HAPPY HALLOWEEN! DEXTER, ARE WE IN HELL? THE MANDELA EFFECT, GHOSTS, NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCES, AND THE TERRIFYING POSSIBILITY THAT REALITY ISN’T WHAT WE THINK

By JM Talboo --- DebunkingDeath.blogspot.com

What  the most frightening possibility isn’t that we’re going to die—but that we already crossed a line we don’t understand? And what if, somewhere inside the mystery, there’s something more hopeful than fear?

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, EVERYBODY!

Halloween is supposed to be about things that go bump in the night. Ghosts, monsters, demons, haunted houses, and things lurking just beyond the light. But what happens when the scariest questions aren’t about what might be hiding in the darkness?

What if the real mystery is the darkness we might already be living in?

What if the world we recognize isn’t quite the world we remember? What if some of the strangest experiences people report—near-death experiences, unexplained encounters, missing memories, and moments when reality seems to skip a beat—make us question what we think we know about life and death?

And here’s the question I want to explore this Halloween:

ARE WE IN HELL?

Not necessarily the traditional version with fire, pitchforks, and a red guy waiting to collect your soul. I’m talking about a much stranger possibility: What if the experience we call reality is more complicated than we realize? What if some people have experiences that make them wonder whether they crossed a boundary—and came back to a place that only seems familiar?

I’m not claiming I have the answers. I’m asking questions. Sometimes the most interesting part of an investigation isn’t the conclusion. It’s the breadcrumb that makes you stop, turn around, and look at something you thought you understood.

So let’s follow a few.

DEXTER: WHAT IF HE’S ALREADY DEAD?

There’s a fascinating fan theory about Dexter that takes the familiar world of the show and turns it into something much darker.

The theory suggests that Dexter may already be dead—or that the reality he experiences could be a kind of personal hell, an endless loop in which he continues confronting versions of himself and the consequences of his actions.

It’s a fictional theory, of course. It isn’t evidence that anyone is actually trapped in an afterlife. But as a thought experiment, it raises a disturbing question: What if someone could be living through an experience without understanding what it really is?

Here’s the video that inspired this part of the discussion:

The Dexter Theory — “The Most Terrifying Dexter Theory Isn't Even a Theory”

https://youtu.be/_1wkSF_a5k0?si=Bv1Vh2R4umEex99i

The idea is unsettling because Dexter’s world looks familiar. He goes about his life, interacts with people, and tries to make sense of his circumstances. Yet the theory invites the viewer to question whether the apparent reality is the whole story.

That’s what makes the thought experiment interesting. A hell-loop wouldn’t necessarily have to look like a traditional depiction of hell. It could look like an ordinary life—one in which the same pain, mistakes, and consequences keep returning.

But what if the theory isn’t literally true? What if its value is in the question it leaves behind?

How would you know if your reality wasn’t what you thought it was?

And if someone told you that you were already dead, what evidence would convince you—or convince you otherwise?

WHY DOES REALITY SOMETIMES FEEL DIFFERENT?

Some people say that since 2020, the world has felt strange. Time seems to move differently. Familiar places and routines feel unfamiliar. People describe a sense of disconnection, as though something about the world—or their place in it—has changed.

There are ordinary explanations worth considering. The pandemic disrupted routines, separated people from one another, intensified stress, and changed how many of us experienced time. Social media can amplify the feeling that everyone else is living in a different world. Memory and perception can also be affected by stress, sleep, and major life changes.

Those explanations matter.

But the feeling itself is still worth discussing. Why do so many people try to describe an experience in which the world looks the same but somehow feels different?

Here’s the second video that prompted some of these questions:

“The Simulation Is Breaking: Why Reality Feels Fake Now”

https://youtu.be/NcNYPJDftNM?si=ZVOohUajEDljRuYr

The title evokes the idea that reality might be malfunctioning, but a feeling of unreality does not establish that we live in a simulation—or that the world has literally changed timelines.

Still, it raises an interesting philosophical question: How much of what we call reality is the world itself, and how much is the way our minds interpret it?

We experience reality through our senses, our memories, and our expectations. We trust those things because we have to navigate our lives somehow. Yet all of them have limitations.

That doesn’t mean reality is fake. It means our experience of reality may be more complicated than our everyday assumptions suggest.

And that brings us to one of the strangest examples.

THE MANDELA EFFECT: DID WE REMEMBER A DIFFERENT REALITY?

The Mandela Effect describes situations in which many people share a memory that conflicts with the available record.

One famous example is the line from Star Wars. Many people remember Darth Vader saying, “Luke, I am your father.” The actual line is, “No, I am your father.”

Then there are the Berenstain Bears, whose name is often remembered as “Berenstein.” Some people remember a cornucopia in the Fruit of the Loom logo, and some viewers remember Dolly having braces in Moonraker, even though she doesn’t in the released film.

These examples are intriguing because memories can feel vivid and certain even when they don’t match the evidence.

Human memory is not a perfect recording device. We reconstruct memories, fill gaps, and sometimes blend different experiences together. Cultural repetition can also reinforce a familiar misquotation or image.

That gives us plausible explanations for many Mandela Effect examples.

But here is the question that keeps people interested: Why can a mistaken memory feel so much like a genuine recollection? Why can people feel so certain about something that apparently never happened the way they remember it?

Some interpret these experiences as evidence of alternate timelines or parallel realities. Others see them as examples of how memory works.

The experiences themselves do not prove that timelines have shifted. But they offer a useful reminder that feeling certain and being correct are not always the same thing.

And if our memories can surprise us, what should we make of experiences that feel even more personal—experiences involving death?

NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCES: WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE GET CLOSE?

People who have survived medical emergencies, severe accidents, and other life-threatening events sometimes describe experiences that profoundly change their outlook.

Some report a sensation of leaving their bodies. Some describe lights, tunnels, vivid memories, a presence, or an overwhelming feeling of peace. Others experience fear, confusion, or nothing they can remember at all.

There are different possible explanations, including the effects of the brain and body under extreme stress, changes in consciousness, medication, and the way memories form during a medical crisis. Researchers continue to investigate these experiences, and individual accounts vary considerably.

The fact that someone has a powerful experience does not, by itself, establish that they visited an afterlife. But dismissing a person’s experience without listening to what they actually reported doesn’t help us understand it, either.

I’ve heard stories of people surviving falls, serious collisions, and other close calls in which they later struggled to account for a missing moment or an experience that seemed to defy their expectations. Some accounts are difficult to verify independently, and we should be honest about that. A story can raise a question without settling it.

One particularly interesting account to explore is Alexandra Kallos’s description of an out-of-body experience during an accident. It belongs in the broader conversation about how people interpret extraordinary experiences around the possibility of death—not as automatic proof of one explanation.

And that brings me to a question I’ve asked myself:

Did you ever have a close call with death? How do you know you made it?

I don’t mean that as a claim that people who survive are secretly dead. I mean it as a genuine question about how we understand the most intense moments of our lives.

When you come frighteningly close to death, the experience can change you. You may look at the world differently afterward. You may feel as though you have been given another chance. You may wonder why you survived when things could have gone another way.

Those feelings deserve room for reflection, even when we cannot establish a supernatural explanation for them.

MY OWN CLOSE CALL: THE BELLS, THE SCANNER, AND THE DREAM

I’ve had medical emergencies of my own, and one experience has stayed with me.

I remember the church bells ringing as I was preparing to go to the hospital. My wife told me, “The bells rang just for you today, honey.”

That moment stayed with me because of the circumstances. I was facing something frightening, and those bells felt personal. They became part of the way I remember that experience.

I remember being inside a CT scanner and thinking about a casket. The machine’s shape and the situation made the comparison hard to ignore. I also remember overhearing words to the effect of, “Maybe not this time, maybe next time.”

Those words lodged in my mind.

There were other disturbing parts of the experience, including a dream involving reptiles eating a soul. It was the sort of imagery that can leave a person wondering what the mind is trying to process when life and death feel close.

At times, I’ve joked that I’m in hell. At other times, I’ve used the phrase philosophically, as a way of describing the painful, confusing, and sometimes absurd nature of life. And sometimes I’ve wondered about it more seriously.

But I can’t tell you that I died and came back to a different reality. I can tell you what I experienced, how it affected me, and why the questions stayed with me.

There’s a difference between sharing an experience and claiming to know exactly what caused it.

I want to leave that distinction intact.

GHOSTS: RECORDINGS, REPEATS, OR SOMETHING THAT RESPONDS?

Ghost investigations bring another question into the discussion: Are all unexplained encounters the same kind of phenomenon?

One commonly discussed distinction is between residual hauntings and what investigators call intelligent hauntings.

A residual haunting is often described as an event that seems to repeat itself, almost like a recording. A figure walks through the same place. Footsteps repeat. A voice seems to play again and again without responding to anyone present.

An intelligent haunting, by contrast, is described as an encounter in which something appears to respond to questions or interact with people.

Those are categories used in paranormal investigation, not scientifically established classifications of ghosts. An apparent response can have other explanations, including coincidence, expectation, misinterpretation, environmental sounds, or the limitations of recording equipment.

Still, the distinction is worth examining because it changes the question being asked.

If an event repeats, investigators might ask what could be producing the pattern. If an event seems to respond, they might ask whether the response is genuinely connected to the question or whether there is another explanation.

My own interest is in investigating the experience rather than deciding in advance what it must mean.

For more on this subject, I wrote about the Alice Riley investigation and the mystery of intelligent hauntings here:

When a Ghost Answers Back: The Alice Riley Investigation and the Mystery of Intelligent Hauntings

https://debunkingdeath.blogspot.com/2026/08/when-ghost-answers-back-alice-riley.html

I’m interested in the possibility that some reports labeled “residual” might deserve a closer look. That doesn’t mean every unexplained sound is an intelligent entity or that every apparent answer is meaningful. It means we should examine what actually happened before deciding what category it belongs in.

And if we ever encounter something we can’t explain, perhaps the first step should be curiosity—not fear.

WHAT IF THE AFTERLIFE ISN’T WHAT WE EXPECT?

Here is where the discussion becomes more speculative.

Suppose consciousness continues after death. What would that experience be like? Would it be immediate and recognizable? Would we understand what had happened? Would we need time to adjust?

We tend to imagine the afterlife through the stories and beliefs we inherit. Some picture heaven as a place of instant peace. Some imagine judgment. Others believe in reincarnation, a spiritual journey, or a continuation of consciousness that is difficult to describe in ordinary language.

What if none of our descriptions captures the whole picture?

Perhaps the idea of an afterlife as a period of adjustment is one way to imagine it. Perhaps our understanding would change as we learned more. Perhaps the people we leave behind would remain important to us, just as we would remain important to them.

Those are possibilities to contemplate, not facts I can demonstrate.

And there’s a more unsettling variation: What if a person could experience something they interpreted as a familiar life without immediately understanding what had happened? That is part of what makes the Dexter theory such an effective fictional thought experiment.

But we should not confuse a compelling story with evidence that this is how the afterlife works.

The real value of these questions may be that they encourage us to think beyond the assumptions we take for granted.

THE CLIMBER, THE CLOSE CALL, AND THE STORY WE TELL OURSELVES

I once heard a story about a climber who survived a terrible fall. I can’t vouch for every detail of the version I heard, and I don’t want to present an unverified account as established fact.

What interests me is the question such stories provoke.

When someone survives an event that could easily have killed them, they may look back and wonder how things could have turned out so differently. They may describe the experience as a second chance, a miracle, or a moment when time seemed to stop.

Someone else may interpret the same event in terms of probability, physical circumstances, and the body’s ability to survive.

Those interpretations do not necessarily cancel out the significance of the experience to the person who lived through it.

We can investigate the physical event while still acknowledging that survival can change how a person understands their life.

The question is not whether every survivor has crossed into a different timeline. We have no reliable basis for making that claim.

The question is why close calls can leave people feeling as though they have returned from somewhere—and whether the way we describe those experiences tells us something about how human beings confront mortality.

THE HALLOWEEN FEELING THAT WAS MISSING

There’s another personal experience I want to share, because it connects these questions to something much more ordinary.

I usually feel the spirit of Halloween. I feel it in the air while raking leaves, noticing the changing season, or watching the world settle into that familiar autumn atmosphere. Christmas has its own feeling for me, too.

This year, however, I wasn’t feeling Halloween in the same way. Something seemed to be missing.

Then, on Halloween, I woke up after a bad dream with a feeling I can only describe as the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. I had this strange sense that something might happen.

Later, Dawn and I were talking about how I hadn’t felt the usual Halloween spirit this year.

She got out of the car. The car was off, and the keys had been removed. Then I saw an orange arrow pointing left on the dashboard. It was large enough to catch my attention, and I heard it clicking repeatedly: click, click, click, click.

I didn’t remember pressing anything, and I didn’t know of a button in that spot that would explain what I was seeing. Dawn saw it, too. Neither of us had an explanation in that moment.

Could there be an ordinary electrical or mechanical explanation? Of course. An unexplained dashboard light is not proof of a supernatural event, and I can’t establish what caused it from the experience alone.

But I also can’t pretend the timing didn’t strike me.

We had just been talking about the feeling of Halloween, and then something unexpected happened that neither of us could immediately explain. For me, it felt almost like a tap on the shoulder—as if the world were saying, “Hey, don't stop wondering.”

I’m not claiming that a spirit deliberately activated the dashboard. I’m sharing what happened, how it felt, and why it caught my attention.

Sometimes an experience can be meaningful to us even when we don’t know its cause.

And perhaps that is a good place to stand: open to wonder, honest about uncertainty, and willing to investigate without forcing an answer.

ARE WE IN HELL—or ARE WE ASKING THE WRONG QUESTION?

Maybe the question isn’t whether we are literally living in hell.

Maybe the question is why we sometimes feel trapped, why reality can feel unfamiliar, and why experiences near death can leave us questioning everything we thought we understood.

Maybe the question is how much we can truly know about consciousness, memory, and what happens when life ends.

Or maybe the most important question is a simpler one:

What would count as evidence that our understanding of reality is incomplete?

A strange memory is not proof of a timeline shift. A near-death experience does not automatically prove an afterlife. An unexplained light is not proof of a ghost. And a fictional theory about Dexter does not establish that anyone is trapped in a personal hell.

But those distinctions don't require us to stop asking questions.

We can respect people's experiences while examining their explanations. We can look for ordinary causes without assuming that every mystery has already been solved. We can acknowledge what we know, what we don't know, and what we might still discover.

To me, that is what keeps the subject interesting.

I don't want fear to close the door on curiosity. I don't want certainty—whether religious, scientific, or paranormal—to become an excuse to stop thinking.

I want to follow the breadcrumbs.

Because perhaps the most frightening possibility isn't that we have all the answers and the world is terrible. Perhaps it is that we have far fewer answers than we think—and that the unknown is bigger, stranger, and more interesting than we imagined.

And perhaps there is something hopeful in that, too.

If life is precious, then how we treat one another matters. If we don't know what comes after death, then the people we love matter right now. If reality contains mysteries we haven't solved, then we have every reason to stay curious, to keep learning, and to resist the temptation to turn uncertainty into fear.

I can't tell you whether we are in hell.

I can't tell you whether every ghost story is a misunderstanding, whether every extraordinary experience has a conventional explanation, or what happens after our final breath.

But I can tell you that I don't want to stop wondering.

So this Halloween, watch the scary movies, visit the haunted houses, enjoy the costumes, and have some fun. But if something happens that you can't immediately explain, take a breath. Look carefully. Ask questions. Consider different possibilities.

You don't have to decide what it means in the first five minutes.

Sometimes the mystery itself is worth the journey.

Happy Halloween, everybody. Keep your minds open, your feet on the ground, and your sense of wonder alive.

And if you’ve ever had a close call with death, experienced something you couldn't explain, or wondered whether reality is stranger than we think, I’d genuinely like to hear your story.

What happened? What do you think it meant? And how do you know you made it back?

---

A NOTE ABOUT THIS ARTICLE

This article combines personal experiences, paranormal accounts, cultural observations, philosophical questions, and fictional speculation. It does not claim to prove that we live in hell, that timelines have changed, that ghosts exist, or that near-death experiences establish an afterlife. The Dexter theory is a fan interpretation, and the cause of the Halloween dashboard incident remains unknown to me. The intention is to encourage thoughtful discussion—not to present unanswered questions as settled facts.

SOURCES AND FURTHER READING

1. Dexter fan-theory video — “The Most Terrifying Dexter Theory Isn't Even a Theory”

https://youtu.be/_1wkSF_a5k0?si=Bv1Vh2R4umEex99i

2. Video exploring why reality can feel strange or unreal — “The Simulation Is Breaking: Why Reality Feels Fake Now”

https://youtu.be/NcNYPJDftNM?si=ZVOohUajEDljRuYr

3. Debunking Death — “When a Ghost Answers Back: The Alice Riley Investigation and the Mystery of Intelligent Hauntings”

https://debunkingdeath.blogspot.com/2026/08/when-ghost-answers-back-alice-riley.html

These sources provide starting points for further exploration. Readers should evaluate the evidence and distinguish the accounts themselves from the interpretations offered about them.

Pick One Small Part of This and Inform Somebody

The whole thing is too much for most people. 

Mind Treasury: Missing/Killed UAP Scientists/Military Info Omits Pattern of Harassment/Murder of Citizens, Researchers & Activists---Exposing Hidden Spider In Web Named Democide---Debunking Arguments Demolished Like a DEW Attack!

https://mindtreasury.blogspot.com/2026/10/missingkilled-uap-scientistsmilitary.html

Is Oliver Tree Actually Still Alive? It's Up to You!

Is Oliver Tree Actually Still Alive? It's Up to You. 🤫

Maybe he's alive? Maybe that question is just part of much bigger set of questions?

I'm a musician. Maybe I made this song? Maybe I didn't? 😮
https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPLA8nvGX

What's for certain is that we can all keep his spirit alive! Love you all! ❤

Please share this shadowbanned interview by JM Talboo

Interview I conducted a little while back. Please check it out and share it! 

Watch "Truth Teller's Radio: The #Globalist Plan to Collapse Everything ... #conspiracy #evidence #nwo " on YouTube

https://youtu.be/Dl9TrJnJfro?is=mmNlsAZHpVdgjAdp 

Activist Challenge! Use Art and Popular Culture to Speak Truth People 

Stomp Like a Sasquatch: Bigfoot, Society, and the Deeper Questions in Life — A Song by Crashout Aristocrats

Send me what you come up with I might promote it! jmtalboo@gmail.com

My song “Stomp Like a Sasquatch” uses one of the world's most enduring mysteries as a jumping-off point for exploring philosophical questions, societal problems, and the strange contradictions of the world we live in.

There's more going on here than footprints in the woods. It's about questioning assumptions, challenging conventional thinking, and looking beyond the surface of things.

Whether you're a Bigfoot believer, a skeptic, or somebody who's still undecided, there's plenty to think about.

Check out the song and see what you take away from it!

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPLhv1HvQ/

Cancer treatment via mRNA?

WelcomeToHealth.blogspot.com

Comments from a researcher I respect very much. One of the smartest people I know...

It looks like the same problem with the other mRNA jabs.

The body is being trained to attack something that the mRNA produces in your cells. The problem is, in what cells?

The mRNA, thanks to the lipids, is circulated throughout your body – or at least chunks of it do. The cells being attacked can therefore be anywhere, such as in your heart.

It might be effective in training your immune system to mass attack particular cancer cells, but it should come with the same massive amount of problems, including crippling and killing the patient.  

Other doctors involved in treating Covid using Ivermectin and Fenbendazol, or rather vets treating animals with parasites, noted that their cancers also cleared up.

In the alt space the treatment for cancer came from the anti-parasite drugs, plus also Zinc, vitamin C and perhaps a few other things.

Remember that interview with Mel Gibson on Joe Rogan where he reported he knew of celebrity friends that were recovering from cancer using those treatments?

AI Music Deserves Respect and Understanding...

Before we get started, please bookmark my music site and check it out after reading this article. And while you're at it, follow me on TikTok at @Crashout.Royalty. That's where you can find more of my music, videos, artwork, and whatever else I'm creating next.

Here's my most recent Hip-Hop release as of this publishing date...

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPLjkEnsM/

And here is my old organic Hardcore/Punk Band ILLITHED

https://mindtreasury.blogspot.com/2018/02/hardcorepunk-band-illithed.html

The AI Music Debate I May Never Have — Because I Value My Time

Hello, I'm the account "Crashout Royalty" for those that are unaware. Multidisciplinary artist and activist researcher JM Talboo AKA BishopNeoWinstonSmith leader of the music group and collective of artists known as #CrashoutAristocrats

Before the imagined debate ensues I want to first acknowledge positive conversations are happening as evinced by the screenshots below. 

I say this because what sparked me writing this is a lot shit talking is taking place online from those opposed to AI music. Makes me wonder if they are industry plants Ad hominem attacks are not an argument, I can talk smack and lay one down too lol but I'll focus on substance and positivity while they act like the miserable people they msst be.

What would happen if I actually debated someone who believes AI-assisted music is inherently inferior to human-made music?

I may never find out.

And that's okay.

One of the reasons I use AI in the first place is because I value my time.

So rather than spending hours arguing with somebody on the internet, I decided to run the entire hypothetical debate through my head.

Here's how I'd approach it.

Not by assuming I'd win every argument.

Not by rigging the experiments.

And not by pretending AI is automatically better than human creativity.

I'd simply ask that we actually examine the claims being made.

And there's an important distinction right from the beginning:

I'm not simply an "AI music maker."

I'm a multidisciplinary artist.

I make music. I write. I perform. I make videos. I make physical artwork. I make digital artwork. I work with photography, animation, costumes, props, locations and visual effects. I showcase other artists and artwork. I use technology. I collaborate with other people. And sometimes I use AI.

Sometimes I use none of it.

That's the bigger picture.

I Don't Like Being Pigeonholed

I've never been particularly interested in being shoved into one category.

Why would I limit myself to one medium just because somebody else wants a convenient label?

If I have an idea that works as a song, I'll make a song.

If it works as a video, I'll make a video.

If it works as an image, I'll make an image.

If it works as physical artwork, I'll make that.

If somebody else's artwork communicates something I want to showcase, I'll showcase it.

If a costume communicates the idea better than words do, I'll put on the costume.

If animation makes the idea stronger, I'll animate it.

If AI helps me accomplish something I couldn't otherwise accomplish—or lets me accomplish it faster—I'll use AI.

I'm not interested in technological purity.

I'm interested in communication and creation.

There Isn't One Way I Make Music

This is where I think a lot of conversations about AI immediately go wrong.

People talk about "AI music" as though there's one standardized process.

There isn't.

I've been making music for years.

I've been in a successful band.

I can perform.

I can rap live.

I've made music without AI.

And I still make music without AI.

AI is simply another set of tools I've added to a much larger creative toolbox.

Sometimes I might use an AI-generated beat and put my own real vocals over it.

Sometimes I might perform the vocals myself and use an AI voice filter as an artistic effect.

Sometimes AI might be involved in the music while the performance itself is completely human.

Sometimes I might use AI for production but write and perform everything else myself.

Sometimes AI is involved in several elements.

Sometimes it's barely involved at all.

Sometimes it isn't involved whatsoever.

So when someone says:

"You're just letting AI make your music."

My response is pretty simple:

Which song?

Which part?

The beat?

My vocals?

The voice effect?

The lyrics?

The concept?

The production?

The video?

The artwork?

What exactly are you talking about?

Because you're imagining one workflow that doesn't actually describe what I do.

I make music in a lot of different ways.

AI is one set of tools I sometimes use within that larger creative process.

The Same Thing Applies to My Videos

And then there's video.

I'm not simply making songs and attaching a generic video to them afterward.

The visual production is its own creative process.

And just like music, I'm interested in using every possible way of making the thing.

AI animation.

Real photographs.

Real video.

Digital imagery.

Physical imagery.

Stickers.

Effects.

Costumes.

Props.

Settings.

Locations.

Practical elements.

Digital manipulation.

Found imagery.

Whatever works.

Sometimes I'll create an entirely artificial image.

Sometimes I'll film something in the real world.

Sometimes I'll take a real photograph and build something around it.

Sometimes I'll make physical artwork and photograph or film it.

Sometimes I'll create digital artwork.

Sometimes I'll take physical artwork and use AI to animate it.

Sometimes Dawn makes physical artwork and I incorporate that into what I'm doing.

Sometimes I'll showcase another artist's work.

Sometimes I'll visit or showcase art in a museum.

Sometimes the strongest visual is simply something I happen to encounter in the real world.

And sometimes I'll combine several of those methods in one project.

That's not a contradiction.

That's the medium.

The Best Results Are Often Hybrids

Think about modern filmmaking.

Computer-generated imagery didn't eliminate practical effects.

Practical effects didn't eliminate sets.

Digital effects didn't eliminate actors.

Photography didn't eliminate painting.

And computer animation didn't eliminate live-action filmmaking.

In fact, some of the most effective visual work comes from combining different techniques.

You can have a real actor standing in a real environment while interacting with a digitally created world.

You can have a physical prop enhanced with computer effects.

You can have real footage combined with animation.

You can have photographs turned into moving imagery.

The best solution isn't necessarily:

"Use only the human method."

It may be:

"Use the right combination of methods for this particular idea."

That's what I'm doing.

The Image Can Say Something the Song Doesn't

There's another reason I care so much about the visual side.

The video doesn't have to simply illustrate the lyrics.

Sometimes it reinforces the song.

Sometimes it expands upon it.

Sometimes it provides another interpretation.

Sometimes it deliberately creates irony.

Sometimes it communicates a completely different but related idea.

You can say a thousand words with an image.

Sometimes more.

A single image can establish a mood, tell a story, suggest a political idea, create symbolism, or make someone question what they're seeing.

I might put something like a They Live flyer into a video.

Maybe the song doesn't literally say the same thing.

That's okay.

The image creates another layer of communication.

The audience makes the connection.

That's part of the artwork.

Visual Language Is Different From Verbal Language

An image isn't simply a paragraph without words.

Visual language works differently.

A costume can communicate satire.

A setting can communicate danger.

A photograph can communicate nostalgia.

A surreal image can communicate an emotional state.

A juxtaposition can create an argument without anybody speaking.

A symbol can make someone think about an idea without spelling out the conclusion.

And sometimes an image can communicate something in a way that a literal statement simply can't.

That's one of the reasons I'm interested in visual storytelling.

I'm not just making a music video.

I'm building another layer of the message.

Physical Art Counts Too

And this is another reason I don't want to be reduced to "AI artist."

I make physical art.

I work with physical objects.

I showcase artwork other people create.

Dawn makes artwork that I can incorporate into the larger creative world.

I make digital artwork too.

And sometimes I'll take something that physically exists and use AI or other digital tools to animate or transform it.

So now we've got:

physical → digital → animated → combined with video → combined with music.

Where exactly are you going to draw the line and tell me which part is the "real art"?

That's the wrong question.

The better question is:

What did the artist create, and what was the artist trying to communicate?

Technology Has Always Disrupted Art

And this isn't even a uniquely modern argument.

We've been having versions of this argument for centuries.

Whenever a new technology changes who can create, who can distribute art, or what art can sound or look like, somebody eventually says:

"This is going to ruin everything."

Sometimes that person has a point.

Sometimes they're completely wrong.

Usually it's more complicated than either side wants to admit.

But the pattern is worth recognizing.

There were people who were suspicious of ordinary people having widespread access to writing.

Then came the printing press.

Suddenly information could be reproduced and distributed on a scale that was previously impossible.

Then came newspapers and mass publishing.

Then radio.

Then recorded music.

Then television.

Then home video.

Then the internet.

Then digital recording.

Then digital photography.

And now we're dealing with generative AI.

Every one of these technologies changed the creative landscape.

And every time, there were people who looked at the new technology and said, in one form or another:

"That's not real art."

"Video Killed the Radio Star"

There's a reason a phrase like "Video Killed the Radio Star" became culturally memorable.

It captured a real fear about technological change.

Radio didn't literally disappear.

The radio star didn't literally die.

Instead, the culture changed.

Television created a new requirement: artists could suddenly become visual personalities in addition to being voices.

That changed what a successful performer looked like.

And then television itself was eventually challenged by cable, home video, the internet, streaming and social media.

The old medium doesn't necessarily disappear.

The ecosystem changes around it.

That's an important distinction.

The Printing Press Didn't Destroy Human Culture

The printing press is another good example.

Imagine living in a world where books are expensive, labor-intensive objects that have to be copied by hand.

Then suddenly you have technology capable of reproducing text on an enormous scale.

You could reasonably be concerned about misinformation.

You could be concerned about low-quality writing.

You could be concerned about people flooding society with garbage.

You could be concerned about political propaganda spreading faster.

Those concerns wouldn't necessarily be stupid.

But the answer wasn't:

"Therefore, nobody should print books."

The technology created enormous new possibilities while also creating new problems.

That's often what technological progress actually looks like.

Newspapers and the Internet

The same thing happened when the internet disrupted newspapers.

People worried about what would happen to journalism.

Some of those concerns were absolutely justified.

The internet created incredible opportunities for independent publishing, but it also created misinformation, clickbait, declining traditional revenue models and all sorts of other problems.

So I'm not going to make the simplistic argument that every technological disruption is automatically good.

Sometimes we should be wary.

Sometimes older ways of doing things really do contain wisdom that we shouldn't throw away.

But that's different from saying:

"New technology exists, therefore everything created with it is artistically worthless."

Those are two completely different arguments.

The Guitar Didn't Stay the Guitar

Music has gone through this process constantly.

The acoustic guitar existed.

Then amplification changed what the guitar could do.

Then the electric guitar arrived.

And there were plenty of people who thought it was loud, obnoxious noise.

Then people figured out what could be done with it.

Entire genres developed around that sound.

The instrument didn't become objectively "better" than the acoustic guitar.

It became different.

And different artists wanted different things from it.

That's the key.

Three Chords vs. Stevie Ray Vaughan

I remember the kind of argument people made about bands like Nirvana and other grunge artists.

You'd hear the criticism:

"They only know three chords."

That's obviously an oversimplification, but the criticism illustrates something interesting.

Someone could look at Stevie Ray Vaughan and admire his technical ability, musicianship and complexity.

And that's perfectly legitimate.

But that doesn't mean the aesthetic of Stevie Ray Vaughan is automatically superior to the aesthetic of a stripped-down grunge song.

Sometimes three or four chords are exactly what the song needs.

Sometimes technical complexity is the point.

Sometimes simplicity is the point.

Sometimes virtuosity communicates.

Sometimes restraint communicates.

The question isn't:

"Which musician worked harder to master technical complexity?"

The question is:

"What is this artist trying to communicate, and does the chosen method communicate it?"

That's an important distinction for AI too.

A technologically complicated production isn't automatically better than a simple one.

And a technically simple production isn't automatically worse.

Complexity isn't the same thing as quality.

People Fear Change for Good Reasons Sometimes

This is where I don't want to turn the argument into some simplistic:

"Old people fear technology and young people understand progress."

That's bullshit.

People sometimes fear technological change for legitimate reasons.

Some technologies genuinely cause harm.

Some things that were once celebrated as progress turned out to have consequences we didn't understand.

Sometimes the people saying "slow down" were right.

Sometimes the people saying "this is going to cause problems" were right.

We should be willing to listen to them.

But there's another lesson from history:

Being concerned about a technology isn't the same as proving that everything created with that technology is worthless.

And that's where I think the AI conversation often goes off the rails.

Technology Changes the Definition of Possible

Every major creative technology expands the range of things an artist can do.

The microphone changed singing.

Recording technology changed songwriting.

Multitrack recording changed arrangement.

The electric guitar changed rock.

Synthesizers changed electronic music and eventually countless other genres.

Sampling changed hip-hop.

Digital audio workstations changed music production.

Digital cameras changed photography.

Computer graphics changed filmmaking.

The internet changed distribution.

Smartphones turned almost everybody into a potential photographer and filmmaker.

AI is doing something similar.

It's changing the distance between:

"I have an idea."

and

"I made the thing."

That's enormous.

So Let's Actually Test the Music

Suppose someone tells me that AI music is obviously inferior to human music.

Okay.

Let's test it.

I'd propose ten songs with broadly comparable themes.

Peace.

Humanity.

Love.

Freedom.

Overcoming hatred.

Making the world a better place.

Five would involve AI assistance.

Five would be entirely human-made.

The listener wouldn't know which was which.

But here's the important part:

I wouldn't initially ask them to identify the AI songs.

I'd ask them to judge the music.

Which songs communicate their message most effectively?

Which are best written?

Which are most emotionally powerful?

Which are most memorable?

Which would they actually listen to again?

Which make them think?

Which make them feel something?

Then, after they've made their judgments, we reveal how the songs were created.

Only then would we test their ability to identify AI involvement.

Because those are two completely different questions.

Can you identify AI?

And:

Does AI involvement make a piece of music worse?

Being good at the first doesn't automatically prove the second.

What If They're Really Good at Spotting AI?

Maybe they are.

That's entirely possible.

Maybe they've listened to enough AI music to recognize certain production characteristics that most people don't notice.

Great.

Let's test that too.

We could compare their results with other listeners.

Musicians.

Non-musicians.

People who listen to enormous amounts of music.

People who don't.

Maybe they absolutely crush the test.

Maybe everybody does.

Maybe nobody does.

Maybe some people are extremely good at it and others are terrible.

Whatever happens, that's useful information.

I'm not afraid of an experiment simply because it might produce a result I don't expect.

That's what makes it an experiment.

And if somebody really is exceptionally good at recognizing AI music, I'd rather find that out than pretend otherwise.

But identifying the technology is still not the same thing as proving that the art is inferior.

Then Let's Remove the Blindfold

Now let's make it personal.

Take one of my songs.

Let's use something like Naptown.

I'll perform the song for you myself.

Live.

No AI.

Just me.

Then I'll play you the AI-assisted version I created.

Now tell me which vocal performance you prefer.

Maybe you'll prefer mine.

I'd actually expect that in some cases. I'm a performer. I'd hope my live performance has strengths that an AI-generated performance doesn't.

Maybe you'll prefer the AI version.

That's possible too.

And here's the funny part:

Either result is interesting.

If you tell me my live performance is better, I'm not going to throw a fit.

I'll probably say:

"Yeah. I'm a performer. I'd fucking hope so."

But then we have to ask what we've actually demonstrated.

The Part People Leave Out: Reality

Maybe when I made that song, I didn't have a studio available to me.

Maybe I was going through some difficult shit in my life.

Maybe I didn't have the money for studio time.

Maybe I didn't have musicians available.

Maybe I didn't have the time to sit there and record thirty takes of the same line.

Maybe AI allowed me to turn an idea into a finished song that otherwise would have remained an idea.

That's not a hypothetical benefit.

That's how technology works.

People sometimes look at the final product and completely ignore the circumstances that made the product possible.

If my human vocal performance is slightly better but the AI-assisted version allowed me to actually finish the song under circumstances where the alternative was not making the song at all, then what exactly have I lost?

And what have I gained?

I gained a finished song.

I saved time.

I saved money.

I didn't need a studio.

I didn't need to coordinate multiple people.

I didn't need to spend hours and money getting another take every time I flubbed a line.

And I could move on to the next idea.

That matters.

What If They Prefer the AI Version?

Now let's turn the tables.

Suppose they listen to both versions and say:

"Honestly, I like the AI version better."

I'm not going to pretend I lost.

I'm going to say:

"Well, shit. Great."

Because I wanted the song to communicate.

If I had something I genuinely wanted to say, and the technology helped me say it in a way that somebody found more enjoyable, understandable or emotionally effective, then the technology accomplished something useful.

I don't need the human version to win every comparison.

The song winning is enough.

And What If They Say the Human Version Is Better?

That's useful too.

Maybe the human version has something the AI version doesn't.

Maybe I have a vocal characteristic that can't be replicated.

Maybe the human performance has a particular imperfection that makes it more compelling.

Fine.

Then I've learned something about the strengths of human performance.

That doesn't prove AI has no value.

It proves that humans and AI can have different strengths.

That's called having different tools.

The Mother's Day Problem

There's another experiment that I don't think an AI critic can solve with a simple production argument.

Suppose I make a tribute song for my mother.

She's getting older.

I have things I want to say to her.

I use AI to help turn those thoughts into a song quickly.

She hears it.

And she cries.

Now somebody tells me:

"Yeah, but it was made with AI."

Okay.

So?

Does that make her tears less real?

Did the emotional response somehow disappear because I used a machine to help construct the song?

Did the love I was trying to express become less genuine?

Did the words suddenly stop meaning what they meant?

No.

The technology doesn't get to rewrite the emotional experience that happened afterward.

My mother didn't cry because she performed a philosophical analysis of my production process.

She cried because I made something for her that meant something to her.

That's important.

Efficiency Doesn't Equal Emptiness

There is a strange assumption that if something becomes easier to produce, it must become less meaningful.

But that's not how technology has historically worked.

A camera didn't make photography meaningless.

Digital editing didn't make filmmaking meaningless.

The synthesizer didn't make music meaningless.

The electric guitar didn't make songwriting meaningless.

Recording technology didn't make live performance meaningless.

Technology repeatedly changes the distance between an idea and its final form.

And that's exactly what AI does for me.

I have more ideas than I could possibly execute using traditional methods alone.

AI reduces the distance between:

"I have an idea."

and

"I made the thing."

That's not necessarily a reduction in creativity.

Sometimes it's an expansion of creativity.

The Real-World Economics Matter Too

Artists don't create in a vacuum.

People have limited money.

Limited time.

Limited access to musicians.

Limited access to studios.

Limited physical energy.

Limited opportunities.

Sometimes you're dealing with family obligations.

Sometimes you're dealing with work.

Sometimes life is simply kicking your ass.

A person might have ten songs in their head and only enough money to record one.

What happens to the other nine?

AI can sometimes change that equation.

Maybe it doesn't produce the same result as a professional studio.

Maybe it does.

But if it allows someone to create something that otherwise wouldn't exist, that's not automatically a negative.

The alternative isn't always "human-made masterpiece."

Sometimes the alternative is:

nothing.

And I'd rather have another imperfect song in the world that genuinely communicates something than have a great idea remain trapped in somebody's head because they couldn't afford the conventional production process.

I'm Not Claiming AI Does Everything

I don't need to claim that AI is superior to humans.

I don't need to claim that AI can replace musicians.

I don't even need to claim that every AI-generated song is good.

Some are garbage.

So are some human-made songs.

Human beings have been making terrible music for a very long time.

The existence of bad AI music doesn't prove that AI music is inherently bad any more than the existence of bad human music proves that humans shouldn't make music.

What matters is what happens when a particular person uses a particular tool to create a particular piece of work.

And Sometimes I Don't Use AI At All

This is worth emphasizing because it destroys the idea that I'm somehow dependent on AI to make music or art.

Sometimes I use it.

Sometimes I don't.

Sometimes I use it heavily.

Sometimes I use it for one small component.

Sometimes I might use AI for a beat but have real vocals.

Sometimes I might have real vocals and use an AI voice filter as an artistic effect.

Sometimes the music is human and the imagery is AI.

Sometimes the music is AI-assisted and the video is AI-assisted too.

Sometimes I'm mixing all of these things.

Sometimes I'm using physical art.

Sometimes I'm using digital art.

Sometimes I'm filming reality exactly as it exists.

Sometimes I'm taking something physical and transforming it digitally.

Sometimes I'm working entirely without AI.

The point is that I choose the tool based on the project.

I'm not pledging allegiance to a machine.

I'm making art.

The Human Is Still Here

This is the part that gets lost in a lot of these arguments.

When I use AI to make music, I'm still here.

I'm deciding what I want to say.

I'm choosing the subject.

I'm writing and shaping ideas.

I'm directing the process.

I'm deciding what works and what doesn't.

I'm rejecting things.

I'm rewriting things.

I'm making artistic choices.

Sometimes I'm performing.

Sometimes I'm using real vocals.

Sometimes I'm combining human performance with AI.

Sometimes I'm using AI for parts of the production.

Sometimes I'm using it because I simply don't have the resources to do something another way.

The fact that a machine participates doesn't mean the human disappeared.

So What Exactly Makes It "Fake"?

At some point I'd stop talking about individual songs and ask the fundamental question:

What exactly makes an AI-assisted song illegitimate?

Is it the sound?

Then let's listen.

Is it the songwriting?

Then let's compare the songwriting.

Is it the emotional impact?

Then let's see what listeners actually experience.

Is it the amount of human labor?

Okay. Let's discuss what the human actually contributed.

Is it the fact that a machine was involved at all?

Now we're no longer talking about whether the music is good.

We're talking about a philosophical objection to the tool.

That's a legitimate position for somebody to have.

But it's important to call it what it is.

The Tool Doesn't Have to Win

This might be the most important part of the whole argument.

I'm not trying to rig these experiments so that AI wins.

Every single comparison is a crapshoot.

Maybe the human song wins.

Maybe the AI song wins.

Maybe the results split right down the middle.

Maybe the person I'm debating identifies every AI song correctly.

Maybe they completely screw it up.

Maybe they identify AI correctly but still prefer several AI-assisted songs.

Maybe they can't identify them at all.

Maybe my live performance beats the AI version.

Maybe the AI version beats my live performance.

I'm willing to live with any of those outcomes.

Because I'm not trying to prove that humans are obsolete.

I'm trying to challenge the idea that the presence of AI automatically determines the value of the finished work.

The Same Principle Applies to the Visuals

If somebody tells me:

"That image doesn't count because AI made it."

My answer is basically the same.

Okay.

Let's look at the image.

Does it communicate?

Does it create the intended mood?

Does it tell a story?

Does it make you curious?

Does it reinforce the music?

Does it create a useful contrast?

Does it make you feel something?

And if the answer is yes, then the fact that AI participated tells me something about how it was made.

It doesn't automatically tell me whether it worked.

Likewise, if I take a real photograph, add stickers and effects, animate part of it with AI, put it over my music, and then combine it with footage I shot myself while wearing a costume in a real location, what exactly is the "real" part?

All of it.

Because all of those are materials I intentionally assembled into a finished piece.

The Question I'd Eventually Ask

At some point I'd ask:

"What exactly are we trying to measure?"

If we're measuring whether somebody can recognize AI, let's measure that.

If we're measuring vocal performance, let's compare vocal performances.

If we're measuring songwriting, let's judge songwriting.

If we're measuring emotional impact, let's see what actually moves people.

If we're measuring efficiency, let's discuss how much time and money different production methods require.

If we're measuring artistic authenticity, then we'd better define what we mean by authenticity.

But let's stop treating all of those questions as though they're the same question.

They're not.

My Position Isn't "AI Is Better"

My position is much simpler.

AI is another tool.

Sometimes it's the right tool.

Sometimes it isn't.

Sometimes human performance is better.

Sometimes AI-assisted production is better.

Sometimes the combination is better than either one alone.

And sometimes I don't use AI at all.

The fact that I can make music and art in different ways is not a weakness in my argument.

It's the argument.

I've already made music without AI.

Now I have additional tools.

Why would I voluntarily pretend those tools don't exist?

I'm a Multidisciplinary Artist

That phrase might sound fancy.

Maybe it is.

But I think it's accurate.

I'm not limited to one artistic medium.

I don't want to be.

I've never liked being pigeonholed.

I'm interested in whatever medium best communicates the idea.

Sometimes that's a song.

Sometimes that's a photograph.

Sometimes it's a painting or physical object.

Sometimes it's a digital image.

Sometimes it's a video.

Sometimes it's animation.

Sometimes it's a costume.

Sometimes it's a combination of all of them.

Sometimes it's somebody else's artwork that I think deserves to be seen.

Sometimes it's Dawn's artwork.

Sometimes it's something I encountered in the real world.

Sometimes it's AI-assisted.

Sometimes it isn't.

That's not inconsistency.

That's creative freedom.

Everything Is Material

There's another philosophy behind all of this.

I tend to see almost everything as material.

An argument can become an article.

A strange experience can become a song.

A photograph can become a visual.

A physical object can become artwork.

A piece of artwork can become animation.

A conversation can become an idea.

A walk can become a video.

A costume can become a character.

A location can become a setting.

A random image can become symbolism.

Even an annoying argument with somebody on the internet can become useful.

That doesn't mean I'm exploiting every moment of my life for clicks.

Quite the opposite.

Sometimes the desire to create content actually gets me out there living more life.

Maybe I want to film something, so I take the dogs for a walk when I otherwise might have stayed home.

Maybe I'm outside and the sun hits the snow just right.

Maybe Harley's shadow falls across a church.

Maybe I capture that.

Now I've had a novel experience.

I've spent time with my dog.

I've gotten outside.

I've created something.

I've broken up the routine.

And I've given myself another memory.

The content becomes a reason to participate in life rather than a substitute for living it.

And sometimes those novel experiences are valuable precisely because they make time feel more substantial in retrospect.

So even the act of creating can feed back into the life that I'm creating from.

That's the loop.

Life produces art.

Art encourages me to experience more life.

Those experiences produce more art.

And around and around it goes.

The Entire Toolbox

That's ultimately why I reject the idea that I need to choose between:

human creativity

and

technology.

Why?

Why can't I have both?

Why can't I use my own voice and an AI beat?

Why can't I make physical artwork and then animate it digitally?

Why can't I photograph something real and add artificial elements?

Why can't I use a costume, a real location, practical props and computer-generated imagery in the same video?

Why can't I showcase another artist's work alongside my own?

Why can't Dawn make something and I incorporate it into a project?

Why can't a museum inspire a video?

Why can't a fictional image communicate a real idea?

Why can't a machine help me turn an idea into something I can actually show people?

Why would I deliberately limit the toolbox?

So What Am I Actually Asking?

I'm not asking anybody to worship AI.

I'm not asking anybody to abandon traditional art.

I'm not asking anybody to pretend that AI-generated material is automatically brilliant.

I'm asking for something much simpler:

Judge the work.

Judge the song.

Judge the performance.

Judge the image.

Judge the video.

Judge the message.

Judge the emotional impact.

Judge the craftsmanship.

Judge the choices.

And then, if you want, ask how it was made.

But don't reverse that order and decide whether something has artistic value before you've even looked at it.

Because ultimately, I don't think the most important question is:

"Was AI involved?"

I think it's:

"What did you do with it?"

And if somebody still wants to debate me after reading all of this?

Fair enough.

Bring your arguments.

I'll bring mine.

But remember:

I value my time.

So if you want to debate me, you're gonna have to pay me.

Have a nice day.

Debunk This!

The mainstream scientific establishment is overall very much against creationist theory. Why then are they so opposed to studying Bigfoot? 🫈Seems odd.  I'm not making a statement. I'm simply posing a question. If someone wants to give me an answer please do email with it at: jmtalboo@gmail.com 

But do not say it's because there is no scientific evidence for the existence of Sasquatch, because that simply is not true!

Evidence isn't absolute proof of course, but otherwise what a load of absolute rubbish! There are plenty of highly-credible scientists in the most relevant of disciplines who correctly think otherwise and therefore this statement is BUNK! 

1. Dr. Jeff Meldrum — Anatomy, Anthropology & Locomotion

Jeff Meldrum is an anthropologist and anatomist at Idaho State University whose specialties include foot morphology, locomotion and the evolution of bipedalism in humans and other primates.

His examination of alleged Sasquatch footprints is particularly relevant because the evidence falls directly within his areas of expertise.

Meldrum has repeatedly emphasized that his argument is not that the evidence constitutes absolute proof, but that it warrants investigation. His book Sasquatch: Legend Meets Science examines footprints, dermal ridges, photographs, hair, DNA and other evidence.

2. Dr. Jane Goodall — Primatology

Jane Goodall hardly needs an introduction.

The legendary primatologist has publicly expressed an open mind toward the possibility of Sasquatch while acknowledging that existing evidence has not satisfied most scientists.

That's an important distinction.

She isn't saying, “Bigfoot has been proven.”

She's saying the question shouldn't simply be dismissed.

3. Dr. Grover Krantz — Anthropology & Human Evolution

Anthropologist Grover Krantz studied alleged Sasquatch footprints and handprints from an anatomical and evolutionary perspective.

His work included analysis of alleged dermal ridge patterns and the unusual anatomical characteristics claimed in some footprint casts.

Again, agreement with Krantz isn't required.

The relevant fact is that an academically trained anthropologist considered the physical evidence worthy of detailed analysis.

4. Dr. John Bindernagel — Zoology

Canadian zoologist John Bindernagel devoted substantial attention to the possibility of a large, undiscovered North American primate.

His work examined the ecological question of whether such an animal could theoretically exist in North America and whether the reports deserved scientific investigation.

His work is another example of someone with relevant scientific training treating Sasquatch as a zoological question rather than merely a campfire story.

5. Jimmy Chilcutt — Fingerprint & Primate Dermatoglyphics

Jimmy Chilcutt is particularly interesting because his expertise is directly relevant to one of the strangest categories of alleged Sasquatch evidence: dermal ridges.

Chilcutt worked in law enforcement as a fingerprint examiner and has examined alleged Sasquatch track casts for fingerprint-like ridge patterns.

His conclusions regarding some casts were controversial, but they were based on an area of forensic examination in which he had professional experience. Sasquatch: Legend Meets Science specifically discusses his examination of dermal ridge evidence.

6. Dr. Henner Fahrenbach — Hair & Physical Evidence

Dr. Henner Fahrenbach investigated alleged Sasquatch hair and other physical evidence and also conducted statistical work concerning reported Sasquatch characteristics.

Hair attributed to Sasquatch has been subjected to multiple forms of analysis, including DNA testing. Some samples have ultimately been identified as human, which is important evidence against simply assuming every unusual hair represents an unknown animal.

But the existence of the investigations themselves demonstrates that physical samples have been collected and subjected to scientific examination.

7. Dr. Daris Swindler — Primatology & Anatomy

Daris Swindler was a prominent primate anatomist associated with Washington State University.

He examined the controversial Skookum cast, along with other researchers including Meldrum and primatologist Esteban Sarmiento.

Whatever conclusion one reaches about the cast, the fact remains that trained primate specialists were brought in to examine it anatomically.

8. Dr. Esteban Sarmiento — Primatology & Human Evolution

Esteban Sarmiento, a primatologist and researcher associated with the American Museum of Natural History, was another specialist involved in examination of Sasquatch-related physical evidence.

His participation is particularly relevant because primate anatomy and evolution are directly related to evaluating claims of an unknown large primate.

That doesn't make every interpretation of the evidence correct.

It does make the subject difficult to accurately characterize as something that qualified scientists have simply never investigated.

9. Dr. George Schaller — Wildlife Biology

George Schaller is one of the world's most respected wildlife biologists and conservation scientists.

Schaller has expressed skepticism about whether the existing evidence establishes Sasquatch, but he has also recognized the value of critically examining the evidence.

In his comments about Meldrum's work, Schaller described Meldrum as bringing scientific rigor to the question and praised his footprint analysis.

That's an important example because scientific engagement doesn't require accepting the final hypothesis.

10. Dr. Robert Benson — Bioacoustics

Robert Benson examined alleged Sasquatch vocalizations using computerized acoustic analysis.

His area of expertise is particularly relevant to reports involving unexplained sounds and vocalizations.

Again, the existence of an acoustic analysis does not automatically establish that the sounds came from Bigfoot.

But it demonstrates that alleged Sasquatch evidence has been subjected to specialized scientific analysis rather than simply accepted or rejected based on someone's personal opinion.

11. Dr. Craig Newton — DNA Analysis

Craig Newton was involved in DNA testing of biological samples associated with the Skookum site.

The results and limitations of such testing are part of the larger debate over alleged Sasquatch biological evidence.

And this is precisely why DNA evidence needs to be discussed carefully.

Some alleged Sasquatch samples have produced ordinary human or known-animal results. Others have generated questions about contamination, sample quality, identification and interpretation.

That's evidence to investigate—not automatically proof of an unknown primate.

12. Dr. Russell Ciochon — Paleontology & Human Evolution

Russell Ciochon is a paleoanthropologist whose work includes fossil primates and human evolution.

His involvement in Sasquatch: Legend Meets Science provided another perspective on the possible relationship between reports of giant unknown primates and extinct primates such as Gigantopithecus.

This does not mean Gigantopithecus has been demonstrated to be Bigfoot.

It means that questions about unknown or extinct primates can be examined through legitimate disciplines such as paleontology, anatomy and evolutionary biology.

So, the vast majority of relevant qualified scientists not looking for this possible missing link for evolutionary theory they vehemently defend are proving themselves to be quite dogmatic. Maybe pseudoscience is their religion? 

Undebunking Bigfoot

Debunking Pseudo-Skepticism Regarding the Topic of Sasquatch

Best Evidence & Content that Counters Pseudo-Skepticism Regarding the Topic of Sasquatch

• Debunking Bigfoot Debunkers
• Highly Probable, Possible, Inconclusive, and Widely Rejected Sasquatch Videos and Photos
• Best Evidence for the Existence of Sasquatch - Forensic, Audio, Video, Photo, Statistical Data

One More Thought...

Some people have suggested that Bigfoot could actually be connected to the Nephilim mentioned in the Bible.

I'm not saying that's true.

But if you're looking for ways to put some of these creationist ideas to rest, perhaps it's time to get on the Bigfoot case ASAP.

After all, if Sasquatch turned out to be a real, previously unknown primate, that would be a pretty damn interesting development for evolutionary science.

So what are we waiting for?

Investigate the Bigfoot. 😂

And Since We're Talking About Bigfoot...

Here are two recent songs from my music featuring lyrics about Bigfoot, along with videos and pictures of me with Bigfoot.

Follow/subscribe on TikTok: @Crashout.Royalty

Bigfoot song #1 — TikTok

Bigfoot song #2 — TikTok

VIDEO: Students can’t answer basic questions about 9/11

VIDEO: Students can’t answer basic questions about 9/11

Ahead of the 19th anniversary of the September 11th terrorist attacks, Campus Reform spoke to students to see what they knew about the tragic event in the nation’s history.

While most students had very broad and general knowledge about the day’s events, many did not know basic details about which U.S. cities were attacked and who was responsible for the attacks.

https://archives.infowars.com/video-students-cant-answer-basic-questions-about-9-11/ 

9/11: Questions That Still Deserve Answers

More than two decades after September 11, 2001, there are still questions surrounding the attacks, the government's response, the intelligence failures, the destruction of the World Trade Center, and what happened in the hours before and after the attacks.

This isn't a list of conclusions.

It isn't a declaration that any particular alternative theory is correct.

It is simply a list of questions.

Some have conventional explanations. Some have competing explanations. Some remain matters of interpretation or disagreement.

But asking a question isn't the same thing as claiming to know the answer.

1. What exactly happened inside NORAD's air-defense system that morning?

The 9/11 Commission documented significant confusion and communication problems between the FAA and NORAD, including conflicting information about the hijacked aircraft and delays in establishing a common picture of the threat.

What caused those failures?

Were they simply the result of an unprecedented attack and a system that wasn't designed for that scenario?

Or were there additional failures that have never been adequately explained?

2. Why were the official timelines of the military response initially different?

Early accounts of the morning's events differed from the timeline ultimately presented by the 9/11 Commission.

The Commission itself acknowledged that inaccurate government accounts initially created the appearance that the military had been notified earlier than it actually was.

Why did those discrepancies occur?

Were they ordinary confusion during a rapidly developing emergency, faulty recollections, communication failures, or something else?

3. What exactly happened with Flight 77 before it struck the Pentagon?

The 9/11 Commission documented the FAA's notification to NORAD concerning American Airlines Flight 77 and the subsequent confusion surrounding its location.

What information did each agency possess at each moment?

Why did different agencies have different understandings of the aircraft's location?

And could the available radar, communications and tracking records provide an even clearer reconstruction today?

4. Why wasn't the FAA immediately part of the highest-level military air-threat conference?

The 9/11 Commission reported that the FAA was not part of the National Military Command Center's air-threat conference during its first 48 minutes.

Why wasn't the agency responsible for tracking America's commercial aircraft immediately integrated into the conference?

Was this simply an existing communications problem exposed by an unprecedented emergency?

5. What exactly happened with the shootdown authorization?

The Commission's account says that authorization to engage hijacked aircraft was communicated through a complicated chain of conversations during the morning, while NORAD's understanding of the situation was changing rapidly.

Who knew what, and when?

What precisely did each participant understand the authorization to mean?

And how did the information move between the White House, the NMCC, NORAD, NEADS and the FAA?

6. Why did World Trade Center Building 7 collapse?

WTC 7 was not struck by an airplane.

NIST concluded that uncontrolled fires caused thermal expansion and structural failures that initiated a progressive collapse beginning with the failure of Column 79. NIST also concluded that it found no evidence of a blast event.

But competing researchers have challenged aspects of that explanation.

The University of Alaska Fairbanks study reached a substantially different conclusion concerning the possibility of fire-induced progressive collapse.

So the question remains:

Which structural explanation best accounts for everything observed in WTC 7's collapse — NIST's model, the University of Alaska Fairbanks analysis, another structural explanation, or some combination of factors?

That is a legitimate scientific question even if someone ultimately accepts NIST's explanation.

7. Why did WTC 7 appear to undergo a period of free-fall acceleration?

NIST acknowledged that portions of WTC 7's visible descent exhibited a period of gravitational acceleration.

What exactly does that observation tell us about the structural failures occurring inside the building?

How should the observed acceleration be interpreted within competing collapse models?

8. Why did NIST not test the WTC tower steel for explosives or thermite residues?

NIST explicitly states that it did not test the recovered tower steel for explosive or thermite residues.

NIST's position was that other evidence led it to conclude that controlled demolition was not involved.

But another question naturally follows:

Would additional chemical testing have provided useful information, or would it have been incapable of resolving the question because of contamination, removal of material, environmental exposure, or other factors?

9. What happened to all of the physical evidence from Ground Zero?

The WTC investigation involved enormous amounts of documentation, photography, video, interviews and structural analysis.

But the handling, removal and recycling of structural steel has remained a subject of controversy among researchers.

What evidence was preserved?

What was discarded or recycled?

What testing was performed before material left the site?

And what potentially useful forensic opportunities were lost?

10. Why were there significant discrepancies between eyewitness accounts?

Thousands of people witnessed portions of the attacks.

Some accounts agree closely.

Others conflict dramatically.

How should contradictory eyewitness testimony be weighed?

Which memories were recorded immediately?

Which were recorded years later?

And how much can eyewitness testimony realistically tell us about events occurring during an unprecedented catastrophe?

11. What exactly did intelligence agencies know before 9/11?

The attacks were preceded by numerous intelligence warnings concerning al-Qaeda and the possibility of attacks against the United States.

What information existed inside the various agencies?

Which pieces of information were connected?

Which were not shared?

And why did the available intelligence fail to produce an effective warning or prevention effort?

12. Why did the intelligence system fail to connect information it already possessed?

The 9/11 Commission documented numerous intelligence and information-sharing failures.

Were these primarily bureaucratic problems?

Compartmentalization?

Institutional rivalry?

Insufficient resources?

Failures of imagination?

Or were there additional factors that remain unidentified?

13. What should we make of the differences between the 9/11 Commission's account and earlier government accounts?

The Commission itself documented discrepancies between early government statements and the evidence it ultimately assembled.

How much of that discrepancy can reasonably be attributed to confusion, incomplete information and changing recollections?

Were any important discrepancies never satisfactorily resolved?

14. Could the collapse of WTC 7 have been independently reproduced?

NIST used sophisticated computer modeling to reconstruct the collapse sequence.

Other researchers have produced different models and interpretations.

Could independent teams, working from the same available architectural, structural, video and fire data, reproduce the competing scenarios and demonstrate which one best matches the observed evidence?

15. What can we actually prove — as opposed to what we believe?

This may be the biggest question of all.

We know the attacks happened.

We know four commercial aircraft were hijacked.

We know the World Trade Center towers collapsed.

We know WTC 7 collapsed later that afternoon.

We know enormous failures occurred in intelligence sharing and emergency response.

We know government accounts changed as more information became available.

But where does established evidence end and interpretation begin?

That distinction matters.

Because a question isn't proof of a conspiracy.

But neither does an official explanation automatically make every remaining question disappear.

The honest approach is to keep investigating.

Look at the evidence.

Look at the competing explanations.

Look at the weaknesses in both.

And then decide what the evidence actually supports.

**Facts are facts.

Questions are questions.

And unanswered questions deserve answers.**