WEEKEND REPORT: Epic, Thea, T.I.A., and Me! A Splendid Time Is Guaranteed for… oh, Maybe Not.

Me, on No Kings Day, trying to look like a genuine Antifa member! Note, I mis-spelled “Fascist”! Good thing I didn’t feel well enough to attend the rally, with that shirt on, I’d have lost my posting to the Central Committee!

Hey A*****, here’s some news that may move you to contact: I was just in a local hospital for 2 days! And let me level with you, it was no fun at all! A hospital may be a place to get tested, diagnosed, treated and healed, but is is no place to get well! That is best done at home, or some place where you can relax. In the hospital, you can’t relax unless you are so sick, that is your only option! But as usual, I digress:


Last Sunday evening, right around sunset, I was out walking my dog Epic around the block, which my house sits on the SW corner of. We had gone about 3/4 of the way, and were on the home stretch, when it felt like a gale-force wind, or some invisible thing, struck my right side, pushing me HARD to the left! But there was no wind! I staggered, and found I could no longer walk a straight line; I was zig-zagging like Trump awaiting Putin in Alaska! I dragged the mutt home as fast as I could, about 30 meters at that point, and once we were inside I looked in the bathroom mirror. The left side of my mouth was drooping down, even when I tried to smile.


These were all signs of a possible stroke. In her last years, my poor mother suffered a lot of small but incapacitating strokes, and I was familiar with the symptoms. I called my friend Dave, who lives about 30 minutes away (13 miles, 21 km), and arranged for him to take care of Epic while I got myself to the local ER of the better of two hospitals in town. I gathered up the necessities of aged life — glasses, my apnea-preventing CPAP sleep machine, cell phone and charger, dentures and Fix-O-Dent — stuffed them in a carry bag and called an ambulance by dialing 911, the American number for the nearest emergency dispatcher.


When it showed up in about 5 minutes, I reassured Epic (who has some serious abandonment issues) that I’d be back, and walked out to meet the ambulance. The EMT’s strapped me down on a gurney, even though the hospital is only 1/2 mile – 0.8 km away, and one started unwrapping a needle to insert a catheter in a prominent vein in the inner elbow of my left arm — all this while we were driving to the hospital.


“Couldn’t you wait until we get there?” I asked the EMT who was playing Dracula.


He looked at me with a rather bored but nevertheless professional expression and said, “We do this all the time. We know what we’re doing.” SKRRRRICH! He drove the needle in. 


When we arrived I was wheeled directly into the ER room where X-rays and other non-invasive diagnostic techniques are done. An ER doctor on duty gave me a blood thinner and anti-coagulant, and after a short exam by CAT scan, I was listening to a preliminary diagnosis from a remote neurologist on TV, and feeling very much like the protagonist in a low-budget sci-fi movie!

To show how hospitalization can make even a handsome, suave, sophisticated guy like me look like shit.
(Me, hospitalized and not looking quite as sharp as usual. Must’ve been a fingerprint on the lens of my iPhone!)


Although my symptoms were those of a stroke, there was no gross evidence of one that would show up on a CAT scan; a more detailed diagnosis would have to await Monday, when they could do a detailed MRI scan. They kept me overnight, and I barely got any sleep at all, because that goddamn catheter hurt! I asked my nurse to move it, but he didn’t get to it until the next day.


Well, long story short, they not only did the MRI scan Monday, I also got a chest echogram, an EKG, and echograms of my carotid arteries on both sides of my neck. They were looking for any irregularity that might have caused the presumed blood clot in my brain, but they came up empty handed. Much to the disappointment of many of my harshest critics, I turned out to be disgustingly normal.


A very nice woman neurologist came by eventually to explain what they thought it was: a Transient Ischemic Attack, or T.I.A.. No, this has nothing to do with Radical Islam, “ischemic” means not getting proper blood supply. I probably did have a “mini-stroke,” but my circulatory system then got up off the mat and proceeded to beat the snot out of the blood clot, which broke up and was promptly flushed away. Those blood clots, they can dish it out, but they can’t take it when the tables are turned! GRRRRRR!


I agreed that that explained my symptoms, which had gradually waned, and I’d recovered most of my ability to walk again without support by Monday afternoon. After another night of observation, the doctors agreed it was safe to release me back into the game preserve.

 

The scenic view from my hospital room window. The doctors here believe this view of Mother Nature promotes healing -- but then again, they still use leeches, tool
The scenic view from my hospital room window. The doctors here believe this view of Mother Nature promotes healing — but then again, they still use leeches, too. The park design is Modern Industrial, a look that is Brutalist, and not that different from the industrial mining town where my translator was trying to sell in a failing appliance store before he came across Wet Goddess, and the rest, as they say, is Great Russian Literature! Count Leo Tolstoy, Anton Checkov, Franz Kafka, eat your hearts out!


I had to catch a Lyft ride to get home, as it was too far for Dave to drive that day, and when the Lyft driver arrived, I got into his car without a shirt. Dave had visited me in the hospital the day before, and thinking of poor Epic sitting at home not knowing when or whether I was ever going to return, I gave him my T-shirt so she could smell it and know I was still above ground.


Walking the dog again that afternoon, I was astonished by the vibrancy of the sky, the glory of the beams of sunlight drawing water through the clouds, the lushness of the greenery all around me and the nicely ordered houses.


Nothing like a little brush with death to make you appreciate life, eh? I’m OK, but I’ve got a whole new list of medications, a new diet that basically eliminates everything I like to eat, and a couple of new specialist MDs, a cardiologist and a neurologist. Oh joy!


Well, our governor, Ron De Santis, has said “Florida is where WOKE comes to die!” I know you were trying to express your false dreams for the death of social responsibility, Ron, but let’s face it: SO DOES EVERYTHING ELSE!


Thus concludes for now my tale, A****. Tell me of your life, if you will! Or tell me to get lost. Just tell me something, OK? Thanks! — Malcolm

Shows the author with some junk stuff he's got stuck on the walls to cover the cracks, like some photos he risked life and limb to get.
ABOVE: My good friend Raving Dave gave me the Balsa Toucan, a former decoration of his palatial mobile home, and I chose the empty spot over the doorway. Little did I know that the Great Blue Heron, wading on the wall over my shoulder, would grow insanely jealous of the ornithological competition he now faced! The argument was about who had the better beak.

“My beak is sharp and deadly, and I can spear fish, amphibians, reptiles and even small mammals with it,” the GBH crowed. “Everyone better watch out for this death-dealing beak!”

To which the Toucan replied, “My beak eats fruit, doesn’t kill anybody, is charmingly colorful, and people think I’m a feathered comedian! HA! Go fuck yourself, you pompous, death-dealing excuse for a toothless sauropod! All the little critters fear you, but humans LOVE me!”

So far, the argument has not reached a definitive conclusion, and I have to listen to old 1970’s hits to tune it out. Any suggestions?

ALL CONTENTS ©2025 Malcolm J. Brenner/Eyes Open Media. All rights reserved. Secured in that giant computer in Brussels, Belgium that has everybody’s information in it. Yeah, yours too, you schmuck! Signatory to the Interplanetary Secrets Treaty of 1958, Dwight D. Eisenhower, President and Commander-In-Chief of Terrestrial Forces, officiating for Earth.

Buy My Books, Cheap! Do It Now!

What are you waiting for, you fools? I'm not going to be around to sign your books forever!
The Awful, uh, Author, as photographed by my daughter’s ex-boyfriend, who was an OK photographer but sort of abusive to her, and for that reason, no credit for him! I’d just be defaming him, anyhow.

I’m excited to announce that BOTH of my books, Wet Goddess: Recollections of a Dolphin Lover, and Growing Up in the Orgone Box: Secrets of a Reichian Childhood, will be available as part of a promotion on Smashwords for the month of July as part of their Annual Summer/Winter Sale! This is a chance to get my books, along with books from many other great authors, at a 50% discount, so you can get right to your summer reading!

You will find the promo here starting on July 1, so save the link:
https://www.smashwords.com/shelves/promos/

Please share this promo with friends and family. You can even forward this email to the avid readers in your life!

Thank you for your help and support! Happy reading! — Malcolm J. Brenner

An Open Letter to El T.A.C.O. Presidente

(Image from YouTube by MINT. I don’t own the copyright, but I did just give you a free plug, MINT, for which I won’t charge you! Express your thanks later.)

Dear TACO Presidente,

If you join Israel’s war against Iran, you are a bigger idiot than I thought, and I didn’t think you could be a bigger idiot than you already are!

Since it was founded on land stolen from the Palestinians in 1948, Israel has been the tail that wags the American dog, and the 1967 attack on the USS Liberty, an American intelligence-gathering ship that was off the coast of Egypt at the time, proves it! The Liberty was flying a HUGE-HUGE!-HUGE US flag, and was repeatedly strafed by Israeli jets and torpedoed by Israeli gunboats! The Israeli government claimed “misidentification” and has never satifactorilly explained why or how.

Further evidence: In spite of the fact that NO IRAQIS were among the Sept. 9, 2001 highjackers, the US lied about Saddam Hussein’s “weapons of mass destruction,” and the US Army threw Iraq out of Kuwait largely so no Israelis would have to die doing the same dirty work!

Lest you think I am anti-Semitic, I am not, my father was a Jew who changed his last name from Cohen to Brenner on the advice of his teachers at MIT, so he could find a job in the electronics field! Although suffering tuberculosis, he served in the Signal Corps, operating a radar set on Iwo Jima shortly after the Marines took it. Likewise, my mother served in the Royal Air Force, helping Hurricane and Spitfire pilots recover from their wounds so they could go on and win the Battle of Britain!

I am loyal to the Constitution of the USA, and the values of my country, and YOU, PRESIDENTE LOSER NUMERO UNO, ARE NOT! If you involve us in another war halfway around the world, even by just dropping the MOAB on lranian nuclear plants, you will infuriate your MAGA “America First!” base, enrage the American public at large, unify the Iranian people behind their illegitimate Islamo-Fascist leadership, which was about to topple, and contaminate a HUGE-HUGE!-HUGE (I know how much you like that word, even though you drop the H like my Yorkshire mother did when she got mad) sector of the Middle East with nuclear radiation the will make Chernobyl look like a mud puddle in comparison!

Not to mention that we had a fine, anti-nuclear-weapons treaty with Iran from 2015 until May 8, 2018, when you, Bobblehead, took the US out, SOLELY BECAUSE THE DEAL HAD BEEN NEGOTIATED BY A DEMOCRAT, and the accords COLLAPSED! That led directly to Iran re-starting their nuclear enrichment program, and this mess which ISRAEL IS BEGGING US TO JOIN, NOW!

DON’T DO IT, DONALD, unless YOU want to be REMEMBERED as the Lyndon Johnson of the 21st Century! Future generations will curse you if you get us ensnarled in this mess, let the Israelis do their own fighting, for once! They can drop a small atomic bomb on those plants any time they want to, but they don’t want to tip their hand that they can destroy all their Arab neighbors in the time it takes an Israeli fighter jet to reach their capital cities! Could you live with that existential threat hanging over you?

NOW, show some discipline over your ICE thugs, or that the only recruits you get for those jobs will be thugs, degenerates or sadists — although maybe that’s what you want! I’d like to get you alone behind a closed door for just two minutes, Donny Boy. I’m 74 and have three chronic conditions, but in just two minutes, I’d show you what “getting your comeuppance” means! You are a sick, cruel, utterly vapid and dangerous person to have with your thumb on the Big Red Button, and the sooner you exit the White House the better, on your feet or feet first, I NO LONGER CARE! And take your pet rat, Shady Vance, with you, or the next inhabitant will have to call Truly Nolan Pest Control!

Very Truly Yours, Malcolm J. Brenner, BA

8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647! 8647!

(Another Iraqi nuclear scientist bites the dust at home. AP photo by Tom Neuberger, all rights reserved.)

Two Bullies, 1,000 Cameras and the Brave Little Kid!

Photo: Saul Loeb, AFP. Body Language: Ukrainian!

Donald Dumpster Fire,

Wow, what a surprise I had today! I heard that you and Shady — you know, your Veep? — were meeting Ukrainian President Volodomyr Zelenskyy in the Oval Office, and of course I wanted to see your warm, charming, thoughtful, humanitarian diplomacy giving encouragement, money, resources and most importantly of all, powerful, precision, long-range American weapons, to the brave ex-televison personality (just like you, only not fat!) now called upon to lead his people in a totally defensive war against a large, bloodthirsty, ruthless and better-armed opponent who, TIME AND AGAIN, has oppressed, starved and murdered his people!

Photo: Associated Press — HEY! Who the hell let THEM in?

I think my TV must have picked up an old episode of “Little Rascals” or “Leave it to Beaver,” because suddenly everything became B&W and what I was watching, changed! Now the show was of two nasty playground bullies, a fat, misshapen, ugly 6th grader named Donald and his accomplice, a 5th grader with 5 o’clock shadow named… hey, what does the J stand for in your Veep’s first name? I can’t be bothered to remember — JD, and they were harassing a tough little 4 grader named Vlodny, dressed all in black, for his lunch money!

“YOU DON’T HOLD ANY CARDS,” the lard-bucket Donnie thundered, trying but failing to sound bad-ass.
“We’re not playing cards,” Vlodny said.
“YOU HAVEN’T TOLD US HOW THANKFUL YOU ARE FOR TO US FOR NOT BEATING YOU UP!” JD whined, sounding like a weasel caught in a leg trap.
“YEAH, AND YOU OWE US 350 BILLION, JILLION, TRILLION DOLLARS,” that lying little bastard Donald said, spitting saliva all over Vlodny’s black clothes.

[Image generated by AI. It only took 3 tries! And no apologies, this time.]

In conclusion: Since your repeated so many of Putin’s talking points on Ukraine, I conclude that you and your whole administration are RUSSIAN OPERATIVES, doing what the Soviet Union couldn’t do with force: YOU ARE DESTROYING AMERICA FROM WITHIN!

Ye Gods, Putin must have some hella-good COMPROMAT ON YOU! I’m telling my reps in Congress to seek a 25 Amendment solution to you, and if that doesn’t work, I hope some civic-minded citizen will sacrifice him or herself to perform a 2nd Amendment solution. Not me, I’m 73, suffer 3 debilitating diseases, and don’t travel. But you do, and I hope Air Force One crashes in the ocean with you aboard. Shame to kill those great pilots, stewards and staff, but remembering Timothy McVay, they would be merely “COLLATERAL DAMAGE.”

You & JD have embarrassed me, the American government, and all our former friends and allies abroad. Although I’m an atheist, I think we should open room in Hell just for you. It could be a new theme ride at Disneyland!

Author with bottle of formerly Russian beverage.

Go On, Fund Me! Just Don’t Expect Any Payback.

Hi, friends, fans and family, foes, fools, and frolickers, freedom-fighters and fellow-travelers,

I hope you’re doing well, or at least mostly adequate. Out of sheer, mortal desperation, I have started a fundraiser on GoFundMe, and it would mean so much if you could take a look at it! (See URL below.) How much? 

T——H——A——T much!

The page has some pretty fair pictures of me on it, taken back when I was actually handsome, and AI didn’t write a word of it! Any help, like donating $$$ or sharing, gets me closer to my goal of not having to beg my reluctant and somewhat unpredictable relatives to save me from starvation, getting my lights or water turned off, or having to go straight for a while. Reality! What a major buzz kill, dudes! How do you cope?

I am hoping to raise $200-250 a month, which works out to $3K/year, to supplement my tiny Social Security check. (How tiny? Do you have an electron microscope?) Thanks in advance for your kindness, generosity and support! Just don’t expect the Universe to reward you for your goodwill, okay? It doesn’t work that way, and yes, it is disappointing.

— Malcolm, the mercurial marine mammal

Jimbo, a performer at Floridaland, 1970.
Jimbo, before I cuckolded him.

On Order: A New, Improved “Burning Times!”

The following is a slight revision of an email I sent to 34 individuals, some Pagan, a few Christian, and a handful of other religions just for luck. In short, just about everybody I know! I consider this dangerous announcement, from our seriously unhinged Commander-In-Chief (if Little Rocketman Musk hasn’t assumed that authority too) to be a warning anyone who is NOT a card-carrying Christian, to this effect:

With that in mind, here it is:

Feb. 7, 2025

Shake the moths out of your asbestos undergarments, all you Witches, Pagans, occultists, Native Americans and followers of other obscure religions, because suddenly our notably-unreasonable sequel, TRUMP 2: MY REVENGE ON EVERYTHING!, is the only attraction at the local drive-in!

As proof I offer you this news report, filed today, Feb. 7, 2025, by Lauren Taylor of Straight Arrow News, bless her pointed little head!

https://centurylink.net/news/read/article/straight_arrow_news-trump_signs_executive_order_to_combat_antichristia-sanews

Gee, I wonder who The Donald and the Reptilian who holds his leash, Emperor Elon, will appoint to decide what is “anti-Christian?” Why, that fuming, writhing cauldron of feminist sorcery, Her Witchyness Pam Bondi, the U.S. Attorney General! I haven’t looked at her tack, err, TRACK record yet, but if Herr Drumpf’s other nominees are any indication, I bet she’s as highly polished as a frozen turd can get, to paraphrase the late, great Stanley Kubrick! Wonder Bread, all the way! 

What, I wonder, are Pamela’s qualifications to sit in judgment on those who might be considered Anti-Christian? What a challenge! Does this mean we don’t get to enjoy the seasonal Baphomet display of the Satanic Church every Yuletide? Will the Isis-worshipping roots of the Easter Bunny be exposed? Is the Book of Revelations really a “how-to manual” for the Apocalypse, and can Ms. Bondi’s crayon connect the dots without melting?

Who can Pam enlist to help her in this noble crusade? Well, she could use a Quija board to raise the spirit of Torquemada, leader of the Spanish Inquisition, because you’re allowed to do Satanic things, as long as it’s in the Lord’s Name! You get it? There’s absolute absolution at the top, baby! And I’m sure Torquemada, or “Torky!” as he was known to close friends, could advise her. 

So could the mad, unlamented pre-Revolutionary Russian monk Grigori Rasputin, who sinned mightily so he could be forgiven! (Notez-bien: Any similarity to the philosophy of Universalism, as espoused by people such as 19th-Century poet Walt Whitman, is co-incidental and unintentional!) I’m sure Cyril of Alexandria, who had Hypatia, the brilliant, Pagan woman mathematician of Alexandria, murdered horribly by a mob, then burned the great library of Alexandria, would be willing to add his two bits worth… you get my idea? The candidates will have to take a number! Their name is Legion!

I, for one, will not go quietly, and I hope you feel the same way! Otherwise, go read an astrology column! Or a right-wing screed, or a complaint about passivity that is, itself, passive! I will continue to be what I am, a pro-dolphin evangelist (secular), an author, photographer and publisher, and do what I do. I don’t have time to be anti-Christian, 

Thanks for being, and remaining, my friends and readers! — Malcolm J. Brenner, now and forever an iconoclast, and individualist, and a Foe of Bullies Everywhere!  

(Image of Indiana Jones, or somebody who looks like him, generated on the third attempt by WordPress’s built-in AI, which is an oxymoron. Here’s what I was aiming for:)

“I came here to study the Humanities and punch Nazis, and they just cut funding for the Humanities!” — Dr. Indiana Jones, Archeologist & Tomb-Robber

A Bit of History: 5 Peeps and a Tweet

In an effort to log some history, and also to chronicle my own exploits, I present this article from an old, old issue of the slick, slightly left-of-center magazine NEWSWEEK, which is still hanging around in digital format! This was the first article I’d ever seen, at the tender age of 11.5, that mentioned dolphins in connection with extraterrestrial aliens — which, in essence, is what the dolphins are, living in our own oceans instead of those of Jupiter, Uranus or Xagramorfagel (if you haven’t heard of the last one, don’t worry, it’s going viral any day now!). My favorite novel at the time being Robert A. Heinlein’s Star Beast, about a pet alien and his boy, I was, of course, extremely eager to make a dolphin’s acquaintance, as I was sure they had nothing better to do than hang around, waiting for me to show up! Here, then, although I do not know the author’s name, I present the first article I encountered to mention dolphins in connection with ET aliens!

Newsweek: Space & The Atom
Oct. 22, 1962, pg. 51

FIVE PEEPS AND A TWEET

Man’s first contact with extraterrestrials may never come — or it may be only a beat in history away; his giant radio telescopes could pick up a message from space tomorrow (July 22, 1960). But when it comes to working out a system of interspecies communication with a species that may not even exist, man is still in kindergarten. This lack has long worried space scientists, who think that the parties at each end of the “telephone” might have everything to say to each other and no common way to say it.

One suggested way of surmounting this embarrassment is to practice communications with other species on man’s own planet, but which species? In answer, the National Aeronautics and Space Administration has made its choice, and not surprisingly it is the bottlenose dolphin. Under an $80,700, one-year grant from NASA, communication with the brainy mammal will be explored by the dolphins’ old friend, Florida neurophysiologist Dr. John Lilly, who has been studying them since 1955.

Dr. Lilly, who is convinced that “man will communicate with another species in a decade or two,” has long considered the dolphin the most likely possibility. His reasons: Dolphins’ brains are larger and more complex than man’s; they talk to each other in a high-speed language of whistles, click, squawks and blats; and they can produce an eerie mimicry of the human voice, even copying subtle inflections (one recently mimicked the Southern drawl of Lilly’s assistant). Dr. Lilly is now feeding tapes of dolphin sounds to a computer, which will sift them for a meaningful pattern. “It is possible that their intelligence is comparable with ours, though in a very strange fashion,” he has said. “They may be a group with whom we can learn basic techniques of communicating with really alien intelligent life forms.”

Say It With Shapes: Such technologies would obviously be of vast assistance to space scientists. Although few expect that man will ever drop in on the residents of another solar system (the trip could take centuries), they haven’t given up on earthbound communication. Before the advent of radio, all suggestions for signaling extraterrestrials were optical in nature: Flashing messages with large mirrors and searchlights, or cutting vast geometric patterns out of forests and farmlands. [Italics added for emphasis, this seemingly suggests “crop circles” a full decade before they were first reported by UFO investigators!]

Far more practical schemes accompanied the development of powerful radio transmitters. The problem is what to translate. One of the most elaborate schemes is that of Hans Freudenthal, a Dutch mathematics professor writing in English. Called Lincos (for Cosmic Language), it depends upon the supposedly universal concepts of mathematics. First Freudenthal would teach the extraterrestrials the idea of “greater than” by sending five peeps, followed by a different signal—perhaps a tweet—and then three peeps. This would be repeated, using several combinations of peeps, until the listeners had equated “greater than” with the peep signal. Similarly, the concepts of “less than,” “equals,” “plus,” and “minus” could be taught. Eventually, Freudenthal hopes to transmit an elaborate mathematics language, then go on to the tasks of sending lessons in physics, physiology, and even ethics.

TV Images: A simpler sounding plan—the transmission of TV images—has been suggested by Dr. Frank Drake of the National Radio Astronomy Observatory in Greenbank, W. Wa. It is based on the principle that television pictures can be broken down into tiny dots of light. The different intensities if the dots can be translated into correspondingly differentiated such as dots and dashes, frequencies, or numbers, and sent as radio signals. Drake hopes the aliens would understand this principle and reconstruct our television pictures from the signals.

Yet both these ingenious plans, and many like them, rest on the fragile assumption that the extraterrestrials think as we do. Perhaps they do: then again it is conceivable that mathematics and inductive reasoning may be as foreign to them as their worlds and bodies might appear to us. Here lies the potential value of the dolphin—a creature operating in an environment perhaps as alien to humans as that of Mars. Even the slightest clue to how such a creature thinks could eventually lead to radically different approach to placing interstellar “telephone calls”—or a new method of analyzing space static to discover is someone is trying to call us.

But this is a long way off. “Right now we don’t expect any dolphins to teach us how to talk to Martian ants,” a NASA official cracked last week. “We’re simply trying to decode their own talk.” What happens after that, of course, depends on what they have to say.

###

Analysis: This article, and several others like it in LIFE, Look and other popular publications opened my eyes (and ears, don’t forget the ears) to the possibility of communicating with dolphins! As an avid science fiction reader, I was delighted with the idea that our seas might contain a comparable form of non-human intelligence. I eventually got much more than I expected, by about 2 or 3 orders of magnitude, with Dolly!

The last paragraph of the article is particularly telling, and sad. The famous anthropologists Dr. Gregory Bateson & his wife Lois Cammack had joined Lilly in the Virgin Islands to see what was going on, and, a year later, “See if you’re smart enough to decode their talk before you try to teach them ours” was Bateson’s parting shot. He later wrote “Steps to an Ecology of Mind,” a book which I tried three times to read, and failed miserably each time.

And this is what Lilly’s most vociferous critics complained about his research, quite properly: HE NEVER PROVED THAT DOLPHINS EITHER USE OR COMPREHEND LANGUAGE BEFORE HIRING MARGARET HOWE (LOVATT) TO TEACH THEM ENGLISH! In scientific terms, this is serious cart-before the horse-putting, and it is an obvious no-no! Why, then, did Lilly pursue it so devotedly?

It strikes me, from both reading his writings and my personal experiences with him, that Lilly had to some degree an obsessive-compulsive disorder. This is common in scientists who strive under pressure for a high degree of accuracy, often to several decimal points. It’s also indicated in Lilly’s own autobiographical novel, “The Scientist,” in his descriptions of his lonely, rather isolated upbringing and childhood.

I can’t really say how Lilly handled major disappointments, because I never observed him doing so. But one of the privileges of whiteness, wealth (which Lilly had in relative degree) and education is that you’re insulated, to some degree, from failure. It may be that, as the evidence that he was on the wrong path accumulated, Lilly stuck more and more strongly to his abortive theories because he had to, to support his rather expansive ego. To admit he was wrong would be uncharacteristic of him, until much later in life.

There was also the practical aspect that Lilly had, with the establishment of the Dolphin Communications Laboratory, taken on the care and feeding of three, 400-lb. (180-kg.) adolescents who could smack you through a concrete wall, if they wanted to. It’s a big responsibility, and I don’t think people are going to give you much money just to study dolphins to see if they maybe, possibly, HAVE a language!

Finally… finally, sometimes a scientist, like everyone else, has a strong hunch that things are heading the right way, that they can disregard everybody else, that they can break the rules and still win! Such feelings are hard for a logical, rational mind to resist, precisely because they are not rational nor logical. But neither having a strong hunch, nor following it to the bitter end, makes one automatically right! Appearances can be deceiving, and as often as not, it is ourselves we deceive.

What matters to me is, I found something I wanted to pursue, and I have pursued it all my life. Maybe not as a scientist, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t made remarkable discoveries, such as this: WE HAVE HAD LIVING BESIDE US, UNNOTICED, FOR MILLIONS OF YEARS, ANOTHER SPECIES OF LIFE THAT ROUTINELY ENGAGES IN MANY OF THE SAME HIGHER-ORDER FUNCTIONS THAT WE HUMANS DO: COMPLEX PROBLEM-SOLVING, SOCIAL AWARENESS, INDIVIDUAL AND GROUP IDENTITIES, ETHICS, THEORY OF MIND, and has enough imagination to realize that in some ways this odd, upright ape with the clever fingers IS RATHER LIKE ITSELF, in that our minds have strange and significant similarities!

We humans, as the dominant species on Planet Earth, need to acknowledge that a non-technological species, which cannot even open a can of beans or unfold a Swiss Army knife, is Number 2, and in the ocean, they are, and always will be, Number 1! Due to their 12-million year head start on us in the Large Brains Department, and their incredible record of sheer SURVIVAL over that time, we should be approaching them as older and wiser beings, with the respect and deliberation they deserve. Let what nature writer Loren Eisley called “our long human loneliness” finally be over, as we are re-admitted to the order of Nature by our old friends, the dolphins!

The author as he appeared in the 1970’s, eavesdropping on a chat between a dolphin and a Martian ant, whose appearance is thanks to NASA. Biden’s going to announce it next week, no, REALLY!

All contents & illustrations ©2023 Malcolm J. Brenner. All rights reserved.

“Grusch revelations verify my UFO novel,” science-fiction author claims

Cover illustration by Thea Boodhoo

For Immediate release, June 8, 2023/NOT EMBARGOED

Staff Report, Eyes Open Media

PORT CHARLOTTE, FL — Recent allegations that the U.S. has recovered parts, wreckage and even intact vehicles of extraterrestrial origin, made by a former government employee turned whistleblower, should expand interest in a controversial local author’s 2015 story about the attempted retrieval of a crashed alien spaceship and its surviving crew member.

“My novel ‘Mel-Khyor: An Interstellar Affair,’ opens with four members of an elite but woefully inadequate government black-ops unit trying to locate a reported UFO that’s crashed in the foothills of the Rockies, outside of Durango, Colorado,” said writer Malcolm J. Brenner. “What follows is a rather improbable science-fiction story, told in three-and-a-half timelines, of interplanetary intrigue, cosmic war and lust, both human and alien. It’s also the story of my second marriage, backed up by an authentic newspaper clipping.”

Brenner, just turned 72, is the author of two other self-published books, one of which has achieved some notoriety. “Wet Goddess: Recollections of a Dolphin Lover” is his thinly fictionalized novel of courtship and eventual seduction by a marine mammal of unusual abilities, one of them being interspecies telepathy! First published in 2010, it’s since sold more than 2,500 copies in 18 countries, Brenner said.

The plot of “Mel-Khyor” revolves around the surviving alien’s attempts to repair his AI-augmented spaceship and escape Earth, with the help of Susie Louise McGonagle (a pseudonym), whose family happens to own a vacation cabin just down the trail from the crash. Susie is shocked when the alien, called Mel-Khyor, tells her if he and his Ship are about to be captured intact, he is under orders to disable the Ship, and then kill himself, to prevent humans from obtaining advanced, star-traveling technology!

“Needless to say, Susie springs to his aid, then wonders what she can do to repair an alien spaceship,” Brenner said. “It so happens that the Ship learns to interface with her, so that she effectively becomes part of it, repairing itself!”

As unlikely as this scenario sounds, Brenner recalled, it originates in some pillow talk he and his fiancée had in New Mexico, after watching an early episode of the then-popular 1990’s cosmic-paranoia show “The X-Files.”

“She was sleepy, and that episode about UFOs must’ve jogged her unconscious,” Brenner said, “because she mumbled some words as we were going to bed, and when I realized she was talking about an actual, first-hand encounter with an extra-terrestrial alien, my blood froze.”

Further research revealed the timing of his ex-wife’s encounter, the night of August 2, 1978, coincided with reports of an unusual meteor falling over Canada and plunging south to Cheyenne, Wyoming, where it apparently exploded harmlessly 15 miles up, but with the force of a tactical nuclear weapon. The U.S. Air Force confirmed that the object, a bolide, was not man-made; Brenner believes the blast may have been a decoy intended to discourage searchers from looking for the survivor.

“If so, it didn’t work,” Brenner noted wryly.

It now seems that statements and allegations made by David Grusch, reportedly a former employee of the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency (NGA) and the National Reconnaissance Office (NRO) and a decorated Army combat veteran of Afghanistan, confirm that the U.S.A., and other nations, are in possession of wreckage, debris and even intact vehicles of extraterrestrial origin. Grusch was a liaison with the Defense Department’s Unidentified Aerial Phenomena Task Force for three years, and later a leader of the NGA’s UFO/UAP analysis unit. He is well-spoken-of by members of the intelligence community who know him. (Source: The Debrief, June 5, 2023.)

Referring back to his ex-wife’s experience, which he admits to sometimes doubting, Brenner said “It’s not the lack of extraterrestrial vehicles, it’s the lack of pilots who can actually fly them! These craft are, according to my ex-wife, controlled by a very sensitive, sophisticated artificial intelligence which merged, in some way, with her mind. The alien did that so he could interrogate her, but the net effect was that thereafter, she and the Ship were mentally linked, giving her the ability to work as its eyes and hands in repairing it,” Brenner explained.

“Flying one of these vehicles is going to require someone, like her, who has already been tuned-in to the sapient Ship and can do the equivalent of a ‘Vulcan mind-meld’ with its supercomputer,” Brenner continued. “It isn’t going to be easy, and if you don’t have what amounts to the computer’s password, it isn’t going to be fun, either!

“Such people are going to be in demand, to the point where our government might intervene to get them to cooperate, for National Security reasons,” Brenner mused. “I told my wife that her best protection from that would be to go on Oprah Winfrey’s show and tell her whole damn story. That way, if you ‘disappear,’ at least somebody with some clout will notice!” However, she rejected the idea.

Brenner has steadfastly refused to identify his ex-wife, or tell of her current whereabouts. “Somewhere between the Mississippi River and the eastern border of California,” he said when asked if he knew where she was. “She has relatives back East, somewhere, so she might be there, too.

“Please note that her son, in his late 30’s, served as a U.S. Army Ranger in the 10th Mountain Division for several years, surviving a brutal fire-fight in a conflict zone. I know for a fact that he will brook no intrusions whatsoever on his mother’s privacy,” Brenner warned would-be busybodies.

Brenner’s third book’s a memoir, “Growing Up in the Orgone Box: Secrets of a Reichian Childhood,” documenting the trauma inflicted on him by a sadistic pedophile psychiatrist and a cold, sometimes-brutal mother.

“Mel-Khyor” and “Wet Goddess” can be bought on Amazon, and an audiobook version of “Mel-Khyor” is available on Audible and other sellers. “Orgone Box” is at present only available as an ebook from Smashwords, but Brenner hopes to be able to reprint it as a trade paperback soon. He is working on a non-fiction book about his time as a newspaper reporter on the Navajo Nation.

Brenner’s web site is http://malcolmbrenner.com. He can be reached at malcolmb2@centurylink.net, or by cell phone at (415) 640-5013. Brenner strongly suggests you text him before calling, as he receives a lot of junk calls and sometimes answers them rudely.

Below is the Durango Herald’s clipping referred to above, documenting the alleged meteor’s fall.

And finally, a review of “Mel-Khyor” from the Florida Weekly.

That’s all for now, folks!

An “unidentified flying object” appears over the desert near Highway 50 in central Nevada. Photo taken with a 35mm Olympus OM-1 SLR camera, Kodacolor film, 35-70mm Zuiko zoom lens. Exposure f11 @ 1/125. Date: September, 1992.

NOTEZ BIEN: This post somehow went out yesterday restricted only to my subscribers, so thanks, both of you! But I meant it for the sweating masses of the Third World, the laboring ignorant peons that make up the bulk of Earth’s population, the ones who haven’t bought any of my books yet, and I don’t know how it got so restricted! Here it is again, now available to anybody who can read, which I hope includes you, dear reader! Enjoy, or enjoy again, if you got this yesterday. More to come!

GENTLY USED E-BOOKS, CHEAP!

The author as evil genius. Photo by Keithen Martinez.
The author as an evil genius. Photo by Keithen Martinez.

Hey, gang, here I go again! Only I lied when I wrote that headline, because these babies are brand new bargains and rarin’ to go! Drive ’em off the lot for up to 1/2 price, no trade-in required and no tiresome negotiations! I just didn’t think you’d believe me if I said that in the headline!

Yes, it’s the annual Summer/Winter Sale at Smashwords, my favorite purveyor of e-literature. Why? Because, with exquisite taste, they published me, when all other e-book distributors gave me either derisive scorn, or mocking laughter, at the thought of publishing a human-dolphin romance novel!

Well I’ve shown them, haven’t I? Since 2010, over 2,150 copies of Wet Goddess: Recollections of a Dolphin Lover sold in 18 countries, not including South Korea, which for some reason has a ban on Western books going even to U.S. service personnel, but a psychiatric institute in Beijing did order a copy to complete their collection on decadent, imperialistic Western sexual perversions, I guess. Got to keep up with trends in mental illness, after all, and delphinophilia is one of the latest!

(When looking for my books in Smashwords, be sure to set Filtering in the blue bar at the top of the page to Include all Erotica, otherwise you’ll never see them!)

To get a 25% discount on Wet Goddess regular price of $6.99, use this code: WE48B.

Not only that, but the memoir that rips wide-open the weird, creepy, seamy side of my childhood, and exposes New Age psychiatrist Dr. Wilhelm Reich for the idiotic fraud he was, Growing Up in the Orgone Box: Secrets of a Reichian Childhood, is on sale for 50% off!

What’s it like to be only 5 years old and lying on a couch, butt naked, with a dark, bitter man staring at you, who is going to hurt you, molest you and cause you only pain? And soundproof walls and a locked door stand between him and your father?

This book tells that story, reveals my mother’s callous indifference to my welfare, and exposes the dangers of believing in pseudo-science, or any unwarranted belief system whether religious or not, rather than your own child.

To get a 50% discount on Orgone Box regular price of $6.99, use this code: BJ25B

The Smashwords Summer/Winter Sale lasts from July 1-July 31, and they call it that because when it’s summer in this hemisphere it’s winter Down Under, right? Right!

And, maybe, I will get out an e-book copy of my straight, heterosexual sex-with-an-alien science-fiction novel Mel-Khyor: An Interstellar Affair in time for the sale. I’ve had some people who don’t like the audio book asking for it, and it’s time I did it, because it sure is gathering dust in paperback! Stranger things have happened, pigs have flown.

But basically you should buy my books for 2 reasons:

1) They are supremely entertaining, if weird, stories that happen to be true, and

2) I need to increase my gross income, so I can support my writing habit. And I’m Jonesing bad, man, bad!

Well, what are you waiting for?

True Crime and Coke®: Of Reich and Wicca!

Members of Amber K and Azrael’s coven gather on the hills above Los Alamos, N.M. to perform their magic rituals. A cover I shot, which never ran on the last of Llewellyn Publishing’s 4-volume “Witchcraft Today” series, because the first three volumes sold so badly they threw away this photo and changed the cover to something harmless and non-controversial, hoping to cover their tracks. Of course, it didn’t work. Photo ©1995 Malcolm J. Brenner.

NEWS FLASH: At precisely 8 p.m. on June 30 (if hostess TerriLee has her act together, likewise me, and the internet gods smile upon us), I will be a guest, for the second freaking time, on the podcast True Crime & Coke. This marks a new level of sophistication in my career as a dolphin evangelist, because it’s the first time anyone has asked me to be on a second time!


But this time, the subject won’t be those clever dolphins and their unstoppable sex drives. Instead, it will be two experiences in my life which affected me profoundly: The influence of the mad 1950’s pseudo-scientist Wilhelm Reich on my family when I was a child, documented in my memoir Growing Up in the Orgone Box; and, decades later, in my 30’s, learning to become a Witch (yes, not a warlock) from my first wife Seafoam, only to suffer, some 20 years later, a complete loss of my faith in ritual and magic as my marriage to my second wife (I can’t remember her magical name, so I’ll just call her as I do in my most recent science-fiction novel Mel-Khyor: An Interstellar Affair, Susie Louise) crumbled around me, taking my profession, home, family and sanity with it.

The late Dr. Wilhelm Reich with his “orgone energy cloud buster,” a claimed weather modification device which ran on bluster and pseudoscience.

I don’t know exactly how long the program will be, 1-2 hrs. (I can’t go much longer than that, especially starting at 8 p.m.) is the usual, or whether listeners will be able to ask questions by text or call in. All that is to be determined, is above my pay grade, is being contemplated by cool and objective minds far greater than mine… or any humans! Muuu-hahahahaha! But, if you’re not too busy digging your new flower bed in the evening hours, or working on a canning project, or finding a cleaning solution that remove those stubborn blood stains from the curtains, why don’t you tune in?

Members of the Neo-Pagan community particularly invited, not because I’m going to try to talk you into or out of anything, but maybe you can find something in my story to relate to. After all, who among us has not, at some time, doubted the efficacy of their magic? And Reichians? Sure, they can listen in if they want, and learn that their “Great Man” (Reich’s own term for himself — modest, much, Wilhelm?) had serious feet of clay. A man who, despite having written a textbook called Character Analysis, proved to be an absolutely clueless idiot when it came to analyzing the character of his closest associates.

What more can I say? I’m going to reveal some really awful family secrets? Yes. I’m going to spill my guts? I’m going to set my hair on fire? Sorry, no seppuku, no ignitions, but, as said of the celebrated Mr. Kite in the Beatles’ song,

“A splendid time is guaranteed for all, and tonight Mr. Kite is topping the biiiillllll!” (Cue the calliope.)