Jose Chung vs. Wikipedia

I watched this X Files episode in college. It was a great two periods.

A teenage couple in their car are captured by a pair of grey aliens who are soon confronted by a giant third alien from another race. Agent Dana Scully (Gillian Anderson) is interviewed concerning the case by author Jose Chung, who is seeking to write a book about alien abduction. Scully claims that the girl, Chrissy, was found with all her clothes inside out, appearing to be the victim of rape. Her date, Harold, is brought in by the police, claiming that they were abducted by aliens. The foul mouthed local detective, Manners (whose words are humorously replaced with the word "bleep"), does not believe him, but agent Fox Mulder (David Duchovny) has Chrissy undergo hypnosis in which she describes being on a spaceship surrounded by aliens. Harold claims to have encountered a cigarette-smoking alien on the ship who kept repeating, "This is not happening." Mulder is convinced that Chrissy and Harold were abducted by aliens, but Scully thinks it is more plausible that the two teenagers simply had sex and are struggling to deal with the emotional aftermath.
The agents then speak to a man named Roky Crikenson who claims he witnessed the abduction of Chrissy and Harold, having written his witness account as a screenplay entitled "The Truth About Aliens." He recounts a visit from a pair of men in black who told him what he thought he saw the night before was merely the planet Venus, and threatened to kill him if he told anyone otherwise. Roky's screenplay describes a giant third alien, calling himself Lord Kinbote who took him to the center of the Earth. In telling Roky's version of events to Jose Chung, Scully explains that Roky suffers from a "fantasy-prone personality." Mulder, however, thinks that Roky's story contains some partial truths and decides to have Chrissy re-hypnotized. This time Chrissy claims that she was captured by the military, not aliens, and that they brainwashed her.

Chung speaks to a science fiction fanatic, Blaine, who found an alien body that was recovered by the agents and Detective Manners. Blaine claims that Mulder shrieked like a woman when he saw the alien and that Scully threatened him not to say anything. Blaine video tapes Scully performing an autopsy on the alien, which is quickly released as a video labeled "Dead Alien! Truth or Humbug?" that is narrated by the Stupendous Yappi (from "Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose"). The autopsy reveals that the alien is actually a dead Air Force pilot in an alien costume. His superiors arrive to claim the body, but find it missing. Mulder tricks the military officers into revealing the identity of another missing Air Force pilot, Lieutenant Jack Schafer.

As Mulder remembers it, he found Schafer walking naked down the highway. Mulder takes Schafer to a diner, where the pilot explains that he and his partner were piloting a military UFO while dressed as aliens. He thinks that he and his partner were abducted by real aliens, but given that he may not even exist himself, he cannot be sure. His superiors soon come to take him away. A diner cook, however, claims that Mulder was there by himself and asked him questions while ordering piece after piece of sweet potato pie.

Mulder, returning to the motel, finds the men in black (played by Jesse Ventura and Alex Trebek), in Scully's room. The agents later head to a site where the reported UFO crashed, where the bodies of the two Air Force pilots are recovered. Mulder visits with Chung, pleading with him not to publish the book since it will further discredit aliens and those who believe in them. Chung publishes the book, which Scully reads in her office. Mulder watches footage of Bigfoot. Harold professes his love to Chrissy, who rejects him in favor of her newfound commitment to philanthropy.[2]

I think I'm ready.

Supplies

"can't live under the transmission lines"

Grasshoppers

"Murderous thoughts towards his leading man..."

"In the documentary that Herzog made about Kinski after his death, My Best Fiend, he alludes in passing to one other time when he sincerely entertained murderous thoughts toward his leading man, when he planned to firebomb Kinski's house until deterred by Kinski's dog. I'd like to know more.

"'We had plans to kill each other, strangely enough, at exactly the same time,'" Herzog begins, a little hesitantly. "'But you have to see it as these beautiful plots, like in a detective story, and those were mostly plots, I would say, in sheer fantasy. But at some moment it got closer than just a pure fantasy.'"

What were you going to do?

[pause] "'Well, as I said, I plotted to kill him.'"

From GQ on Werner.

"Coney Island of catastrophes."

"You toss in your seaman's bunk and dream the oldest, oddest beachcomber's dream: Something has siphoned away all the waters of the seas, and you're taking a cold, damp hike down into the world's empty pool. Beer cans, busted pipes, concrete blocks, grocery carts, a Cadillac on its back, all four tires missing--every object casts a long, stark shadow on the puddled sand. With the Manhattan skyline and the Statue of Liberty behind you, you trek due east into the sunrise, following the toxic trough of the Hudson River's outflow--known to divers in these parts as the Mudhole--until you arrive, some miles out, at Wreck Valley.You see whole fishing fleets asleep on their sides and about a million lobsters crawling around like giant cockroaches, waving confounded antennae in the thin air. Yeah, what a dump of history you see, a real Coney Island of catastrophes. The greatest human migration in the history of the world passed through here, first in a trickle of dauntless hard-asses, and then in that famous flood of huddled masses, Western man's main manifest destiny arcing across the northern ocean. The whole story is written in the ruins: in worm-ridden middens, mere stinking piles of mud; in tall ships chewed to fish-bone skeletons; five-hundred-foot steel-plated cruisers plunked down onto their guns; the battered cigar tubes of German U-boats; and sleek yachts scuttled alongside sunken tubs as humble as old boots."

From Everest at the Bottom of the Sea.

Cross court two handers.

Noon Lighting

The Sophomoric and Powerful

The peeing is ceaseless and more than a little exhibitionistic. Everyone talks about it. Bohemian reminiscences describe such bizarre initiation rites as escorting new members to the redwood at which one of the founders "did his morning ablutions." The Owl Hoots, which are poster-size cartoons racked up each day near the Camp Fire Circle, are filled with pissing pictures. One featured a spurious design for a commemorative stamp of club member U.S. Postmaster General Anthony Frank relieving himself on a redwood.

"Are you going to show it?" I heard a 50-ish Bohemian, the "captain" of Pow Wow camp, call out one day as young George went to pee off the deck. "Most of it. At least six inches." Came the reply: "Now, don't be modest, George." A screen door creaked on a little house farther up the hill, and a Bohemian named Richard poked his head out, emerging from his siesta. "Do it counterclockwise, Dickie, that's best," the captain called out. "Oh, I've had my hand off it for two minutes now," Richard protested. "There's a lot of wasted time."

This dick-fussing often manifests itself as that starkest of male nostalgias, the hankering for the punctual erections of boyhood. According to 1979 figures, the average age of Bohemians is 55. Impotence is on many people's minds. The poster outside Monkey Block camp advertising this year's Grove play, Pompeii, featured a gigantic erection under a toga. The set for the play included a wall inscription in Latin meaning "Always hard." One day I was at the Grove beach when a Bohemian discovered that a friend's sunscreen was supposed to impede aging.

"You got it too late." The owner of the lotion sighed. "Well, I should give up putting it on my face and arms and spray it on my prick -- see if that'll do any good."

From Inside the Bohemian Grove, or "How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love The Power Elite," (my subtitle).