Blair MacKenzie Blake

With special thanks to my friends Thora Eirikurdottir and Thora Gottskalkdottir for providing me with certain information pertaining to the famous galdramenn.


(There goes the neighborhood)
(Rounding up the Star Maidens)


"Hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new lands..."
- Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin

Ever since the February 2003 e.v. newsletter entitled "Porrablot! (Thorrablot)", I have received several dozen emails from Icelandic Tool enthusiasts pleading with me to convince the members of the band to perform in the capital city of Reykjavik during their next European tour. However, more recently, some of these same fans have been writing me in my solipsistic multiverse, describing what is evidently a recent blitz of UFO activity over their eerily beautiful homeland, adding that now there is even more of a reason for the band to pay a visit (as if the tellurian spectacle and high-heeled Freyjas wasn't enough)!

Well, if I'm right, next, a few of these people will dust off their copy of The Galdrabok (or, in this case, the dark grimoire Graskinni, i.e. Gray Leather) in order to give the prog-metal boys a friendly nudge towards the land of fire and ice. Okay, first of all, let me assure all the Icelandic fans out there that there's no need to take such drastic measures (I recommend using the second part of the latter grimoire). Although Tool's manager might not deem it financially advisable, with or without suppressed UFO/UAO activity (including the very real possibility of an Icelandic "Dulce') or any other paranormal shenanigans, it is certainly one of my main missions in life to get the band to play before an Icelandic mosh-pit filled with blue-eyed Viking women painted with aegishjalmur and thorshamar tattoos. As Kazakhstan television's Borat might say, "You have knocked me to floor with you are breasts. I like."

But knowing that Viking vimanas, valixi, etc. alone might not do the trick, for the past few months I've been not-so-subliminally softening up (perhaps not the right term) the individual band members with my own version of an Icelandic travel guide (I did, however, include some of the usual stuff about geothermal spas teeming with blonde darlings wearing nothing but the Aurora Borealis). Thus I began my pitch, ICELAND 101, complete with slide show and laser pointer: Contrary to popular belief, due to the Gulf Stream, it's not as cold as a witch's tit in a brass bra on the shady side of an iceberg. It's quite comfortable, actually, and besides, as Bill Hicks said of us Angelinos, what are we - lizards? Forget for a moment a lime wedge shoved into a Corona at Mexicali, Danny - how about for a change a piping hot bowl of reindeer stew with shots of Black Death schnapps!

Another bloke, who shall remain nameless, raised more than a brow when I casually mentioned that Reykjavik translates to English as "Bay of Smoke." And then there's the haunted coast of Strandir with its Museum of Icelandic Sorcery and Witchcraft (in Holmavik). Those "corpse breeches" on display (a kind of pair of pants made from intact human skin dug up from a grave in a churchyard) would sure look good in someone's living room. Okay, maybe they're not for sale, but how about the bones of a great Auk? Or maybe the sheer joy of watching Icelandic children ‘saving' stranded Puffins that were confused by streetlights pretending to be the moon... before mom has the decorative birds sautéed as dinner's main course? (NOTE: the selling point here is that there are streetlights out in the Icelandic boonies).

Never mind edaphology - it's highly over-rated. With regards to the rarely-mentioned Icelandic vineyards... think about all those dottirs: Imagine yourself in a quaint little turf in a gingerbread house, sprawled on a sheepskin rug before a smoldering hearth... no a cracking fireplace, sipping the jeweled wine of the navel of some golden-haired lovely hammered on Brennivin, reciting 1000-year-old Norse sagas while nibbling on pickled rams' testicles... no, scratch forget that... (Damn, was that out loud?). Try again. Think about all those dottirs. According to one source, Iceland, with a population of only some 280,000 inhabitants (not counting trolls, ghosts, and ogres), already has three Miss Universes.

You do the math! (NOTE: not one to take any chances, I did my own web search and found this to be erroneous - unless, that is, you count Miss Congeniality, in which case Miss Iceland won that particular title one time [1974]. However, despite the girls' dramatic storytelling of the sagas in their ENTIRETY, Iceland does have two Miss World titleholders [originally a bikini contest], in 1985 and 1988. But, when it comes to the Miss Multiverse pageant, the number of Icelandic winners is absolutely staggering. There may be a rather shocking reason for this, which I will explain in due course).

Did I mention the Viking ecstasy cult? (I know what you're thinking - no, it's not that good!) I'm talking about the Berserkers - yes, like those in the mosh pit - intoxicated from reindeer urine (or milk if you'd prefer) laced with Amanita muscaria.

I have saved the best for last. How could you not want to play in a country that Richard M. Nixon once described as "a God-forsaken place", upon which a sudden gust of wind almost knocked him on his ass. This was no doubt the work of the Icelandic spirits, with the family ghosts of emigrants continuing to harass "Tricky Dick" when they weren't busy throwing apple pies into the fields (evidently, you're supposed to feed them, too).

So far, Wes Borland wants to go, but only in the dark midwinter. And he wants to drink his schnapps from a ram's horn like the Vikings. Camella's on the fence, but when I tell her more about Strandir with its 17th-century victims of witch-hunts that were burned alive in a sinister-looking rock formation called the kista (coffin?), and about the necromancers with runic inscriptions painted with blood, raising ghosts above moon-ensilvered tombs, and the dance of spirits appearing as curtains of spectral light in purple and green, she will begin planning a trip over rounds of Stellas. As insurance, the atomskald brings up the maidens on Austurstraeti, drinks on Laufasvegur Street, and the after-hours party in Lackjartorg Square. Truly and an "almighty binge." There will be dark ‘Gothic' beaches and tasty lava bread, elf bonfires, talking cows and stolen shadows. Tolkien based his "Lord of the Rings" on Icelandic mythology! Led Zeppelin played there! "Cry Valhalla (er,Valholl) I AM COMING!" ... And then kiss your thumb... The Stygian gloom of boulder-strewn moors... Odd Black dots... What the hell! Mysterious beings seen on mist-enshrouded glaciers bathed with a strange luminosity... And guess what - we don't even have to bring the silver Coleman...

But getting back to the e-mailers dangling their carrots: Although I knew that Iceland had been a hotbed of UFO sightings and anomalous events in the 90s, the more I began to look into the Icelandic affair, the stranger the story got. In fact, it could fill a pretty good- sized cabinet with X-files.


"Why don't the damn things swim so we can turn them over to the Navy."
- Edward J. Ruppelt
(Former head of the United States Air Force
Project Blue Book investigating flying saucers)

In a country steeped in the magic of the Old Norse gods, with elves, ghosts, and spirits of all kinds populating the seemingly otherworldly geography, it was inevitable that certain elements of Icelandic folk traditions involving mysterious lights and supernatural beings would be given a modern translation whereupon they become UFOs and further examples of an alien presence. But the richness of Icelandic folklore aside, a sequence of events in the winter of 1992 involving numerous sightings of anomalous craft have led some researchers, most notably Tony Dodd of the UK, to consider the existence of a secret alien base in the North Atlantic.

As outlined in Dodd's book, "Alien Investigator" (Headline Books), according to a source within Naval Intelligence, around Christmas several fast-moving and intelligently-controlled objects were tracked on radar coming down into the sea off the east coast of Iceland near Langeness. Witnesses reported these submarine-like objects speeding underwater while surrounded by bright multicolored lights. Evidently somebody dropped a knife while cleaning fish and the knife pointed towards land, or so it must have seemed to the minds of the Icelandic fishermen (that or they forgot their lukkustafir), because having caused extensive damage to trawl nets of local fishing vessels, patrol boats from the Icelandic Coast Guard were called to investigate. But soon the smaller Icelandic vessels were joined by a fleet of American and British warships. To explain the NATO flotilla, the press reported that military exercises were being conducted in the Icelandic Arctic area, leaving many to speculate whether or not the reports involving anomalous underwater craft might be of Russian origin. As the sightings proliferated, mechanical problems plagued several of the ships including a British submarine, and an American warship was said to be missing (however, this incident may have occurred later in the spring of 1993). As weather conditions worsened in January, some of the smaller Icelandic patrol boats were forced to seek shelter in a fjord (were local residents reported seeing strange small beings), leaving only several American warships to monitor the situation, having instructed all other vessels not to enter within a specific number of nautical miles.

As the UFO/UAO activity continued, in April of 93 (or May according to some sources), information pertaining to the sightings as well as the reports that two Icelandic fishing boats were missing was suppressed. These fishing vessels were said to have vanished off the eastern peninsula of Iceland, and more specifically near the mysterious Siensfell (meaning skull?) region. Having attempted to construct a time line from the available information, I believe that it's at this point that an American warship also went missing. But this was no ordinary American warship.


Although the program was first developed as a joint Navy, Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) and Lockheed Martin project, the Navy's stealthy IX 529 Sea Shadow was veiled in secrecy until 1993 when it came out in the open - literally from inside the Hughes Mining Barge, a totally enclosed submersible dock were the IX 529 was assembled, at times being tested "in the dead of night" off the California. According to the Navy "NewsStand" the highly-classified ship was inventoried as a "miscellaneous craft", and never designated as "USS."

It has since been revealed by the Navy itself that the black, futuristic-looking Sea Shadow was built as a premiere test platform for experimental naval technologies including artificial intelligence applications = crew reduction, advanced communication, propulsion and reduced signatures (i.e. stealth features).

From information leaked to several researchers, it was the Sea Shadow that was dispatched to the coast of Iceland in 1993 to join in the massive NATO search (which now included Russian naval ships) for the two missing Icelandic fishing vessels. With the inclusion of the Russian ships, it's not hard to conjure up lurid images of an "Alternative 3" scenario, and that's the direction that the Icelandic affair seemed to be headed. Although ostensibly searching for the fishing boats, it was said that in actually the Sea Shadow was towing a barge that contained sophisticated surveillance equipment that was to be used to monitor underwater alien mining operations near Iceland. Evidently the mineral rich sea floor in the area contained deposits of "naturally radioactive material" that were of interest to these extraterrestrials. But if such deposits exist, might not they be of interest to those a bit more terrestrial? At any rate, while searching for something, the Sea Shadow itself disappeared, and according to contacts within the intelligence community, the recovery operation for the (ironically) stealthy ship, detection devices and all, was still ongoing.

Between 1993 and 1996 there were more sightings near Iceland of both discoidal and large black triangular craft that were observed hovering over fishing vessels. These encounters with strange lightforms and anomalous aeroforms caused more than one ship's captain to hit the bottle (and there's nothing worse than a distraught Viking!). And then one evening in 1996, the captain of a fishing boat (presumably sober or at least by Icelandic standards) radioed in that he and his entire crew had just witnessed an American warship disappear in a sudden blinding flash of light. Naturally this Philadelphia Experiment-like incident, if true, has led some ufologists to think that some advanced masking technology was involved, rather than aliens. And with what we've just read about the Navy's test platform, Sea Shadow, this does seem the more likely explanation. So was the IX 529 ever missing, or was it, as a stealth technology, just missing?


According to an article by Lockheed Martin Laboratories, after being "laid up for five years" inside the Hughes Mining Barge, the Sea Shadow was reactivated in 1999 from its new home in a barge on a Naval dock in San Diego as a technology test platform and operated with the U.S. Navy Third Fleet during FBE "Echo" as well as other Naval operations. The article concludes by stating that "Prior to its inactivation in 1995, Sea Shadow demonstrated a number of advanced technologies, including high-performance distributed computing and artificial intelligence applications for combat systems, ship control, and advanced communication." I suppose those of a more conspiratorial bent might, as I did, appreciate the way the last sentence was phrased.

They might also have cause to raise a brow upon learning that a retired Lockheed Corporation engineer was arrested in May of 1995 on espionage charges after trying to sell classified documents related to the Sea Shadow to an FBI agent who was posing as a foreign government representative.


Based on the available (or suppressed) information about the UFO/UAO sightings near Iceland, a few researchers have concluded that there is a top secret military base in the North Atlantic. Even fewer believe that this underwater base belongs to aliens similar (sans the underwater part) to the secret alien base believed to be in Dulce, New Mexico.

According to Dodd, "small creatures have been reported on the Snaefellsjokull glacier, where residents leave food out for the ‘little grey people' who live under the glacier." When I read this, the first thing that popped into my head was "Damn, those Icelandic people have a much better plan for dealing with the reptilian grays than we did at Dulce, where a firefight left 68 Americans dead." They leave their food! Would that be the food of the traditional Thorrablot feast? "Godam dag!" What do they leave - some blackened ram's balls in pickling broth or maybe just on a bed of moss and lichen with a nice glass of skyr, surely the horror of the Thorrablot, being milk with bits of a cow's stomach. How about sautéed whale blubber with a bottle of Egils Orange (appelsin)? Here, have some rancid buried shark that has been urinated on by angry Vikings and we'll be on our way back to the world's largest KFC in Reykjavik (there goes the neighborhood). After that delectable Icelandic cuisine, I suppose Colonel Sander's greasy chicken might really be finger-lickin' good. The world's largest KFC in Iceland! So they've thrown in the towel. That means that Del Taco and Der Wienerschnitzel will be coming soon... and there's nothing mystical about that. Speaking of which, I once talked an Icelandic lady friend of mine into eating a chili dog down at the Sunset Grill and it damn near killed her! Other than a nasty mustard stain on my jeans, I was no worse for wear, that is, until the glittering sorcereress inscribed certain staves (see #46 of The Galdrabok ) with blood from her thigh on white calfskin. Oh well, the Reykajavik Der Wienerschintzel dogs will probably be made from sheep and sawdust and served on a roll of leaf bread. God, I hate to think of the toppings on that Papa John's, but we know, don't we? Can you pronounce hrutspungar? But getting back to the Huldufolk (the Hidden People) that live underground, in a country in which some 60% of the population believe in elves and trolls, I can't think of a better place to hide a secret alien base.

As previously mentioned, folklore in Iceland is a rich field, with the supernatural Huldufolk said to be tall and beautiful, with features resembling the description of the Nordic-looking 50's space brothers and more recent clone-like, androgynous "Talls" or "Blondes" who are sometimes seen working in tandem with the smaller grey types during the abduction phenomenon.

But here's why the underground dwellers - I mean ETs might fare better in Iceland: In other countries if there are electrical or mechanical disturbances associated with UFOs, their alien occupants or the spacecraft themselves are blamed. Reports are filed, investigations conducted, and if necessary, the military is called into action. However, in Iceland, if, say, a bulldozer goes on the fritz during the construction of modern roadworks, a medium or such may be brought in to determine whether or not the boulders or misty hillocks about to be removed may be, or have been inhabited by elves or trolls. If so, if possible, the Icelandic engineers will carefully place said obstruction elsewhere, thus appeasing the hidden folk. Superstitious gestures perhaps, but if we stop and think about it, these excellent relations the Icelandic people have with those of the paranormal realms convey a more simple down to earth message about having respect for others, namely those of flesh and blood.

Consider the plethora of supernatural beings woven into the Icelandic Yuletide tapestry. Towards the winter solstice, no less than 13 different Santas are expected to come down from their mountain dwellings. These are the Jolasveinar, impish fellows with names like Reykjasvelgur (Smoke Gulper) and Faldafeykir (Skirt Blower) who, by the way, is my favorite of the various Yulemen, especially if the mischievous little devil gets one of those Miss Universes on Laufasvegur Street ( even Miss Congeniality will do). So if you're cruising along near the local fjord in the family car and suddenly the lights go out on a fine dark midwinter's day, it's not an alien spacecraft hovering over the Citroen snowmobile, it's just freakin' Lampaskuggi (Lamp Shadow). Or, one minute you're enjoying a bowl of mutton soup when suddenly you're paralyzed with fear (troll shots?) and floated away in a beam of light. Some kind of extraterrestrial device, you say? Nope, it's the work of the Jolasveinars' medieval ogre parents, Gryla and Leppaluoi, abducting children from their Hansel and Gretal-like houses (as the architecture of Reykjavik has been described by others). Physical traces, no problem! Physical traces by monsters before disappearing into the sea! That's not to say that the Icelandic authorities don't take certain precautions. For example, some maps still contain warnings to unsuspecting travelers to beware of ghosts and trolls. And during the Yule season there are some things that you absolutely just don't do. Play cards on Christmas day and two King of Diamonds will appear in the pack and the devil will take your soul!

(There goes the neighborhood)

There is an Old Icelandic superstition that if something is spilled a drunken man will soon visit. In this case, a better saying might be "if somebody throws away a dead mouse, the wind will soon start to blow from that direction." That somebody dumped soap into a geyser or that a rainbow appeared in a golden waterfall wasn't enough. No, it was all the UFO/UAO activity that scrambled NATO planes from Keflavik that brought the crystal-laden New Agers and wannabe shamans to the power spots in Iceland. Can't you just see them snow-catting across the lava fields on a pilgrimage to congregate at their favorite vortex, in most cases the mystical Snaefellsjokull icecap, with their didgeridoos and tetrahedrons, attempting via merkaba techniques to contact extraterrestrial or interdimensional beings.

Tales of small leprechaun-like creatures, dwarves and gnomes might be harmless, and even good for tourism, but summoning Draconaunts or trans-mundane intelligences into the light might not be so wise, especially since, in my opinion, those responsible for them, the galdramenn, didn't play by the same rules. By the way, did anyone bother to consult a proper instruction manual before welcoming these things into the light? And if attempting to contact them isn't bad enough, evidently some of these people are trying to convert the blue-eyed dragons. What? Attempting to convert undesirable things! How about: "I heard you gentlemen trade diamonds for dog shit." Why didn't the fundamentalist Christians think of that? So, we have Draconauts descending some ethereal stairway into a temple glacier lit with opalescent candles near a shimmering ice-tunnel where they are greeted by white-robed ambassadors of Gaia busy activating crystals and blowing on digeridoos with hopes of transforming the otherworldly denizens into lightbrothers. Okay, but some Dracos based in Iceland (Blue Book unknowns?), as well as some Icelanders themselves, or so I hope, are just stubborn. Just leave food! Tofu sheep balls (by the way, the little grays, those glorified bio-machines, don't really have mouths, do they?). Andromedan lightships. Energy vortices. Multidimensional healing. What with the lightships and all, it just seems like the pee-wees playing the pros. Perhaps I'm being too critical of the lightbrothers and their guests, the esteemed INXTRIA/Andromedans, but just remember what one Icelander warned me about in a recent dream: "If you're going to light your little finger, be sure you're standing next to a waterfall." And yes, if it makes you happy, someone was blowing on a didgeridoo in this dream.


If the anomalous lightforms and other paranormal happenings in Iceland can't all be explained by the technology of cosmic beings or black-budget military projects, then we might want to consider the possibility that it's the work of the galdramenn (magicians). Many of these creatures of Icelandic folklore - that which gives it its spooky mystique, could be akin to what the Tibetans call tuplas or thought-forms magically conjured into existence by the power of concentration or, better yet, by an imagination immensely refined. When fed with psychic energy, these projections or constructs of fine matter take on a life outside the sphere of the magician-creator, no longer having a subjective existence but becoming an objective reality in what could be considered a type of mass hypnosis. People like to say that things like tulpas or astral constructs exist solely in the mind - to which the magician answers: yes, true... but so does the bullet fired from a gun. The technical lore of Icelandic magic is beyond the scope of our inquiry, but from a description of all the psychic aspects of a human being as realized by the magician, we might also entertain the idea that some of these beings are aspects or facets of the human body-soul structures - shades, shadows or after-death images of someone raised from the dead by a necromancer, becoming ghosts (draugur) called upon for a specific purpose.

Tampering with neural circuitry can be a dangerous business, but in studying the procedures of the medieval Icelandic galdramenn, I'm not at all surprised that the country is said to be populated by so many, to be charitable, capricious things. As I said earlier, the magicians here didn't play by the same rules. Unlike the ‘darkly' colorful props and complex preparatory rites of ceremonial magick as practiced by most contemporary western occultists, the galdramenn dispensed with the lengthy preparations for a specific magical operation, considering himself, instead, even in what others would consider a vulnerable state, exempt, or at least already prepared enough to jump into the deep end of the pool (or the Icelandic equivalent). Similarly, in most cases, he didn't feel the need to protect himself from the powers summoned to help work his will. (NOTE: See "Theory and Practice of Magic in the Galdrabok" by Steven Flowers). Moreover, since he had no need to protect himself from these entities, he had no need to banish them either, that is, to give them the License to Depart back to their natural habitation.

In studying the magical runic technology of the Icelandic galdramenn, another thing that might surprise the average magician is the way they dealt with sigils or, rather, the graphic signs called galdrastafir that, using Flowers words, "graphically embody the aim of the operation." Another way to think of these line drawings or staves, as they are called in Icelandic magic, is that they serve as the signatures of the entities summoned. In the Icelandic system, these graphic signs or doorways through which entities come to do the Will of the magician weren't always drawn with linear exactitude. To quote Flowers: "Except for the most common signs (e.g., the Aegishjalmur and Thorshamur), the shapes of the ‘staves' are rarely repeated." And then there are the villurunir, or coded runes in the Icelandic grimoires that were designed to conceal and confuse those attempting to employ them for magical purposes.

So, besides the galdramenn themselves, who, as we've seen, weren't exactly a cautious lot and didn't bother to banish their astral constructs, when combined with the more efficacious grimoires (untainted by Christianity which came relatively late to Iceland), and, adding to this the artificial complication of the coded runes, there seems to be little margin for error. I realize that the more threatening entities are rarely encountered because most magicians (and New-Agers) are protected by their own ineptitude, but, still, you have the ambassadors of Gaia gathered at their favorite pilgrimage spot or in churches painted black, armed with only good intentions and a lot of New-age twaddle, attempting to channel things that have possibly laid dormant for aeons whilst working in consort with "guests' whom they believe to be lightbrothers - add to this a pen made with a raven's feather and I get a tad nervous. For their sake, I hope the Draconants or whatever they are have constructed their own Ring-Pass-Not.


Any arm-chair occultist will tell you that many undesirable things are attracted into the magician's circle, especially if there isn't a circle, which appears to be the case with the Icelandic mages. And at first, that's exactly what I thought happened when I ‘chanced' upon an article written by a "serious" ufologist who milks anything new age, and whose initials are, aptly enough, B.S. The article claimed that some unsavory shape-shifting aliens were disguising themselves as earthlings (beautiful women, no less) so as not to be recognized while they secretly lived amongst us (no doubt plotting evil deeds).

As evidence someone reported that while plying one of these lovely star maidens with alcohol to loosen her tongue (whatever happened to thumb screws and a spine roller?), after downing a dozen vodka martinis, not only wasn't the woman the least bit tipsy that she slurred a syllable or two, but she didn't even excuse herself to use the ladies' room. Well, if this woman was Icelandic, as I suspect she was, then that doesn't necessarily prove anything. In fact, sans the dry vermouth, it sounds just like the Icelandic girl I know on any given Monday afternoon. Skal!

(Rounding up the Star Maidens)

While consulting an article in an Explorer Guide (more like a Field Guide I'm sad to say) about the lifestyle of Icelandic women in general, I began to wonder if I could have been wrong about the star maidens and their secret agenda (I don't think the Dracos or nasty little grays assumed the forms of flaxen-haired beauties just to sample ram testicles, but I could be wrong). Evidently, in 1997 (during another UFO flap in Iceland), with the NATO fleet anchored in Reykjavik, numerous decorated naval officers hit the bars and cafes, personally inviting hundreds of beautiful Viking women to a gala night of revelry on their battleships. Was this more CIA chicanery, I wondered, connected with the UFO/UAO activity in the area? Did the mysterious creatures sighted in the mist-swallowed Fjords shape-shift, masquerading now as high-heeled Freyjas - the perfect camouflage on the streets of Reykjavik, home base to what many consider to be the world's most beautiful women. If so, were the naval officers in a sense collecting in a drag-net the beautiful Viking women with hopes of subjecting them to a series of tests (other than Vodka martinis this time) to determine which ones were, in fact, ETs? Well, even though getting an Icelandic woman to party isn't exactly like trying to extract sunbeams from cucumbers, evidently neither those with borrowed plumes nor the Icelandic women themselves were taking the bait, because, as reported in a local paper the next day, only a couple of women attended the night's festivities. Nice try, though.


Around the same time that the naval officers were attempting to gather up the star maidens, scouts from Playboy magazine rolled into town, looking for women to pose in puris naturalibus for an upcoming layout entitled "The Hot Hot Women of Iceland." And find them they did - some even more beautiful (if that's possible) than those in my Field Guide... er, Explorer Guide. Although I'm pretty sure that the women of Ultima Thule don't have any hang-ups about nudity, I wouldn't count on another Playboy pictorial featuring the hot hot women of Iceland any time soon. Evidently, there was a considerable amount of fall out on Islandia as a result of the women posing in the magazine. Even the commentary that accompanied the photography said that "a bit of finger-pointing is expected when this issue hits the newsstands." But despite the protests of the models' boyfriends and all others, the women persisted. In the words of one model: "An Icelandic woman is not to be pushed about... we were feminists before feminism was invented." Fine, and I wouldn't argue with her, but did anyone ever consider that the level of Nordic beauty on display in the 1998 August issue is in reality a testament, not to the ability, but to the competency of reptilian alien shape-shifting? Think about this and think about it again. It's absolutely frightening. I remember when this Triton among the minnows first hit the stand: all those lovely Viking dottirs posing by geo-thermal baths and on blankets of sheep wool, stripped of everything but their cell phones (which they will never part with). For years I had been fascinated by these creatures, so much so that I ‘painted' the staves with spear-blood. But it wasn't until recently, in light of certain revelations, that I finally understood the reason why. Now, I had been told about Icelandic passports - that even if a woman's eyes were green (a rarity in these parts), on the passport they will still be listed as blue (Do you get the idea)? With this in mind, even so, there was one photo in particular in the Playboy spread that really caught my attention. When I showed the photos of the girls to Camella, her exact words were: "I can't believe you're so fascinated by these uber-chicks. They look like clones."

It was back in July of 1998 when I first bought a copy of the August issue of Playboy that featured the women of Iceland. I was in a terminal at BWI Airport, on my way back to Los Angeles from a family vacation near North Myrtle Beach. Spotting the magazine on the shelve as I headed towards my gate proved to be rather synchronistic with regards to the other reading material that I had just recently obtained and now had in my briefcase to peruse on the flight back home. The day before, while staying in a beach house on one of the outer barrier islands, I had received via FED-X a copy of the very rare VARO edition of M.K. Jessup's "The Case for the UFO" that I had purchased from an antiquarian book dealer in Salt Lake City. For over a decade I had been searching for a copy of this book that many researchers and collectors consider to be the Holy Grail of UFO publications. For those who are unfamiliar with the VARO edition, briefly, the story goes like this: in the 1950s a copy of Jessup's seminal book of the UFO phenomenon was sent anonymously to Admiral Furth who was at the time the Chief Officer of the ONR (Office of Naval Research). This copy had been heavily annotated by an enigmatic source claiming to be three separate individuals, MR. A, Mr. B, and Jemi. Besides the idiosyncrasies of spelling and the extremely bizarre phraseology, the marginal notations, or at least so it seemed to the officers at ONR, implied an intimate knowledge of UFOs as well as detailed knowledge of US Navy experiments in 1943. This was, of course, the now famous Philadelphia Experiment, which involved the degaussing or disappearance of a naval ship and its crew similar to the more recent incident off the coast of Iceland where the crew of a fishing vessel reported seeing an American warship suddenly vanish in a blinding flash of light. There are other similarities between the reports of anomalous phenomena in Iceland and events described in the VARO edition of Jessup's book (which was eventually printed in an extremely small run to be distributed amongst Naval Intelligence Personnel) and there may be an important connection that researchers have hitherto missed. More about this later.

So, on the flight back to L.A., besides the ragged 50s Varo edition and the glossy current issue of Playboy, I also had in my brief case Xerox copies of various documents that I obtained from a source working for a government agency in Washington DC. Several of these papers concerned the 1947 Roswell incident, the much-publicized sequence of events surrounding the purported crash/retrieval of an alien spacecraft and crew in the New Mexico desert. But, coincidently enough, the first document that I pulled from the stack and began reading contained an account of an incident involving an encounter between a UFO occupant and military security personnel near an airport runway. The year was 1957, and the place was none other than Reykjavik (Keflavik), Iceland. Here is part of the text with the names of the people involved ‘blacked' out:


"... Another story told to me by a former Air Force man might be of interest. His name is ****** *** ****. At the time, 1957, he was a Staff Sergeant assigned to security at Wright-Patterson AFB. One day he and his squad were put on alert and ordered to board a transport aircraft. They were issued hot weather gear and assumed that their destination was somewhere on the African continent. En route, the aircraft was suddenly diverted and they arrived at a base covered with snow and ice somewhere in the Atlantic. It turned out to be Rejkavik (sic), Iceland. **** and his troops were issued cold weather gear and dispatched out on the desolate runway to stand guard over a flight of bombers. **** and his partner were at the far end of the runway, having been told nothing about the need for the sudden extreme measures of security. While on duty, **** noticed a person walk up onto a ridge a hundred or so yards away from his station. He said that he thought it must be a native woman because the figure had shoulder length blonde hair and was wearing a skin tight suit which he took to be some sort of ski apparel. He sent his partner over to enquire what the person was doing. As his partner approached the figure on the hill, **** says that he became nervous. As the person turned, first of all, he could see plainly that it was not a woman from the flat chest. Also, this person was very tall, towering over ****'s partner. The person put his arm around ****'s partner and lead him over the ridge out of ****'s view. Several minutes passed as **** became increasingly agitated. Then he saw his partner appear over the ridge, walking slowly back toward him, dragging his rifle. As he approached, **** demanded, "Who was that? What happened?" His badly shaken partner said, "He talked to me, but his mouth didn't move. It was like music in my head. He told me we had to stop testing atomic weapons." At this juncture, **** looked toward the ridge and saw a classic saucer shaped UFO lift off, hover for a moment and then shoot off. **** radioed for help, which came shortly. He and his partner were taken inside, separated, and debriefed for hours. **** was told to say nothing about what he had seen or what his partner had said and he never saw the partner again!"


As I said, this is only part of the document, with much of the text referring to various attachments regarding "primitive communications" between humans and aliens. On the surface, the encounter in Iceland in 1957 is reminiscent of the meetings between the odd lot of contactees and saucer ride boys of the 1950s and the tall, blonde Nordic-looking space brothers with their preoccupation with atomic matters (although in the case of the Ozark Mountain [Missouri] farmer Buck Nelson, the aliens couldn't fathom (and genuinely seemed to be concerned) why earthlings put labels on cans of Pork and Beans with the pork before the beans when the contents contained far more beans. This was the same contactee who told investigators that, when taken on a trip into space on a flying saucer, he couldn't see the sun because outer space was so dark! He also once ordered 9000 hot dogs for a gathering of 300 people, but, hey, at least these hot dogs were cow lips and ass-holes, and not sheep's).

Okay, maybe with these cheap pulp sci-fi scenarios, the aliens give us what they feel we might be expected to comprehend (racist overtones and all), or maybe they're the pilots of Nazi saucers trying to talk us out of atomic weapons because they don't have any, but there are so many glaring errors in the asinine statements made by the self-proclaimed poobahs of saucerdom (especially for Nazis) that it seems far more likely that the majority are hoaxes for money, fame, etc. or the doings of the intelligentsia, an orchestrated program to confuse the issue or for some other ulterior motive. In the case of the Icelandic encounter, however, it might have been one of the Huldufolk (hidden people), either that or maybe the Draconauts in their secret North Atlantic base used to shape-shift into male earthlings, but in more recent times found assuming the shapes of beautiful females to be more satisfying.


But there's even another explanation to what the soldiers saw: The tall, blonde Nordic-looking fellow may have been just that: none other than Thorgeirsboli himself - the most famous and glorious of the Icelandic ghosts, a ghost, get this - that can reproduce. (NOTE: It's believed that most Icelandic family [emigrant] ghosts resurrected by necromancers and sent to harass and attack their enemies {Vikings!} can't reproduce and have an average life-span of about 120 years). Perhaps Thorgeirsbol or one of his off-spring was worried about atomic explosions disrupting the fabric of his space-time continuum. Maybe I'm missing something, but a ghost that can reproduce in Iceland, with all those beautiful skotta (female ghosts) at his disposal, would surely have reason to be concerned. So, does this mean that the mist rolling over the moors in Trekyllisvik is actually cigarette smoke?


There is another facet to the Icelandic affair that I'm currently working on and this involves a royal mystery and a royal cover up in which all the papers and documents have disappeared. Among the dramatis personae was the Duke of Kent who, on an August day in 1942, along with 13 others, died in unexplained circumstances while in flight from Scotland to Iceland, ostensibly to boost the morale of British troops on the island. After the crash of the Sunderland air-boat into a mountain known as Eagle's Rock (flying in thick fog, the plane had strayed over land instead of hugging the coast line), within hours, special orders were given so that every trace of the wreckage was removed (shades of Roswell). Although they were also ferrying bottles of alcohol as gifts to the Icelandic people, who were a bit resentful of a British presence, (I know what you're thinking - damn family ghosts!), it is very doubtful that the hand-picked pilots and crack flight crew were drinking with such an important passenger on board.

A big part of the mystery is that, in the end, 13 people were dead, one more than the number of the manifest, and it took 32 minutes for the plane to travel 60 miles, leaving an unaccounted for half an hour of time. Therefore, it seems likely that another passenger was secretly picked up while en route to Iceland. From what I've learned, there may have been some other reason for making the trip... and for the crash and cover up and this didn't involve the Duke of Kent's pro-Nazi sentiments or a possible peace accord involving Rudolph Hess like some researchers of the mystery have suggested. Rather, certain facets of the mysterious crash may be connected to the events surrounding the famous Roswell incident that occurred 5 years later. So far, to the best of my knowledge, no researchers have made this connection, but in 1997 a couple of Cincinnati-based engineers promised to reveal startling revelations about the Roswell crash/retrieval in a book entitled "Ice Man Down." Did this refer to dead alien bodies on ice, or was the title just based on a random military code-name, but one that, coincidently, offered a tantalizing clue as to the true nature of the mystery? The latter could very well be the case, but, as I've come to realize from my own findings, with the Icelandic affair, there are no coincidences.


If the UFO phenomena is, in part at least, as Jacques Vallee suggests, projections as teachers (i.e. projections of things they want us to see to convince us of something), then the UFO/UAOs alleged to be conducting mining operations off the coast of Iceland in the Siensfell (skull?) region should be a real eye opener. But if it isn't, The Icelandic people might just be able to help us. Remember those crazy superstitious beliefs? Well, if I make it over to Iceland this winter when it's dark enough for Wes Borland, and the witch execution site in Strandir is particularly sinister looking, I might decide not to play cards on X-mas while downing shots of Black Death schnapps with all those gorgeous blonde dottirs. But if I did, and if two King of Diamonds should miraculously appear in the pack, then I won't be too worried. Does somebody really want you to believe that, for this little transgression, the devil is going to steal your soul, or is somebody trying to tell us something by drawing our attention to this particular card? Take a deck of ordinary playing cards and pull out all four kings. What is it about the physical features of the harlequin King of Diamonds that is different from the other three? Now meditate for a minute or two on the relative positions of the three predominant symbols on the card. Afterwards, thank the Icelandic people for preserving their superstitious beliefs. Look at them in a new light, and you might just learn something of great value.



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