spare ourselves the trouble of repeating the same things under other names. It is not in vain that I called upon the shade of Fabricius. What did I make that great man say that I could not have put into the mouth of Louis XII or of Henry IV? Among us, to be sure, Socrates would not have drunk hemlock, but he would have drunk from an even bitterer cup insulting mockery and contempt a hundred times worse than death.*

There you see how luxury, debauchery, and slavery have in every age been the punishment for the arrogant efforts we have made in order to emerge from the happy ignorance where Eternal Wisdom had placed us. The thick veil with which it has covered all its operations seemed to provide a sufficient warning to us that it had not destined us for vain investigations. But have we known how to profit from any of its lessons? Have we neglected any with impunity? Then, people, learn for once that nature wished to protect you from knowledge, just as a mother snatches away a dangerous weapon from the hands of her child, that all the secrets which she keeps hidden from you are so many evils she is protecting you against, and that the difficulty you experience in educating yourselves is not the least of her benefits. Men are perverse; they would be even worse if they had had the misfortune of being born knowledgeable.

How humiliating these reflections are for humanity! How our pride must be mortified by them! What! Could integrity be the daughter of ignorance? Could knowledge and virtue be incompatible? What consequences could we not draw from these opinions? But to reconcile these apparent contradictions, we need only examine closely the vanity and the emptiness of those proud titles which dazzle us and which we hand out so gratuitously to human knowledge. Let us therefore consider the sciences and the arts in themselves. Let us see what must result from their progress. And let us no longer hesitate to concur on all points where our reasoning finds itself in agreement with conclusions drawn from history.


It was an old tradition, passed on from Egypt into Greece, that a god hostile to men’s peace and quiet was the inventor of the sciences (5). What opinion, then, must the Egyptians themselves have had about the sciences, which were born among them? They could observe near at hand the sources which had produced them. In fact, whether we leaf through the annals of the world or supplement uncertain chronicles with philosophical research, we will not find an origin for human learning that corresponds to the idea we like to create for it. Astronomy was born from superstition; eloquence from ambition, hate, flattery, and lies; geometry from avarice; physics from vain curiosity—everything, even the study of morality itself, from human pride. The sciences and the arts thus owe their birth to our vices; we would have fewer doubts about their advantages if they owed their birth to our virtues.

The flaw in their origin is only too clearly retraced for us in their objects. What would we do with the arts without the luxury which nourishes them? Without human injustice, what would be the use of jurisprudence? What would become of history if there were neither tyrants, nor wars, nor conspirators? In a word, who would want to spend his life in sterile contemplation, if each man consulted only his human duties and natural needs and had time only for his homeland, for the unfortunate, and for his friends? Are we thus fated to die tied down on the edge of the well where truth has taken refuge? This single reflection should, right from the outset, discourage every man who would seriously seek to instruct himself through the study of philosophy.

What dangers lurk! What false routes into an investigation of the sciences! How many errors, a thousand times more dangerous than the truth is useful, does one not have to get past to reach it? The problem is clear, for what is false is susceptible to an infinity of combinations, but truth has only one form of being. Besides, who is seeking it in full sincerity? Even with the best of intentions, by what marks does one recognize it for certain? In this crowd of different opinions, what will be our criterion to judge it properly (6)? And the most difficult point of all: if by luck we do end up finding the truth, who among us will know how to make good use of it?

If our sciences are vain in the goal they set for themselves, they are even more dangerous in the effects they produce. Born in idleness, they nourish it in their turn, and the irreparable waste of time is the first damage they necessarily inflict on society. In politics, as in morality, it is a great evil not to do good, and we can look on every useless citizen as a pernicious man. So answer me, illustrious philosophers, those of you thanks to whom we know in what proportions bodies attract each other in a vacuum, what in the planetary orbits are the relationships of the areas gone through in equal times, what curves have conjugate points, points of inflection and cusps, how man sees everything in God, how the soul and the body work together without communication, just as two clocks do, what stars could be inhabited, which insects reproduce in an extraordinary way. Answer me, I say, you from whom we have received so much sublime knowledge, if you had never taught us anything about these things, would we be less numerous, less well governed, less formidable, less thriving, or more perverse? So go back over the importance of what you have produced, and if the work of our most enlightened scholars and of our best citizens brings us so little of any use, tell us what we should think of that crowd of obscure writers and idle men of letters who are uselessly devouring the substance of the state.

Did I say idle? Would to God they really were! Our morality would be healthier and society more peaceful. But these vain and futile declaimers move around in all directions armed with their fatal paradoxes, undermining the foundations of faith and annihilating virtue. They smile with disdain at those old words homeland and religion and dedicate their talents and their philosophy to the destruction and degradation of everything sacred among men. Not that they basically hate either virtue or our dogmas. It is public opinion they are opposed to, and to bring them back to the foot of the altar, all one would have to do is make them live among atheists. O this rage to make oneself stand out, what are you not capable of?

To misuse one’s time is a great evil. But other even worse ones come with arts and letters. Luxury is such an evil, born, like them, from the idleness and vanity of men. Luxury rarely comes along without the sciences and the arts, and they never appear without it. I know that our philosophy, always fertile in extravagant maxims, maintains, contrary to the experience of all the ages, that luxury creates the splendour of states, but, having forgotten about the need for Sumptuary Laws, will philosophy still dare to deny that good morals are essential to the duration of empires and that luxury is diametrically opposed to good morals? * True, luxury may be a sure sign of riches, and it even serves, if you like, to multiply them. What will we necessarily conclude from this paradox, so worthy of arising in our day, and what will virtue become when people must enrich themselves at any price? Ancient politicians talked incessantly about morality and virtue; our politicians talk only about business and money. One will tell you that in a particular country a man is worth the sum he could be sold for in Algiers; another, by following this calculation, will find countries where a man is worth nothing and others where he is worth less than nothing. They assess men like herds of livestock. According to them, a man has no value to the state apart from what he consumes in it. Thus one Sybarite would have been worth at least thirty Lacedaemonians. Would someone therefore hazard a guess which of these two republics, Sparta or Sybaris, was overthrown by a handful of peasants and which one made Asia tremble? *

The kingdom of Cyrus was conquered with thirty thousand men by a prince poorer than the least of the Persian satraps, and the Scythians, the poorest of all nations, managed to resist the most powerful kings of the universe. Two famous republics were fighting for imperial control of the world. One was very rich, the other had nothing, and the latter destroyed the former. The Roman Empire, in its turn, after gulping down all the riches in the universe, became the prey of a people who did not even know what wealth was. The Franks conquered the Gauls, and the Saxons conquered England, without any treasures other than their bravery and their poverty. A bunch of poor mountain dwellers whose greed was limited to a few sheep skins, after crushing Austrian pride, wiped out that opulent and formidable House of Burgundy, which had made the potentates of Europe tremble. Finally, all the power and all the wisdom of Charles V’s heir, supported by all the treasures of the Indies, ended up being shattered by a handful of herring fishermen. Let our politicians deign to suspend their calculations in order to reflect upon these examples, and let them learn for once that with money one has everything except morals and citizens.

What, then, is precisely the issue in this question of luxury? To know which of the following is more important to empires: to be brilliant and momentary or virtuous and lasting. I say brilliant, but with what lustre? A taste for ostentation is rarely associated in the same souls with a taste for honesty. No, it is not possible that minds degraded by a multitude of futile concerns would ever raise themselves to anything great. Even when they had the strength for that, they would lack the courage.

Every artist wishes to be applauded. The praises of his contemporaries are the most precious part of his reward. What will he do, then, to obtain that praise if he has the misfortune of being born among a people and in a time when learned men who have come into fashion have seen to it that frivolous young people set the tone, where men have sacrificed their taste to those who tyrannize over their liberty (7 ), where, because one of the sexes dares to approve only what matches the pusillanimity of the other, people abandon masterpieces of dramatic poetry and wonderfully harmonious works are rejected? What will that artist do, gentlemen? He will lower his genius to the level of his age and will prefer to create commonplace works which people will applaud during his lifetime rather than marvelous ones which would not be admired until long after his death. Tell us, famous Arouet, how many strong and manly beautiful things you have sacrificed to our false delicacy and how many great things the spirit of gallantry, so fertile in small things, has cost you?*

In this way, the dissolution of morals, a necessary consequence of luxury, brings with it, in its turn, the corruption of taste. If by chance among men of extraordinary talents there is one who has a firm soul and refuses to accommodate the spirit of his age and to demean himself with puerile works, too bad for him! He will die in poverty and oblivion. I wish I were making a prediction here and not describing experience! Carle and Pierre, the moment has come when that paintbrush destined to augment the majesty of our temples with sublime and holy images will fall from your hands or will be prostituted to decorate carriage panels with lascivious paintings. And you, rival of Praxiteles and Phidias, you whose chisel the ancients would have used to create for them gods capable of excusing their idolatry in our eyes, inimitable Pigalle, your hand will be resigned to refinishing the belly of a grotesque oriental figurine, or it will have to remain idle.*

We cannot reflect on morality without deriving pleasure from recalling the picture of the simplicity of the first ages. It is a lovely shore, adorned only by the hands of nature, toward which we are always turning our eyes, and from which we perceive, with regret, we are growing more distant. When innocent and virtuous men liked to have gods as witnesses of their actions, they lived with them in the same huts. But having soon become evil, they grew weary of these inconvenient spectators and relegated them to magnificent temples. Finally, they chased the gods out of those so they could set themselves up there or at least the gods’ temples were no longer distinguished from the citizens’ homes. This was then the height of depravity, and vices were never pushed further than when one saw them, so to speak, propped up on marble columns and carved into Corinthian capitals in the entrance ways of great men’s palaces.

While the conveniences of life multiply, while the arts perfect themselves, and while luxury spreads, true courage grows enervated, and military virtues vanish, once again the work of the sciences and all those arts which are practised in the shadows of the study. When the Goths ravaged Greece, all the libraries were rescued from the flames only by the opinion spread by one of them that they should let their enemies have properties so suitable for turning them away from military exercise and for keeping them amused with sedentary and idle occupations. Charles VIII saw himself master of Tuscany and the Kingdom of Naples without hardly drawing his sword, and all his court attributed the unexpected ease of this to the fact that the princes and the nobility of Italy enjoyed making themselves clever and learned more than they did training to become vigorous and warlike. In fact, says the sensible man who describes these two events, every example teaches us that in military policy and all things similar to it, the study of the sciences is far more suitable for softening and feminizing courageous qualities than for strengthening and encouraging them.

The Romans maintained that military virtue was extinguished among them as they began to know about paintings, engravings, and vases worked in gold and silver, and to cultivate the fine arts. And, as if this famous country was destined to serve constantly as an example for other peoples, the rise of the Medici and the re-establishment of letters led once again and perhaps for all time to the fall of that warrior reputation which Italy seemed to have regained a few centuries ago.

The ancient republics of Greece, with that wisdom which shone out from most of their institutions, prohibited their citizens all tranquil and sedentary occupations which, by weakening and corrupting the body, quickly enervate vigour in the soul. In fact, how do we think men whom the smallest need overwhelms and the least trouble disheartens are capable of facing hunger, thirst, exhaustion, dangers, and death? How courageously will soldiers endure excessive work with which they are quite unfamiliar? How enthusiastically will they make forced marches under officers who do not have the strength to make the journey even on horseback? And let no one offer me objections concerning the celebrated valour of these modern warriors who are trained so scientifically. People boast highly to me of their bravery on a day of battle, but no one tells me anything about how they bear an excess of work, about how they stand up to the harshness of the seasons and bad weather. It requires only a little sun or snow, only the lack of a few superfluities, to melt down and destroy in a few days the best of our armies. Intrepid warriors, for once accept the truth which you so rarely hear: you are brave, I know that; you would have triumphed with Hannibal at Cannae and at Trasimene; with you Caesar would have crossed the Rubicon and enslaved his people. But with you the former would not have crossed the Alps, and the latter would not have conquered your ancestors.*

Combat does not always produce success in war, and for generals there is an art superior to that of winning battles. A man can run fearlessly into the firing line and yet be a very bad officer. Even in an ordinary soldier, a little more strength and energy could perhaps be more essential than so much bravery, which does not protect him from death. And what does it matter to the state whether its troops die of fever and cold or by the enemy’s sword?

If cultivating the sciences is detrimental to warrior qualities, it is even more so to moral qualities. From our very first years an inane education adorns our minds and corrupts our judgment. I see all over the place immense establishments where young people are raised at great expense to learn everything except their obligations. Your children will not know their own language, but they will speak others which are nowhere in use. They will know how to compose verses which they will scarcely be able to understand. Without knowing how to distinguish truth and error, they will possess the art of making both truth and error unrecognizable to others through specious arguments. But they will not know what the words magnanimity, temperance, humanity, and courage mean. That sweet name of the homeland will never strike their ears, and if they hear talk of God, that will be less to be in awe of Him than to fear Him (8). I would be just as happy, a wise man said, that my pupil had spent his time on the tennis court. At least that his body would be more fit. I know that children must be kept busy and that idleness is for them the danger one should fear most. What then should they be learning? Now, that is surely a good question! Let them learn what they ought to do when they are men (9), and not what they ought to forget.

Our gardens are decorated with statues and our galleries with paintings. What do you think these artistic masterpieces on show for public admiration depict? Those who have defended their country? Or those even greater men who have enriched it with their virtues? No. They are images of every depravity of the heart and mind, carefully selected from ancient mythology and presented to our children’s curiosity at a young age, no doubt so that they may have right before their eyes models of perverse actions even before they know how to read.

From where do all these abuses arise if not from the fatal inequality introduced among men by distinctions among their talents and by the degradation of their virtues? There you have the most obvious effect of all our studies and the most dangerous of all their consequences. We no longer ask if a man has integrity but if he has talent, nor whether a book is useful but whether it is well written. The rewards for a witty man are enormous, while virtue remains without honour. There are a thousand prizes for fine discourses, none for fine actions. But let someone tell me if the glory attached to the best of the discourses that will be crowned in this Academy is comparable to the merit of having founded the prize?

The wise man does not run after fortune, but he is not insensitive to glory. And when he sees it so badly distributed, his virtue, which a little emulation would have energized and made advantageous to society, grows sluggish, and dies away in poverty and oblivion. That is what, in the long run, must be the result everywhere of a preference for agreeable talents rather than for useful ones, and that is what experience has only too often confirmed since the re-establishment of the sciences and the arts. We have physicists, mathematicians, chemists, astronomers, poets, musicians, painters, but we no longer have citizens. Or if we still have some scattered in our abandoned countryside, they are dying there impoverished and scorned. Such is the condition to which those who give us bread and provide milk for our children are reduced, and such are the feelings they get from us.

However, I concede that the evil is not as great as it could have become. Eternal foresight, by placing beside various noxious plants some healing medicinal herbs and setting inside the body of several harmful animals the remedy for their wounds, has taught sovereigns, who are its ministers, to imitate its wisdom. Through this example, that great monarch whose glory will only acquire new brilliance from age to age drew from the very bosom of the sciences and the arts, sources of a thousand moral failings, those celebrated societies charged with the dangerous trust of human knowledge and, at the same time, with the sacred trust of morals—charged, too, with taking care to preserve them in all their purity among themselves and to demand that from the members they admit.*

These wise institutions, reinforced by his august successor and imitated by all the kings in Europe, will serve at least as a restraint on men of letters, who all aspire to the honour of being admitted into the academies and will thus watch themselves and try to make themselves worthy of that honour with useful works and irreproachable morals. Among these academies, those who in their competitions for prizes with which they pay tribute to literary merit offer a choice of subjects appropriate to reanimating the love of virtue in citizens’ hearts will demonstrate that this love reigns among them and will give nations such a rare and sweet pleasure of seeing learned societies dedicating themselves to pouring out for the human race, not merely agreeable enlightenment, but also beneficial teaching.

Let no one therefore make an objection which is for me only a new proof. So many precautions reveal only too clearly how necessary it is to take them, and people do not seek remedies for evils which do not exist. Why must these ones, because of their inadequacy, still have the character of ordinary remedies? So many institutions created for the benefit of the learned are only more capable of impressing them with the objects of the sciences and of directing minds towards their cultivation. It seems, to judge from the precautions people take, that we have too many farmers and are afraid of not having enough philosophers. I do not wish to hazard a comparison here between agriculture and philosophy. People would not put up with that. I will simply ask: What is philosophy? What do the writings of the best known philosophers contain? What are the lessons of these friends of wisdom? To listen to them, would one not take them for a troupe of charlatans crying out in a public square, each from his own corner: “Come to me. I am the only one who does not deceive”? One of them maintains that there are no bodies and that everything is appearance, another that there is no substance except matter, no God other than the world. This one here proposes that there are no virtues or vices, and that moral good and moral evil are chimeras, that one over there that men are wolves and can devour each other with a clear conscience. O great philosophers, why not reserve these profitable lessons for your friends and children? You will soon earn your reward, and we would have no fear of finding any of your followers among our own friends and children.

There you have the marvelous men on whom the esteem of their contemporaries was lavished during their lives and for whom immortality was reserved after their passing away! Such are the wise maxims which we have received from them and which we will pass down to our descendants from age to age. Has paganism, though abandoned to all the caprices of human reason, left posterity anything which could be compared to the shameful monuments which printing has prepared for it under the reign of the Gospel? The profane writings of Leucippus and Diagoras perished with them.* People had not yet invented the art of immortalizing the extravagances of the human mind. But thanks to typographic characters (10) and the way we use them, the dangerous reveries of Hobbes and Spinoza will remain forever. Go, you celebrated writings, which the ignorance and rustic nature of our fathers would have been incapable of, pass down to our descendants with those even more dangerous writings which exude the corruption of morals in our age, and together carry into the centuries to come a faithful history of the progress and the advantages of our sciences and our arts. If they read you, you will not leave them in any perplexity about the question we are dealing with today. And unless they are more foolish than we are, they will lift their hands to heaven and say in the bitterness of their hearts, “Almighty God, You who hold the minds of men in your hands, deliver us from the enlightenment and the fatal arts of our fathers, and give us back ignorance, innocence, and poverty, the only goods that can make our happiness and that are precious in Your sight.”

But if the progress of the sciences and the arts has added nothing to our true happiness, if it has corrupted our morality, and if that moral corruption has polluted purity of taste, what will we think of that crowd of simpleminded writers who have removed from the Temple of the Muses the obstacles which safeguarded access to it and which nature had set up there as a test of strength for those who would be tempted to seek knowledge? What will we think of those compilers of works who have recklessly beaten down the door to the sciences and introduced into their sanctuary a population unworthy of approaching it. One would hope that all those who could not advance far in a career in letters would be turned back at the entrance way and thrown into arts useful to society. A man who all his life will be a bad versifier or a minor geometer could perhaps have become an important manufacturer of textiles. Those whom nature has destined to make her disciples had no need of teachers. Men like Bacon, Descartes, and Newton, these tutors of the human race, did not require tutors themselves, and what guides could have led them to those places where their vast genius carried them? Ordinary teachers could only have limited their understanding by confining it within their own narrow capabilities. With the first obstacles they encountered, they learned to exert themselves and made the effort to traverse the immense space they moved through. If it is necessary to permit some men to devote themselves to the study of the sciences and the arts, that should be only those who feel in themselves the power to walk alone in those men’s footsteps and to move beyond them. It is the task of this small number of people to raise monuments to the glory of the human mind. But if we wish nothing to lie outside their genius, then nothing must lie beyond their hopes. That is the only encouragement they require. The soul adapts itself insensibly to the objects which concern it, and it is great events which make great men. The prince of eloquence was Consul of Rome, and perhaps the greatest of the philosophers was Chancellor of England.* Can we believe that if one of them had merely occupied a chair in some university and the other had obtained only a modest pension from an Academy, can we believe, I say, that their works would not have been affected by their situations? So let kings not disdain to admit into their councils the people who are most capable of giving them good advice, and may they give up that old prejudice, invented by the pride of the great, that the art of leading nations is more difficult than the art of enlightening them, as if it were easier to induce men to do good voluntarily than to compel them to do it by force. May learned men of the first rank find in their courts an honourable sanctuary. May they obtain there the only reward worthy of them, contributing through their influence to the happiness of those people to whom they have taught wisdom. Then, and only then, will we see what can be achieved by virtue, science, and authority, energized by a noble emulation and working cooperatively for the happiness of the human race. But so long as power remains by itself on one side and enlightenment and wisdom isolated on the other, wise men will rarely think of great things, princes will even more rarely carry out fine actions, and nations will continue to be wretched, corrupt, and unhappy.

As for us, common men to whom heaven has not allotted such great talents and destined for so much glory, let us remain in our obscurity. Let us not run after a reputation that would elude us and which, in the present state of things, would never give back to us what it would have cost, even if we had all the qualifications to obtain it. What good is it looking for our happiness in the opinion of others if we can find it in ourselves? Let us leave to others the care of instructing nations about their duties and limit ourselves to carrying out our own well. We do not need to know any more than this.

O virtue! Sublime science of simple souls, are so many troubles and trappings necessary for one to know you? Are your principles not engraved in all hearts, and in order to learn your laws is it not enough to go back into oneself and listen to the voice of one’s conscience in the silence of the passions? There you have true philosophy. Let us learn to be satisfied with that, and without envying the glory of those famous men who are immortalized in the republic of letters, let us try to set between them and us that glorious distinction which people made long ago between two great peoples: one knew how to speak well; the other how to act well. *



Maurice Cranston (a1)

(a1) Political Science, London School of Economics and Political Science

Rousseau has the reputation of being a radical egalitarian. I shall suggest that a more careful reading of his work shows him to have been hardly more egalitarian than Plato. He was undoubtedly disturbed by existing inequalities, especially as he observed them in France. He had an original and interesting theory about how inequality among men came into being; he also set out what he considered to be the connections between equality and freedom. As a champion of a certain idea of freedom, he wrote in favor of specific sorts of equality; even as Plato, as the champion of a certain idea of justice, wrote in favor of putting every man in his place. The great difference is that Plato believed that men were never equal, whereas Rousseau believed they had once been equal but no longer were.

To the proposition that all men are born equal he could be said to subscribe only in the sense that “all men were originally equal”. Rousseau argued that equality prevailed in the state of nature; but he also said it would be wrong to expect, even to desire such equality in civil society. In the final footnote to his Discourse on the Origins of Inequality (hereinafter called the Second Discourse) he wrote (in 1753): “Distributive justice would still be opposed to that rigorous equality of the state of nature, even if it were practicable in civil society.”1

Commentators eager to claim Rousseau as an egalitarian, or proto-Marx, ignore this footnote; as for the opinions expressed in the Dedication to the Second Discourse, opinions no less at variance with egalitarian ideology, they tend to be dismissed as empty hyperbole, designed to ingratiate the philosopher with the authorities of Geneva at a time when he wanted to recover his rights as a citizen and burgess.

Egalitarianism as a Revolt Against Nature - Murray Rothbard:


"Le coeur de l'homme est son paradis ou son enfer." ~ Rousseau

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"Although modesty is natural to man, it is not natural to children. Modesty only begins with the knowledge of evil." -- Jean Jacques Rousseau

"Although men possess unequal powers, they nonetheless possess equal rights. Rights are not based on powers : because of the moral nature of justice, they are based on the fact that in each man the same will to live appears at the same stage of its objectivization. Yet this is valid only in respect of original and abstract rights, which man possesses as man. The property, likewise the honour which each man has acquired by means of his powers are in accordance with the measure and the nature of these powers and then extend to the sphere of his rights: it is here that equality therefore ceases. He who is better endowed or more active in this respect extends through his greater acquisitions, not his rights, but only the number of things to which they extend."-- Arthur Schopenhauer

"I have shown in my chief work (Volume II, chapter 47) that the STATE is essentially no more than an institution for the protection of the whole against attacks from without and the protection of its individual members from attacks by one another. It follows that the necessity for the state ultimately depends on the acknowledged INJUSTICE of the human race: without this no one would ever have thought of the state, since no one would have needed to fear any encroachment on his rights, and a mere union against the attacks of wild animals or the elements would bear only a very slight similarity to a state. From this point of view it is easy to see the ignorance and triviality of those philosophasters who, in pompous phrases, represent the state as the supreme goal and greatest achievement of mankind and thereby achieve an apotheosis of philistinism." ~ Arthur Schopenhauer

"The question of the sovereignty of the people amounts at bottom to the question whether anyone could have the natural right to rule a people against its will. I cannot see how that question could be answered affirmatively. It is therefore a fact that the people is sovereign: but this sovereignty never comes of age and therefore has to remain under the permanent care of a guardian: it can never exercise its rights itself without giving rise to limitless dangers, especially as, like all minors, it is easily fooled by cunning imposters, who are therefore called demagogues." ~ Arthur Schopenhauer

To renounce belief in one's ego, to deny one's own "reality" -- what a triumph! not merely over the senses, over appearance, but a much higher kind of triumph, a violation and cruelty against reason -- a voluptuous pleasure that reaches its height when the ascetic self-contempt and self-mockery of reason declares: "there is a realm of truth and being, but reason is excluded from it!"

But precisely because we seek knowledge, let us not be ungrateful to such resolute reversals of accustomed perspectives and valuations with which the spirit has, with apparent mischievousness and futility, raged against itself for so long: to see differently in this way for once, to want to see differently, is no small discipline and preparation for its future "objectivity" -- the latter understood not as "contemplation without interest" (which is a nonsensical absurdity), but as the ability to control one's Pro and Con and to dispose of them, so that one knows how to employ a variety of perspectives and affective interpretations in the service of knowledge.

Henceforth, my dear philosophers, let us be on guard against the dangerous old conceptual fiction that posited a "pure, will-less, painless, timeless knowing subject"; let us guard against the snares of such contradictory concepts as "pure reason," absolute spirituality," "knowledge in itself": these always demand that we should think of an eye that is completely unthinkable, an eye turned in no particular direction, in which the active and interpreting forces, through which alone seeing becomes seeing something, are supposed to be lacking; these always demand of the eye an absurdity and a nonsense. There is only a perspective seeing, only a perspective "knowing"; and the more affects we allow to speak about one thing, the more eyes, different eyes, we can use to observe one thing, the more complete will our "concept" of this thing, our "objectivity," be. But to eliminate the will altogether, to suspend each and every affect, supposing we were capable of this -- what would that mean but to castrate the intellect?

~ from Nietzsche's The Genealogy of Morals, s III.12, Walter Kaufmann translation

"What then is truth? A mobile army of metaphors, metonyms, and anthropomorphisms -- in short, a sum of human relations, which have been enhanced, transposed, and embellished poetically and rhetorically, and which after long use seem firm, canonical, and obligatory to a people: truths are illusions about which one has forgotten that is what they are; metaphors which are worn out and without sensuous power; coins which have lost their pictures and now matter only as metal, no longer as coins.

We still do not know where the urge for truth comes from; for as yet we have heard only of the obligation imposed by society that it should exist: to be truthful means using the customary metaphors - in moral terms, the obligation to lie according to fixed convention, to lie herd-like in a style obligatory for all..." -- Friedrich Nietzsche 'On Truth and Lie in an Extra-Moral Sense,'

Because we have for millenia made moral, aesthetic, religious demands on the world, looked upon it with blind desire, passion or fear, and abandoned ourselves to the bad habits of illogical thinking, this world has gradually become so marvelously variegated, frightful, meaningful, soulful, it has acquired color - but we have been the colorists: it is the human intellect that has made appearances appear and transported its erroneous basic conceptions into things.

from Nietzsche's Human, all too Human, s.16, R.J. Hollingdale transl.

The total character of the world, however, is in all eternity chaos--in the sense not of a lack of necessity but a lack of order, arrangement, form, beauty, wisdom, and whatever names there are for our aesthetic anthropomorphisms...Let us beware of attributing to it heartlessness and unreason or their opposites: it is neither perfect nor beautiful, nor noble, nor does it wish to become any of these things; it does not by any means strive to imitate man... Let us beware of saying that there are laws in nature. There are only necessities: there is nobody who commands, nobody who obeys, nobody who trespasses... But when will we ever be done with our caution and care? When will all these shadows of God cease to darken our minds? When will we complete our de-deification of nature? When may we begin to "naturalize" humanity in terms of a pure, newly discovered, newly redeemed nature?

from Nietzsche's The Gay Science, s.109, Walter Kaufmann transl..

Over immense periods of time the intellect produced nothing but errors. A few of these proved to be useful and helped to preserve the species: those who hit upon or inherited these had better luck in their struggle for themselves and their progeny. Such erroneous articles of faith... include the following: that there are things, substances, bodies; that a thing is what it appears to be; that our will is free; that what is good for me is also good in itself. --- from Nietzsche's The Gay Science, s.110, Walter Kaufmann transl..

Origin of the logical.-- How did logic come into existence in man's head? Certainly out of illogic, whose realm originally must have been immense. Innumerable beings who made inferences in a way different from ours perished; for all that, their ways might have been truer. Those, for example, who did not know how to find often enough what is "equal" as regards both nourishment and hostile animals--those, in other words, who subsumed things too slowly and cautiously--were favored with a lesser probability of survival than those who guessed immediately upon encountering similar instances that they must be equal. The dominant tendency, however, to treat as equal what is merely similar--an illogical tendency, for nothing is really equal--is what first created any basis for logic.

In order that the concept of substance could originate--which is indispensible for logic although in the strictest sense nothing real corresponds to it--it was likewise necessary that for a long time one did not see or perceive the changes in things. The beings that did not see so precisely had an advantage over those who saw everything "in flux." At bottom, every high degree of caution in making inferences and every skeptical tendency constitute a great danger for life. No living beings would have survived if the opposite tendency--to affirm rather than suspend judgement, to err and make up things rather than wait, to assent rather than negate, to pass judgement rather than be just-- had not been bred to the point where it became extraordinarily strong.

from Nietzsche's The Gay Science, s.111, Walter Kaufmann transl..

“All that is important is that each group or individual should construct the plane of immanence on which they lead their life and carry on their business. Without these conditions you obviously do lack something, but you lack precisely the conditions that make a desire possible. Organizations of forms – formations of subjects – incapacitate desire: they subject it to law and introduce lack into it. If you tie someone up and say to him, ‘express yourself, friend,’ the most that he will be able to say is that he doesn’t want to be tied up. The only spontaneity in desire is doubtless of that kind: to not want to be oppressed, exploited, enslaved, or subjugated. But no desire has ever been created with non-wishes.” ~ Gilles Deleuze - Dialogues II: 96.

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Old 25-12-2013, 07:20 PM   #48
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Originally Posted by saxxondale View Post

Yup. Not that Crowley's as "evil" as he's made out to be. I mean, he was pretty perverted but he was also an extremely learned and educated man. He said a lot of very intelligent things that those who are ready for it can benefit greatly from but most don't understand. Obongo has said nothing worth a shit in any of his "writings." Dinglebarry Soetero will wear a thousand Crowley shirts and Mao Tse Tung shirts and Che shirts and Mandela shirts before he dares to wear a single one with Hitler on it or even the ancient Swastika. And that, plus the 17 countries where it's illegal to question a certain event of WWII, should tell you all you need to know about who controls the levers of power and this disgusting puppet with it.

A Crowley lookalike also made an appearance at the Boston Marathon PsyOp, the famous pants-ripped-to-shreds-with-no-blood guy:


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Old 07-02-2014, 03:33 AM   #49
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December 1968: Rod Serling on Loyalty Oaths, the Vietnam War, and Social Inequity


delivered December 3, 1968 at Moorpark College, Moorpark, California

There seem to have arisen some complications relevant to my appearance here this evening that should be clarified before I begin. Plainly and simply. I refused to sign a loyalty oath which was submitted to me as a prerequisite both for my appearance and my pay. I gather that your local newspaper and some of its readers read dire and menacing implications in this refusal of mine, and I broach the whole thing only by way of a kind of personal disclaimer.

Number one, I have no interest in overthrowing the government of the United States and number two, to the best of my knowledge I have not or am not now a member of a subversive organization whose aims are similar. I know there are many of you out there who’ve put me in a genetic classification of someplace between a misanthropic kook and an ungracious dope. Actually, I’m neither. I did not sign the loyalty oath and I waived my normal speaking fee, only because of a principle. I think a requirement that a man affix his signature to a document, reaffirming loyalty, is on one hand ludicrous—and on the other demeaning.

A time-honored concept of Anglo-Saxon justice declares that a man is innocent until proven guilty. I believe that in a democratic society a man is similarly loyal until proven disloyal. No testaments of faith, no protestations of affection for his native land, and no amount of signatures will prove a bloody thing—one way or the other as to a man’s patriotism or lack thereof. The concept of the loyalty oath is a new one in the United States—in its present form it dates back less than twenty years. It’s been around for a number of decades in different countries under decidedly different forms of government. It was a requirement in Nazi Germany and in Fascist Italy, and is currently a prerequisite for the status of citizenship in the Soviet Union.
Under dictators, the so-called loyalty oath is a necessary adjunct to a relationship between man and his government. Both the Fascists and the Communists have a pathological distrust of their own people.


Pathological distrust? lol

Which "Facsists" is Rod talking about? The ones made up by all-lied propaganda perhaps?



75 Million Germans say "YES" to One Nation, One People, One Leader.


"No democratic Government in the world can submit itself to a popular vote in greater trust and with greater confidence than the National Socialist Government of Germany." -- Adolf Hitler, 30th January, 1935.

98% of the free German vote (March 29th, 1936)

99% of the free Austrian vote for reunification with Germany (March 13th, 1938)

90% of the free Saar Region vote for reunification (January 13th, 1935)

This would make Hitler the most popular freely elected leader of all time.

1937 - A Perfect German Sunday


Dresden Before the Destruction 1939

Sommersonntag in Berlin 1942 - Summer Sunday in Berlin 1942

“I personally think extremely well of Mussolini. If one compares him to American presidents (the last three) or British premiers, etc., in fact one can NOT without insulting him. If the intelligentsia don’t think well of him, it is because they know nothing about ‘the state,’ and government, and have no particularly large sense of values. Anyhow, WHAT intelligentsia?” — Ezra Pound, Letter to Harriet Monroe, November 1925

"The technique of infamy is to invent two lies and to get people arguing heatedly about which one of them is true." --- Ezra Pound

"Fascism only regiments those who can't do anything without it. If a man knows how to do anything it's the essence of fascism to leave him alone." ~ Ezra Pound

"Mussolini has steadily refused to be called anything save 'Leader' (Duce) or 'Head of the Government,' the term dictator has been applied by foreign envy, as the Tories were called cattle-stealers. It does not represent the Duce's fundamental conception of his role. His authority comes, as Eirugina proclaimed authority comes, 'from right reason' and from the general fascist conviction that he is more likely to be right than anyone else is." ---Ezra Pound, Jefferson and/or Mussolini, 1935


The Mark Weber Report: What Really was Fascism? Changing Views of Fascism, Facts vs. Propaganda

May 9, 2012



Description: Fascism is one of the most often misused and widely misunderstood political terms. Publicists of both the left and right use the term “fascist” not to describe but to discredit and smear adversaries. “Fascism” is often inaccurately used as a synonym for tyranny, militarism, Nazism, racism, or capitalism. During the first 13 years of Fascist rule in Italy, the regime and its leader (“Duce”), Benito Mussolini, were widely admired in the US and other countries. They earned praise, for example, for resolutely uprooting mafia criminality. Attitudes in the US changed after the Italian subjugation of Ethiopia in 1935-36, and as Mussolini aligned Italy ever more closely with Hitler’s Germany. The image of Mussolini and Fascism that prevails today is largely the product of World War II propaganda.


Mussolini's Famous Balcony Speech


"The nation has not disappeared. We used to believe that the concept was totally without substance. Instead we see the nation arise as a palpitating reality before us! ... Class cannot destroy the nation. Class reveals itself as a collection of interests—but the nation is a history of sentiments, traditions, language, culture, and race. Class can become an integral part of the nation, but the one cannot eclipse the other. The class struggle is a vain formula, without effect and consequence wherever one finds a people that has not integrated itself into its proper linguistic and racial confines—where the national problem has not been definitely resolved. In such circumstances the class movement finds itself impaired by an inauspicious historic climate" -- Benito Mussolini

"I don't believe that anyone venerates Mussolini more than I... I know many exalted personages, and my artist's mind does not shrink from political and social issues. Well, after having seen so many events and so many more or less representative men, I have an overpowering urge to render homage to your Duce. He is the saviour of Italy and – let us hope – Europe". Later, after a private audience with Mussolini, he added, "Unless my ears deceive me, the voice of Rome is the voice of Il Duce. I told him that I felt like a fascist myself... In spite of being extremely busy, Mussolini did me the great honour of conversing with me for three-quarters of an hour. We talked about music, art and politics". --- Igor Stravinsky

“Lest you forget the nature of money/i.e., that it is a ticket. For the govt. To issue it against any particular merchandise or metal, is merely to favour the owners of that metal and by just that much to betray the rest of the public. You can see that the bill here photod. has SERVED (I mean by the worn state of the note). Certificates of work done. That is what these notes were in fact / before the bank swine got the monopoly. Thus was the wilderness conquered for the sake of pork-barrelers who followed.” — Ezra Pound – postcard to Franklin D. Roosevelt

“And so that you don’t continually misunderstand–usury and interest are not the same thing. Usury is a charge made for the use of money regardless of production and often regardless of even the possibilities of production” —
Ezra Pound Reading, vol. 2, Caedmon Records 1962

“The trick is simple. Whenever the Rothschild and other gents in the gold business have gold to sell, they raise the price. The public is fooled by propagandizing the devaluation of the dollar, or other monetary unit according to the country chosen to be victimized. The argument is that the high price of the monetary unit is injurious to the nation’s commerce.

But when the nation, that is, the people of that nation own the gold and the financiers own the dollars or other monetary units, the gold standard is restored. This raises the value of the dollar and the citizens of ‘rich’ nations, as well as citizens of other nations, are diddled.”~ Ezra Pound


Below are words from Denis Sefton Delmer, British chief propagandist after the capitulation of Germany in 1945 to the then German expert on International law Professor Grimm:

“We won this war with atrocity propaganda and now we will start more than ever! We will continue this atrocity propaganda, we will increase it until nobody will accept one good word from the Germans anymore, until everything is destroyed which might have upheld them sympathies in other countries, and until they will be so confused that they don’t know what to do anymore. When this is reached, when they begin to pollute their own nest, and this not reluctantly but with hasty willingness to obey the winners, only then the victory is complete. It will never be definite. The reeducation demands thorough, steadfast nurture like an English lawn. Only one moment of inattention and the weed will break through, this ineradicable weed of historic truth.”

Delmer was the head of "black propaganda," meaning forged documents. He managed not only groups of people working in this type of work, but also managed the relevant radio stations. He was a personal friend of the British Information Minister. In June, 1944, the Information Ministry sent out an official directive to all the higher-echelon civil servants and managers of the public media, instructing them that with the Red Army sweeping into western Europe, they would have to expect incredible cruelty from which they could distract world attention only through a strengthened atrocity propaganda campaign against Germany.

Sefton Delmer was the head functionary who carried out this work for the British government. His main method was to lie as exactly as possible so that the lies couldn't be uncovered right away. After the end of the war in occupied Germany, Delmer co-ordinated the "black propaganda" campaign with the French, the Soviets and the Americans. These co- ordinated lies and inventions could not be recognized as such right away. Delmer's work in occupied Germany lasted until 1947. During that period he and his staff forged a wealth of German documents which reached official files.

He described this work to a large extent in his own book. Udo Walendy testified that most of these forged documents had the Germans committing a large number of war crimes when no such crimes were committed at all. Delmer provided the documents to the British Ministry of Information which in turn sent them to the Nuremberg trial as actual official documents. The International Military Tribunal, pursuant to the London Agreement, did not check whether the documents were true or false, but simply entered them as evidence of "generally-known facts." Because they were considered authenticated official documents, they had now been introduced into history books.

In this situation, Walendy testified, even officially published documents had to be analyzed to determine whether or not they were forgeries.

The propaganda master succeeded in his mission of true lies to enforce a guilt complex upon the German people post WW2, which in part still exists to this very day.




The postwar image of Goebbels as a master dissembler is itself a propaganda distortion, explains French scholar Jacques Ellul in his classic study "Propaganda." He writes:

“There remains the problem of Goebbels’ reputation. He wore the title of Big Liar (bestowed by Anglo-Saxon propaganda) and yet he never stopped battling for propaganda to be as accurate as possible. He preferred being cynical and brutal to being caught in a lie. He used to say: `Everybody must know what the situation is.’ He was always the first to announce disastrous events or difficult situations, without hiding anything. The result was a general belief between 1939 and 1942 that German communiqués not only were more concise, clearer and less cluttered, but were more truthful than Allied communiqués … and, furthermore, that the Germans published all the news two or three days before the Allies. All this is so true that pinning the title of Big Liar on Goebbels must be considered quite a propaganda success.”




His active engagement in the events of the century nourished a considerable amount of writing: almost a thousand articles and fifty or so books translated into more than twelve languages. "The Technological Society," the first volume of his trilogy on the subject, appeared in France in 1954. This book was discovered and promoted by Aldous Huxley, the English author of Brave New World, and brought him fame in American universities ten years later - a fact borne out by the hundreds of Californian students who came to study at the Institute of Political Studies until his retirement in 1980. Ellul was a demanding professor but open to discussion, knowing how to capture the attention of his audience without resorting to dramatic effects or giving in to fashion. He regularly taught classes on the technological society, propaganda, Marx's thinking or that of his various disciples (be they German, Italian, Russian, Chinese or Czech)

To require a signature under an oath of allegiance seems to me or presume guilt and an attendant disloyalty. I simply can’t honor that kind of premise—and I won’t honor it. And it’s for that reason that I did not sign the oath required of me to speak here for pay. But parenthetically it might be noted that if indeed, I were hell bent to subvert the government of the United States, I would certainly have no qualms about signing anything.
But so much for my own idiosyncrasies. I’d like to talk to you tonight about the generation gap as it applies to what’s going on. I find myself in the uncomfortable and almost untenable position of a man in the middle—the so-called moderate liberal whose roots go deep into the American soil, pounded there by immigrant parents who fled Eastern Europe during the nineteenth century because that peculiar breed of flag-wavers on the other side had taken upon themselves to the prerogative of choosing who should survive and who should not.

Because of this particular background there are certain gut-deep philosophies and attitudes that are a part of my bone marrow—unshakable and unswervable. I will salute our flag and stand for our anthem and feel an affection for my native land with the kind of fervor and admitted emotionalism that would be peculiar especially to a fat-cat Hollywood writer whose father was an uneducated butcher. This, on the face of it, removes me from the pale of the new left. It sets me apart—and I suppose in their view, places me dead center in the basement of the establishment.
But I’ll tell you something. Reserving certain criticism and negative judgment as to methodology, I nonetheless subscribe to and support what are the goals and aspirations of America’s young. I am much more prone to embrace their causes that I am any cause which would see the perpetuating of certain aged and no longer applicable concepts of ethics, mores, moralities, more peculiar to my own generation.

I would rather have a son or daughter of mine march through the streets of Chicago protesting injustice—than I would siring a Chicago policeman who’ll club anyone who’ll get in his way—and that includes sixteen-year-olds, newspaper photographers, and senior citizens.

And if anyone wants to raise the spectre of “provocation”—I say this categorically. There is no provocation extant short of a motive of self defense to excuse as representative of law and order wading in with a billy-club under the pretense of saving the sovereign city of Chicago. Of the four hundred young people currently held under arraignment for so-called assault and battery, half of them are under eighteen and half of those under a hundred and twenty pounds.

Suddenly we are a nation whose new battle slogan is law and order. Last year it won countless numbers of elections. It’s the great new American euphemism. Law and Order. It is now interchangeable with God, Motherhood, the Constitution and the Holy Grail. But how empty and how suspect is this sloganry when it points up the incredible selectivity on the part of America’s citizenry—how picky and choosey they are when it comes to moral outrage.

There was no hue and cry for a re-examination of American conscience when four little Negro girls were bombed to pieces in a Birmingham church. There was no collective gasp of offense when three young civil rights workers were slaughtered in Mississippi. There were no slogans at all attending the bombing off over a hundred churches in the south in the past five years, or the fact that there have only been two lawyers, available to defend civil rights cases in the state of Mississippi until last year—or that juries were all white—or that a white man accused of first degree homicide has never, in the history of the south, been given a sentence commensurate with the proven charge. Or we could go down the list of flagrant violations of law and order as they have existed for the past hundred years—beginning with the five thousand lynchings.

These assaults on conscience we live with, and nobody cries out for law and order. For a quarter of a century, in the Congress of the United States, we tried to get passed an anti-lynching bill. A simple law to protect the lives of black citizens below the Mason-Dixon line. This was not legislation, as our protesting brethren so often take us to task for—the legislation of brotherly love with they say is impossible. It was a law making it a federal offense to hang a human being from a tree, cover him with kerosene and cremate him. But the loudest cheerleaders of our current law and order rallies—the Eastlands and the Strom Thurmonds—were the very gentlemen who fought against that legislation until it was ultimately passed.

It’s hardly a revelation to me that the young people in this country take a dim view of our current up-tightness when it comes to street rioting. They believe, and I think quite properly, that on the scale of misbehavior the black man who takes a torch to a building or breaks a window to loot, and does so out of passion, is less the criminal than the white man who puts his torch to human beings and does so with a cold, calculated, predatory pre-planned blueprint of destruction.

The black man, because he’s suffered this for over a hundred years, looks upon us as a convocation of lizards—a cold blooded species of being who will call out the national guard to keep a ghetto from being burned down—but will raise no finger, let alone an octave of voice, to protest what has been done to him over the past century.

Look across that generation gap now and see it as they see it—the young. Thirty two billion dollars into a civil war ten thousand miles from our shore to protect the freedom of the South Vietnamese and keep the Viet Cong from attacking San Francisco. That’s where we are told is America’s destiny—in the rice paddies of DaNang. And America’s youth—or at least a sizeable share of them—find this to be patently unbelievable.

America’s destiny, in their view, lies on the streets of Newark, Miami, Chicago, Los Angeles and Harlem. That’s where we keep alive the dream. Not in Saigon. And certainly not at the cost of twenty-thousand dead American boys with a hundred-thousand wounded and a half a million civilians put to a torch. Again, the inconsistencies. The Hawks who bleat most loudly for our continuing participation in this war—these are the ones who’ve passed the propositions 14—and woe be unto the oriental who has the temerity to put a garbage can next to his. Again inconsistency.

Those who shout loudest for fiscal sanity—an end to so-called federal handouts. Stop this nonsense about Federal Aid to education, federal housing, aid to cities. These are the gentlemen who watched us throw two billion dollars to help prop up the French Colonial Government whose good offices are indistinguishable from the North Vietnamese.

What don’t we like about the enemy? They imprison people without trial. They stifle free speech. They close down newspapers. They rig elections. Every objective and dispassionate view presented to us by bona fide journalists, historians and intelligent observers, are uniformly critical of all the governments of Vietnam—the North, the South and the French. So what, indeed, are we defending there?

If it’s simply a Dean Rusk would have us believe—that the north should return to their side of the fence and the south remain on theirs, it might be pointed out that Premier Ky and President Thieu are both northerners and it points up again the fact that this is a civil war. And if precedentially we must leave our native soil to attack any government that displeases us, we have opened ourselves up one helluva can of peas. We’d best load up the ships for South America, Greece, Eastern Europe and elsewhere—where governments exist without the sanction of their people. And we will have embarked on an international adventure that has no end and at a cost that is incomprehensible.

What turns that younger generation off? Examine, if you will, the candidacy of George Wallace. That political stalwart who made a public quote that he would never be out-niggered again. This from the man running for the highest office in the land. And though a fraternity of wishful thinkers tell us he’s been discredited, the young are much more realistic. They look at his ten million votes. they look at his thirteen percent share of the ballot, one out of seven. And they realize that had California gone to Humphrey—we might on this very day still not have a president-elect.

Let me, at this juncture, play devil’s advocate. I’ve reserved my criticism for my generation. Let’s examine both the pot and the kettle. The campus of San Francisco State University, for example. I’ll say this unequivocally. For students to disrupt classes, to shout down opposing voices of argument, to tear up public property and to foist their will—however just their cause and legitimate their grievances—is an act of criminal, stupid, self-defeating insanity.

The very things they seek: equal education, equal voices, a decent regard and respect for the rights of all—these are the things they throw aside when they practice their own special thing—the introduction of anarchy. And they do something else that is almost suicidal. They dissolve whatever possible support and understanding that might be forthcoming. And no—repeat—no social pressure can succeed on any level without support. We’ve seen this phenomena before—when you cannot argue with a man, you either belt him in the mouth or shout him down. That may be an emotional cathartic but it does nothing to advance a cause.

Now where does it all end? The generation gap that looks with jaundiced youthful eyes at the war, the draft, deeply embedded social inequality and the worship of anachronisms which have become more ritualistic than real. There are two quotes that I think applicable, albeit abstract, and I ask for your indulgence when I march out quotations. This is the double syndrome of men who write for a living and men who are over forty. The young smoke pot—we inhale from our Bartlett’s.

The first quote is on the tombstone of Martin Luther King, Jr. It comes from the book of Genesis: “They said to one another, Behold, here cometh the dreamer...let us slay him...and we shall see what might become of his dreams.”

Scott Fitzgerald said, “In the dark night of the soul it is always three o’clock in the morning.” During this long night of our souls there have been other dreamers and they, too, have been slain. John Kennedy, Robert Kennedy, Medger Evers, King, and others. Each had his dream and each paid his price. And I’ll tell you what this dream is. It’s pointed up by an apocryphal story.

When Goethe lay dying he was supposed to have opened his eyes in the last moment before death and said, “Light. Please give me more light. A hundred years later, the Spanish philosopher, Uno Mono, upon hearing what Goethe said, said, “Impossible, Goethe could not have said that. He would have never asked for light. He would have said, ‘Warmth...let there be warmth.’ Men do not die of the darkness...they die of the cold. It is the frost that kills. That’s what the dream is. That’s what it’s all about. The oneness of men.”

What is the generation gap? It’s the plaintive and desperate cry of the young that men should be one. If we can ever accomplish this, understand it, assimilate it, act from its premise—that elusive dream might take on form.
That, my friends, is what I think it’s all about. I think the destiny of all men is not to sit in the rubble of their own making but to reach out for an ultimate perfection which is to be had. At the moment, it is a dream. But as of the moment we clasp hands with our neighbor, we build the first span to bridge the gap between the young and the old. At this hour, it’s a wish. But we have it within our power to make it a reality. If you want to prove that God is not dead, first prove that man is alive.


Wording of the Oath Serling Refused to Sign:

“I solemnly affirm/swear that I will support the Constitution of the United States of America, the Constitution of the State of California, and the laws of the United States and the State of California and will, by precept and example, promote respect for the Flag and the statutes of the State of California, reverence for law and order, and undivided allegiance to the Government of the United States of America.”

The Twilight Zone- 9/11 Prediction or Coincidence?


The date mentioned on the episode is Tuesday, 9-11, 1864. Actually, 9-11, 1864 was on a Sunday. Is it yet another odd coincidence that they made THIS mistake and not another, considering the events of 9-11-2001 also took place on a Tuesday? Or does Tuesday have some specific significance of its own?

Also 1+8+6+4= 19, which could represent the '19' fictional hijackers, and if you put it at the end of 9-11, you would have 91119, another weird number, whatever that means. The three ones could represent WTC 1, 2 & 7, the only three buildings out of a total 9 WTC buildings demolished that day that were actually shown on faked pre-manufactured video, while the other 6 were ignored by everyone, including most of the alternative media, as if they had never existed and disappeared.

It was written by Charles Beaumont (pen name of Charles Leroy Nutt), who developed a "mysterious brain disease" and died at the age of 38 on Februrary 21, 1967.



Long Live Walter Jameson [1.24] (Originally broadcast 03 / 18 / 1960 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)



Intro: "You're looking at Act One, Scene One, of a nightmare, one not restricted to witching hours or dark, rainswept nights. Professor Walter Jameson, popular beyond words, who talks of the past as if it were the present, who conjures up the dead as if they were alive. In the view of this man, Professor Samuel Kittridge, Walter Jameson has access to knowledge that couldn't come out of a volume of history, but rather from a book on black magic, which is to say that this nightmare begins at noon."


Epilogue: "Last stop on a long journey, as yet another human being returns to the vast nothingness that is the beginning and into the dust that is always the end."

Simon Shack's WTC7 STUDY:









Who runs Hollywood? C'mon

December 19, 2008|JOEL STEIN


I have never been so upset by a poll in my life. Only 22% of Americans now believe "the movie and television industries are pretty much run by Jews," down from nearly 50% in 1964. The Anti-Defamation League, which released the poll results last month, sees in these numbers a victory against stereotyping. Actually, it just shows how dumb America has gotten. Jews totally run Hollywood.

How deeply Jewish is Hollywood? When the studio chiefs took out a full-page ad in the Los Angeles Times a few weeks ago to demand that the Screen Actors Guild settle its contract, the open letter was signed by: News Corp. President Peter Chernin (Jewish), Paramount Pictures Chairman Brad Grey (Jewish), Walt Disney Co. Chief Executive Robert Iger (Jewish), Sony Pictures Chairman Michael Lynton (surprise, Dutch Jew), Warner Bros. Chairman Barry Meyer (Jewish), CBS Corp. Chief Executive Leslie Moonves (so Jewish his great uncle was the first prime minister of Israel), MGM Chairman Harry Sloan (Jewish) and NBC Universal Chief Executive Jeff Zucker (mega-Jewish). If either of the Weinstein brothers had signed, this group would have not only the power to shut down all film production but to form a minyan with enough Fiji water on hand to fill a mikvah.

The person they were yelling at in that ad was SAG President Alan Rosenberg (take a guess). The scathing rebuttal to the ad was written by entertainment super-agent Ari Emanuel (Jew with Israeli parents) on the Huffington Post, which is owned by Arianna Huffington (not Jewish and has never worked in Hollywood.)

The Jews are so dominant, I had to scour the trades to come up with six Gentiles in high positions at entertainment companies. When I called them to talk about their incredible advancement, five of them refused to talk to me, apparently out of fear of insulting Jews. The sixth, AMC President Charlie Collier, turned out to be Jewish.

As a proud Jew, I want America to know about our accomplishment. Yes, we control Hollywood. Without us, you'd be flipping between "The 700 Club" and "Davey and Goliath" on TV all day.

So I've taken it upon myself to re-convince America that Jews run Hollywood by launching a public relations campaign, because that's what we do best. I'm weighing several slogans, including: "Hollywood: More Jewish than ever!"; "Hollywood: From the people who brought you the Bible"; and "Hollywood: If you enjoy TV and movies, then you probably like Jews after all."

I called ADL Chairman Abe Foxman, who was in Santiago, Chile, where, he told me to my dismay, he was not hunting Nazis. He dismissed my whole proposition, saying that the number of people who think Jews run Hollywood is still too high. The ADL poll, he pointed out, showed that 59% of Americans think Hollywood execs "do not share the religious and moral values of most Americans," and 43% think the entertainment industry is waging an organized campaign to "weaken the influence of religious values in this country."

That's a sinister canard, Foxman said. "It means they think Jews meet at Canter's Deli on Friday mornings to decide what's best for the Jews." Foxman's argument made me rethink: I have to eat at Canter's more often.

"That's a very dangerous phrase, 'Jews control Hollywood.' What is true is that there are a lot of Jews in Hollywood," he said. Instead of "control," Foxman would prefer people say that many executives in the industry "happen to be Jewish," as in "all eight major film studios are run by men who happen to be Jewish."

But Foxman said he is proud of the accomplishments of American Jews. "I think Jews are disproportionately represented in the creative industry. They're disproportionate as lawyers and probably medicine here as well," he said. He argues that this does not mean that Jews make pro-Jewish movies any more than they do pro-Jewish surgery. Though other countries, I've noticed, aren't so big on circumcision.

I appreciate Foxman's concerns. And maybe my life spent in a New Jersey-New York/Bay Area-L.A. pro-Semitic cocoon has left me naive. But I don't care if Americans think we're running the news media, Hollywood, Wall Street or the government. I just care that we get to keep running them.

Jews DO control the media

by Elad Nehorai -


The one-stop news site
covering Israel, the region and
the Jewish people worldwide

Founding editor:
David Horovitz


"We’ve created entire organizations that exist just to tell everyone that the Jews don’t control nothin’. No, we don’t control the media, we don’t have any more sway in DC than anyone else. No, no, no, we swear: We’re just like everybody else!

Let’s be honest with ourselves, here, fellow Jews. We do control the media. We’ve got so many dudes up in the executive offices in all the big movie production companies it’s almost obscene. Just about every movie or TV show, whether it be “Tropic Thunder” or “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” is rife with actors, directors, and writers who are Jewish. Did you know that all eight major film studios are run by Jews?"

"The time has come, though. We no longer have to change our names. We no longer have to blend in like chameleons. We own a whole freaking country."

entire article over here (bring your barf bag):


Who Controls Television?


Who Controls Big Media?


Who Controls the News?


Who Controls the Council on Foreign Relations?


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Old 21-02-2014, 05:00 AM   #50
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discusses a largely forgotten (even by his adherents) work by Timothy Leary in comics form. Neurocomics was published in 1979 by Last Gasp and expounds on Leary’s ’8 circuit’ model of the brain; Alterati compares the Leary comic work with one of our best (and most transcendental) contemporary comics creators, Alan Moore, as well as a link to a torrent of a scanned version of the out-of-print Neurocomics

LSD Experiment - CIA 'Schizophrenia Psychosis' Induced by LSD 25 1955



Rare footage of 1950s housewife in LSD experiment.flv
Footage of a woman taking a dose of LSD with Sidney Cohen in 1956



Destination Subconscious: Cary Grant and LSD


"I believe that drugs are basically of more use to the audience than to the artist. I think that the illusion of oneness with the universe, and absorption with the significance of every object in your environment, and the pervasive aura of peace and contentment is not the ideal state for an artist. It tranquilizes the creative personality, which thrives on conflict and on the clash and ferment of ideas. The artist's transcendence must be within his own work; he should not impose any artificial barriers between himself and the mainspring of his subconscious. One of the things that's turned me against LSD is that all the people I know who use it have a peculiar inability to distinguish between things that are really interesting and stimulating and things that appear to be so in the state of universal bliss that the drug induces on a "good" trip. They seem to completely lose their critical faculties and disengage themselves from some of the most stimulating areas of life. Perhaps when everything is beautiful, nothing is beautiful." ---- Stanley Kubrick

"Energy depends on one's ability to make a vortex-genius meme at the cross-conflicts of art and ideology." -- Ezra Pound
Original "1950's Housewife on LSD" video was deleted on this, so I replaced it with two alternates of the same in the re-quote above and here are two more added:

Tripping Out "Drug Education" A Simulate LSD Trip 1970




1955 Experimental Compound MER 17 (Frenquel) and LSD-25: Psychosis. ARC Identifier 1634172 / Local Identifier 263.1057. This film examines medical experiments to determine the efficacy of LSD-25 and MER 17 (Frenquel) on treating psychosis
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Old 21-02-2014, 05:06 AM   #51
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Rod Serling's Twilight Zone Opening and Closing Narrations by Episode (with instances of incorporated brainwashing black propaganda put in perspective through alternative source links) :

The Twilight Zone - Pre-series pilot - (November 24, 1958) The Time Element - A man (William Bendix) visits a psychoanalyst, complaining about a recurring dream in which he imagines waking up in Honolulu just prior to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, which takes a major psychological toll.





Rod Serling's Twilight Zone Series Main Theme Opening Narrations

o Season 1

o http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bKheH4njWnU

o Rare version not narrated by Serling:


There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the Twilight Zone.

Season 1 alternate opening


• You are about to enter another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land of imagination. Next stop, the Twilight Zone!

o Season 2 (first three episodes)

o http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YBRXLyg-DDg

You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land of imagination. Next stop, the Twilight zone!

Season 2 (main)

o http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-LOdQylbfCA

You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead— your next stop, the Twilight Zone!

Season 3

o http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nEBN30I5Voc

You are traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. Your next stop, the Twilight Zone!

Seasons 4 & 5

o http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lordk1Kz2gc

You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension— a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone.

Twilight Zone Introduction Themes - Full Playlist:


Season 1

Where is Everybody? [1.1] (Originally broadcast 10 / 02 / 1959; Writer: Rod Serling)

Rod Serling describes the premier Twilight Zone episode "Where Is Everybody?" in this promo:


Full Episode:



Intro: "The place is here, the time is now, and the journey into the shadows that we're about to watch could be our journey."

Epilogue: "Up there, up there in the vastness of space, in the void that is sky, up there is an enemy known as isolation. It sits there in the stars waiting, waiting with the patience of eons, forever waiting... in the Twilight Zone."


One for the Angels [1.2] (Originally broadcast 10 / 09 / 1959 -- Writer: Rod Serling)



Intro: "Street scene: Summer. The present. Man on a sidewalk named Lew Bookman, age sixtyish. Occupation: pitchman. Lew Bookman, a fixture of the summer, a rather minor component to a hot July, a nondescript, commonplace little man whose life is a treadmill built out of sidewalks. And in just a moment, Lew Bookman will have to concern himself with survival--because as of three o'clock this hot July afternoon he'll be stalked by Mr. Death."

Epilogue: "Lewis J. Bookman, age sixtyish. Occupation: pitchman. Formerly a fixture ofthe summer, formerly a rather minor component to a hot July. But, throughout his life, a man beloved by the children, and therefore a most important man. Couldn't happen, you say? Probably not in most places--but it did happen in the Twilight Zone."


Mr. Denton on Doomsday [1.3] (Originally broadcast 10 / 16 / 1959 -- Writer: Rod Serling)



Intro: "Portrait of a town drunk named Al Denton. This is a man who's begun his dying early - a long, agonizing route through a maze of bottles. Al Denton, who would probably give an arm or a leg or a part of his soul to have another chance, to be able to rise up and shake the dirt from his body and the bad dreams that infest his consciousness. In the parlance of the times, this is a peddler, a rather fanciful-looking little man in a black frock coat. And this is the third principal character of our story. Its function: perhaps to give Mr. Al Denton his second chance. "

Epilogue: "Mr. Henry Fate, dealer in utensils and pots and pans, liniments and potions. A fanciful little man in a black frock coat who can help a man climbing out of a pit - or another man from falling into one. Because, you see, fate can work that way in the Twilight Zone."


The Sixteen-Millimeter Shrine [1.4] (Originally broadcast 10 / 23 / 1959 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "Picture of a woman looking at a picture. Movie great of another time, once-brilliant star in a firmament no longer a part of the sky, eclipsed by the movement of earth and time. Barbara Jean Trenton, whose world is a projection room, whose dreams are made out of celluloid. Barbara Jean Trenton, struck down by hit-and-run years and lying on the unhappy pavement, trying desperately to get the license number of fleeting fame."

Epilogue: "To the wishes that come true, to the strange, mystic strength of the human animal, who can take a wishful dream and give it a dimension of its own. To Barbara Jean Trenton, movie queen of another era, who has changed the blank tomb of an empty projection screen into a private world. It can happen in the Twilight Zone."


Walking Distance [1.5] (Originally broadcast 10 / 30 / 1959 -- Writer: Rod Serling)



Intro: "Martin Sloan, age thirty-six, vice-president, ad agency, in charge of media. This is not just a Sunday drive for Martin Sloan. He perhaps doesn't know it at the time--but it's an exodus. Somewhere up the road he's looking for sanity. And somewhere up the road, he'll find something else."

Epilogue: "Martin Sloan, age thirty-six, vice-president in charge of media. Successful in most things but not in the one effort that all men try at some time in their lives - trying to go home again. And also like all men perhaps there'll be an occasion, maybe a summer night sometime, when he'll look up from what he's doing and listen to the distant music of a calliope, and hear the voices and the laughter of the people and the places of his past. And perhaps across his mind there'll flit a little errant wish, that a man might not have to become old, never outgrow the parks and the merry-go-rounds of his youth. And he'll smile then too because he'll know it is just an errant wish, some wisp of memory not too important really, some laughing ghosts that cross a man's mind, that are a part of the Twilight Zone."


The Twilight Zone Podcast: Walking Distance, Commentary & Analysis- Rod Serling, Night Gallery



Walking Distance Score - Bernard Herrmann - The Twilight Zone


Escape Clause [1.6] (Originally broadcast 11 / 06 / 1959 -- Writer: Rod Serling)



Intro: "You're about to meet a hypochondriac. Witness Mr. Walter Bedeker, age forty-four, afraid of the following: death, disease, other people, germs, draft, and everything else. He has one interest in life, and that's Walter Bedeker. One preoccupation: the life and well-being of Walter Bedeker. One abiding concern about society: that if Walter Bedeker should die, how will it survive without him?"

Epilogue: "There's a saying, 'Every man is put on Earth condemned to die, time and method of execution unknown.' Perhaps this is as it should be. Case in point: Walter Bedeker, lately deceased, a little man with such a yen to live. Beaten by the Devil, by his own boredom, and by the scheme of things in this, the Twilight Zone."


The Lonely [1.7] (Originally broadcast 11 / 13 / 1959 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "Witness if you will a dungeon, made out of mountains, salt flats and sand that stretch to infinity. The dungeon has an inmate: James A. Corry. And this is his residence: a metal shack. An old touring car that squats in the sun and goes nowhere - for there is nowhere to go. For the record let it be known that James A. Corry is a convicted criminal placed in solitary confinement. Confinement in this case stretches as far as the eye can see, because this particular dungeon is on an asteroid nine million miles from the Earth. Now witness if you will a man's mind and body shrivelling in the sun, a man dying of loneliness."

Epilogue: "On a microscopic piece of sand that floats through space is a fragment of a man's life. Left to rust is the place he lived in and the machines he used. Without use, they will disintegrate from the wind and the sand and the years that act upon them; all of Mr. Corry's machines - including the one made in his image, kept alive by love, but now obsolete in the Twilight Zone."

Time Enough at Last [1.8] (Originally broadcast 11 / 20 / 1959 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a short story by Lynn Venable)


Intro: "Witness Mr. Henry Bemis, a charter mmeber in the fraternity of dreamers. A bookish little man whose passion is the printed page but who is conspired against by a bank president and a wife and world full of tongue-cluckers and the unrelenting hands of a clock. But in just a moment Mr. Bemis will enter a world without bank presidents or wives or clocks or anything else. He'll have a world all to himself--without anyone."

Epilogue: "The best laid plans of mice and men and Henry Bemis, the small man in the glasses who wanted nothing but time. Henry Bemis, now just a part of a smashed landscape, just a piece of the rubble, just a fragment of what man has deeded to himself. Mr. Henry Bemis in the Twilight Zone."


Perchance to Dream [1.9] (Originally broadcast 11 / 27 / 1959 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)


Intro: "Twelve o'clock noon. An ordinary scene, an ordinary city. Lunchtime for thousands of ordinary people. To most of them, this hour will be a rest, a pleasant break in the day's routine. To most, but not all. To Edward Hall, time is an enemy, and the hour to come is a matter of life and death."

Epilogue: "They say a dream takes only a second or so, and yet in that second a man can live a lifetime. He can suffer and die, and who's to say which is the greater reality: the one we know or the one in dreams, between heaven, the sky, the earth in the Twilight Zone."


Judgment Night [1.10] (Originally broadcast 12 / 04 / 1959 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "Her name is the S.S. Queen of Glasgow. Her registry: British. Gross tonnage: five thousand. Age: indeterminate. At this moment she's one day out of Liverpool, her destination New York. Duly recorded on this ship's log is the sailing time, course to destination, weather conditions, temperature, longitude and latitude. But what is never recorded in a log is the fear that washes over a deck like fog and ocean spray. Fear like the throbbing strokes of engine pistons, each like a heartbeat, parceling out every hour into breathless minutes of watching, waiting and dreading. For the year is 1942, and this particular ship has lost its convoy. It travels alone like an aged blind thing groping through the unfriendly dark, stalked by unseen periscopes of steel killers. Yes, the Queen of Glasgow is a frightened ship, and she carries with her a premonition of death."

Epilogue: "The S.S. Queen of Glasgow, heading for New York, and the time is 1942. For one man, it is always 1942, and this man will ride the ghost of that ship every night for eternity. This is what is meant by paying the fiddler. This is the comeuppance awaiting every man when the ledger of his life is opened and examined, the tally made, and then the reward or the penalty paid. And in the case of Carl Lanser, former Kapitan Leutnant, Navy of the Third Reich, this is the penalty. This is the justice meted out. This is judgment night in the Twilight Zone."


And When the Sky Was Opened [1.11] (Originally broadcast 12 / 11 / 1959 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a short story "Disapearing Act" by Richard Matheson)


Intro: "Her name: X-20. Her type: an experimental interceptor. Recent history: a crash landing in the Mojave Desert after a thirty-one hour flight nine hundred miles into space. Incidental data: the ship, with the men who flew her, disappeared from the radar screen for twenty-four hours. But the shrouds that cover mysteries are not always made out of a tarpaulin, as this man will soon find out on the other side of a hospital door."

Epilogue: "Once upon a time, there was a man named Harrington, a man named Forbes, a man named Gart. They used to exist, but don't any longer. Someone or something took them somewhere. At least they are no longer a part of the memory of man. And as to the X-20 supposed to be housed here in this hangar, this too does not exist. And if any of you have any questions concerning an aircraft and three men who flew her, speak softly of them, and only in the Twilight Zone."


A Conversation with Richard Matheson


What You Need [1.12] (Originally broadcast 12 / 25 / 1959 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a short story by Lewis Padgett)


Intro: "You're looking at Mr. Fred Renard, who carries on his shoulder a chip the size of the national debt. This is a sour man, a friendless man, a lonely man, a grasping, compulsive, nervous man. This is a man who has lived thirty-six undistinguished, meaningless, pointless, failure-laden years and who at this moment looks for an escape--any escape, any way, anything, anybody--to get out of the rut. . . . And this little old man is just what Mr. Renard is waiting for."

Epilogue: "Street scene. Night. Traffic accident. Victim named Fred Renard, gentleman with a sour face to whom contentment came with difficulty. Fred Renard, who took all that was needed . . . in the Twilight Zone."


The Four of Us are Dying [1.13] (Originally broadcast 01 / 01 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on an unpublished story by George Clayton Johnson)


Intro: "His name is Arch Hammer. He's thirty-six years old. He's been a salesman, a dispatcher, a truck driver, a con man, a bookie, and a part-time bartender. This is a cheap man, a nickel and dime man, with a cheapness that goes past the suit and the shirt; a cheapness of mind, a cheapness of taste, a tawdry little shine on the seat of his conscience, and a dark-room squint at a world whose sunlight has never gotten through to him. But Mr. Hammer has a talent, discovered at a very early age. This much he does have. He can make his face change. He can twitch a muscle, move a jaw, concentrate on the cast of his eyes, and he can change his face. He can change it into anything he wants. Mr. Archie Hammer, jack of all trades, has just checked in at three-eighty a night, with two bags, some newspaper clippings, a most odd talent, and a master plan to destroy some lives."

Epilogue: "He was Arch Hammer, a cheap little man who just checked in. He was Johnny Foster, who played a trumpet and was loved beyond words. He was Virgil Sterig, with money in his pocket. He was Andy Marshak, who got some of his agony back on a sidewalk in front of a cheap hotel. Hammer, Foster, Sterig, Marshak - and all four of them were dying."


George Clayton Johnson Interviewed on WNYC Radio


Third From the Sun [1.14] (Originally broadcast 01 / 08 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a short story by Richard Matheson)


Intro: "Quitting time at the plant. Time for supper now. Time for families. Time for a cool drink on a porch. Time for the quiet rustle of leaf-laden trees that screen out the moon. And underneath it all, behind the eyes of the men, hanging invisible over the summer night, is a horror without words. For this is the stillness before storm. This is the eve of the end."

Epilogue: "Behind a tiny ship heading into space is a doomed planet on the verge of suicide. Ahead lies a place called Earth, the third planet from the sun. And for William Sturka and the men and women with him, it's the eve of the beginning in the Twilight Zone." [/i]


I Shot an Arrow into the Air [1.15] (Originally broadcast 01 / 15 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on an idea by Madelon Champion)


Intro: "Her name is the Arrow One. She represents four and a half years of planning, preparation and training, and a thousand years of science and mathematics and the projected dreams and hopes of not only a nation but a world. She is the first manned aircraft into space. And this is the countdown, the last five seconds before man shot an arrow into the air."

Epilogue: "Practical joke perpetrated by Mother Nature and a combination of improbable events. Practical joke wearing the trappings of nightmare, of terror, of desperation. Small human drama played out in…the Twilight Zone."




Apollo Moon Landings - Marcus Allen



A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Moon



Astronauts Gone Wild


Deanna Spingola Interview with Bart Sibrel of "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Moon" 03 / 16 / 2012


Serling with actress Inger Stevens, 1960

The Hitch-Hiker [1.16] (Originally broadcast 01 / 22 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a radio play by Lucille Fletcher)



Intro: "Her name is Nan Adams. She's twenty-seven years old. Her occupation: buyer at a New York department store, at present on vacation, driving cross-country to Los Angeles, California, from Manhattan. Minor incident on Highway 11 in Pennsylvania, perhaps to be filed away under accidents you walk away from. But from this moment on, Nan Adams's companion on a trip to California will be terror; her route - fear; her destination - quite unknown."

Epilogue: "Nan Adams, age twenty-seven. She was driving to California, to Los Angeles. She didn't make it. There was a detour through the Twilight Zone."


Rod and Carol Serling on a visit to Binghamton, July 1958

The Fever [1.17] (Originally broadcast 01 / 29 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "Mr. and Mrs. Franklin Gibbs, three days and two nights, all expenses paid, at a Las Vegas hotel, won by virtue of Mrs. Gibbs's knack with a phrase. But unbeknownst to either Mr. or Mrs. Gibbs is the fact that there's a prize in their package neither expected nor bargained for. In just a moment one of them will succumb to an illness worse than any virus can produce, a most inoperative, deadly, life-shattering affliction known as the fever."

Epilogue: "Mr. Franklin Gibbs, visitor to Las Vegas, who lost his money, his reason, and finally his life to an inanimate metal machine variously described as a one-armed bandit, a slot machine or, in Mr. Franklin Gibbs's words, a monster with a will all its own. For our purposes we'll stick with the latter definition because we're in the Twilight Zone."


The Last Flight [1.18] (Originally broadcast 12 / 05 / 1960 -- Writer: Richard Matheson)


Intro: "Witness Flight Lieutenant William Terrance Decker, Royal Flying Corps, returning from a patrol somewhere over France. The year is 1917. The problem is that the Lieutenant is hopelessly lost. Lieutenant Decker will soon discover that a man can be lost not only in terms of maps and miles, but also in time, and time in this case can be measured in eternities."

Epilogue: "Dialogue from a play, Hamlet to Horatio: "There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Dialogue from a play written long before men took to the sky. There are more things in heaven and earth, and in the sky, that perhaps can be dreamt of. And somewhere in between heaven, the sky, the earth, lies the Twilight Zone."


The Purple Testament [1.19] (Originally broadcast 02 / 12 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "Infantry platoon, U.S. Army, Philippine Islands, 1945. These are the faces of the young men who fight. As if some omniscient painter had mixed a tube of oils that were at one time earth brown, dust gray, blood red, beard black, and fear - yellow white, and these men were the models. For this is the province of combat and these are the faces of war."

Epilogue: "From William Shakespeare, Richard the Third, a small excerpt. The line reads, 'He has come to open the purple testament of bleeding war.' And for Lieutenant William Fitzgerald, A Company, First Platoon, the testament is closed. Lieutenant Fitzgerald has found the Twilight Zone."


Elegy [1.20] (Originally broadcast 02 / 19 / 1960 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)


Intro: "The time is the day after tomorrow. The place: a far corner of the universe. The cast of characters: three men lost amongst the stars, three men sharing the common urgency of all men lost - they're looking for home. And in a moment they'll find home, not a home that is a place to be seen but a strange, unexplainable experience to be felt."

Epilogue: "Kirby, Webber, and Meyers, three men lost. They shared a common wish, a simple one, really - they wanted to be aboard their ship, headed for home. And fate, a laughing fate, a practical jokester with a smile that stretched across the stars, saw to it that they got their wish, with just one reservation: the wish came true, but only in the Twilight Zone."




Apollo Moon Landings - Marcus Allen



A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Moon



Astronauts Gone Wild


Deanna Spingola Interview with Bart Sibrel of "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Moon" 03 / 16 / 2012


Mirror Image [1.21] (Originally broadcast 02 / 26 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "Millicent Barnes, age twenty-five, young woman waiting for a bus on a rainy November night. Not a very imaginative type is Miss Barnes, not given to undue anxiety or fears, or for that matter even the most temporal flights of fancy. Like most young career women, she has a generic classification as a, quote, girl with a head on her shoulders, end of quote. All of which is mentioned now because in just a moment the head on Miss Barnes's shoulders will be put to a test. Circumstances will assault her sense of reality and a chain of nightmares will put her sanity on a block. Millicent Barnes, who in one minute will wonder is she's going mad."

Epilogue: "Obscure metaphysical explanation to cover a phenomenon, reasons dredged out of the shadows to explain away that which cannot be explained. Call it parallel planes or just insanity. Whatever it is, you find it in the Twilight Zone."


The Monsters are Due on Maple Street [1.22] (Originally broadcast 03 / 04 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "Maple Street, U.S.A. Late summer. A tree-lined little road of front porch gliders, barbecues, the laughter of children, and the bell of an ice-cream vendor. At the sound of the roar and the flash of light, it will be precisely 6:43 P.M. on Maple Street. . . . This is Maple Street on a late Saturday afternoon, in the last calm and reflective moment--before the monsters came."

Epilogue: "The tools of conquest do not necessarily come with bombs, and explosions, and fallout. There are weapons that are simply thoughts, ideas, prejudices, to be found only in the minds of men. For the record, prejudices can kill and suspicion can destroy. A thoughtless, frightened search for a scapegoat has a fallout all its own for the children and the children yet unborn. And the pity of it is, is that these things cannot be confined to the Twilight Zone."

Rod Serling's epilogue for "The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street"



The Twilight Zone Podcast: The Monsters Are due On Maple Street , Commentary & Analysis






The Nuclear Scare Scam | Galen Winsor


Do Nuclear Weapons Even Exist? Edmund Matthews


The BP Oil Spill 2 Years Later by Lenon Honor


Abirato Radio Episode 35 - March 26, 2013

Main topic: Are nuclear weapons yet another gigantic military-industrial-complex /mass-media orchestrated PsyOp hoax to fear-monger the entire world's rabble in line for the past 68 years ?

Guests: Rae / Rerevisionist of http://big-lies.org/ and nuke lies contributor FirstclassSkeptic




A World of Difference [1.23] (Originally broadcast 03 / 11 / 1960 -- Writer: Richard Matheson)


Intro: "You're looking at a tableau of reality, things of substance, of physical material: a desk, a window, a light. These things exist and have dimension. Now this is Arthur Curtis, age thirty-six, who also is real. He has flesh and blood, muscle and mind. But in just a moment we will see how thin a line separates that which we assume to be real with that manufactured inside of a mind."

Epilogue: "The modus operandi for the departure from life is usually a pine box of such and such
dimensions, and this is the ultimate in reality. But there are other ways for a man to exit from life. Take the case of Arthur Curtis, age thirty-six. His departure was along a highway with an exit sign that reads 'This way to escape.' Arthur Curtis, en route to the Twilight Zone."


Long Live Walter Jameson [1.24] (Originally broadcast 03 / 18 / 1960 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)



Intro: "You're looking at Act One, Scene One, of a nightmare, one not restricted to witching hours or dark, rainswept nights. Professor Walter Jameson, popular beyond words, who talks of the past as if it were the present, who conjures up the dead as if they were alive. In the view of this man, Professor Samuel Kittridge, Walter Jameson has access to knowledge that couldn't come out of a volume of history, but rather from a book on black magic, which is to say that this nightmare begins at noon."

Epilogue: "Last stop on a long journey, as yet another human being returns to the vast nothingness that is the beginning and into the dust that is always the end."




The Twilight Zone- 9/11 Prediction or Coincidence?


The date mentioned on the episode is Tuesday, 9-11, 1864. Actually, 9-11, 1864 was on a Sunday. Is it yet another odd coincidence that they made THIS mistake and not another, considering the events of 9-11-2001 also took place on a Tuesday? Or does Tuesday have some specific significance of its own?

Also 1+8+6+4= 19, which could represent the '19' fictional hijackers, and if you put it at the end of 9-11, you would have 91119, another weird number, whatever that means. The three ones could represent WTC 1, 2 & 7, the only three buildings out of a total 9 WTC buildings demolished that day that were actually shown on faked pre-manufactured video, while the other 6 were ignored by everyone, including most of the alternative media, as if they had never existed and disappeared.

It was written by Charles Beaumont (pen name of Charles Leroy Nutt), who developed a "mysterious brain disease" and died at the age of 38 on Februrary 21, 1967.



Charles Beaumont Memorial

Harlan Ellison hosts a discussion with Richard Matheson, Chris Beaumont and Roger Anker on the late, great fantasist, Charles Beaumont.


People Are Alike All Over [1.25] (Originally broadcast 03 / 25 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a short story "Brothers Beyond the Void" by Paul Fairman)


Intro: "You are looking at a species of flimsy little two-legged animal with extremely small heads whose name is Man. Warren Marcusson, age thirty-five. Samuel A. Conrad, age thirty-one... They're taking a highway into space, Man unshackling himself and sending his tiny, grouping fingers up into the unknown. Their destination is Mars, and in just a moment we'll land there with them."

Epilogue: "Species of animal brought back alive. Interesting similarity in physical characteristics to human beings in head, trunk, arms, legs, hands, feet. Very tiny undeveloped brain; comes from primitive planet named Earth. Samuel Conrad has found the Twilight Zone."


Execution [1.26] (Originally broadcast 04 / 01 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on an unpublished story by George Clayton Johnson)


Intro: "Commonplace, if somewhat grim, unsocial event known as a necktie party. The guest of dishonor a cowboy named Joe Caswell, just a moment away from a rope, a short dance several feet off the ground, and then the dark eternity of all evil men. Mr. Joe Caswell, who, when the good Lord passed out a conscience, a heart, a feeling for fellow men, must have been out for a beer and missed out. Mr. Joe Caswell, in the last quiet moment of a violent life."

Epilogue: "This is November, 1880, the aftermath of a necktie party. The victim's name - Paul Johnson, a minor-league criminal and the taker of another human life. No comment on his death save this: justice can span years. Retribution is not subject to a calendar. Tonight's case in point in the Twilight Zone."


The Big Tall Wish [1.27] (Originally broadcast 04 / 08 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "In this corner of the universe, a prizefighter named Bolie Jackson, one hundred eighty-three pounds and an hour and a half away from a comeback at St. Nick's Arena. Mr. Bolie Jackson, who by the standards of his profession is an aging, over-the-hill relic of what was, and who now sees a reflection of a man who has left too many pieces of his youth in too many stadiums for too many years before too many screaming people. Mr. Bolie Jackson, who might do well to look for some gentle magic in the hard-surfaced glass that stares back at him."

Epilogue: "Mr. Bolie Jackson, a hundred and eighty-three pounds, who left a second chance lying in a heap on a rosin-spattered canvas at St. Nick's Arena. Mr. Bolie Jackson, who shares the most common ailment of all men, the strange and perverse disinclination to believe in a miracle, the kind of miracle to come from the mind of a little boy, perhaps only to be found in the Twilight Zone."


A Nice Place to Visit [1.28] (Originally broadcast 04 / 15 / 1960 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)


Intro: "Portrait of a man at work, the only work he's ever done, the only work he knows. His name is Henry Francis Valentine but he calls himself Rocky, because that's the way his life has been - rocky and perilous and uphill at a dead run all the way. He's tired now, tired of running or wanting, of waiting for the breaks that come to others but never to him, never to Rocky Valentine. A scared, angry little man. He thinks it's all over now but he's wrong. For Rocky Valentine, it's just the beginning."

Epilogue: "A scared, angry little man who never got a break. Now he has everything he's ever wanted and he's going to have to live with it for eternity in the Twilight Zone."


Nightmare as a Child [1.29] (Originally broadcast 04 / 29 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)



Serling's Opening Narraton / Monologue:


Intro: "Month of November, hot chocolate, and a small cameo of a child's face, imperfect only in its solemnity. And these are the improbable ingredients to a human emotion, an emotion, say, like fear. But in a moment this woman, Helen Foley, will realize fear. She will understand what are the properties of terror. A little girl will lead her by the hand and walk with her into a nightmare."

Epilogue: "Miss Helen Foley, who has lived in night and who will wake up to morning. Miss Helen Foley, who took a dark spot from the tapestry of her life and rubbed it clean, then stepped back a few paces and got a good look at the Twilight Zone."


A Stop at Willoughby [1.30] (Originally broadcast 05 / 06 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)



Intro: "This is Gart Williams, age thirty-eight, a man protected by a suit of armor all held together by one bolt. Just a moment ago, someone removed the bolt, and Mr. Williams's protection fell away from him and left him a naked target. He's been cannonaded this afternoon by all the enemies of his life. His insecurity has shelled him, his sensitivity has straddled him with humiliation, his deep-rooted disquiet about his own worth has zeroed in on him, landed on target, and blown him apart. Mr. Gart Williams, ad agency exec, who in just a moment will move into the Twilight Zone --- in a desperate search for survival."

Epilogue: "Willoughby? Maybe it's wishful thinking nestled in a hidden part of a man's mind, or maybe it's the last stop in the vast design of things, or perhaps, for a man like Mr. Gart Williams, who climbed on a world that went by too fast, it's a place around the bend where he could jump off. Willoughby? Whatever it is, it comes with sunlight and serenity, and is a part of the Twilight Zone."


The Chaser [1.31] (Originally broadcast 05 / 13 / 1960 -- Writer: Robert Presnell Jr., based on a short story by John Collier)


Intro: "Mr. Roger Shackleforth. Age: youthful twenties. Occupation: being in love. Not just in love, but madly, passionately, illogically, miserably, all-consumingly in love, with a young woman named Leila who has a vague recollection of his face and even less than a passing interest. In a moment you'll see a switch, because Mr. Roger Shackleforth, the young gentleman so much in love, will take a short but very meaningful journey into the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "Mr. Roger Shackleforth, who has discovered at this late date that love can be as sticky as a vat of molasses, as unpalatable as a hunk of spoiled yeast, and as all-consuming as a six-alarm fire in a bamboo and canvas tent. Case history of a lover boy who should never have entered the Twilight Zone."


A Passage for Trumpet [1.32] (Originally broadcast 05 / 20 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)



Intro: "Joey Crown, musician with an odd, intense face, whose life is a quest for impossible things like flowers in concrete or like trying to pluck a note of music out of the air and put it under glass to treasure...Joey Crown, musician with an odd, intense face, who in a moment will try to leave the Earth and discover the middle ground, the place we call the Twilight Zone. "

Epilogue: "Joey Crown, who makes music, and who discovered something about life; that it can be rich and rewarding and full of beauty, just like the music he played, if a person would only pause to look and to listen. Joey Crown, who got his clue in the Twilight Zone."


Mr. Bevis [1.33] (Originally broadcast 06 / 03 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)



Intro: "In the parlance of the twentieth century, this is an oddball. His name is James B.W. Bevis, and his tastes lean toward stuffed animals, zither music, professional football, Charles Dickens, moose heads, carnivals, dogs, children, and young ladies. Mr. Bevis is accident prone, a little vague, a little discombobulated, with a life that possesses all the security of a floating crap game. But this can be said of our Mr. Bevis: without him, without his warmth, without his kindness, the world would be a considerably poorer place, albeit perhaps a little saner."

Epilogue: "Mr. James B.W. Bevis, who believes in a magic all his own. The magic of a child's smile, the magic of liking and being liked, the strange and wondrous mysticism that is the simple act of living. Mr. James B.W. Bevis, species of twentieth-century male, who has his own private and special Twilight Zone."


The After Hours [1.34] (Originally broadcast 06 / 10 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)



Intro: "Express elevator to the ninth floor of a department store, carrying Miss Marsha White on a most prosaic, ordinary, run of the mill errand. Miss Marsha White on the ninth floor, specialties department, looking for a gold thimble. The odds are she'll find it, but there are even better odds that she'll find something else, because this isn't just a department store. This happens to be the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "Marsha White in her normal and natural state…But it makes you wonder, doesn't it? Just how normal are we? Just who are the people we nod our hellos to as we pass on the street? A rather good question to ask, particularly in the Twilight Zone."


The Mighty Casey [1.35] (Originally broadcast 06 / 17 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)



Intro: "What you're looking at is a ghost, once alive but now deceased. Once upon a time, it was a baseball stadium that housed a major-league ballclub known as the Hoboken Zephyrs. Now it houses nothing but memories and a wind that stirs in the high grass of what was once an outfield, a wind that sometimes bears a faint, ghostly resemblance to the roar of a crowd that once sat here. We're back in time now, when the Hoboken Zephyrs were still a part of the National League and this mausoleum of memories was an honest-to-Pete stadium. But since this is strictly a story of make-believe, it has to start this way. Once upon a time, in Hoboken, New Jersey, it was tryout day. And though he's not yet on the field, you're about to meet a most unusual fellow, a left-handed pitched named Casey."

Epilogue: "Once upon a time there was a major-league baseball team called the Hoboken Zephyrs who, during the last year of their existence, wound up in last place and shortly thereafter wound up in oblivion. There's a rumor, unsubstantiated of course, that a manager named McGarry took them to the West Coast and wound up with several pennants and a couple of world's championships. This team had a pitching staff that made history. Of course, none of them smiled very much, but it happens to be a fact that they pitched like nothing human. And if you're interested as to where these gentlemen came from, you might check under 'B' for baseball, in the Twilight Zone."


A World of His Own [1.36] (Originally broadcast 07 / 01 / 1960 -- Writer: Richard Matheson)



Intro: "The home of Mr. Gregory West, one of America's most noted playwrights. The office of Mr. Gregory West. Mr. Gregory West--shy, quiet, and at the moment very happy. Mary--warm, affectionate . . . And the final ingredient--Mrs. Gregory West."

Epilogue: "Leaving Mr. Gregory West, still shy, quiet, very happy - and apparently in complete control of the Twilight Zone."




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Rod Serling's Patterns - with Elizabeth Montgomery (1955)


Introduction to the Bantam Paperback Patterns
by Rod Serling, 1957 - About Writing for Television


Twilight Zone - Rod Serling Uses The Hard Sell (1959)
The verbose Rod Serling pleads his case to the sponsors about his new show "The Twilight Zone"


Rod Serling, the Mike Wallace Interview (1959)


Text of the Rod Serling / Mike Wallace Interview:


Rod Serling Interviewed By Hans Conried


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Rod Serling's Twilight Zone Opening and Closing Narrations by Episode (with instances of incorporated brainwashing black propaganda put in perspective through alternative source links) :

Season 2

King Nine Will Not Return [2.1] (Originally broadcast 09 / 30 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)

Full Episode In English:


In French:


Intro: "This is Africa, 1943. War spits out its violence overhead and the sandy graveyard swallows it up. Her name is King Nine, B-25, medium bomber, Twelfth Air Force. On a hot, still morning she took off from Tunisia to bomb the southern tip of Italy. An errant piece of flak tore a hole in a wing tank and, like a wounded bird, this is where she landed, not to return on this day, or any other day."


Epilogue: "Enigma buried in the sand, a question mark with broken wings that lies in silent grace as a marker in a desert shrine. Odd how the real consorts with the shadows, how the present fuses with the past. How does it happen? The question is on file in the silent desert. And the answer? The answer is waiting for us in the Twilight Zone."


The Man in the Bottle [2.2] (Originally broadcast 10 / 07 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode, "The Man In A Bottle" in this promo:


Full Episode:


Intro: "Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Castle, gentle and infinitely patient people, whose lives have been a hope chest with a rusty lock and a lost set of keys. But in just a moment that hope chest will be opened, and an improbable phantom will try to bedeck the drabness of these two people's failure-laden lives with the gold and precious stones of fulfillment. Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Castle, standing on the outskirts and about to enter the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "A word to the wise now to the garbage collectors of the world, to the curio seekers, to the antique buffs, to everyone who would try to coax out a miracle from unlikely places. Check that bottle you're taking back for a two-cent deposit. The genie you save might be your own. Case in point, Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Castle, fresh from the briefest of trips into the Twilight Zone."


Nervous Man in a Four Dollar Room [2.3] (Originally broadcast 10 / 14 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)

Rod Serling promo for the Twilight Zone episode "Nervous Man In A Four Dollar Room" :


Full Episode:


Intro: "This is Mr. Jackie Rhoades, age thirty-four, and where some men leave a mark of their lives as a record of their fragmentary existence on Earth, this man leaves a blot, a dirty, discolored blemish to document a cheap and undistinguished sojourn amongst his betters. What you're about to watch in this room is a strange, mortal combat between a man and himself, for in just a moment Mr. Jackie Rhoades, whose life has been given over to fighting adversaries, will find his most formidable opponent in a cheap hotel room that is in reality the outskirts of the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Exit Mr. John Rhoades, formerly a reflection in a mirror, a fragment of someone else's conscience, a wishful thinker made out of glass, but now made out of flesh and on his way to join the company of men. Mr. John Rhoades, with one foot through the door and one foot out of the Twilight Zone."


A Thing About Machines [2.4] (Originally broadcast 10 / 28 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)

Rod Serling talks about the Twilight Zone episode "A Thing About Machines" in this promo:


Full Episode:


Intro: "This is Mr. Bartlett Finchley, age forty-eight, a practicing sophisticate who writes very special and very precious things for gourmet magazines and the like. He's a bachelor and a recluse with few friends, only devotees and adherents to the cause of tart sophistry. He has no interests save whatever current annoyances he can put his mind to. He has no purpose to his life except the formulation of day-to-day opportunities to vent his wrath on mechanical contrivances of an age he abhors. In short, Mr. Bartlett Finchley is a malcontent, born either too late or too early in the century, and who in just a moment will enter a realm where muscles and the will to fight back are not limited to human beings. Next stop for Mr. Bartlett Finchley - the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Yes, it could just be. It could just be that Mr. Bartlett Finchley succumbed from a heart attack and a set of delusions. It could just be that he was tormented by an imagination as sharp as his wit and as pointed as his dislikes. But as perceived by those attending, this is one explanation that has left the premises with the deceased. Look for it filed under 'M' for machines in the Twilight Zone."


The Howling Man [2.5] (Originally broadcast 11 / 04 / 1960 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)

Rod Serling talks about the Twilight Zone episode "The Howling Man" in this promo.


Full Episode:



Intro: "The prostrate form of Mr. David Ellington, scholar, seeker of truth and, regrettably, finder of truth. A man who will shortly arise from his exhaustion to confront a problem that has tormented mankind since the beginning of time. A man who knocked on a door seeking sanctuary and found instead the outer edges of the Twilight Zone.


Epilogue: "Ancient folk saying: 'You can catch the Devil, but you can't hold him long.' Ask Brother Jerome. Ask David Ellington. They know, and they'll go on knowing to the end of their days and beyond--in the Twilight Zone."


The Eye of the Beholder [2.6] (Originally broadcast 11 / 11 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)

Rod Serling talks about the Twilight Zone episode "Eye of The Beholder" in this promo:


Full Episode:



Intro: "Suspended in time and space for moment, your introduction to Miss Janet Tyler, who lives in a very private world of darkness, a universe whose dimensions are the size, thickness, length of a swath of bandages that cover her face. In a moment we'll go back into this room and also in a moment we'll look under those bandages, keeping in mind, of course, that we're not to be surprised by what we see, because this isn't just a hospital, and patient 307 is not just a woman. This happens to be the Twilight Zone, and Miss Tyler, with you, is about to enter it."


Epilogue: "Now the questions that come to mind. Where is this place and when is it, what kind of world where ugliness is the norm and beauty the deviation from that norm? The answer is, it doesn't make any difference. Because the old saying happens to be true. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, in this year or a hundred years hence, on this planet or wherever there is human life, perhaps out amont the stars. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Lesson to be learned . . . in the Twilight Zone."

"Eye of the Beholder" (Twilight Zone) Bernard Herrmann score:



Nick of Time [2.7] (Originally broadcast 11 / 18 / 1960 -- Writer: Richard Matheson)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode "Nick Of Time" in this promo


Full Episode:


Intro: "The hand belongs to Mr. Don S. Carter, male member of a honeymoon team on route across the Ohio countryside to New York City. In one moment, they will be subjected to a gift most humans never receive in a lifetime. For one penny, they will be able to look into the future. The time is now, the place is a little diner in Ridgeview, Ohio, and what this young couple doesn't realize is that this town happens to lie on the outskirts of the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Counterbalance in the little town of Ridgeview, Ohio. Two people permanently enslaved by the tyranny of fear and superstition, facing the future with a kind of helpless dread. Two others facing the future with confidence, having escaped one of the darker places of the Twilight Zone."


The Lateness of the Hour [2.8] (Originally broadcast 12 / 02 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "The residence of Dr. William Loren, which is in reality a menagerie for machines. We're about to discover that sometimes the product of man's talent and genius can walk amongst us untouched by the normal ravages of time. These are Dr. Loren's robots, built to functional as well as artistic perfection. But in a moment Dr. William Loren, wife and daughter will discover that perfection is relative, that even robots have to be paid for, and very shortly will be shown exactly what is the bill."


Epilogue: "Let this be the postscript: should you be worn out by the rigors of competing in a very competitive world, if you're distraught from having to share your existence with the noises and neuroses of the twentieth century, if you crave serenity but want it full time and with no strings attached, get yourself a workroom in a basement and then drop a note to Dr. and Mrs. William Loren. They're a childless couple who made comfort a life's work, and maybe there are a few do-it-yourself pamphlets still available in the Twilight Zone."



The Trouble with Templeton [2.9] (Originally broadcast 12 / 09 / 1960 -- Writer: E. Jack Neuman)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode "The Trouble With Templeton" in this promo:


Full Episode:


Intro: "Pleased to present for your consideration Mr. Booth Templeton, serious and successful star of over thirty Broadway plays, who is not quite all right today. Yesterday and its memories is what he wants, and yesterday is what he'll get. Soon his years and his troubles will descend on him in an avalanche. In order not to be crushed, Mr. Booth Templeton will escape from his theater and his world and make his debut on another stage in another world that we call the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Mr. Booth Templeton, who shared with most human beings the hunger to recapture the past moments, the ones that soften with the years. But in his case, the characters of his past blocked him out and sent him back to his own time, which is where we find him now. Mr. Booth Templeton, who had a round-trip ticket into the Twilight Zone."


A Most Unusual Camera [2.10] (Originally broadcast 12 / 16 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode "A Most Unusual Camera" in this promo:


Full Episode:


Intro: "A hotel suite that in this instance serves as a den of crime, the aftermath of a rather minor event to be noted on a police blotter, an insurance claim, perhaps a three-inch box on page twelve of the evening paper. Small addenda to be added to the list of the loot: a camera, a most unimposing addition to the flotsam and jetsam that it came with, hardly worth mentioning really, because cameras are cameras, some expensive, some purchasable at five-and-dime stores. But this camera, this one's unusual, because in just a moment we'll watch it inject itself into the destinies of three people. It happens to be a fact that the pictures that it takes can only be developed in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Object known as a camera, vintage uncertain, origin unknown. But for the greedy, the avaricious, the fleet of foot who can run a four-minute mile so long as they're chasing a fast buck, it makes believe that it's an ally, but it isn't at all. It's a beckoning come-on for a quick walk around the block in the Twilight Zone."


Night of the Meek [2.11] (Originally broadcast 12 / 23 / 1960 -- Writer: Rod Serling)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode "Night Of The Meek" in this promo:


Full Episode:



Intro: "This is Mr. Henry Corwin, normally unemployed, who once a year takes the lead role in the uniquely popular American institute, that of department-store Santa Claus in a road company version of 'The Night Before Christmas.' But in just a moment Mr. Henry Corwin, ersatz Santa Claus, will enter a strange kind of North Pole which is one part the wondrous spirit of Christmas and one part the magic that can only be found in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "A word to the wise to all the children of the twentieth century, whether their concern be pediatrics or geriatrics, whether they crawl on hands and knees and wear diapers or walk with a cane and comb their beards. There's a wondrous magic to Christmas, and there's a special power reserved for little people. In short, there's nothing mightier than the meek."


Dust [2.12] (Originally broadcast 01 / 06 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "There was a village, built of crumbling clay and rotting wood, and it squatted ugly under a broiling sun like a sick and mangy animal wanting to die. This village had a virus, shared by its people. It was the germ of squalor, of hopelessness, of a loss of faith. For the faithless, the hopeless, the misery-laden, there is time, ample time, to engage in one of the other pursuits of men. They begin to destroy themselves."


Epilogue: "It was a very small, misery-laden village on the day of a hanging, and of little historical consequence. And if there's any moral to it at all, let's say that in any quest for magic, in any search for sorcery, witchery, legerdemain, first check the human heart. For inside this deep place there's a wizardry that costs far more than a few pieces of gold. Tonight's case in point in the Twilight Zone."


Back There [2.13] (Originally broadcast 01 / 13 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode "Back There" in this promo


Full Episode:


Intro: "Witness a theoretical argument, Washington D.C., the present. Four intelligent men talking about an improbable thing like going back in time. A friendly debate revolving around a simple issue: could a human being change what has happened before? Interesting and theoretical because who ever heard of a man going back in time, before tonight, that is. Because this is the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Mr. Peter Corrigan, lately returned from a place 'back there,' a journey into time with highly questionable results, proving on one hand that the threads of history are woven tightly and the skein of events cannot be undone, but on the other hand, there are small fragments of tapestry that can be altered. Tonight's thesis to be taken as you will, in the Twilight Zone."


The Whole Truth [2.14] (Originally broadcast 01 / 20 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode "The Whole Truth" in this promo


Full Episode:


Intro: "This, as the banner already has proclaimed, is Mr. Harvey Hunnicut, an expert on commerce and con jobs, a brash, bright, and larceny-loaded wheeler and dealer who, when the good lord passed out a conscience, must have gone for a beer and missed out. And these are a couple of other characters in our story: a little old man and a Model A car - but not just any old man and not just any Model A. There's something very special about the both of them. As a matter of fact, in just a few moments they'll give Harvey Hunnicut something that he's never experienced before. Through the good offices of a little magic, they will unload on Mr. Hunnicut the absolute necessity to tell the truth. Exactly where they come from is conjectural, but as to where they're heading for, this we know, because all of them - and you - are on the threshold of the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Couldn't happen, you say? Far-fetched? Way-out? Tilt-of-center? Possible, but the next time you buy an automobile, if it happens to look as if it had just gone through the Battle of the Marne, and the seller is ready to throw into the bargain one of his arms, be particularly careful in explaining to the boss about your grandmother's funeral when you were actually at Chavez Ravine watching the Dodgers. It'll be a fact that you are the proud possessor of an instrument of truth manufactured and distributed by an exclusive dealer in the Twilight Zone."


The Invaders [2.15] (Originally broadcast 01 / 27 / 1961 -- Writer: Richard Matheson)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode "The Invaders" in this promo


Full Episode:


Intro: "This is one of the out-of-the-way places, the unvisited places, bleak, wasted, dying. This is a farmhouse, handmade, crude, a house without electricity or gas, a house untouched by progress. This is the woman who lives in the house, a woman who's been alone for many years, a strong, simple woman whose only problem up until this moment has been that of acquiring enough food to eat, a woman about to face terror which is even now coming at her from . . . the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "These are the invaders, the tiny beings from the tiny place called Earth, who would take the giant step across the sky to the question marks that sparkle and beckon from the vastness of the universe only to be imagined. The invaders, who found out that a one-way ticket to the stars beyond has the ultimate price tag. And we have just seen it entered in a ledger that covers all the transactions of the universe, a bill stamped 'paid in full,' and to be found, on file, in the Twilight Zone."


A Penny For Your Thoughts [2.16] (Originally broadcast 02 / 03 / 1961 -- Writer: George Clayton Johnson)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode "A Penny for Your Thoughts" in this promo:


Full Episode:


Intro: "Mr. Hector B. Poole, resident of the Twilight Zone. Flip a coin and keep flipping it. What are the odds? Half the time it will come up heads, half the time tails. But in one freakish chance in a million, it'll land on its edge. Mr. Hector B. Poole, a bright human coin, on his way to the bank."


Epilogue: "One time in a million, a coin will land on its edge, but all it takes to knock it over is a vagrant breeze, a vibration or a slight blow. Hector B. Poole, a human coin, on edge for a brief time in the Twilight Zone."


Twenty-Two [2.17] (Originally broadcast 02 / 10 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on an anecdote in "Famous Ghost Stories" edited by Bennerr Cerf)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode "Twenty-two" in this promo

Full Episode:


Intro: "This is Miss Liz Powell. She's a professional dancer and she's in the hospital as a result of overwork and nervous fatigue. And at this moment we have just finished walking with her in a nightmare. In a moment she'll wake up and we'll remain at her side. The problem here is that both Miss Powell and you will reach a point where it might be difficult to decide which is reality and which is nightmare, a problem uncommon perhaps but rather peculiar to the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Miss Elizabeth Powell, professional dancer. Hospital diagnosis: acute anxiety brought on by overwork and fatigue. Prognosis: with rest and care, she'll probably recover. But the cure to some nightmares is not to be found in known medical journals. You look for it under 'potions for bad dreams,' to be found in the Twilight Zone."


The Odyssey of Flight 33 [2.18] (Originally broadcast 02 / 24 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode "Odyssey of Flight 33" in this promo


Full Episode:


Intro: "You're riding on a jet airliner en route from London to New York. You're at 35,000 feet atop an overcast and roughly fifty-five minutes from Idlewild Airport. But what you've seen occur inside the cockpit of this plane is no reflection on the aircraft or the crew. It's a safe, well-engineered, perfectly designed machine, and the men you've just met are a trained, cool, highly efficient team. The problem is simply that the plane is going too fast and there is nothing within the realm of knowledge or at least logic to explain it. Unbeknownst to passenger and crew, this airplane is heading into an unchartered region well off the beaten track of commercial travelers. It's moving into the Twilight Zone. What you're about to see we call 'The Odyssey of Flight 33.'"


Epilogue: "A Global jet airliner, en route from London to New York on an uneventful afternoon in the year 1961, but now reported overdue and missing, and by now searched for on land, sea, and air by anguished human beings fearful of what they'll find. But you and I know where she is, you and I know what's happened. So if some moment, any moment, you hear the sound of jet engines flying atop the overcast, engines that sound searching and lost, engines that sound desperate, shoot up a flare or do something. That would be Global 33 trying to get home from the Twilight Zone."


Mr. Dingle, the Strong [2.19] (Originally broadcast 03 / 03 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode "Mr. Dingle, the Strong" in this promo


Full Episode:


Intro: "The uniquely American institution known as the neighborhood bar. Reading left to right are Mr. Anthony O'Toole, proprietor who waters his drinks like geraniums but who stands foursquare for peace and quiet and for booths for ladies. This is Mr. Joseph J. Callahan, an unregistered bookie, whose entire life is any sporting event with two sides and a set of odds. His idea of a meeting at the summit is any dialogue between a catcher and a pitcher with more than one man on base. And this animated citizen is every anonymous bettor who ever dropped rent money on a horse race, a prize fight, or a floating crap game, and who took out his frustrations and his insolvency on any vulnerable fellow barstool companion within arm's and fist's reach. And this is Mr. Luther Dingle, a vacuum-cleaner salesman whose volume of business is roughly that of a valet at a hobo convention. He's a consummate failure in almost everything but is a good listener and has a prominent jaw. And these two unseen gentlemen are visitors from outer space. They are about to alter the destiny of Luther Dingle by leaving him a legacy, the kind you can't hardly find no more. In just a moment, a sad-faced perennial punching bag who missed even the caboose of life's gravy train will take a short constitutional into that most unpredictable region that we refer to as the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Exit Mr. Luther Dingle, formerly vacuum-cleaner salesman, strongest man on Earth, and now mental giant. These latter powers will very likely be eliminated before too long, but Mr. Dingle has an appeal to extraterrestrial note-takers as well as to frustrated and insolvent bet-losers. Offhand, I'd say that he was in for a great deal of extremely odd periods, simply because there are so many inhabited planets who send down observers, and also because, of course, Mr. Dingle lives his life with one foot in his mouth, and the other in the Twilight Zone."


Static [2.20] (Originally broadcast 03 / 10 / 1961 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont, based on an unpublished story by OCee Ritch)

Rod Serling explains the Twilight Zone episode "Static" in this promo:


Full Episode:


Intro: "No one ever saw one quite like that, because that's a very special sort of radio. In its day, circa 1935, its type was one of the most elegant consoles on the market. Now, with its fabric-covered speakers, its peculiar yellow dial, its serrated knobs, it looks quaint and a little strange. Mr. ed Lindsay is going to find out how strange very soon—when he tunes in to the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Around and around she goes, and where she stops nobody knows. All Ed Lindsay knows is that he desperately wanted a second chase and he finally got it, through a strange and wonderful time machine called a radio...in the Twilight Zone."


Bob Crane as uncredited Radio Announcer /The Twilight Zone - 'Static' / 1961 (clip 1) Bob Crane is heard but not seen - playing the uncredited part of the radio announcer. Because he was already known as the "Man of 1000 Voices," he was capable of playing several different voices over the radio in this episode.


Bob Crane as Uncredited Radio Announcer /The Twilight Zone - 'Static' / 1961 (clip 2)


The Prime Mover [2.21] (Originally broadcast 03 / 24 / 1961 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont, based on an unpublished story by George Clayton Johnson)


Intro: "Portrait of a man who thinks and thereby gets things done. Mr. Jimbo Cobb might be called a prime mover, a talent which has to be seen to be believed. In just a moment, he'll show his friends and you how he keeps both feet on the ground and his head in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Some people possess talent, others are possessed by it. When that happens, the talent becomes a curse. Jimbo Cobb knew, right from the beginning. But before Ace Larsen learned that simple truth, he had to take a short trip through the Twilight Zone."


Long Distance Call [2.22] (Originally broadcast 03 / 31 / 1961 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont and William Idleson)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode "Long Distance Call" in this promo:


Full Episode:


Intro: "As must be obvious, this is a house hovered over by Mr. Death, that omnipresent player to the third and final act of every life. And it's been said, and probably rightfully so, that what follows this life is one of the unfathomable mysteries, an area of darkness which we the living reserve for the dead - or so it is said. For in a moment, a child will try to cross that bridge which separates light and shadow, and of course he must take the only known route, that indistinct highway through the region we call the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "A toy telephone, an act of faith, a set of improbable circumstances, all combine to probe a mystery, to fathom a depth, to send a facet of light into a dark after-region, to be believed or disbelieved depending on your frame of reference. A fact or a fantasy, a substance or a shadow, but all of it very much a part of the Twilight Zone."


A Hundred Yards over the Rim [2.23] (Originally broadcast 04 / 07 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling )

Rod Serling explains the Twilight Zone episode "A Hundred Yards Over the Rim" in this promo



Intro: "The year is 1847, the place is the territory of New Mexico, the people are a tiny handful of men and women with a dream. Eleven months ago, they started out from Ohio and headed west. Someone told them about a place called California, about a warm sun and a blue sky, about rich land and fresh air, and at this moment almost a year later they've seen nothing but cold, heat, exhaustion, hunger, and sickness. This man's name is Christian Horn. He has a dying eight year-old son and a heartsick wife, and he's the only one remaining who has even a fragment of the dream left. Mr. Chris Horn, who's going over the top of a rim to look for water and sustenance and in a moment will move into the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Mr. Christian Horn, one of the hardy breed of men who headed west during a time when there were no concrete highways or the solace of civilization. Mr. Christian Horn, family and party, heading west, after a brief detour through the Twilight Zone."


The Rip Van Winkle Caper [2.24] (Originally broadcast 04 / 21 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "Introducing four experts in the questionable art of crime. Mr. Farwell, expert on noxious gases, former professor with a doctorite in both chemistry and physics. Mr. Erbie, expert in mechanical engineering. Mr. Brooks, expert in the use of firearms and other weaponry. And Mr. DeCruz, expert in demolition and various forms of destruction. The time is now and the place is a mountain cave in Death Valley, U.S.A. In just a moment, these four men will utlize the services of a truck placed in cosmoline, loading with a hot heist cooled off by a century of sleep, and then take a drive into the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "The last of four Rip Van Winkles who all died precisely the way they lived, chasing an idol across the sand to wind up bleached dry in the hot sun as so much desert flotsam, worthless as the gold bullion they built a shrine to. Tonight's lesson...in the Twilight Zone."


The Silence [2.25] (Originally broadcast 04 / 28 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode "The Silence" in this promo:


Full Episode:


Intro: "The note that this man is carrying across a club room is in the form of a proposed wager, but it's the kind of wager that comes without precedent. It stands alone in the annals of bet-making as the strangest game of chance ever offered by one man to another. In just a moment, we'll see the terms of the wager and what young Mr. Tennyson does about it. And in the process, we'll witness all parties spin a wheel of chance in a very bizarre casino called the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Mr. Jamie Tennyson, who almost won a bet, but who discovered somewhat belatedly that gambling can be a most unproductive pursuit, even with loaded dice, marked cards, or as in his case some severed vocal cords. For somewhere beyond him a wheel was turned and his number came up black thirteen. If you don't believe it, ask the croupier, the very special one who handles roulette in the Twilight Zone."


Shadow Play [2.26] (Originally broadcast 05 / 05 / 1961 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)

Serling Intro Only


Full Episode:


Intro: "Adam Grant, a nondescript kind of man found guilty of murder and sentenced to the electric chair. Like every other criminal caught in the wheels of justice, he's scared, right down to the marrow of his bones. But it isn't prison that scares him, the long, silent nights of waiting, the slow walk to the little room, or even death itself. It's something else that holds Adam Grant in the hot, sweaty grip of fear, something worse than any punishment this world has to offer, something found only in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "We know that a dream can be real, but who ever thought that reality could be a dream? We exist, of course, but how, in what way? As we believe, as flesh-and-blood human beings, or are we simply parts of someone's feverish, complicated nightmare? Think about it and then ask yourself, do you live here, in this country, in this world, or do you live instead in the Twilight Zone?"


The Mind and the Matter [2.27] (Originally broadcast 05 / 12 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode "The Mind and the Matter" in this promo


Full Episode:


Intro: "A brief if frenetic introduction to Mr. Archibald Beechcroft, a child of the twentieth century, a product of the population explosion, and one of the inheritors of the legacy of progress. Mr. Beechcroft again. This time act two of his daily battle for survival. And in just a moment, our hero will begin his personal one-man rebellion against the mechanics of his age, and to do so he will enlist certain aids available only in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Mr. Archibald Beechcroft, a child of the twentieth century, who has found out through trial and error - and mostly error - that with all its faults it may well be that this is the best of all possible worlds. People notwithstanding, it has much to offer. Tonight's case in point in the Twilight Zone."


Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up [2.28] (Originally broadcast 05 / 26 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode "Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?" in this promo


Full Episode:


Intro: "Wintry February night, the present. Order of events: a phone call from a frightened woman notating the arrival of an unidentified flying object, and the check-out you've just witnessed with two state troopers verifying the event, but with noting more enlightening to add beyond evidence of some tracks leading across the highway to a diner. You've heard of trying to find a needle in a haystack? Well, stay with us now and you'll be part of an investigating team whose mission is not to find that proverbial needle, no, their task is even harder. They've got to find a Martian in a diner, and in just a moment you'll search with them, because you've just landed in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Incident on a small island, to be believed or disbelieved. However, if a sour-faced dandy named Ross or a big, good-natured counterman who handles a spatula as if he'd been born with one in his mouth, if either of these two entities walks onto your premises, you'd better hold their hands - all three of them - or check the color of their eyes - all three of them. The gentleman in question might try to pull you into... the Twilight Zone."


The Obsolete Man [2.29] (Originally broadcast 06 / 02 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling)

Rod Serling describes the Twilight Zone episode "The Obsolete Man" in this promo


Serling's Opening Monologue:


Full Episode:


Intro: "You walk into this room at your own risk, because it leads to the future. Not a future that will be but one that might be. This is not a new world. It is simply an extension of what began in the old one. It has patterned itself after every dictator that has ever planted the ripping imprint of a boot on the pages of history since the beginning of time. It has refinements. Technological advances and the more sophisticated approach to the destruction of human freedom. But like every one of the superstates that preceded it, it has one iron rule; logic is an enemy and truth is a menace. This is Mr. Romney Wordsworth, in his last 48 hours on earth. He is a citizen of the state but will soon have to be eliminated, because he is built out of flesh, and because he has a mind. Mr. Romney Wordsworth, who will draw his last breaths, in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "The Chancellor--the late Chancellor--was only partly correct. He was obsolete. But so was the State, the entity he worshipped. Any state, any entity, any ideology that fails to recognize the worth, the dignity, the rights of man, that state is obsolete. A case to be filed under 'M' for mankind . . . in the Twilight Zone."


Eustace Mullins - The Secrets of the Federal Reserve


Eustace Mullins - The World Order



The History of Usury - J.B.C. Murray




Other mass media have the same faults but escape criticism
- This article, tenth in TV Guide's "Television As I See It" series, appeared June 18, 1960


Twilight Zone Pinball Promo Video



Rod Serling speaking at UCLA 5/17/1971


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Rod Serling's Twilight Zone Opening and Closing Narrations by Episode (with instances of incorporated brainwashing black propaganda put in perspective through alternative source links) :

Season 3

Two [3.1] (Originally broadcast 09 / 15 / 1961 -- Writer: Montgomery Pittman)


Intro: "This is a jungle, a monument built by nature honoring disuse, commemorating a few years of nature being left to its own devices. But it's another kind of jungle, the kind that comes in the aftermath of man's battles against himself. Hardly an important battle, not a Gettysburg or a Marne or an Iwo Jima. More like one insignificant corner patch in the crazy quilt of combat. But it was enough to end the existence of this little city. It's been five years since a human being walked these streets. This is the first day of the sixth year, as man used to measure time. The time? Perhaps a hundred years from now. Or sooner. Or perhaps it's already happened two million years ago. The place? The signposts are in English so that we may read them more easily, but the place is the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "This has been a love story about two lonely people who found each other in the Twilight Zone."


The Arrival [3.2] (Originally broadcast 09 / 22 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling)



Intro: "This object, should any of you have lived underground for the better parts of your lives and never had occasion to look toward the sky, is an airplane, its official designation a DC-3. We offer this rather obvious comment because this particular airplane, the one you're looking at, is a freak. Now, most airplanes take off and land as per scheduled. On rare occasions they crash. But all airplanes can be counted on doing one or the other. Now, yesterday morning this particular airplane ceased to be just a commercial carrier. As of its arrival it became an enigma, a seven-ton puzzle made out of aluminum, steel, wire and a few thousand other component parts, none of which add up to the right thing. In just a moment, we're going to show you the tail end of its history. We're going to give you ninety percent of the jigsaw pieces and you and Mr. Sheckly here of the Federal Aviation Agency will assume the problem of putting them together along with finding the missing pieces. This we offer as an evening's hobby, a little extracurricular diversion which is really the national pastime in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Picture of a man with an Achilles' heel, a mystery that landed in his life and then turned into a heavy weight, dragged across the years to ultimately take the form of an illusion. Now, that's the clinical answer that they put on the tag as they take him away. But if you choose to think that the explanation has to do with an airborne Flying Dutchman, a ghost ship on a fog-enshrouded night on a flight that never ends, then you're doing your business in an old stand in the Twilight Zone."


The Shelter [3.3] (Originally broadcast 09 / 29 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "What you are about to watch is a nightmare. It is not meant to be prophetic, it need not happen, it's the fervent and urgent prayer of all men of goodwill that it never shall happen. But in this place, in this moment, it does happen. This is the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "No moral, no message, no prophetic tract, just a simple statement of fact: for civilization to survive, the human race has to remain civilized. Tonight's very small exercise in logic from the Twilight Zone."


Rod Serling Talks to Bob Crane about "The Shelter" Bob Crane engages Twilight Zone creator Rod Serling in an interesting discussion about the famous TZ episode "The Shelter."




The Nuclear Scare Scam | Galen Winsor


Do Nuclear Weapons Even Exist? Edmund Matthews


The BP Oil Spill 2 Years Later by Lenon Honor


Abirato Radio Episode 35 - March 26, 2013

Main topic: Are nuclear weapons yet another gigantic military-industrial-complex /mass-media orchestrated PsyOp hoax to fear-monger the entire world's rabble in line for the past 68 years ?

Guests: Rae / Rerevisionist of http://big-lies.org/ and nuke lies contributor FirstclassSkeptic




The Passersby [3.4] (Originally broadcast 10 / 06 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "This road is the afterwards of the Civil War. It began at Fort Sumter, South Carolina, and ended at a place called Appomattox. It's littered with the residue of broken battles and shattered dreams. In just a moment, you will enter a strange province that knows neither North nor South, a place we call the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Incident on a dirt road during the month of April, the year 1865. As we've already pointed out, it's a road that won't be found on a map, but it's one of many that lead in and out of the Twilight Zone."




The Rothschilds & the Civil War


Lysander Spooner - No Treason: The Constitution of No Authority



A Game of Pool [3.5] (Originally broadcast 10 / 13 / 1961 -- Writer: George Clayton Johnson)


Intro: "Jesse Cardiff, pool shark, the best on Randolph Street, who will soon learn that trying to be the best at anything carries its own special risks in or out of the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Mr. Jesse Cardiff, who became a legend by beating one, but who has found out after his funeral that being the best of anything carries with it a special obligation to keep on proving it. Mr. Fats Brown, on the other hand, having relinquished the champion's mantle, has gone fishing. These are the ground rules in the Twilight Zone."


George Clayton Johnson Interview

In this 10-part (each 30-minute segment is posted separately) oral history interview, George Clayton Johnson chronicles his career as a fiction, television, and movie writer. He talks about his association with the original "Oceans 11" (1960) feature film in which he was the original co-screenwriter and received co-story credit on the movie. He details his association as one of the key collaborators on "The Twilight Zone" (1959-64) for which he contributed to eight series episodes including the classics "Nothing in the Dark," "A Game of Pool," and "Kick the Can." He describes "The Twilight Zone's" place in television history and talks about producer Buck Houghton, creator Rod Serling, and writers Richard Matheson and Charles Beaumont. Johnson speaks in depth about "Star Trek", for which he contributed the teleplay to what would become the premiere episode: "The Man Trap." Johnson also talks about his teleplays for such series as "Route 66", "The Law and Mr. Jones", and "Kung Fu". He also discusses the classic science fiction novel Logan's Run, which he co-authored with William F. Nolan.

Part1: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTLunXZeT2k

Part 2: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-61j4eg_z1Y

Part 3: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=idRxRbmiCm8

Part 4: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5MIXofhs08

Part 5: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wb2mmugTgjs

Part 6: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lMtDLKbJE6c

Part 7: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3b1JKFG2Q4

Part 8: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iy5L2IjElLs

Part 9: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WmU6RDbG4P0

Part 10: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CzK9l7UFBHc

George Clayton Johnson discusses Cannabis


The Mirror [3.6] (Originally broadcast 10 / 20 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "This is the face of Ramos Clemente, a year ago a beardless, nameless worker of the dirt who plodded behind a mule, furrowing someone else's land. And he looked up at a hot Central American sun and he pledged the impossible. He made a vow that he would lead an avenging army against the tyranny that put the ache in his back and the anguish in his eyes, and now one year later the dream of the impossible has become a fact. In just a moment we will look deep into this mirror and see the aftermath of a rebellion...in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Ramos Clemente, a would-be god in dungarees, strangled by an illusion, that will-o-'the-wisp mirage that dangles from the sky in front of the eyes of all ambitious men, all tyrants--and any resemblance to tyrants living or dead is hardly coincidental, whether it be here or in the Twilight Zone."


The Grave [3.7] (Originally broadcast 10 / 27 / 1961 -- Writer: Montgomery Pittman)


Intro: Normally, the old man would be correct. This would be the end of the story. We've had the traditional shoot-out on the street and the badman will soon be dead. But some men of legend and folk tale have been known to continue having their way even after death. The outlaw and killer Pinto Sykes was such a person, and shortly we'll see how he introduces the town, and a man named Conny Miller in particular, to the Twilight Zone.


Epilogue: "Final comment: you take this with a grain of salt or a shovelful of earth, as shadow or substance, we leave it up to you. And for any further research check under 'G' for ghosts in the Twilight Zone."


It's a Good Life [3.8] (Originally broadcast 11 / 03 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a short story by Jerome Bixby)


Intro: "Tonight's story on The Twilight Zone is somewhat unique and calls for a different kind of introduction. This, as you may recognize, is a map of the United States, and there's a little town there called Peaksville. On a given morning not too long ago, the rest of the world disappeared and Peaksville was left all alone. Its inhabitants were never sure whether the world was destroyed and only Peaksville left untouched or whether the village had somehow been taken away. They were, on the other hand, sure of one thing: the cause. A monster had arrived in the village. Just by using his mind, he took away the automobiles, the electricity, the machines - because they displeased him - and he moved an entire community back into the dark ages - just by using his mind. Now I'd like to introduce you to some of the people in Peaksville, Ohio. This is Mr. Fremont. It's in his farmhouse that the monster resides. This is Mrs. Fremont. And this is Aunt Amy, who probably had more control over the monster in the beginning than almost anyone. But one day she forgot. She began to sing aloud. Now, the monster doesn't like singing, so his mind snapped at her, turned her into the smiling, vacant thing you're looking at now. She sings no more. And you'll note that the people in Peaksville, Ohio, have to smile. They have to think happy thoughts and say happy things because once displeased, the monster can wish them into a cornfield or change them into a grotesque, walking horror. This particular monster can read minds, you see. He knows every thought, he can feel every emotion. Oh yes, I did forget something, didn't I? I forgot to introduce you to the monster. This is the monster. His name is Anthony Fremont. He's six years old, with a cute little-boy face and blue, guileless eyes. But when those eyes look at you, you'd better start thinking happy thoughts, because the mind behind them is absolutely in charge. This is the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "No comment here, no comment at all. We only wanted to introduce you to one of our very special citizens, little Anthony Fremont, who lives in a place called Peaksville in a place that used to be Ohio. And if by some strange chance you should run across him, you had best think only good thoughts. Anything less than that is handled at your own risk, because if you do meet Anthony you can be sure of one thing: you have entered the Twilight Zone."


Deaths-Head Revisited [3.9] (Originally broadcast 11 / 10 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling)

Opening Monologue:

Full Episode:



Intro: Mr. Schmidt, recently arrived in a small Bavarian village which lies eight miles northwest of Munich, a picturesque, delightful little spot one time known for its scenery but more recently related to other events having to do with some of the less positive pursuits of man: human slaughter, torture, misery and anguish. Mr. Schmidt, as we will soon perceive, has a vested interest in the ruins of a concentration camp--for once, some seventeen years ago, his name was Gunther Lutze. He held the rank of a captain in the S.S. He was a black-uniformed, strutting animal whose function in life was to give pain, and like his colleagues of the time he shared the one affliction most common amongst that breed known as nazis: he walked the Earth without a heart. And now former S.S. Captain Lutze will revisit his old haunts, satisfied perhaps that all that is awaiting him in the ruins on the hill is an element of nostalgia. What he does not know, of course, is that a place like Dachau cannot exist only in Bavaria. By its nature, by its very nature, it must be one of the populated areas of the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "All the Dachaus must remain standing. The Dachaus, the Belsens, the Buchenwalds, the Auschwitzes-all of them. They must remain standing because they are a monument to a moment in time when some men decided to turn the Earth into a graveyard. Into it they shoveled all of their reason, their logic, their knowledge, but worst of all, their conscience. And the moment we forget this, the moment we cease to be haunted by this remembrance, then we become gravediggers. Something to dwell on and remember, not only in the Twilight Zone but wherever men walk God's Earth."




Lets stop with the Auschwitz lies

This was a work camp:



One Third of the holocaust (full)


alternate links:



Last Days of the Big Lie



David Cole at Auschwitz



The holocaust Unveiled - the Persecution of the Revisionists




Pre-WWII Newspapers pushing Six Million Jews figure 1915-1938


Leon Degrelle - The Epic Story of the Waffen SS



Campaign In Russia: The Waffen SS on the Eastern Front - Leon Degrelle


The Midnight Sun [3.10] (Originally broadcast 11 / 17 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "The word that Mrs. Bronson is unable to put into the hot, still, sodden air is 'doomed,' because the people you've just seen have been handed a death sentence. One month ago, the Earth suddenly changed its elliptical orbit and in doing so began to follow a path which gradually, moment by moment, day by day, took it closer to the sun. And all of man's little devices to stir up the air are now no longer luxuries - they happen to be pitiful and panicky keys to survival. The time is five minutes to twelve, midnight. There is no more darkness. The place is New York City and this is the eve of the end, because even at midnight it's high noon, the hottest day in history, and you're about to spend it in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "The poles of fear, the extremes of how the Earth might conceivably be doomed. Minor exercise in the care and feeding of a nightmare, respectfully submitted by all the thermometer-watchers in the Twilight Zone."


Still Valley [3.11] (Originally broadcast 11 / 24 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a short story "The Valley Was Still" by Manly Wade Wellman)


Intro: "The time is 1863, the place the state of Virginia. The event is a mass blood-letting known as the Civil War, a tragic moment in time when a nation was split into two fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation. . . This is Joseph Paradine, Confederate cavalry, as he heads down toward a small town in the middle of a valley. But very shortly, Joseph Paradine will make contact with the enemy. He will also make contact with an outpost not found on a military map - an outpost called the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "On the following morning, Sergeant Paradine and the rest of these men were moved up north to a little town in Pennsylvania, an obscure little place where a battle was brewing, a town called Gettysburg, and this one was fought without the help of the Devil. Small historical note not to be found in any known books, but part of the records in the Twilight Zone."


The Jungle [3.12] (Originally broadcast 12 / 01 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a short story by Charles Beaumont)


Intro: "The carcass of a goat, a dead finger, a few bits of broken glass and stone, and Mr. Alan Richards, a modern man of a modern age, hating with all his heart something in which he cannot believe and preparing, although he doesn't know it, to take the longest walk of his life, right down to the center of the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "Some superstitions, kept alive by the long night of ignorance, have their own special power. You'll hear of it through a jungle grapevine in a remote corner of the Twilight Zone."


Once Upon a Time [3.13] (Originally broadcast 12 / 15 / 1961 -- Writer: Richard Matheson)


Intro: "Mr. Mulligan, a rather dour critic of his times, is shortly to discover the import of that old phrase, 'Out of the frying pan, into the fire,' said fire burning brightly at all times in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "'To each his own' — so goes another old phrase to which Mr. Woodrow Mulligan would heartily subscribe, for he has learned, definitely the hard way, that there is much wisdom in a third old phrase which goes as follows: 'Stay in your own backyard.' To which it might be added, 'and if possible, assist others to stay in theirs' — via, of course, the Twilight Zone."


Five Characters in Search of an Exit [3.14] (Originally broadcast 12 / 22 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a short story "The Depository" by Marvin Petal)



Intro: "Clown, hobo, ballet dancer, bagpiper, and an army major - a collection of question marks. Five improbable entities stuck together into a pit of darkness. No logic, no reason, no explanation; just a prolonged nightmare in which fear, loneliness and the unexplainable walk hand in hand through the shadows. In a moment we'll start collecting clues as to the whys, the whats and the wheres. We will not end the nightmare, we'll only explain it - because this is the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Just a barrel, a dark depository where are kept the counterfeit, make-believe pieces of plaster and cloth, wrought in the distorted image of human life. But this added, hopeful note: perhaps they are unloved only for the moment. In the arms of children there can be nothing but love. A clown, a tramp, a bagpipe player, a ballet dancer and a major. Tonight's cast of players on the odd stage known as the Twilight Zone."


A Quality of Mercy [3.15] (Originally broadcast 12 / 29 / 1961 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on an idea by Sam Rolfe)


Intro: "It's August, 1945, the last grimy pages of a dirty, torn book of war. The place is the Philippine Islands. The men are what's left of a platoon of American Infantry, whose dulled and tired eyes set deep in dulled and tired faces can now look toward a miracle, that moment when the nightmare appears to be coming to an end. But they've got one more battle to fight, and in a moment we'll observe that battle. August, 1945, Philippine Islands. But in reality it's high noon in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "'The quality of mercy is not strained, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.' Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, but applicable to any moment in time, to any group of soldiery, to any nation on the face of the Earth - or, as in this case, to the Twilight Zone."


Nothing in the Dark [3.16] (Originally broadcast 01 / 05 / 1962 -- Writer: George Clayton Johnson)


Intro: "An old woman living in a nightmare, an old woman who has fought a thousand battles with death and always won. Now she's faced with a grim decision--whether or not to open a door. And in some strange and frightening way she knows that this seemingly ordinary door leads to the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "There was an old woman who lived in a room and, like all of us, was frightened of the dark, but who discovered in the minute last fragment of her life that there was nothing in the dark that wasn't there when the lights were on. Object lesson for the more frightened amongst us, in or out of the Twilight Zone."


One More Pallbearer [3.17] (Originally broadcast 01 / 12 / 1962 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "What you have just looked at takes place three hundred feet underground, beneath the basement of a New York City skyscraper. It's owned and lived in by one Paul Radin. Mr. Radin is rich, eccentric and single-minded. How rich we can already perceive; how eccentric and single-minded we shall see in a moment, because all of you have just entered the Twilight Zone.


Epilogue: "Mr. Paul Radin, a dealer in fantasy, who sits in the rubble of his own making and imagines that he's the last man on Earth, doomed to a perdition of unutterable loneliness because a practical joke has turned into a nightmare. Mr. Paul Radin, pallbearer at a funeral that he manufactured himself . . . in the Twilight Zone."


Dead Man's Shoes [3.18] (Originally broadcast 01 / 19 / 1962 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont and an uncredited OCee Ritch)


Intro: "Nathan Edward Bledsoe, of the Bowery Bledsoes, a man once, a specter now. One of those myriad modern-day ghosts that haunt the reeking nights of the city in search of a flop, a handout, a glass of forgetfulness. Nate doesn't know it but his search is about to end, because those shiny new shoes are going to carry him right into the capital of the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "There's an old saying that goes, 'If the shoe fits, wear it.' But be careful. If you happen to find a pair of size nine black-and-gray loafers, made to order in the old country, be very careful--you might walk right into the Twilight Zone."


The Hunt [3.19] (Originally broadcast 01 / 26 / 1962 -- Writer: Earl Hamner Jr.)


Intro: "An old man and a hound dog named Rip, off for an evening's pleasure in quest of raccoon. Usually, these evenings end with one tired old man, one battle-scarred hound dog and one or more extremely dead raccoons, but as you may suspect that will not be the case tonight. These hunters won't be coming home from the hill. They're headed for the backwoods of the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Travellers to unknown regions would be well-advised to take along the family dog. He could just save you from entering the wrong gate. At least, it happened that way once--in a mountainous area of the Twilight Zone."


Showdown with Rance McGrew [3.20] (Originally broadcast 02 / 02 / 1962 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on an idea by Frederic Louis Fox)


Intro: "Some one-hundred odd years ago, a motley collection of tough moustaches galloped across the West and left behind a raft of legends and legerdemains, and it seems a reasonable conjecture that if there are any television sets up in cowboy heaven and any of these rough-and-wooly nail-eaters could see with what careless abandon their names are bandied about, they're very likely turning over in their graves--or worse, getting out of them. Which gives you a clue as to the proceedings that will being in just a moment, when one Mr. Rance McGrew, a three-thousand-buck-a-week phony-baloney discovers that this week's current edition of make-believeis being shot on location--and that location is the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "The evolution of the so-called 'adult' western, and the metamorphosis of one Rance McGrew, formerly phony-baloney, now upright citizen with a preoccupation with all things involving tradition, truth and cowpoke predecessors. It's the way the cookie crumbles and the six-gun shoots . . . in the Twilight Zone."


Kick the Can [3.21] (Originally broadcast 02 / 09 / 1962 -- Writer: George Clayton Johnson)


Intro: "Sunnyvale Rest, a home for the aged, a dying place, and a common children's game called kick the can that will shortly become a refuge for a man who knows he will die in this world if he doesn't escape into the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Sunnyvale Rest, a dying place for ancient people who have forgotten the fragile magic of youth. A dying place for those who have forgotten that childhood, maturity and old age are curiously intertwined and not separate. A dying place for those who have grown too stiff in their thinking to visit the Twilight Zone."


A Piano in the House [3.22] (Originally broadcast 02 / 16 / 1962 -- Writer: Earl Hamner Jr.)


Intro: "Mr. Fitzgerald Fortune, theater critic and cynic at large, on his way to a birthday party. If he knew what is in store for him he probably wouldn't go, because before this evening is over that cranky old piano is going to play 'Those Piano Roll Blues' - with some effects that could happen only in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Mr. Fitzgerald Fortune, a man who went searching for concealed persons. And found himself---in the Twilight Zone."


The Last Rites of Jeff Myrtlebank [3.23] (Originally broadcast 02 / 23 / 1962 -- Writer: Montgomery Pittman)


Intro: "Time, the mid-twenties. Place, the Midwest, the southernmost section of the Midwest. We were just witnessing a funeral, a funeral that didn't come off exactly as planned, due to a slight fallout from the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Jeff and Comfort are still alive today, and their only son is a United States Senator. He's noted as an uncommonly shrewd politician, and some believe he must have gotten his education in the Twilight Zone."


To Serve Man [3.24] (Originally broadcast 03 / 02 / 1962 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a short story by Damon Knight)


Intro: "Respectfully submitted for your perusal--a Kanamit. Height: a little over nine feet. Weight: in the neighborhood of three hundred and fifty pounds. Origin: unknown. Motives? Therein hangs the tale, for in just a moment we're going to ask you to shake hands, figuratively, with a Christopher Columbus from another galaxy and another time. This is the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "The recollections of one Michael Chambers, with appropriate flashbacks and soliloquy. Or more simply stated, the evolution of man, the cycle of going from dust to dessert, the metamorphosis from being the ruler of a planet to an ingredient in someone's soup. It's tonight's bill of fare on the Twilight Zone."


The Fugitive [3.25] (Originally broadcast 03 / 09 / 1962 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)


Intro: "It's been said that science fiction and fantasy are two different things: science fiction the improbable made possible; fantasy, the impossible made probable. What would you have if you put these two different things together? Well, you'd have an old man named Ben who knows a lot of tricks most people don't know and a little girl named Jenny who loves him, and a journey into the heart of the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Mrs. Gann will be in for a big surprise when she finds this under Jenny's pillow, because Mrs. Gann has more temper than imagination. She'll never dream that this is a picture of Old Ben as he really looks, and it will never occur to her that eventually her niece will grow up to be an honest-to-goodness queen, somewhere in the Twilight Zone."


Little Girl Lost [3.26] (Originally broadcast 03 / 16 / 1962 -- Writer: Richard Matheson)


Intro: "Missing: one frightened little girl. Name: Bettina Miller. Description: six years of age, average height and build, light brown hair, quite pretty. Last seen being tucked into bed by her mother a few hours ago. Last heard--aye, there's the rub, as Hamlet put it. For Bettina Miller can be heard quite clearly, despite the rather curious fact that she can't be seen at all. Present location? Let's say for the moment---in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "The other half where? The fourth dimension? The fifth? Perhaps. They never found the answer. Despite a battery of research physicists equipped with every device known to man, electronic and otherwise, no result was ever achieved, except perhaps a little more respect for and uncertainty about the mechanisms of the Twilight Zone."


Person or Persons Unknown [3.27] (Originally broadcast 03 / 23 / 1962 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)


Intro: "Cameo of a man who has just lost his most valuable possession. He doesn't know about the loss yet. In fact, he doesn't even know about the possession. Because, like most people, David Gurney has never really thought about the matter of his identity. But he's going to be thinking about it a great deal from now on, because that is what he's lost. And his search for it is going to take him into the darkest corners of the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "The case of navigator Peter Craig, a victim of a delusion. In this case, the dream dies a little harder than the man. A small exercise in space psychology that you can try on for size---in the Twilight Zone."


The Little People [3.28] (Originally broadcast 03 / 30 / 1962 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "The Time is the space age, the place is a barren landscape of a rock-walled canyon that lies millions of miles from the planet Earth. The cast of characters? You've met them: William Fletcher, commander of the spaceship; his copilot, Peter Craig. The other characters who inhabit this place you may never see, but they're there, as these two gentlemen will soon find out. Because they're about to partake in a little exploration into that gray, shaded area in space and time that's known as the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "The case of navigator Peter Craig, a victim of a delusion. In this case, the dream dies a little harder than the man. A small exercise in space psychology that you can try on for size---in the Twilight Zone."




Apollo Moon Landings - Marcus Allen


A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Moon



Astronauts Gone Wild


Deanna Spingola Interview with Bart Sibrel of "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Moon" 03 / 16 / 2012


Four O'Clock [3.29] (Originally broadcast 04 / 06 / 1962 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a short story by Price Day)


Intro: "That's Oliver Crangle, a dealer in petulance and poison. He's rather arbitrarily chosen four o'clock as his personal Götterdämmerung, and we are about to watch the metamorphosis of a twisted fanatic, poisoned by the gangrene of prejudice, to the status of an avenging angel, upright and omniscient, dedicated and fearsome. Whatever your clocks say, it's four o'clock---and wherever you are, it happens to be the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "At four o'clock, an evil man made his bed and lay in it, a pot called a kettle black, a stone-thrower broke the windows of his glass house. You look for this one under 'F' for fanatic and 'J' for justice---in the Twilight Zone."


Hocus-Pocus and Frisby [3.30] (Originally broadcast 04 / 13 / 1962 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on an unpublished story by Frederic Louis Fox)


Intro: "The reluctant gentleman with the sizeable mouth is Mr. Frisby. He has all the drive of a broken camshaft and the aggressive vinegar of a corpse. As you've no doubt gathered, his big stock in trade is the tall tale. Now, what he doesn't know is that the visitors out front are a very special breed, destined to change his life beyond anything even his fertile imagination could manufacture. The place is Pitchville Flats, the time is the present. But Mr. Frisby's on the first leg of a rather fanciful journey into the place we call the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Mr. Somerset Frisby, who might have profited by reading an Aesop fable about a boy who cried wolf. Tonight's tall tale from the timberlands--of the Twilight Zone."


The Trade-Ins [3.31] (Originally broadcast 04 / 20 / 1962 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "Mr. and Mrs. John Holt, aging people who slowly and with trembling fingers turn the last pages of a book of life and hope against logic and the preordained that some magic printing press will add to this book another limited edition. But these two senior citizens happen to live in a time of the future where nothing is impossible, even the trading of old bodies for new. Mr. and Mrs. John Holt, in their twilight years--who are about to find that there happens to be a zone with the same name."


Epilogue: "From Kahil Gibran's The Prophet: 'Love gives not but itself and takes not from itself, love possesses not nor would it be possessed, for love is sufficient unto love.' Not a lesson, just a reminder, from all the sentimentalists in the Twilight Zone."


The Gift [3.32] (Originally broadcast 04 / 27 / 1962 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "The place is Mexico, just across the Texas border, a mountain village held back in time by its remoteness and suddenly intruded upon by the twentieth century. And this is Pedro, nine years old, a lonely, rootless little boy, who will soon make the acquaintance of a traveller from a distant place. We are at present forty miles from the Rio Grande, but any place and all places can be--the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Madiero, Mexico, the present. The subject: fear. The cure: a little more faith. An Rx off a shelf--in the Twilight Zone."


The Dummy [3.33] (Originally broadcast 05 / 04 / 1962 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on an unpublished story by Lee Polk)


Intro: "You're watching a ventriloquist named Jerry Etherson, a voice-thrower par excellence. His alter ego, sitting atop his lap, is a brash stick of kindling with the sobriquet 'Willy.' In a moment, Mr. Etherson and his knotty-pine partner will be booked in one of the out-of-the-way bistros, that small, dark, intimate place known as the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "What's known in the parlance of the times as the old switcheroo, from boss to blockhead in a few easy lessons. And if you're given to nightclubbing on occasion, check this act. It's called Willie and Jerry, and they generally are booked into some of the clubs along the 'Gray Night Way' known as the Twilight Zone."


Young Man's Fancy [3.34] (Originally broadcast 05 / 11 / 1964 -- Writer: Richard Matheson)


Intro: "You're looking at the house of the late Mrs. Henrietta Walker. This is Mrs. Walker herself, as she appeared twenty-five years ago. And this, except for isolated objects, is the living room of Mrs. Walker's house, as it appeared in that same year. The other rooms upstairs and down are pretty much the same. The time, however, is not twenty-five years ago but now. The house of the late Henrietta Walker is, you see, a house which belongs almost entirely to the past, a house which, like Mrs. Walker's clock here, has ceased to recognize the passage of time. Only one element is missing now, one remaining item in the estate of the late Mrs. Walker: her son Alex, thirty-four years of age and, up till twenty minutes ago, the so-called 'perennial bachelor.' With him is his bride, the former Miss Virginia Lane. They're returning from the city hall in order to get Mr. Walker's clothes packed, make final arrangements for the sale of the house, lock it up and depart on their honeymoon. Not a complicated set of tasks, it would appear, and yet the newlywed Mrs. Walker is about to discover that the old adage 'You can't go home again' has little meaning in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Exit Miss Virginia Lane, formerly and most briefly Mrs. Alex Walker. She has just given up a battle and in a strange way retreated, but this has been a retreat back to reality. Her opponent, Alex Walker, will now and forever hold a line that exists in the past. He has put a claim on a moment in time and is not about to relinquish it. Such things do happen--in the Twilight Zone."


I Sing the Body Electric [3.35] (Originally broadcast 05 / 18 / 1962 -- Writer: Ray Bradbury)


Intro: "They make a fairly convincing pitch here, It doesn't seem possible, though, to find a woman who might be ten times better than mother in order to seem half as good---except, of course, in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "A fable? Most assuredly. But who's to say at some distant moment there might not be an assembly line producing a gentle product in the form of a grandmother whose stock in trade is love. Fable, sure---but who's to say?"




Weather Report - I Sing the Body Electric(1972) - Full Album


Walt Whitman - I Sing the Body Electric / A Woman Waits for Me


Cavender is Coming [3.36] (Originally broadcast 05 / 25 / 1962 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "Small message of reassurance to that horizontal young lady: don't despair, help is on route. It's coming in an odd form from a very distant planet, but it's nonetheless coming . . . . Submitted for your approval: the case of one Miss Agnes Grep, put on Earth with two left feet, an overabundance of thumbs and a propensity for falling down manholes. In a moment she will be up to her jaw in miracles, wrought by apprentice angel Harmon Cavender, intent on winning his wings. And, though, it's a fact that both of them should have stood in bed, they will tempt all the fates by moving into the cold, gray dawn of the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "A word to the wise now to any and all who might suddenly feel the presence of a cigar-smoking helpmate who takes bankbooks out of thin air. If you're suddenly aware of any such celestial aids, it means that you're under the beneficent care of one Harmon Cavender, guardian angel. And this message from the Twilight Zone: lotsa luck!"


The Changing of the Guard [3.37] (Originally broadcast 06 / 01 / 1962 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "Professor Ellis Fowler, a gentle, bookish guide to the young, who is about to discover that life still has certain surprises, and that the Rock Springs School for Boys lies on a direct path to another institution, commonly referred to as the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Professor Ellis Fowler, teacher, who discovered rather belatedly something of his own value. A very small scholastic lesson, from the campus of the Twilight Zone."




Twilight Zone CBS 1962 Promo for the Twilight Zone in 1962 with the 1962 CBS logo. In black and white.


Serling Rips TV Censorship
Even TW3 Suffers, Tech Audience Told
May 1, 1964: Binghamton Press & Sun-Bulletin


Rod Serling Documentary - parts 1 through 10











6-12 Plus Mosquito Repellent with Rod Serling


Rod Serling Narrates SWAMI STORY, story of Sathya Sai Baba


1971 Ford LTD Commercial Rod Serling


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Old 21-02-2014, 05:19 AM   #56
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"Being like everybody is the same as being nobody." -- Rod Serling
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Old 21-02-2014, 05:22 AM   #57
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Rod Serling's Twilight Zone Opening and Closing Narrations by Episode (with instances of incorporated brainwashing black propaganda put in perspective through alternative source links) :

Season 4


In His Image [4.1] (Originally broadcast 01 / 03 / 1962 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)


Intro: "What you have just witnessed could be the end of a particularly terrifying nightmare. It isn't - it's the beginning. Although Alan Talbot doesn't know it, he is about to enter a strange new world, too incredible to be real, too real to be a dream. It's called the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "In a way, it can be said that Walter Ryder succeeded in his life's ambition, even though the man he created was, after all, himself. There may be easier ways to self-improvement, but sometimes it happens that the shortest distance between two points is a crooked line --- through the Twilight Zone."


The Thirty-Fathom Grave [4.2] (Originally broadcast 01 / 10 / 1963 Writer: Rod Serling)

Serling's Intro:


Full Episode:


Intro: "Incident one hundred miles off the coast of Guadalacanal. Time: the present. The United States naval destroyer on what has been a most uneventful cruise. In a moment, they're going to send a man down thirty fathoms to check on a noise maker--someone or something tapping on metal. You may or may not read the results in a naval report, because Captain Beecham and his crew have just set a course that will lead this ship and everyone on it into the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Small naval engagement, the month of April, 1963. Not to be found in any historical annals. Look for this one file under 'H' for haunting--in the Twilight Zone."


Valley of the Shadow [4.3] (Originally broadcast 01 / 17 / 1963 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)


Intro: "You've seen them. Little towns, tucked away far from the main roads. You've seen them, but have you thought about them? What do the people in these places do? Why do the stay? Philip Redfield never thought about them. If his dog hadn't gone after that cat, he would have driven through Peaceful Valley and put it out of his mind forever. But he can't do that now, because whether he knows it or not his friend's shortcut has led him right into the capital of the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "You've seen them. Little towns, tucked away far from the main roads. You've seen them, but have you thought about them? Have you wondered what the people do in such places, why they stay? Philip Redfield thinks about them now and he wonders, but only very late at night, when he's between wakefulness and sleep--in the Twilight Zone."


He's Alive [4.4] (Originally broadcast 01 / 24 / 1963 -- Written by Rod Serling)

Full Episode:


Serling's Introductory Monologue:


Intro: "Portrait of a bush-league fuehrer named Peter Vollmer, a sparse little man who feeds off his self-delusions and finds himself perpetually hungry for want of greatness in his diet. And like some goose-stepping predecessors he searches for something to explain his hunger, and to rationalize why a world passes him by without saluting. That something he looks for and finds is in a sewer. In his own twisted and distorted lexicon he calls it faith, strength, truth. But in just a moment Peter Vollmer will ply his trade on another kind of corner, a strange intersection in a shadowland called the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Where will he go next, this phantom from another time, this resurrected ghost of a previous nightmare— Chicago; Los Angeles; Miami, Florida; Vincennes, Indiana; Syracuse, New York? Anyplace, everyplace, where there's hate, where there's prejudice, where there's bigotry. He's alive. He's alive so long as these evils exist. Remember that when he comes to your town. Remember it when you hear his voice speaking out through others. Remember it when you hear a name called, a minority attacked, any blind, unreasoning assault on a people or any human being. He's alive because through these things we keep him alive."




Lets stop with the Auschwitz lies

This was a work camp:



One Third of the holocaust (full)


alternate links:



Last Days of the Big Lie



David Cole at Auschwitz



The holocaust Unveiled - the Persecution of the Revisionists




Pre-WWII Newspapers pushing Six Million Jews figure 1915-1938




Leon Degrelle - The Epic Story of the Waffen SS



Campaign In Russia: The Waffen SS on the Eastern Front - Leon Degrelle


Mute [4.5] (Originally broadcast 01 / 31 / 1963 -- Richard Matheson)


Intro: "What you're witnessing is the curtain-raiser to a most extraordinary play; to wit, the signing of a pact, the commencement of a project. The play itself will be performed almost entirely offstage. The final scenes are to be enacted a decade hence with a different cast. The main character of these final scenes is Ilse, the daughter of Professor and Mrs. Nielsen, age two. At the moment she lies sleeping in her crib, unaware of the singular drama in which she is to be involved. Ten years from this moment, Ilse Nielsen is to know the desolating terror of living simultaneously in the world--and in the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "It has been noted in a book of proven wisdom that perfect love casteth out fear. While it's unlikely that this observation was meant to include that specific fear which follows the loss of extrasensory perception, the principle remains, as always, beautifully intact. Case in point, that of Ilse Nielsen, former resident of the Twilight Zone."


Death Ship [4.6] (Originally broadcast 02 / 07 / 1963 -- Writer: Richard Matheson)


Intro: "Picture of the spaceship E-89, cruising above the thirteenth planet of star system fifty-one, the year 1997. In a little while, supposedly, the ship will be landed and specimens taken: vegetable, mineral and, if any, animal. These will be brought back to overpopulated Earth, where technicians will evaluate them and, if everything is satisfactory, stamp their findings with the word 'habitable' and open up yet another planet for colonization. These are the things that are supposed to happen . . . Picture of the crew of the spaceship E-89: Captain Ross, Lieutenant Mason, Lieutenant Carter. Three men who have just reached a place which is as far from home as they will ever be. Three men who in a matter of minutes will be plunged into the darkest nightmare reaches of the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Picture of a man who will not see anything he does not chose to see--including his own death. A man of such indomitable will that even the two men beneath his command are not allowed to see the truth; which truth is, that they are no longer among the living, that the movements they make and the words they speak have all been made and spoken countless times before--and will be made and spoken countless times again, perhaps even unto eternity. Picture of a latter-day Flying Dutchman, sailing into the Twilight Zone."


Jess-Belle [4.7] (Originally broadcast 02 / 14 / 1963 -- Writer: Earl Hamner Jr.)


[I]Intro: "The Twilight Zone has existed in many lands, in many times. It has its roots in history, in something that happened long, long ago and got told about and handed down from one generation of folk to the other. In the telling the story gets added to and embroidered on, so that what might have happened in the time of the Druids is told as if it took place yesterday in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Such stories are best told by an elderly grandfather on a cold winter's night by the fireside--in the southern hills of the Twilight Zone."


This episode has no closing narration by Serling. Instead, it ends with a repeat of a folk song heard at the beginning:

"Fair was Elly Glover,
Dark was Jess-Belle
Both they loved the same man,
And both they loved him well."


Miniature [4.8] (Originally broadcast 02 / 21 / 1963 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)


Intro: "To the average person, a museum is a place of knowledge, a place of beauty and truth and wonder. Some people come to study, others to contemplate, others to look for the sheer joy of looking. Charley Parkes has his own reasons. He comes to the museum to get away from the world. It isn't really the sixty-cent cafeteria meal that has drawn him here every day. It's the fact that here in these strange, cool halls, he can be alone for a little while, really and truly alone. Anyway, that's how it was before he got lost, and wandered into the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "They never found Charley Parkes, because the guard didn't tell them what he saw in the glass case. He knew what they'd say, and he knew they'd be right too, because seeing is not always believing---especially if what you see happens to be an odd corner of the Twilight Zone."


Printer's Devil [4.9] (Originally broadcast 02 / 28 / 1963 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)


Intro: "Take away a man's dream, fill him with whiskey and despair, send him to a lonely bridge, let him stand there all by himself looking down at the black water, and try to imagine the thoughts that are in his mind. You can't, I can't. But there's someone who can--and that someone is seated next to Douglas Winter right no. The car is headed back toward town, but its real destination is the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Exit the infernal machine, and with it his satanic majesty, Lucifer prince of darkness---otherwise known as Mr. Smith. He's gone, but not for good; that wouldn't be like him---he's gone for bad. And he might be back, with another ticket to---the Twilight Zone."


No Time Like the Past [4.10] (Originally broadcast 03 / 07 / 1963 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "Exit one Paul Driscoll, a creature of the twentieth century. He puts to a test a complicated theorum of space-time continuum, but he goes a step further---or tries to. Shortly, he will seek out three moments of the past in a desperate attempt to alter the present--one of the odd and fanciful functions in a shadowland known as the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "Incident on a July afternoon, 1881. A man named Driscoll who came and went and, in the process, learned a simple lesson, perhaps best said by a poet named Lathbury, who wrote, 'Children of yesterday, heirs of tomorrow, what are you wearing? Labor and sorrow? Look to your looms again, faster and faster fly the great shuttles prepared by the master. Life's in the loom, room for it--room!' Tonight's tale of clocks and calendars---in the Twilight Zone."


The Parallel [4.11] (Originally broadcast 03 / 14 / 1963 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "In the vernacular of space, this is T minus one hour, sixty minutes before a human being named Major Robert Gaines is lifted off from the Mother Earth and rocketed into the sky, farther and longer than any man ahead of him. Call this one of the first faltering steps of man to sever the umbilical cord of gravity and stretch out a fingertip toward an unknown. In a moment we'll join this astronaut named Gaines and embark on an adventure, because the environs overhead---the stars, the sky, the infinite space---are all part of a vast question mark known as the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Major Robert Gaines, a latter-day voyager just returned from an adventure. Submitted to you without any recommendations as to belief or disbelief. You can accept or reject; you pays your money and you takes your choice. But credulous or incredulous, don't bother to ask anyone for proof that it could happen. The obligation is a reverse challenge: prove that it couldn't. This happens to be . . . the Twilight Zone."


I Dream of Genie [4.12] (Originally broadcast 03 / 21 / 1963 -- Writer: John Furia Jr.)


Intro: "Meet Mr. George P. Hanley, a man life treats without deference, honor or success. Waiters serve his soup cold. Elevator operators close doors in his face. Mothers never bother to wait up for the daughters he dates. George is a creature of humble habits and tame dreams. He's an ordinary man, Mr. Hanley, but at this moment the accidental possessor of a very special gift, the kind of gift that measures men against their dreams, the kind of gift most of us might ask for first and possibly regret to the last, if we, like Mr. George P. Hanley, were about to plunge head-first and unaware into our own personal Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Mr. George P. Hanley. Former vocation: jerk. Present vocation: genie. George P. Hanley, a most ordinary man whom life treated without deference, honor or success, but a man wise enough to decide on a most extraordinary wish that makes him the contented, permanent master of his own altruistic Twilight Zone."


The New Exhibit [4.13] (Originally broadcast 04 / 04 / 1963 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)


Intro: "Martin Lombard Senescu, a gentle man, the dedicated curator of murderers' row in Ferguson's Wax Museum. He ponders the reasons why ordinary men are driven to commit mass murder. What Mr. Senescu does not know is that the groundwork has already been laid for his own special kind of madness and torment---found only in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "The new exhibit became very popular at Marchand's, but of all the figures none was ever regarded with more dread than that of Martin Lombard Senescu. It was something about the eyes, people said. It's the look that one often gets after taking a quick walk through the Twilight Zone."


Of Late I Think of Cliffordville [4.14] (Originally broadcast 04 / 11 / 1963 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a short story "Blind Valley" by Malcolm Jameson)



Intro: "Witness a murder. The killer is Mr. William Feathersmith, a robber baron whose body composition is made up of a refrigeration plant covered by thick skin. In a moment Mr. Feathersmith will proceed on his daily course of conquest and calumny with yet another business dealing. But this one will be one those bizarre transactions that take place in an odd marketplace known as the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Mr. William J. Feathersmith, tycoon, who tried the track one more time and found it muddier than he remembered---proving with at least a degree of conclusiveness that nice guys don't always finish last, and some people should quit when they're ahead. Tonight's tale of iron men and irony, delivered f.o.b. from the Twilight Zone."


The Incredible World of Horace Ford [4.15] (Originally broadcast 04 / 18 / 1963 -- Writer: Reginald Rose)


Intro: "Mr. Horace Ford, who has a preoccupation with another time, a time of childhood, a time of growing up, a time of street games, stickball and hide-'n-go-seek. He has a reluctance to go check out a mirror and see the nature of his image: proof positive that the time he dwells in has already passed him by. But in a moment or two he'll discover that mechanical toys and memories and daydreaming and wishful thinking and all manner of odd and special events can lead into a special province, uncharted and unmapped, a country of both shadow and substance known as . . . the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Exit Mr. and Mrs. Horace Ford, who have lived through a bizarre moment not to be calibrated on normal clocks or watches. Time has passed, to be sure, but it's the special time in the special place known as---the Twilight Zone."


On Thursday We Leave For Home [4.16] (Originally broadcast 05 / 02 / 1963 -- Writer: Rod Serling)



Intro: "This is William Benteen, who officiates on a disintegrating outpost in space. The people are a remnant society who left the Earth looking for a Millennium, a place without war, without jeopardy, without fear---and what they found was a lonely, barren place whose only industry was survival. And this is what they've done for three decades: survive; until the memory of the Earth they came from has become an indistinct and shadowed recollection of another time and another place. One month ago a signal from Earth announced that a ship would be coming to pick them up and take them home. In just a moment we'll hear more of that ship, more of that home, and what it takes out of mind and body to reach it. This is the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "William Benteen, who had prerogatives: he could lead, he could direct, dictate, judge, legislate. It became a habit, then a pattern and finally a necessity. William Benteen, once a god---now a population of one."


Passage on the Lady Anne [4.17] (Originally broadcast 05 / 09 / 1963 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)


Intro: "Portrait of a honeymoon couple getting ready for a journey---with a difference. These newlyweds have been married for six years, and they're not taking this honeymoon to start their life but rather to save it, or so Eileen Ransome thinks. She doesn't know why she insisted on a ship for this voyage, except that it would give them some time and she'd never been on one before---certainly never one like the Lady Anne. The tickets read 'New York to Southampton,' but this old liner is going somewhere else. Its destination . . . the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "The Lady Anne never reached port. After they were picked up by a cutter a few hours later, as Captain Protheroe had promised, the Ransomes searched the newspapers for news---but there wasn't any news. The Lady Annewith all her crew and all her passengers vanished without a trace. But the Ransomes knew what had happened, they knew that the ship had sailed off to a better port----a place called the Twilight Zone."


The Bard [4.18] (Originally broadcast 05 / 23 / 1963 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "You've just witnessed opportunity, if not knocking, at least scratching plaintively on a closed door. Mr. Julius Moomer, a would-be writer who, if talent came twenty-five cents a pound, would be worth less than car fare. But, in a moment, Mr. Moomer, through the offices of some black magic, is about to embark on a brand-new career. And although he may never get a writing credit on the Twilight Zone, he's to become an integral character in it."


Epilogue: "Mr. Julius Moomer, a streetcar conductor with delusions of authorship. And if the tale just told seems a little tall, remember a thing called poetic license---and another thing called the Twilight Zone."





The Twilight Zone - Rare Lost Episode w/Jack Benny and Eddie "Rochester" Anderson -- Here is a rarely seen comedy sketch from the early 1960s. It features Jack Benny and Rod Serling in a parody of the Twilight Zone series.



1961 CBS Friday Night Preview with Rod Serling


Rod Serling Bloopers



Rod Serling Speaks at the 1968 Binghamton Central High School Commencement - SUNDAY, JANUARY 28, 1968


Serling Opposes Vietnam War 1968

Rod Serling - 1972: Ithaca College Commencement


Gulf Oil Commercial with Rod Serling 1969


Rod Serling "American Masters" Documentary





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Rod Serling's Twilight Zone Opening and Closing Narrations by Episode (with instances of incorporated brainwashing black propaganda put in perspective through alternative source links) :

Season 5


In Praise of Pip [5.1] (Originally broadcast 09 / 27 / 1963 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "Submitted for your approval, one Max Phillips, a slightly-the-worse-for-wear maker of book, whose life has been as drab and undistinguished as a bundle of dirty clothes. And, though it's very late in his day, he has an errant wish that the rest of his life might be sent out to a laundry to come back shiny and clean, this to be a gift of love to a son named Pip. Mr. Max Phillips, Homo sapiens, who is soon to discover that man is not as wise as he thinks---said lesson to be learned in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Very little comment here, save for this small aside: that the ties of flesh are deep and strong, that the capacity to love is a vital, rich and all-consuming function of the human animal, and that you can find nobility and sacrifice and love wherever you may seek it out; down the block, in the heart, or in the Twilight Zone."


Steel [5.2] (Originally broadcast 10 / 04 / 1963 -- Writer: Richard Matheson)


Intro: "Sports item, circa 1974: Battling Maxo, B2, heavyweight, accompanied by his manager and handler, arrives in Maynard, Kansas, for a scheduled six round bout. Battling Maxo is a robot, or, to be exact, an android, definition: ' an automation resembling a human being.' Only these automations have been permitted in the ring since prizefighting was legally abolished in 1968. This is the story of that scheduled six-round bout, ore specifically the story of two men shortly to face that remorseless truth: that no law can be passed which will abolish cruelty or desperate need--nor, for that matter, blind animal courage. Location for the facing of said truth a small, smoke-filled arena just this side of the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Portrait of a losing side, proof positive that you can't outpunch machinery. Proof also of something else: that no matter what the future brings, man's capacity to rise to the occasion will remain unaltered. His potential for tenacity and optimism continues, as always, to outfight, outpoint and outlive any and all changes made by his society, for which three cheers and a unanimous decision rendered from the Twilight Zone."


Nightmare at 20,000 Feet [5.3] (Originally broadcast 10 / 11 / 1963 -- Writer: Richard Matheson)



Intro: "Portrait of a frightened man: Mr. Robert Wilson, thirty-seven, husband, father, and salesman on sick leave. Mr. Wilson has just been discharged from a sanitarium where he spent the last six months recovering from a nervous breakdown, the onset of which took place on an evening not dissimilar to this one, on an airliner very much like the one in which Mr. Wilson is about to be flown home---the difference being that, on that evening half a year ago, Mr. Wilson's flight was terminated by the onslaught of his mental breakdown. Tonight, he's travelling all the way to his appointed destination which, contrary to Mr. Wilson's plan, happens to be in teh darkest corner of the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "The flight of Mr. Wilson has ended now, a flight not only from point A to point B, but also from the fear of recurring mental breakdown. Mr. Wilson has that fear no longer, though, for the moment, he is, as he said, alone in this assurance. Happily, his conviction will not remain isolated too much longer, for happily, tangible manifestation is very often left as evidence of trespass, even from so intangible a quarter as the Twilight Zone."


The 7th Is Made Up Of Phantoms [5.4] (Originally broadcast 10 / 18 / 1963 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "June twenty-fifth, 1964---or, if you prefer, June twenty-fifth, 1876. The cast of characters in order of their appearance: a patrol of General Custer's cavalry and a patrol of National Guardsmen on a maneuver. Past and present are about to collide head-on, as they are wont to do in a very special bivouac area known as . . . the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Sergeant William Conners, Trooper Michael McCluskey and Trooper Richard Langsford, who on a hot afternoon in June made a charge over a hill---and never returned. Look for this one under 'P' for phantom, in a historical ledger located in a reading room known as the Twilight Zone."


The Last Night Of A Jockey [5.5] (Originally broadcast 10 / 25 / 1963 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "The name is Grady, five-feet short in stockings and boots, a slightly distorted offshoot of a good breed of humans who race horses. He happens to be one of the rotten apples, bruised and yellowed by dealing in dirt, a short man with a short memory who's forgotten that he's worked for the sport of kings and helped turn it into a cesspool, used and misused by the two-legged animals who've hung around sporting events since the days of the Coliseum. So this is Grady, on his last night as a jockey. Behind him are Hialeah, Hollywood Park and Saratoga. Rounding the far turn and coming up fast on the rail---is the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "The name is Grady, ten feet tall, a slightly distorted off shoot of a good breed of humans who race horses. Unfortunately for Mr. Grady, he learned too late that you don't measure size with a ruler, you don't figure height with a yardstick and you never judge a man by how tall he looks in a mirror. The giant is as he does. You can make a parimutuel bet on this, win, place or show, in or out of the Twilight Zone."


Living Doll [5.6] (Originally broadcast 11 / 01 / 1963 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)



Intro: "Talky Tina, a doll that does everything, a lifelike creation of plastic and springs and painted smile. To Erich Streator, she is a most unwelcome addition to his household---but without her he'd never enter the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "Of course, we all know dolls can't really talk, and they certainly can't commit murder. But to a child caught in the middle of turmoil and conflict, a doll can become many things: friend, defender, guardian. Especially a doll like Talky Tina who did talk and did commit murder, in the misty region of the Twilight Zone."


The Old Man In The Cave [5.7] (Originally broadcast 11 / 08 / 1963 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a shorty story by Henry Slesar)


Intro: "What you're looking at is a legacy that man left to himself. A decade previous he pushed his buttons and, a nightmarish moment later, woke up to find that he had set the clock back a thousand years. His engines, his medicines, his science were buried in a mass tomb, covered over by the biggest gravedigger of them all: a Bomb. And this is the Earth ten years later, a fragment of what was once a whole, a remnant of what was once a race. The year is 1974, and this is the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "Mr. Goldsmith, a survivor, and eye witness to man's imperfection, an observer of the very human trait of greed and a chronicler of the last chapter---the one reading 'suicide.' Not a prediction of what is to be, just a projection of what could be. This has been the Twilight Zone."




The Nuclear Scare Scam | Galen Winsor


Do Nuclear Weapons Even Exist? Edmund Matthews


The BP Oil Spill 2 Years Later by Lenon Honor


Abirato Radio Episode 35 - March 26, 2013

Main topic: Are nuclear weapons yet another gigantic military-industrial-complex /mass-media orchestrated PsyOp hoax to fear-monger the entire world's rabble in line for the past 68 years ?

Guests: Rae / Rerevisionist of http://big-lies.org/ and nuke lies contributor FirstclassSkeptic




Uncle Simon [5.8] (Originally broadcast 11 / 15 / 1963 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "Dramatis personae: Mr. Simon Polk, a gentleman who has lived out his life in a gleeful rage; and the young lady who's just beat the hasty retreat is Mr. Polk's niece, Barbara. She's lived her life as if during each ensuing hour she had a dentist appointment. There's yet a third member of the company soon to be seen. He now resides in the laboratory and he is the kind of character to be found only in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Dramatis personae: a metal man, who will go by the name of Simon, whose life as well as his body has been stamped out for him; and the woman who tends to him, the lady Barbara, who's discovered belatedly that all bad things don't come to an end, and that once a bed is made it's quite necessary that you sleep in it. Tonight's uncomfortable little exercise in avarice and automations---from the Twilight Zone."


Probe 7---Over And Out [5.9] (Originally broadcast 11 / 29 / 1963 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "One Colonel Cook, a traveler in space. He's landed on a remote planet several million miles from his point of departure. He can make an inventory of his plight by just one 360-degree movement of head and eyes. Colonel Cook has been set adrift in an ocean of space in a metal lifeboat that has been scorched and destroyed and will never fly again. He survived the crash but his ordeal is yet to begin. Now he must give battle to loneliness. Now Colonel Cook must meet the unknown. It's a small planet set deep in space, but for Colonel Cook it's the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Do you know these people? Names familiar, are they? They lived a long time ago. Perhaps they're part fable, perhaps they're part fantasy. And perhaps the place they're walking to now is not really called 'Eden.' We offer it only as a presumption. This has been the Twilight Zone."


A Kind Of A Stopwatch [5.10] (Originally broadcast 12 / 06 / 1963 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a story by Michael D. Rosenthal)


Intro: "Submitted for your approval or at least your analysis: one Patrick Thomas McNulty, who at age forty-one is the biggest bore on Earth. He holds a ten-year record for the most meaningless words spewed out during a coffee break. And it's very likely that, as of this moment, he would have gone through life in precisely this manner, a dull, argumentative bigmouth who sets back the art of conversation a thousand years. I say he very likely would have, except for something that will soon happen to him, something that will considerably alter his existence---and ours. Now you think about that now, because this is the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Mr. Patrick Thomas McNulty, who had a gift of time. He used it and he misused it, now he's just been handed the bill. Tonight's tale of motion and McNulty---in the Twilight Zone."


A Short Drink From A Certain Fountain [5.11] (Originally broadcast 12 / 13 / 1963 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a story by Lou Holz)


Intro: "Picture of an aging man who leads his life, as Thoreau said, 'in quiet desperation.' Because Harmon Gordon is enslaved by a love affair with a wife forty years his junior. Because of this, he runs when he should walk. He surrenders when simple pride dictates a stand. He pines away for the lost morning of his life when he should be enjoying the evening. In short, Mr. Harmon Gordon seeks a fountain of youth, and who's to say he won't find it? This happens to be the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "It happens to be a fact: as one gets older, one does get wiser. If you don't believe it, ask Flora. Ask her any day of the ensuing weeks of her life, as she takes note during the coming years and realizes that the worm has turned---youth has taken over. It's simply the way the calendar crumbles . . . in the Twilight Zone."


Ninety Years Without Slumbering [5.12] (Originally broadcast 12 / 20 / 1963 -- Writer: Richard De Roy, based on a story by Johnson Smith)


Intro: "Each man measures his time; some with hope, some with joy, some with fear. But Sam Forstmann measures his alotted time by a grandfather's clock, a unique mechanism whose pendulum swings between life and death, a very special clock that keeps a special kind of time---in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Clocks are made by men, God creates time. No man can prolong his allotted hours, he can only live them to the fullest---in this world or in the Twilight Zone."


Ring-A-Ding-Girl [5.13] (Originally broadcast 12 / 27 / 1963 -- Writer: Earl Hamner Jr.)


Intro: "Introduction to Bunny Blake. Occupation: film actress. Residence: Hollywood, California, or anywhere in the world that cameras happen to be grinding. Bunny Blake is a public figure; what she wears, eats, thinks, says is news. But underneath the glamour, the makeup, the publicity, the build-up, the costuming, is a flesh-&-blood person, a beautiful girl about to take a long and bizarre journey into the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "We are all travelers. The trip starts in a place called birth---and ends in that lonely town called death. And that's the end of the journey, unless you happen to exist for a few hours, like Bunny Blake, in the misty regions of the Twilight Zone."


You Drive [5.14] (Originally broadcast 01 / 03 / 1964 -- Writer: Earl Hamner Jr.)


Intro: "Portrait of a nervous man: Oliver Pope by name, office manager by profession. A man beset by life's problems: his job, his salary, the competition to get ahead. Obviously, Mr. Pope's mind is not on his driving . . . Oliver Pope, businessman-turned-killer on a rain-soaked street in the early evening of just another day during just another drive home from the office. The victim, a kid on a bicycle, lying injured, near death. But Mr. Pope hasn't time for the victim, his only concern is for himself. Oliver Pope, hit-and-run driver, just arrived at a crossroad in his life, and he's chosen the wrong turn. The hit occurred in the world he knows, but the run will lead him straight into---the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "All persons attempting to conceal criminal acts involving their cars are hereby warned: check first to see that underneath that chrome there does not lie a conscience, especially if you're driving along a rain-soaked highway in the Twilight Zone."


The Long Morrow [5.15] (Originally broadcast 01 / 10 / 1964 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "It may be said with a degree of assurance that not everything that meets the eye is as it appears. Case in point: the scene you're watching. This is not a hospital, not a morgue, not a mausoleum, not an undertaker's parlor of the future. What it is is the belly of a spaceship. It is en route to another planetary system an incredible distance from the Earth. This is the crux of our story, a flight into space. It is also the story of the things that might happen to human beings who take a step beyond, unable to anticipate everything that might await them out there. . . . Commander Douglas Stansfield, astronaut, a man about to embark on one of history's longest journeys---forty years out into endless space and hopefully back again. This is the beginning, the first step toward man's longest leap into the unknown. Science has solved the mechanical details, and now it's up to one human being to breathe life into blueprints and computers, to prove once and for all that man can live half a lifetime in the total void of outer space, forty years alone in the unknown. This is Earth. Ahead lies a planetary system. The vast region in between is the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "Commander Douglas Stansfield, one of the forgotten pioneers of the space age. He's been pushed aside by the flow of progress and the passage of years---and the ferocious travesty of fate. Tonight's tale of ionosphere and irony, delivered from---the Twilight Zone."


The Self-Improvement of Salvadore Ross [5.16] (Originally broadcast 01 / 17 / 1964 -- Writer: Jerry McNeely, based on a short story by Henry Slesar)


Intro: "Confidential personnel file on Salvadore Ross. Personality: a volatile mixture of fury and frustration. Distinguishing physical characteristic: a badly-broken hand which will require emergency treatment at the nearest hospital. Ambition: shows great determination toward self-improvement. Estimate of potential success: a sure bet for a listing in Who's Who---in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "The Salvadore Ross program for self-improvement. The all-in-one, sure-fire success course that lets you lick the bully, learn the language, dance the tango and anything else you want to do---or think you want to do. Money-back guarantee. Offer limited to . . . the Twilight Zone."


Number Twelve Looks Just Like You [5.17] (Originally broadcast 01 / 24 / 1964 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont and John Tomerlin)


Intro: "Given the chance, what young girl wouldn't happily exchange a plain face for a lovely one? What girl could refuse the opportunity to be beautiful? For want of a better estimate, let's call it the year 2000. At any rate, imagine a time in the future when science has developed a means of giving everyone the face and body he dreams of. It may not happen tomorrow---but it happens now in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Portrait of a young lady in love---with herself. Improbable? Perhaps. But in an age of plastic surgery, body-building and an infinity of cosmetics, let us hesitate to say impossible. These and other strange blessings may be waiting in the future---which after all, is the Twilight Zone."


Black Leather Jackets [5.18] (Originally broadcast 01 / 31 / 1964 -- Writer: Earl Hamner Jr. )


Intro: "Three strangers arrive in a small town, three men in black leather jackets in an empty rented house. We'll call them Steve and Scott and Fred, but their names are not important; their mission is, as three men on motorcycles lead us into the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Portrait of an American family on the eve of invasion from outer space. Of course, we know it's merely fiction---and yet, think twice when you drink your next glass of water. Find out if it's from your local reservoir, or possibly it came direct to you . . . from the Twilight Zone."


Night Call [5.19] (Originally broadcast 02 / 07 / 1964 -- Writer: Richard Matheson)


Intro: "Miss Ella Keene lives alone on the outskirts of London Flats, a tiny rural community in Main. Up until now, the pattern of Miss Keene's existence has been that of lying in her bed or sitting in her wheel chair reading books, listening to a radio, eating, napping, taking medication---and waiting for something different to happen. Miss Keene doesn't know it yet, but her period of waiting has just ended, for something different is about to happen to her, has in fact already begun to happen, via two most unaccountable telephone calls in the middle of a stormy night, telephone calls routed directly through---the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "According to the Bible, God created the heavens and the Earth. It is man's prerogative---and woman's---to create their own particular and private hell. Case in point, Miss Elva Keene, who in every sense has made her own bed and now must lie in it, sadder, but wiser, by dint of a rather painful lesson in responsibility, transmitted from the Twilight Zone."


From Agnes---With Love [5.20] (Originally broadcast 02 / 14 / 1964 -- Writer: Barry C. Shoenfeld)


Intro: "James Elwood, master programmer, in charge of Mark 502-741, commonly known as 'Agnes,' the world's most advanced electronic computer. Machines are made by men for man's benefit and progress, but when man ceases to control the products of his ingenuity and imagination he not only risks losing the benefit, but he takes a long and unpredictable step into---the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Advice to all future male scientists: be sure you understand the opposite sex, especially if you intend being a computer expert. Otherwise, you may find yourself, like poor Elwood, defeated by a jealous machine, a most dangerous sort of female, whose victims are forever banished---to the Twilight Zone."


Spur Of The Moment [5.21] (Originally broadcast 02 / 21 / 1964 -- Writer: Richard Matheson)


Intro: "This is the face of terror: Anne Marie Henderson, eighteen years of age, her young existence suddenly marred by a savage and wholly unanticipated pursuit by a strange, nightmarish figure of a woman in black, who has appeared as if from nowhere and now at driving gallop chases the terrified girl across the countryside, as if she means to ride her down and kill her---and then suddenly and inexplicably stops, to watch in malignant silence as her prey takes flight. Miss Henderson has no idea whatever as to the motive for this pursuit; worse, not the vaguest notion regarding the identity of her pursuer. Soon enough, she will be given the solution to this twofold mystery, but in a manner far beyond her present capacity to understand, a manner enigmatically bizarre in terms of time and space---which is to say, an answer from the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "This is the face of terror: Anne Marie Mitchell, forty-three years of age, her desolate existence once more afflicted by the hope of altering her past mistake---a hope which is, unfortunately, doomed to disappointment. For warnings from the future to the past must be taken in the past; today may change tomorrow, but once today is gone tomorrow can only look back in sorrow that the warning was ignored. Said warning as of now stamped 'not accepted' and stored away in the dead file in the recording office of the Twilight Zone."


An Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge [5.22] (Originally broadcast 02 / 28 / 1964 -- Writer: Robert Enrico, from a story by Ambrose Bierce)


Intro: "Tonight a presentation so special and unique that, for the first time in the five years we've been presenting The Twilight Zone, we're offering a film shot in France by others. Winner of the Cannes Film Festival of 1962, as well as other international awards, here is a haunting study of the incredible, form the past master of the incredible, Ambrose Bierce. Here is the French production of 'An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge.'"

Epilogue: "An occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge---in two forms, as it was dreamed, and as it was lived and died. This is the stuff of fantasy, the thread of imagination . . . the ingredients of the Twilight Zone."




Ambrose Bierce's original short story:


Though Robert Enrico would spend most of his career directing French crime films, he remains best known for his short film, An Occurence at Owl Creek Bridge (aka La rivière du hibou), which was included as an episode of the Twilight Zone. La rivière du hibou is actually a part of a trilogy of films that Enrico made about the American Civil War, all based on stories by Ambrose Bierce.


Robert Enrico's Chickamauga (1962)


This is the first part of Robert Enrico's trilogy of short films, based on the Civil War stories of Ambrose Bierce. While the second installment, An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge, is easily the most famous, all three films are stunning, filled with unforgettable images, and great use of sound.

To my knowledge, the trilogy isn't available commercially. I've had a VHS copy that I recorded off the 16mm prints at my college over a decade ago, and when I couldn't find it anywhere else I figured I'd throw it up on YouTube so other people could enjoy it.

Chickamauga by Ambrose Bierce - the original short story:


Robert Enrico's The Mockingbird (1962) (part 3 of the Bierce Civil War Trilogy)


The Mocking-Bird by Ambrose Bierce (original short story) -


The Devil's Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce (Full Audiobook)


The Devil's Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce (pdf of book)


Queen of the Nile [5.23] (Originally broadcast 03 / 06 / 1964 -- Writer: Charles Beaumont)


Intro: "Jordan Herrick, syndicated columnist whose work appears in more than a hundred newspapers. By nature a cynic, a disbeliever, caught for the moment by a lovely vision. He knows the visions he's seen is no dream; she is Pamela Morris, renowned movie star, whose name is a household word and whose face is known to millions. What Mr. Herrick does not know is that he has also just looked into the face---of the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Everybody knows Pamela Morris, the beautiful and eternally young movie star. Or does she have another name, even more famous, an Egyptian name from centuries past? It's best not to be too curious, lest you wind up like Jordan Herrick, a pile of dust and old clothing, discarded in the endless eternity of the Twilight Zone."


What's In The Box [5.24] (Originally broadcast 03 / 13 / 1964 -- Writer: Martin M. Goldsmith)


Intro: "Portrait of a TV fan. Name: Joe Britt. Occupation: cab driver. Tonight, Mr. Britt is going to watch 'a really big show,' something special for the cabbie who's seen everything. Joe Britt doesn't know it, but his flag is down and his meter's running and he's in high gear---on his way to the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "The next time your TV set is on the blink, when you're in the need of a first-rate repairman, may we suggest our own specialist? Factory-trained, prompt, honest, twenty-four-hour service. You won't find him in the phone book, but his office is conveniently located---in the Twilight Zone."


The Masks [5.25] (Originally broadcast 03 / 20 / 1964 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "Mr. Jason Foster, a tired ancient who on this particular Mardi Gras evening will leave the earth. But before departing he has some things to do, some services to perform, some debts to pay---and some justice to mete out. This is New Orleans, Mardi Gras time. It is also the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "Mardi Gras incident, the dramatis personae being four people who came to celebrate and in a sense let themselves go. This they did with a vengeance. They now wear the faces of all that was inside them---and they'll wear them for the rest of their lives, said lives now to be spent in shadow. Tonight's tale of men, the macabre and masks---on the Twilight Zone."


I Am the Night—Color Me Black [5.26] (Originally broadcast 03 / 27 / 1964 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "These are the players, with or without a scorecard: in one corner, a machine; in the other, one Wallace V. Whipple, man. And the game? It happens to be the historical battle between flesh and steel, between the brain of man and the product of man's brain. We don't make book on this one, and predict no winner, but we can tell you that for this particular contest there is standing room only---in the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "A sickness known as hate. Not a virus, not a microbe, not a germ. Highly contagious. Deadly in its effects. Don't look for it in the Twilight Zone--look for it in the mirror. Look for it before the lights go out altogether."


Sounds and Silences [5.27] (Originally broadcast 04 / 03 / 1964 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "This is Roswell G. Flemington, two hundred and seventeen pounds of gristle, lung tissue and sound decibels. He is, as you have perceived, a noisy man, one of a breed who substitutes volume for substance, sound for significance, and shouting to cover up the readily apparent phenomenon that he is nothing more than an overweight and aging perennial Sea Scout whose noise-making is in inverse ratio to his competence and his character. But soon our would-be admiral of the fleet will embark on another voyage. This one is an uncharted and twisting stream that heads for a distant port called . . . the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "When last heard from, Mr. Roswell G. Flemington was in a sanitarium pleading with the medical staff to make some noise. They, of course, believe the case to be a rather tragic aberration---a man's mind becoming unhinged. And for this they'll give him pills, therapy and rest. Little do they realize that all Mr. Flemington is suffering from is a case of poetic justice. Tonight's tale of sounds and silences from . . . the Twilight Zone."


Caesar and Me [5.28] (Originally broadcast 04 / 10 / 1964 -- Writer: Adele T. Strassfield)


Intro: "Jonathan West, ventriloquist, a master of voice manipulation. A man of Ireland, with a talent for putting words into other people's mouths. In this case, the other person is a dummy, aptly named Caesar, a small splinter with large ideas, a wooden tyrant with a mind and a voice of his own, who is about to talk Jonathan West into the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "Little girl and a wooden doll, a lethal dummy in the shape of a man. But everybody knows dummies can't talk---unless, of course, they learn their vocabulary in the Twilight Zone."


The Jeopardy Room [5.29] (Originally broadcast 04 / 17 / 1964 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "The cast of characters: a cat and a mouse. This is the latter, the intended victim who may or may not know that he is to die, be it by butchery or ballet. His name is Major Ivan Kuchenko. He has, if events go according to certain plans, perhaps three or four more hours of living. But an ignorance shared by both himself and his executioner is of the fact that both of them have taken a first step into the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "Major Ivan Kuchenko, on his way west, on his way to freedom, a freedom bought and paid for by a most stunning ingenuity. And exit one Commissar Vassiloff, who forgot that there are two sides to an argument---and two parties on the line. This has been the Twilight Zone."


Stopover In A Quiet Town [5.30] (Originally broadcast 04 / 24 / 1964 -- Writer: Earl Hamner Jr.)


Intro: "Bob and Millie Frazier, average young New Yorkers who attended a party in the country last night and on the way home took a detour. Most of us on waking in the morning know exactly where we are; the rooster or the alarm clock brings up out of sleep into the familiar sights, sounds, aromas of home and the comfort of a routine day ahead. Not so with our young friends. This will be a day like none they've ever spent---and they'll spend it in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "The moral of what you've just seen is clear. If you drink, don't drive. And if your wife has had a couple, she shouldn't drive either. You might both just wake up with a whale of a headache in a deserted village in the Twilight Zone."


The Encounter [5.31] (Originally broadcast 05 / 01 / 1964 -- Writer: Martin M. Goldsmith)


Intro: "Two men alone in an attic: a young Japanese-American and a seasoned veteran of yesterday's war. It's twenty-odd years since Pearl Harbor, but two ancient opponents are moving into position for a battle in an attic crammed with skeletons---souvenirs, mementoes, old uniforms and rusted medals---ghosts from the dim reaches of the past that will lead us into. . . the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Two men in an attic, locked in mortal embrace. Their common bond and their common enemy: guilt. A disease all too prevalent among men, both in and out of the Twilight Zone."


Mr. Garrity And The Graves [5.32] (Originally broadcast 05 / 08 / 1964 -- Writer: Rod Serling, based on a story by Mark Korologos)


Intro: "Introducing Mr. Jared Garrity, a gentleman of commerce, who in the latter half of the nineteenth century plied his trade in the wild and wooly hinterlands of the American West. And Mr. Garrity, if one can believe him, is a resurrecter of the dead---which, on the face of it, certainly sounds like the bull is off the nickel. But to the scoffers amongst you, and you ladies and gentlemen from Missouri, don't laugh this one off entirely, at least until you've seen a sample of Mr. Garity's wares, and an example of his services. The place is Happiness, Arizona, the time about 1890. And you and I have just entered a saloon where the bar whiskey is brewed, bottled and delivered from the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "Exit Mr. Garrity, a would-be charlatan, a make-believe con man and a sad misjudger of his own talents. Respectfully submitted from an empty cemetery on a dark hillside that is one of the slopes leading to the Twilight Zone."


The Brain Center At Whipple's [5.33] (Originally broadcast 05 / 15 / 1964 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "These are the players, with or without a scorecard: in one corner, a machine; in the other, one Wallace V. Whipple, man. And the game? It happens to be the historical battle between flesh and steel, between the brain of man and the product of man's brain. We don't make book on this one, and predict no winner, but we can tell you that for this particular contest there is standing room only---in the Twilight Zone."

Epilogue: "There are many bromides applicable here---too much of a good thing, tiger by the tail, as you sow so shall ye reap. The point is that too often man becomes clever instead of becoming wise, he becomes inventive but not thoughtful---and sometimes, as in the case of Mr. Whipple, he can create himself right out of existence. Tonight's tale of oddness and obsolescence from the Twilight Zone."


Come Wander With Me [5.34] (Originally broadcast 05 / 22 / 1964 -- Writer: Anthony Wilson)


Intro: "Mr. Floyd Burney, a gentleman songster in search of song, is about to answer the age-old question of whether a man can be in two places at the same time. As far as his folk song is concerned, we can assure Mr. Burney he'll find everything he's looking for, although the lyrics may not be all to his liking. But that's sometimes the case---when the words and music are recorded in the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "In retrospect, it may be said of Mr. Floyd Burney that he achieved that final dream of the performer: eternal top-name billing, not on the fleeting billboards of the entertainment world, but forever recorded among the folk songs of the Twilight Zone."


The Fear [5.35] (Originally broadcast 05 / 29 / 1964 -- Writer: Rod Serling)


Intro: "The major ingredient of any recipe for fear is the unknown. And here are two characters about to partake of the meal: Miss Charlotte Scott, a fashion editor, and Mr. Robert Franklin, a state trooper. And the third member of the party: the unknown, that has just landed a few hundred yards away. This person or thing is soon to be met. This is a mountain cabin, but it is also a clearing in the shadows known as the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "Fear, of course, is extremely relative. It depends on who can look down and who must look up. It depends on other vagaries, like the time, the mood, the darkness. But it's been said before, with great validity, that the worst thing there is to fear is fear itself. Tonight's tale of terror and tiny people on the Twilight Zone."


The Bewitchin' Pool [5.36] (Originally broadcast 06 / 19 / 1964 -- Writer: Earl Hamner Jr.)


Intro: "A swimming pool not unlike any other pool, a structure built of tile and cement and money, a backyard toy for the affluent, wet entertainment for the well-to-do. But to Jeb and Sport Sharewood, this pool holds mysteries not dreamed of by the building contractor, not guaranteed in any sales brochure. For this pool has a secret exit that leads to a never-neverland, a place designed for junior citizens who need a long voyage away from reality, into the bottomless regions of the Twilight Zone."


Epilogue: "A brief epilogue for concerned parents. Of course, there isn't any such place as the gingerbread house of Aunt T, and we grownups know there's not door at the bottom of a swimming pool that leads to a secret place. But who can say how real the fantasy world of lonely children can become? For Jeb and Sport Sharewood, the need for love turned fantasy into reality; they found a secret place---in the Twilight Zone."




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Old 21-02-2014, 05:32 AM   #59
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Rod Serling: "Failed Screenwriter" and other myths by Christopher Conlon


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The Twilight Zone- 9/11 Prediction or Coincidence?

Tuesday September 11, 1864

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Old 21-02-2014, 05:34 AM   #60
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The Lure of Chemistry

Charles and I sat at a small table downstairs at the
Mediterranean Café on Telegraph Avenue. I sipped my
cappuccino as he wept. Wallowing in despair, rubbing his
bald head, he looked like the egg man. Love lost, tears
ran down his face. The Berkeley women’s movement had
claimed another victim. His wife had dropped him for
another woman.

Our conversation was interrupted by the roar of
motorcycles from the street. Several bikers entered and a
big guy with a bushy beard and an Oakland Hell’s Angel
jacket pointed at Charles, who wiped away his tears and
smiled. The biker walked up and slapped him on the back.
Charles’s voice assumed a deeper bravado as he stood and
hugged his biker friend.

I left them and mounted the stairs for the ladies’ room
on the second floor. I heard an acoustic guitar playing a
familiar tune. A guy in an embroidered Mexican shirt was
playing at one of the small round Italian marble tables.
He was good. His intense beady eyes were lost in the song.
His fingers deftly picked the nylon strings. He stopped and
looked up at me. “People only come upstairs to use the
bathroom or to get lost.” He spoke with a slight German
accent and nodded his head at me. “Hi! My name is Perry.”
I smiled. “I’m not lost but give me a minute.”

He laughed. “I’ll be here.” Indeed he was.

After a cappuccino, we went to his apartment around
the corner. It was a nice space with a Turkish rug, a
mahogany coffee table, and lots of large paisley pillows.
With great pride, he showed me his record collection.
We listened to the Swan Silvertones, an a cappella gospel
group, and then we made love. I still have that record. I
think he gave it to me.

A few days later we took a trip to the Mendocino coast
in his lime green VW Bug. We turned off onto a small
road to the beach, and the car promptly got stuck in the
sand. After some futile spinning of the wheels, he shut off
the engine and we got out to watch the crashing waves.
“Let’s take LSD,” he said, as he took a prescription pill
bottle out of his leather shoulder purse. He handed me a
capsule and a bottle of water. I swallowed. So did he.
The car radio played “Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man.”
Dylan’s words flowed like the tide. I floated in my new
consciousness. The sun set over the Pacific Ocean, and
it was like seeing colors for the first time. I witnessed the
merging of water and sky, the infinity of the universe, the
changing of perspective. We made love under the stars. I
swayed with the to and fro of the ocean waves as the sun
rose behind us, and I could feel the roundness of the Earth.
The high I had reached on this LSD was different.

“Where did you get this acid?” I asked.

“It’s Owsley acid, the best,” Perry told me.

When the sun came up we headed back to the Bug, still
immersed in the sand. Perry started the engine and rocked
the car forward and backward until the tires gained
traction, and we made our way back to the road.

Later, I lay on Perry’s bed while he played his guitar. As
his fingers fondled the strings, his playing struck a chord in
me. Maybe that’s why musicians make good lovers, I thought.

My mother had told me if I slept around, no man
would want me as his wife. When I was ten years old,
I watched my mother as she dressed up in sexy black
lingerie and stockings and pranced before the mirror. My
father was due home from work at any minute. When we
heard his car pull into the driveway, she put on her regular
clothes, went downstairs, and verbally abused the old
milquetoast. There was no sex. I didn’t want to be a wife.
Being a good lover was enough.

Perry wanted sex but he couldn’t get it up, so he begged
for a blowjob. I thought about it. He was smart, a good
musician, but addicted to speed.

He said, “Owsley’s bringing over a Sennheiser for me
to try, a German microphone.” There was dignity in his
voice. He was a Jew but first call him a proud German, a
proud German Jew, a proud German Jew speed freak with
snobbery in his conceit.

“When will he get here?” I asked.

“He’ll get here when he gets here—on Owsley time!”

He arrived several hours later. When Perry opened
the door, a man breezed into the apartment like a hippie
Dracula. He was small but muscular with long brown hair
and a straight patrician nose. Immediately, I felt chemistry
between us. He focused on me.

“Call me Bear.” He flexed his muscles in an
exaggerated posture of a comic book character. “I’m a

I laughed.

He smiled and took a small, unmarked
brown bottle out of his vest pocket, turned to Perry, and
looked him in the eye.

“Do not expose my name to the world. Do not say
‘Owsley acid.’ If you do not pay attention, this will be the
last LSD you will see from me.”

The tips of his pinky and ring finger on his right hand
were missing, and hair was growing out of them. “What
happened to your fingers?” I asked.

Owsley laughed dismissively. “I was a kid. But they
grafted skin from my belly. That’s why hairs grow.” He
lifted up his shirt and showed me a keloid scar next to
his belly button. He was wearing bikini underwear.
Owsley wandered into the kitchen and opened
the refrigerator.

I followed him. “Would you like something to eat or
drink?” I offered, a little starstruck.

He took out the peanut butter jar and spooned a taste.
“This is the only thing in your fridge I can eat.”

“It’s not my fridge. It’s Perry’s apartment. I have my
own apartment, and you do not know what I like to eat.”

“Then let’s go to your apartment.” He pinched my
nipple and put his tongue in my mouth.

I stepped back. He was fast and tasted like peanut butter.
I laughed. He smiled and cupped my breasts in his hands,
then moved his hands down my back and played with my ass.

“Nice and round and tight, like a dancer. I studied
ballet. Ballet is the best exercise, far superior to any sport.”

I was delighted. “What? You?” He was so macho.
He pointed his toe and placed my hand on his calf. His
leg was muscular. He took my other hand as if to lead me
in a pas de deux but steered me toward the front door of
the apartment.

Owsley spoke as we danced toward the door.
“Everyone should have a license to broadcast on the
radio. In times of revolution, control of the airwaves is
crucial. I have a first-class license, but a third-class license
allows you to broadcast. Anyone who can read can get a
third-class license. Are you interested?”

I answered him without hesitation. “Yes.”

“I have the manual for the radio licensing exam in
my vehicle.”

Outside, it was a gorgeous California autumn
afternoon. Owsley’s white Valiant was parked right in
front of the door. He opened the trunk where boxes of
different sizes and contents were neatly arranged. He put
his hand on my butt, drew me to him, and kissed me.
I looked into his hazel eyes and caught myself. Perry
was my boyfriend, but I thought, fuck it, this is freedom
time. Bear was a bigger boyfriend. I kissed him back.
He took a Murine bottle out of his inner pocket.

“Open your mouth and close your eyes, and you will
get a big surprise.”

For a moment I thought he was about to put eye drops
in my mouth. Then I figured out it was liquid LSD.

“Just a taste now.”

I tipped back my head and opened my mouth. “Lift
up your tongue,” he instructed and squeezed a drop into
my mouth. We laughed together conspiratorially. I tingled
with anticipation.

Acid gave me an alternative reality, and my vision
was magical. The gold threads in Owsley’s silk shirt
shimmered around him, as if he were a king and we were
characters in a holy pageant. The ground below my feet
was soft and rolled with my movements. Berkeley was a
protected realm, and we were sovereign.

Owsley leaned into the trunk, resting on his hip,
shifting his weight from his leg, and spoke didactically:

“There is nothing we cannot do.”

He picked up a book bound in a commercial black cover.

“This is the manual to prepare you for the broadcasting
exam.” He thumbed through the pages until he found what
he was looking for. “Can you do this kind of calculation?
This is an example of what’s on the test.” He held out the
opened book with his finger pointing to a paragraph.

“This is algebra. I can do it,” I said.

“I know you can pass the test, if you study.”

“I’m good at that. Can I have the manual?”

“You’ll have to return it. It’s Melissa’s. But you can
share it. You can take the exam together.”

“Who’s Melissa?”

“She’s my ole lady.”

My jaw dropped. My mind was racing, peaking on
acid. I saw the soul connection between Owsley and me.

No one else mattered.

We went to my place where we made love until the sun
came up. He ate a jar of my peanut butter and disappeared.

At Mother’s in San Francisco, Owsley introduced me
to Melissa. I felt subdued. She was sweet and friendly, with
long brown hair and bright eyes, petite like me, and open,
not the vicious sex siren I had dreaded.

“Do I know you?” I looked her in the eye. “You went to
UC Berkeley?”

“Yes,” Melissa said. “I majored in chemistry.”

“That’s not how I know you. The only science I took was
physics for non-science majors because it was a requirement
for graduation, but the teacher was Edward Teller.”

Melissa winced. “Did you graduate?”

“Yes,” I nodded, “but I almost failed physics.”

Melissa waited for an explanation.

“I didn’t go to lab.”

“Was it a wet lab?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t go.”

She laughed.

“No, it was a book report. That’s what was so ironic! I
was an English major. Did you live in the dorm?”

“I lived in the dorm before I moved in with Bear.”

“I lived in the dorm before I moved off campus.”

“We met in the dorm!” Melissa laughed and we hugged.

When I heard Pigpen sing “I went down to see a gypsy
woman,” I grabbed Owsley and led him to the dance floor.

A few weeks later, dressed for a costume party
in a paisley net dress, I was delighted to run into
Owsley outside the Trips Festival at the venerable old
Longshoreman’s Hall. He looked like a troubadour in his
colorful ribboned shirt and tight jeans. A Merry Prankster
in a Day-Glo skeleton suit and painted face danced before
Bear and opened his mouth. Owsley took out his Murine
bottle of pure liquid LSD. Drop, drop into his mouth. I
opened my mouth. Drop, drop—yum!

Inside was a party as the Grateful Dead played. Owsley
took me by the hand and danced with me across the floor
where he introduced me to his friend Richard Alpert, the
renowned Harvard associate of Timothy Leary and coauthor
of "The Psychedelic Experience,"the definitive psychedelic
textbook of the time. Richard was so handsome. I couldn’t believe he
was actually a dropout. He had short curly hair, a sparkle
in his eyes, and a graceful manner. He spoke in a cultured
Bostonian voice, even while shouting over the music.
We merged with the crowd, and Richard and I danced.
We were suited as dance partners, performing hand-offs
and spins without missing a beat, though he was tall and
somewhat lanky and I was short, round, and sensuous. We
moved together in time. I felt joy.

In the phantasmagorical lights, my LSD vision
was clear and sharp. Owsley suddenly popped into
my foreground. Under the strobe light his movements
looked like the dance of a wooden puppet. He touched
me, and we danced. We twirled around and I touched
him as I turned and turned. Owsley spun with a balletic
grace, always twisting his head and pointing, spotting
for a fraction of a second. How many times could I spin
without stopping—one hundred and eight? Somehow I
knew there was a magic number, and the dance was an
ancient ritual of devotion.

The band finished a song and Bear turned to me and
asked, “Do you want Richard? You could have him, you
know. Or do you want me?”

“I want you.” I smiled. “You’re the one for me,” I said,
and I meant it.

He was teasing me and touched my erogenous zones as
we danced to a slower tune. He whispered in my ear, “Can
I give you a ride home?”

He held my hand as we walked on Fillmore Street,
away from the music. The cold air felt good. Suddenly
we halted in front of an old bulbous car that looked like
something in an R. Crumb cartoon. Bear extended his
hand like an emcee introducing a boxing event.

“Rhoney, I present to you the Dreaded Dormammu,
a 1949 Studebaker, the most reliable automobile ever
produced in the United States!” I cared nothing about
cars. This one was red and smelled of gas and oil. The
passenger door didn’t open from the outside.

I felt like a child as I climbed up onto the huge
overstuffed front seat. “So dread Dormawho?”

“Dormammu,” he enunciated. “The Dreaded
Dormammu, the evil archenemy of Dr. Strange in the
psychic realm. Marvel Comics.”

I knew less about comic books than I knew about cars.
My mother had always forbidden me to read them. “Oh,”
I said, “I thought you might have a Maserati.”

He drove fast and well, and before I knew it, he had
parked in front of my plain one-story building and turned
off the car. As I shifted on the seat, I discovered I had
been sitting on some sort of machine the size of a Cracker
Jack box with a black leather casing.

“That’s part of the Grateful Dead’s new approach
to sound. It’s a condenser microphone. I’m making live
recordings with a state-of-the-art sound system that
captures the transformative moment of expression and
creation with the audience who are also high on my
LSD.” He caught himself becoming overexcited, like Dr.
Frankenstein sending up the kites, and paused. “Are you
ready to show me your apartment?” With a flourish, I
ushered him inside.

His passion made me passionate. After we made love,
we sat naked in bed and talked for hours. “May I ask you a
personal question?” he said.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Do you use amphetamines?”



“No.” I traced his beautiful lips with my tongue.

He put a drop under his tongue and licked me. Owsley
wanted more loving. By morning we could read each
other’s minds.

“I want you in my family. Your apartment would be
perfect for pressing LSD into tabs. I’ll teach you the whole
process if you come aboard.”


“Do you wish to think about it?”

“No.” I was falling in love.

When he got ready to leave, he took a wad of hundred-
dollar bills out of his vest pocket and gave them to me.

“Keep your apartment. We’ll tab the LSD here.”

While Owsley was away in LA with the Grateful Dead,
I counted the days, but I wasn’t the only one. The buzz was
out. The Watts Acid Test had topped the charts. Now it was
official. Owsley was the Grateful Dead soundman.

The windows of my apartment overlooked the street,
and I saw Owsley and Richard Alpert approach. When I
let them in, Richard smiled and put his arm around me,
but Owsley carried a heavy machine to the kitchen counter
and walked around the apartment, absorbed in his own
considerations. Suddenly, he beckoned me toward him.

“I intend to press the LSD into tabs now. Richard is here
because he wants the full experience.” He held me close
and put his tongue in my mouth.

“Yes,” Richard said, “the entire process of making LSD
is a sacred trip.”

At Bear’s house one day, I opened the door to the tall
and handsome Richard Alpert. He could have just stepped
out of GQ in his polo shirt, tan pants, and boat shoes with
tassels. I took him to the kitchen where Bear was naked
and totally engrossed in two large books open before him
on the table:

Electrochemical Metallurgy and The Emerald Tablet
of Hermes.

Richard and I waited for him to look up and
acknowledge us.

“Is he reading those two books at the same time?”
he asked.

“At least.” I motioned for him to take a seat.

Richard sat and began talking with Owsley, who just
added the conversation as a third object of his attention.

“LSD is not enough to bring me to liberation and bliss. I
always come back down into my thinking mind, this body,
these clothes.” Owsley looked up and uncrossed his legs,
moving his balls out of the way with his hand.

Richard continued, “When I come down from LSD,
I have lurid cravings and material desires. My visions
are sexual and my mind is full of verbal conceits. I have
a greater sense of specialness. My self-importance gets
confirmation from LSD. This is not the consciousness I
am after. I want to transcend my ego, go beyond words,
beyond the boundaries of time and space. I cannot
explain the plane of consciousness I reach high on LSD,
and I cannot hold on to it. I’m going to India to look for
an answer.”

Owsley responded, “If you want to go to India, go to
India, but you can transform yourself right here. Listen to
music. Take more LSD.” He pointed to the Murine bottle
between his books.

Richard shook his head and gave up on his rap.

“Come, come,” I comforted him and led him into
the living room, pushed him onto the soft fabric couch,
the perfect spot in the room for listening to balanced
sound. “Let me play you some music.” If I could not be
at a live show, next best was listening to music at Bear’s.
He modified his home audio system by exchanging the
components of the amp and preamp with precision parts
he ordered from an aircraft manufacturer. He changed the
type of cables and the wiring of the connectors. He had
the best speakers—JBLs with the cones exposed. He even
altered these, adding a subwoofer to increase the amplitude
of the bass. His placement of the two tall speakers was
calculated to optimize the quality of the sound.

I pulled out an LP of the Bulgarian Women’s Choir. I placed the
record onto the turntable and dropped the needle.

“Jerry Garcia loves this,” I told Richard.

“Jerry Garcia is a bodhisattva,” he said.

High praise.

After the first song, I quickly switched to a recording
of the Japanese shakuhachi, a type of bamboo flute—Zen
flutists “blowing Zen.” The music was so eerie that
the musicians wore baskets over their heads to protect
themselves from going crazy. During the Shogun years
of political intrigue, revolutionaries pretending to be
musicians wore the baskets on their heads to hide their
weapons. At least, that’s what it said on the jacket.

“That story appeals to the psychologist in me,” he said.

“I thought it would appeal to the rebel in you,” I joked.

He didn’t seem amused. I put away the Zen and picked up
a new Ravi Shankar album and read from the cover:

"The ancient Vedic scriptures teach that there are two types
of sound. One is a vibration of ether, the upper or purer
air near the celestial realm. This sound is called Anahata
Nad, or unstruck sound. Sought after by great enlightened
yogis, it can only be heard by them. The sound of the uni-
verse is the vibration thought by some to be like the mu-
sic of the spheres that the Greek Pythagoras described in
the 6th century BC. The other sound, Ahata Nad, or struck
sound, is the vibration of air in the lower atmosphere clos-
er to the earth. It is any sound that we hear in nature or
man-made sounds, musical and nonmusical."

Richard listened intently. “Very psychedelic,” he
commented. He became thoughtful. “I have a question
for Merlin out there.”

Richard stood up, took my hand, and led me back to the
kitchen where the naked Merlin was still poring over his books.

Richard sat down across the table from Bear. “What if
we intravenously inject pure crystalline LSD? That may be
a way to make the psychedelic experience last. Certainly the
purity of the experience will be perfect.”

Owsley heard that. He saw his role as a psychedelic
Prometheus, enabling mankind to choose to take a
sacrament for transformation of mind and soul. His LSD
was the purest. Purity of LSD was his raison d’être. He
considered for a moment, then lifted his eyes to gaze at the
two of us as if for the first time. “Inject directly into the
blood stream, bypass the gut. Get a rush of LSD. I like it.”
I was unprepared for Owsley’s enthusiasm. Usually, if
an idea weren’t his, it couldn’t be a good one.

“Let’s do it next Saturday. I’ll make the preparations.”

Owsley invited a few friends who were eager to
participate in the experiment. I reread "The Psychedelic
Experience" to see how we could set up the environment
for the most positive trip possible. The book said sexual
visions are extremely frequent during the third bardo and
erotic sexual orgies are often imagined: “You may wonder
what sexual performance is expected of you . . .”

What a funny book.

Early on Saturday afternoon, Owsley prepared the LSD
for our purpose.

Placing a square of glassine paper on his Shimadzu
precision scale, with his finger he tapped out crystalline
LSD from a small brown bottle. He used a small glass
funnel to pour homemade distilled water into another
empty brown bottle, added the little pile of crystal
from the glassine paper into the glass bottle, pushed on
the rubber stopper, and mixed it by gently swirling the
contents on the kitchen table.

At sunset, the group gathered—Melissa, three of
Bear’s cronies, Richard, and me. We had all eaten lightly
in preparation for the psychedelic experience. Richard
went first. He sat in a chair; Owsley tied a rubber tube
around his biceps and injected the liquid into a vein inside
his elbow. Richard said nothing, but his face said it all. His
countenance was blissful, his mood was complete calm.
He emanated love.

I was next and eagerly tied off my own arm, wiping the
inside of my elbow with an alcohol swab. Bear probed a
rising blue vein with a finger, the syringe in his other hand.

“How many micrograms are you giving me?” I
asked, not hearing the answer as I was instantaneously
transported to another realm.

All people disappeared. I, too, was invisible—bits of
electric energy in the air, simply part of the space. The
room had become a compartmentalized metal box. The
walls were bare. The room was empty. Nothing was there.
I uttered dulcet sounds rather than words and floated off
into the atmosphere. I became dancing protoplasm. My
boundaries dissolved. I felt fluid flowing through me, as if
my body were ejaculating. I was hallucinating incestuous
orgies and feeling my fertility. I was like the Earth and
needed to be plowed.


I reentered reality and heard, “I will murder Owsley.”

One of Bear’s friends, a biker from San Jose, was standing
and pointing at him. He spoke in anger. “I’m going to get my
gun and shoot Owsley.”

Bear didn’t say anything. He was shocked beyond
words. We were all very high.

Richard said, “We cannot stop this impulse. We must
play out this scene.” He slowly approached the biker,
who was breathing heavily. He put his hand gently on the
man’s shoulder and said quietly, “If you go outside, you
will realize that we are the ones who love you. Slow down.
Go easy. Stay with us.”

Richard was brilliant. He got the guy settled on the
floor and gathered the rest of us into a circle.

“Breathe in and out. Breathe in compassion. Breathe
out loving-kindness. Connect to your loving awareness.”

Joining hands, under Richard’s skillful direction, we
counted our breaths in rhythm, in and out, in and out. By
the tenth breath, the biker broke down. He covered his
face with his hands, apologizing profusely.

Owsley, being a true gentleman, forgave him, but the
high was over. When our friends finally left, Owsley passed
out on the couch. Richard and I danced to The Beatles’
first album on the hi-fi.

“Do you think The Beatles mean it when they say, ‘I’ll
always be true’?”

Richard said, “Yes. The emotion is so simple. It is

We sat outside under the stars, and Richard continued
the conversation. “It is the same as loving. If I love, and you
love, we create an atmosphere of love, and love connects us.
It is not personal.”

“It was your devotion to love that got us through tonight.”

“We must tune in to love. Be love now.” Richard paused
momentarily. “Psychedelics alone cannot bring us there.
Seva. Devotion.”

For days, I was subdued. LSD had triggered an impulse
of murder directed toward Owsley. Did Owsley cause this
to happen? What was my role as his life companion and
co-conspirator? I agreed with his mission to turn on the
world, but I could see the danger. Some people could not
handle psychedelic drugs




Interview with Rhoney Stanley, talking about her book "Owsley and Me"



An Anthem for Bear

by Robert Hunter

Augustus Owsley Stanley the Third
being less a name, than a designation,
the bearer of the appellation became,
of his own inspiration, The Bear.
Thus he became and thus remained
and every old timer worth salt has
a tale or two to tell regarding same:
of the time The Bear did this or that
incredibly singular, utterly apposite
action without apology or shame
to his own particular undying fame.
Unreachable, unteachable, aflame
in the light of his own magnificence
reflected in deeds dwarfing the achievements
of the run-of-the-mill creative sort
by a factor of ten or more,
King of Many Things was he
of mortal physiology
the soul’s chemistry,
geography, geology,
not to mention the
applied physics of sound,
regarding which, deaf in one ear,
he pronounced stereo to be
a distraction affording only
one perfect seat in the house
upon which to work its elusive illusion
setting himself to design the world’s
most powerful hi-fi system to prove it!
One suspects that, had he but one leg
he’d have seen the advantage in that
and invented accordingly, ingeniously
and, it goes without saying, successfully.
Lovable and loving in the abstract
effusiveness was not his hole card;
his judgments swift, certain and irrevocable
the last word was his personal property.
For the few times he was wrong
there is no accounting.
Was there ever a man who changed so many
while, himself, changing so little?
A Cardinal Sign, were there ever one,
fixed like a bright white star in dark-blue heaven.
Save sentimental eulogies for lesser men
and leave it that he was King of Many Things
of perfected personal taste and detailed opinion
first and last a scientist and propounder
of a brand new species of reason.
No bucolic Heaven for such as Bear,
rather a Rock of Ages from where
an eagle in full flight might dare
a sudden detour into endless dawn.

Sail on, dear brother Bear, sail on.

Owsley Stanley: Reflections on Life, LSD and DMT


Owsley talks about the Watts Acid Test, synaesthesia and Melissa Cargill


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