Subject: Planet Of The Apes.  Part 2. 
July 30, 2011.

  This talks about some people going into the past and seeing things as they
were then.

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In the past, however, there have indeed been experiments that
have sought to create human ape hybrids. In fact, this article
from the Gralien archives relates a history of humanzee hybrids
and their alleged appearances throughout history. Note in
particular the research of Ilya I-anov in the 1920s and 30s
under Stalin, who had allegedly told Iv-nov to create "a new
invincible human being, insensitive to pain, resistant and
indifferent about the quality of food they eat." The curiosity
of proposed Humanzees isn't anything that still eludes us today,
especially in scientific circles. Even a recent article in Wired
Magazine dealt with the controversial proposition of inter-
species breeding between humans and apes, which might help
scientists to understand neoteny, which essentially deals with
the supposition that some juvenile traits may be maintained by
adults of certain species (humans especially).

Despite what we might hope to learn, are there more potential
downfalls to engaging in this variety of research? Do the
ethical implications of cross-breeding humans and chimpanzees
outweigh (or essentially render useless) the argument that
mankind could benefit from studying hybridization of our own
species? On the other hand, what if our ethical concerns arise
more from the science fiction influence provided by (oh here we
go with the Planet of the Apes analogies) films that depict
human-like animal hybrids as a danger to humanity?

Source: The Gralien Report
http://gralienreport.com/cryptozoology/manimals-on-our-minds-
genetic-testing-with-hybrid-humans/#more-1715

- TIME SLIPS DEPARTMENT -

When Three British Boys Traveled to Medieval England (Or Did
They?)

Looking back, the really strange thing was the silence. The way
the ch-rch bells stopped ringing as the little group of naval
cadets neared the village. The way even the ducks stood quiet
and motionless by the shallow stream that ran across the road
where the main street began.

And, when the boys thought about it afterward, they recalled
that even the autumn birdsong faded as they neared the first
houses. The wind had dropped to nothing, too.

Not a leaf stirred on the trees they passed. And the trees
appeared to cast no shadows.

The street itself was quite deserted-not so odd, perhaps, for a
Sunday morning in 1957, especially in the rural heart of
England. But even the remotest British hamlets displayed some
signs of modernity by then-cars parked by the roadside, phone
wires strung along the roads, aerials on roofs-and there was
nothing of that sort in this village. In fact, the houses on the
high street all looked ancient; they were ragged, hand-built,
timber-framed: "almost medieval in appearance," one boy thought.

The three, all Royal N-vy cadets, walked up to the nearest
building and pressed their faces to its grimy windows. They
could see that it was some sort of butcher's shop, but what they
glimpsed in the interior was even more unsettling. As one of
them recalled for the author Andrew M-cKenzie:

There were no tables or counters, just two or three whole
oxen carcasses which had been skinned and in places were quite
green with age. There was a green-painted door and windows with
smallish glass panes, one at the front and one at the side,
rather dirty-looking. I remember that as we three looked through
that window in disbelief at the green and mouldy green
carcasses the general feeling certainly was one of disbelief
and unreality Who would believe that in 1957 that the health
authorities would allow such conditions?

They peered into another house. It, too, had greenish, smeary
windows. And it, too, appeared uninhabited. The walls had been
crudely whitewashed, but the rooms were empty; the boys could
see no possessions, no furniture, and they thought the rooms
themselves appeared to be "not of modern day quality." Spooked
now, the cadets turned back and hurried out of the strange
village. The track climbed a small hill, and they did not turn
back until they had reached the top. Then, one of the three
remembered, "suddenly we could hear the bells once more and saw
the smoke rising from chimneys, [though] none of the chimneys
was smoking when we were in the village We ran for a few
hundred yards as if to shake off the weird feeling." [Ma-Kenzie
pp.6-9]

What happened to those three boys on that October morning more
than 50 years ago remains something of a mystery. They were
taking part in a map-reading exercise that ought to have been
straightforward; the idea was to navigate their way across four
or five miles of countryside to a designated point, then return
to base and report what they had seen-which, if all went well,
should have been the picturesque Suffolk village of Kersey. But
the more they thought about it, the more the cadets wondered
whether something very strange had occurred to them. Years
later, William Lain-, the Scottish boy who led the group, put it
this way: "It was a ghost village, so to speak. It was almost as
if we had walked back in time. I experienced an overwhelming
feeling of sadness and depression in Kersey, but also a feeling
of unfriendliness and unseen watchers which sent shivers up
one's back. I wondered if we'd knocked at a door to ask a
question who might have answered it? It doesn't bear thinking
about."
Lai-g, who came from Perthshire in the Highlands of Scotland,
was a stranger to this part of the east of England. So were his
friends Michael C-owley (from Worcestershire) and Ray B-ker (a
Cockney). That was the point. All three were 15 years old, and
had only recently signed up to join the Royal Na-y. That made it
easy for the petty officers in charge of their training to
confirm that they had reached the village they were supposed to
find just by checking their descriptions. As it was, their
superiors, L-ing recalled, were "rather skeptical" when they
told them of their odd experience, but they "laughed it off and
agreed that we'd seen Kersey all right." [MacK-nzie pp.8-9]

There the matter rested until the late 1980s, when Lai-g and
Cr-wley, by then both living in Australia, talked by phone and
chewed over the incident. L-ing had always been troubled by it;
Crow-ey, it emerged, did not remember it in as much detail as
his old friend, but he did think that something strange had
happened, and he recalled the silence, the lack of aerials and
streetlights, and the bizarre butcher's shop. That was enough to
prompt La-ng to write to the author of a book he'd read-Andrew
MacKen-ie, a leading member of the Society for P-ychical Research.

MacKenzi- was intrigued by Bill -aing's letter and recognized
that it might describe a case of retrocognition-the SPR term for
what we would call a "timeslip" case. Looking at the details, he
thought it was possible that the three cadets had seen Kersey
not as it was in 1957, but as it had been centuries earlier. A
long correspondence (he and L-ing exchanged letters for two
years) and a foray into local libraries with the help of an
historian from Kersey helped to confirm that view. In 1990,
Lain- flew to England, and the two men walked through the
village, reliving the experience.

What makes this case particularly interesting is that
retrocognition is probably the rarest reported of ps-chical
phenomena. There have only ever been a handful cases, of which
by far the most famous remains the "Versailles incident" of
1901. On that occasion, two highly educated British women-the
principal and vice principal of St Hugh's C-llege, Oxford-were
wandering through the grounds of the Palace of Versailles,
outside Paris, when they had a series of experiences that later
convinced them they had seen the gardens as they were before the
French R-volution. Detailed research suggested that one of the
figures they encountered might have been Marie Antoinette, Louis
XVI's wife, the queen of France.

MacK-nzie's research into the Kersey incident led him to very
similar conclusions, and he featured it as the lead case in a
book he published on retrocognition, Adventures in Time (1997).
Several factors led him to conclude that the cadets' experience
had been genuine: the obvious sincerity of La-ng and his friend
Crowl-y (Ray Bak-r was also traced, but turned out to remember
nothing of the experience); the detail of their recollections,
and a few persuasive discoveries. Among the details that
impressed Mac-enzie most was the realization that the house that
La-ng had identified as a butcher's shop-which was a private
residence in 1957, and remained one when Kersey was revisited in
1990-dated to about 1350 and actually had been a butcher's shop
at least as early as 1790. The author was also struck by the
suggestive fact that the season seemed to change as the cadets
entered the village (inside Kersey, Lain- recalled, "it was
verdant and the trees were that magnificent green color one
finds in spring or early summer").  Then there was the puzzle of
the village chu-ch; La-ng noted that the party had not seen it
after they descended into the village and the pall of silence
fell. Indeed, he explicitly recalled that "there was no sign of
a c-urch. I would certainly have seen it as I had a field of
observation of 360 degrees," and Cro-ley likewise recalled "no
chur-h or pub." [MacKenzie pp. 4, 6, 11]   All of which seemed
hard to explain, since St. Ma-y's, Kersey, dates to the 14th
century and is the principal landmark in the district, readily
visible to anybody passing along the main street. MacKenzie,
basing his case on the history of St Mary's, interpreted this
anomaly as evidence to help pinpoint the likely date on which
Laing and his companions "visited" the village.

Part 2.

John Winston.  johnfw@mlode.com