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From: campbell@ufomind.com (Glenn Campbell, Las Vegas)
Date: Wed, 9 Jul 1997 09:09:45 -0800
Fwd Date: Sun, 13 Jul 1997 04:58:54 -0400
Subject: Report on The Great Roswell Loonfest

Just... back... circuits... overloaded... attempting... download...

Mission accomplished: A Research Center expeditionary force (2 adults
& 3 children) successfully penetrated Roswell at the height of the
Great Loonfest and got out alive. We lasted only about 20 hours in
town. We were charmed, then amused, then annoyed, then SCREAMING TO
GET THE HELL OUT.

Best thing I can equate it to is some town in Idaho holding an annual
Potato Festival.  Everyone eats potatos, gets dressed up as potatos,
crowns a Potato Queen.   Nothing very deep or useful, just potatos,
and by the end of the day you've had quite enough.

Replace spuds with aliens, and you have the Great Roswell Loonfest of
1997. It was an exercise in alien merchandising and cute alien events
no more substantial than cotton candy. If no UFO ever crashed near
Roswell in 1947, then the celebration was a harmless giggle --
equivalent to a potato festival. If, however, the Roswell Incident was
REAL, then this 50th anniversary event was one of the saddest display
that humanity has ever put on.  This is how we are presenting
ourselves to the universe: as a horde of shallow Ferengi whose only
manner of relating to other worlds is through the buying and selling
of souvenirs.

The array of alien-related merchandise was astounding: Hundreds of
booths selling every conceivable item you can stamp an alian face on.
Some items were creative enough to bring a smirk to our face, but the
information content was still zero. I did not attend any of the $10
lectures but heard nothing to indicate that they were worth the cost.
Just the usual speakers grinding their usual axes in an environment
where nearly every claim is accepted except intelligent ones. (You
could have heard the same on Art Bell for free.) I'm sure there were a
dozen astounding revelations, but none I would believe.

The UFO vendors were clustered around the Roswell Convention Center,
with a midway and tons of media outside. Inside the "Alien Trade
Show," I spotted Philip Corso and his son ambling about.  Corso's
co-writer William Birnes was also in Roswell, although I did not see
him. I am told that he has a prominent affiliation with Soldier of
Fortune Magazine. (The owner of it?)  What does this say about Corso?

We couldn't get near the "International UFO Museum and Research
Center", but since I had been there a couple of years ago, I don't
think I missed anything. This is also a big alien souvenir outlet.
They do sell some books, too, but I was told by a journalist that they
decline to sell any book that is critical of the Roswell crash claims
-- only those that toe the "party line." Is this research or religion?

One beacon of light: The Bureau of Land Management had a small booth
at the trade fair, manned by their public relations officer, and HE
SOLD LOCAL MAPS. I thought it ironic that only the federal government
could provide any useful information. This booth was the only one I
can recall that sold the Randle and Schmitt books that are the
cornerstone of the pro-Roswell arguments. BLM also gave away a FREE
flyer with directions to the alleged crash site on BLM land. It was on
the only island of data in the UFO wasteland that was Roswell.

UFO burgers, UFO drinks, "Crash With Us" on motel marquees... Driving
down Main Street was a numbing experience. Turn on the radio, and
ninety percent of the local ads - for everything from cars to
insurance - made some kind of cutesie alien reference.  Doesn't anyone
in this town have any dignity?

There is no way that Rachel, Nevada, can compete with Roswell as the
"UFO Capital". Rachel is just a couple of Joes selling T-shirts, while
Roswell is big league alien exploitation.

The town was crowded, but not much more than, say, a busy summer day
at a beach resort.  I am proud to say that we spent not one cent at
local merchants.  (I bought only some books & maps at the trade show.)
We camped on BLM land outside of town, and saw no one else out there.
This was a blessed relief, because Roswell did not give us any reason
to love humanity.  We needed to visit the Great Loonfest to say we had
done it, but I never want to see Roswell again.

We left town by the afternoon of the 4th and headed for Lubbock,
Texas, hometown of our Assistant Director. Ah, Lubbock!  Paradise on
Earth!  It was a pleasure to go someplace where there were no alien
references.

It is times like this when I realize just how alone we are in the
universe -- and here on Earth.

Glenn

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