Mystery rocket on Moon sparks fears

Mystery rocket crashes on Moon

If alien beings aren’t already among us, they may be getting awfully close.

Evidence has come to light that aliens may be trying to set up a base on the Moon as a strategic location to rain Star Wars rockets down on the Earth.

A mystery rocket of unknown origin crashed onto the Moon and left a impact crater the likes of which have never been seen before.

Every space-exploring country on Earth has denied that the rocket was theirs. Certain countries of course (China and Russia come to mind) are diabolical liars. But if they had launched it, NASA would’ve gotten wind of it. Besides, there’s something about the crater left by this rocket that suggests it is of alien origin.

The crater, discovered by a NASA lunar orbiter, is a ‘double-impact’ crater — two craters immediately next to each another, one 60 feet across, and the other 54 feet in diameter. This indicates, said NASA, that the rocket had a large mass on each end of it, consistent with the design of a spacecraft. 

This is the first time a double-impact crater has been seen on the Moon. No other rocket-impact impressions on the Moon, including the four Apollo craters left during the Moon landings of the 1970s, ever created double craters.

A rocket hurtling through space on a collision course with the Moon was spotted by astronomers several months ago. It crashed on the Moon in March, but was only recently photographed by NASA’s Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter.

If the rocket wasn’t intended to land safely on the Moon as the first step to a lunar base, then it was headed for Earth, veered off course and hit the Moon. Now, if the errant rocket had the accuracy of, say, one those North Korean duds that Kim keeps shooting off, then we may have little to fear from the alien planet whence it came — for now. But what about the next rocket they fire?

“Something is going on,” said a NASA scientist, “something we’ve never seen before.”

Mystery rocket crashes on Moon.


It’s all over now, Goldilocks!


Kaitlin Armstrong captured

Texas love triangle killer Kaitlin Armstrong has been captured in Costa Rica after being on the run for 48 days in the killing of professional cyclist Moriah Wilson.

The elusive yoga guru was arrested by U.S. Marshals at a hostel on Santa Teresa Beach in Provincia de Puntarenas.

She will be deported to the U.S. to face charges in the May 11 murder of the 25-year-old cyclist.

Kaitlin Armstrong, skinny legs and all, her hair dyed dark brown, almost black. in custody in Costa Rica.


She had a phony passport and several thousand dollars on her, why the hell didn’t she go to a country that has no extradition treaty with the U.S., like Nepal or Indonesia, where she could have hung out in an island paradise for the rest of her life? Yoga must dull the brain.

The 34-year old fugitive is charged with shooting Mo Wilson multiple times because she had a brief fling with Kaitlin’s boyfriend, Colin Strickland.

Three days after the murder Kaitlin was spotted on surveillance cameras at the airport in Austin Texas boarding a flight for Houston with a connecting flight to LaGuardia Airport in New York City.

On May 18 she was reportedly seen ‘being dropped off’ at Newark Liberty International Airport in New Jersey, where she used a phony passport to fly to San Jose, Costa Rica.


Backstory here.

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Strange awakening

Grief strengthens the spirit.

Grief strengthens the spirit. Lighter color

If you live alone long enough, without the woman who made you a man, you become your own man again. The man you were when you traveled 10,000 miles on a cargo ship to get here. The man you were at twenty years old when you lived alone in a three-story walkup on 49th Street.

That man again. Time has made you decades older. Physically there has been some damage, but the mind and the spirit are still strong. They weakened to their lowest level when the woman who made you a man died. The woman who got you through an unbearable loss that you bore because she made you a man and then one day four days before Christmas you came home without her—to the same warm house—

and she was in a cold basement morgue.

That was the most unbearable loss of all—

and you didn’t have her to get you through it.

You wandered around the warm cold house in a drunken haze, calling her name, screaming, crying, you sat in the dead living room night after night smoking and drinking in an 80-proof daze, the loaded rifle not far away—

but you never used it—why?—why in the name of God or the godless name of nothingness didn’t you use it? For three years and six months you took it out of the closet and felt its weight and admired its beauty and craftsmanship and checked the bullet in the chamber, the bullet that would blow your brain to kingdom come—

but you never used it.

And then one morning, you can’t explain it, nothing led up to it, nothing foreshadowed it, no action or dream foretold it, you woke up and you felt strangely stronger. Nothing outwardly had changed. The cat was sleeping on the end of the bed, the day stretched before you with the same emptiness that was now years in the making—

but you were stronger.

You were your own man again. That young man, decades older now, in the bare-boards room on 49th Street.

If you believed in miracles you would call this a miracle. You were as alone as ever, but you weren’t alone. Grief strengthens the spirit.

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