Love’s Truck Stop, near Las Cruces, New Mexico (Various dates, ending on November 3)
‘This man has some internal evil brewing in him.’
This is Jan Irvin, referring to moi, your humble blogster. He was writing via email to one of you all – a subscriber to this blog – in reply to the subscriber’s suggestion that Jan actually reply to my post on Jan’s interview with physicist David Harriman. But more on how Jan views me down at the end; I have matters more important than the evil brewing within me to deal with in this post.
A lot of stuff has been happening, some cool stuff and some weird stuff.
A week ago I was here at Love’s – I’ve circled back to the same truck stop after some interim travel – camped at an adjacent dirt lot, when Leo & Max (Sassy Max) show up. ‘An old bum on a bike’ would be an obvious Leo-label, sum him up, but, as with the Big Bike Guy – apparently ‘a young bum on a bike’ – with whom I had a sit down yesterday, and, come to think of it, as with me – am I not ‘an old bum in an RV’? – this would be a drastic oversimplification, aside from rude. No, Leo’s okay, although I’m partial to dog guys, admittedly. No, Leo’s all right; he even has a Facebook page.
Having biked across the U.S.A multiple times in the last nine years, Leo has an interesting take on life and travel. More in an upcoming film.
The day after our sit down with Leo, I headed north to the White Sands National Monument – having caught a glimpse of it during one of my many long-past cross country jaunts – the U.S. Heartland being naught but ‘time and distance between two point breaks’ being my philosophy back then. Now, with in my more contemplative if declining years, and given my pessimism re the future of unrestricted travel hereabouts, it’s a now or never sort of viewpoint I’m living under.
As with Leo, my conversation with the Big Bike Guy will be in my documentary, Always Open (more about this in my next post).
There’s no actual monument at White Sands, not that I saw, but there is a whole lot of gypsum, folks. Gypsum deep (50 feet down, at least, they say) and wide (275 square miles!). In the Postcard below there’s a bit of White Sands, and ‘white’ is right. It took a bit of color correction to get the picture to come close to reflecting how damn white the place is…
CREEPY MOUNTAIN
On the map it’s Bradford Canyon, off Bradford Canyon Road. (You might Google Earth it, if you know how to do that sort of stuff.) I shot some of it, but missed the real creepy aspects, which loomed after dark – with no moon, dark is dark on Creepy Mountain – so they’ll need some explaining.
Creepy Mountain before it got creepy…
This was my vision of the high desert: a long, straight mirage-wavy two-land blacktop stretch to a turn out dirt lot under a massive saw-tooth ridge, where I could set my easy chair and Canon xsi on a tripod set to time lapse for some serious contemplation/image making of my surroundings.
All went well until late afternoon, when a late model, flamboyantly tricked out diesel pickup rolled in off Bradford Canyon Road – the first vehicle I’d seen since arriving around noon – and out pile two swarthy chicanos and their unleashed pit bull terriers, massive-chested, scarred beasts, and I refer to both men and dogs; a total of I’d guess 600 pounds of wild-eyed testosterone and snarling man/dog hostility. Gus, in her naivety, bolts for the arrivals grinning and wagging and the pits bull-rush right for her and pin her to the ground in about two seconds but pause to snarl at each other, presumably in discord over who gets to slash the squealing victim’s throat. ‘Son peladores!’ warn the chicos. They’re fighters. No shit.
The pause was enough for the boys and me to drag the pits off Gus; luckily they were by then distracted by their internecine disagreement and turned on each other, the chicanos beating them about their heads yelling a tirade of ‘Calmate’s’ or the like. Then, with nary a mea culpa for scaring the shit out of my dog and me, the foursome trotted off, up the canyon trail, apparently on an exercise run. (This crew made me wonder when they’ll come up with Human-Canine Ultimate Fighting Extravaganza. You put two dogs and two owners in a kind of Thunderdome cage and wait to see who’s left standing.)
Whatever spectrum-of-human-traits you want to come up with, the woman-plus-dog that next appeared off the Canyon road and exited their car was on the other end from my first visitors. The dog could hardly walk, for one thing, and wanted nothing to do with Gus, although she (it was a she, I think) was so spaced out and glassy eyed that it was difficult to assess her mental state. Her owner, likewise, was an unsteady mover and seemed mildly bewildered as she surveyed my act: me, my dog and my rig there in the dead quiet scrub (you best believe I was keeping a wary eye on the canyon trail, for the return of the Chicanos/terrier crew). The woman squinted perplexed at the book/movie decals, plus ‘Banditobooks.com,’ plus the ‘Ditch Plains’ plaque (my home break at Montauk) I’d added to the side of the rig as decor, although she seemed unable to muster any queries.
I knew before her first sentence had trailed off into absentmindedness that nothing this woman (name swapping never came up) had to say would or could interest me. Her ramblings were New Age in the extreme – Gaia this and Gaia that – so, having made my third excuse that I had ‘something to do’ in the rig, I was annoyed and ready when she came up with the inevitable, ‘Humans are a blight on mother earth.’
‘Let’s do our bit for Gaia, and kill ourselves.’ I made a vague gesture toward the rig interior, as if I had some suicide pact paraphernalia right in there and handy.
This was not the first time I’d ended this sort of conversation with the above logical-conclusion of Gaia fans: the ringing silence after the woman’s departure was most enchanting. With Gus safely in the rig, around sundown the chicanos and their charges, lathered in sweat, trotted down the trail from the canyon interior and off they went without incident; I settled in for what I still assumed would be a peaceful night in the high desert. Such was not to be.
I should mention that – aside from the canyon blacktop – there were signs of man within my view, although I tried my best not to dwell upon them. I speak of a clutch of dwellings maybe a half mile to the northeast, right at the base of Creepy Mountain. (Keep this in mind when you get to my Postcard video.)
I tried to not get too deep into contemplating who might live here…
I can’t help myself with my H-wood allusions, so here we go: In retrospect – after the night to come and after I was informed of the ‘drug deals’ and ‘shootings’ the canyon was known for – the cinematic image is from the AMC series Breaking Bad, the various psychopaths in the desert scenes. (If you didn’t get addicted to Breaking Bad – good for you! But you probably still get the idea here…)
…like these fellas from Breaking Bad….
Behind a sign informing me that people have died around here, I’d set up my Canon with the intervalometer at one frame every 10 seconds, hoping to get the various changes in the subtle kaleidoscope of desert colors, from the late afternoon glare to the rose of dusk to the indigo of moonless midnight and then – after a 3 AM battery change – to the pre-sunrise blush just the other side of the saw tooth range. That was the plan…
…I, plus my image making (a great postcard for you all, I was thinking), didn’t make it to midnight. Between about 9 and 11 PM I had three visitors – not counting the elderly woman (in retrospect, ‘the crazed crone’) who just after sundown barreled in off the blacktop, sped by my rig and cackled ‘Nice view, huh?’ and then was off in a cloud of russet canyon dust, south toward Las Cruces. (“Why the cackle, the grin of glee?’ I asked myself. What did she know that I didn’t about the view?) Then two other interlopers, headlights first piercing the pitch from two, three miles, me observing, muttering for them to juuuust keep on a-going, okay? but them closing, closing, then swerving into the lot, on by my rig, blatantly eschewing the small courtesy of killing those high beams, slowing enough to perhaps clock my NY tags, me frowning as the taillights fade in the dim silence.
It was the third one that did it, though. Getting late, I’m in the rack when this one stopped ten feet distant, its big (American made) V-8 idling a deep growl. No sound of a car door opening. Peering out my side window, I see it’s a battered pick up of some vintage year, with ‘Animal Control’ in faded stencil on the side door and a large, misshapen heavy-gage wire cage hanging off the extended flap. ‘Animal Control’? Trust me, this was no official vehicle. It just sat there. A minute, maybe two. A long time. So I slip out my far side door, then with fish billy tucked in my belt in the back, I round the rear of my rig, calling out in friendly tone, ‘Hi there.’ Off he goes – not a glimpse of the occupant(s) – his exit slower than the others, very much so, like he was thinking of coming back then and there…
Two fighting pit bulls… now an ‘Animal Control’ truck with a big cage on the back… The chicanos, with their $100k ride (did I mention their heavy gold neckwear and rings?), didn’t eyeball me like I was worth their felonious effort, but they likely had sporting cohorts or underlings with different standards.
If you watch the Postcard below, you’ll see where the Canon’s night time lapse ended, representing my bolt from Bradford Canyon/Creepy Mountain. It was a nerve-wracked photographer who pushed the stop button on the intervalometer – thereby missing dawn’s early light – and bolted.
The night was an abject lesson in how outback tranquility can suddenly and completely descend into brutal paranoia.
I spent the night at a gas station in Las Cruces but returned to Creepy Mountain the next morning. Not sure why I went back, but I did. What a difference the light of day makes…
In the dirt lot I came upon a local backpacker who informed me about the ‘drug deals’ and ‘shootings’ in the Canyon, plus how his pickup was broken into and pillaged while he was hiking the trail last month in broad daylight; he shook his head at my recounting of the previous night. ‘Animal Control, huh?’ He got a far off look, like he knew something.
When I asked him who lived at the clutch of dwellings in the distance under the loom of the mountain, he shook his head again and shrugged. I asked him about local law enforcement, having spotted a Sheriff’s car at the gas station. ‘The Sheriff?’ He seemed amused, looked out at the canyon, the trail he was about to ascend. Then he said, ‘Sure is beautiful here, though, isn’t it?’
This was all two nights ago, plus yesterday with the backpacker. I then returned here to Love’s Truck Stop, where I started writing this, and editing film. (In my next post I’ll get into where I am now, plus my drastically altered travel plans.)
Keep in mind I missed getting on camera my visitors at Creepy Mountain and the local backpacker. (I gotta learn to at least keep a GoPro on me at all times.) This Postcard is my attempt to give the feel of what I experienced at Creepy Mountain, hence the mood music…
Okay. Jan Irvin… but really, folks: Can’t I get along with anyone? See, it’s not just deceit/treachery that aggravates me and which I can’t keep my trap shut about. It’s pretense/arrogance, too.
I emailed David Harriman, the physicist Jan Irvin had interviewed (referred to in my last post). Here’s our exchange:
Mr. Harriman,
Jan Irvin is publicly asserting that you have ‘completely‘ debunked quantum physics (Jan’s emphasis). If this isn’t true, you should inform him to desist in making this claim on your behalf.
My impression is that you have philosophical problems with the Copenhagen interpretation of QP, but do not claim to have ‘debunked’ the science. There is a big difference…
He also links your name to his claim that Einstein was ‘a moron, a fraud, and a third rate mathematician.’ My impression is that you actually do not share this belief. (I don’t blame you for not replying to his recommendation of ‘The Manufacture and Sale of Saint Einstein…’, given that its 2,800 pages are unintelligibly sourced – after beginning the text with the words ‘Racist physicist Albert Einstein…’)
Jan also refers to you as ‘Doctor’ Harriman, which I believe is inaccurate.
Allan Weisbecker
P.S. Jan has written to a third party that I have ‘evil brewing’ in me and ‘give off negative energy.’ I would hope that this sort of New Age ad hominem will not affect your sentiments, should you decide to reply.
By the way, I cc’d Irvin the above email (I confess that in a sense I was actually writing to him). Once again: I couldn’t help myself.
Harriman replied:
Mr. Weisbecker:
Of course I have not “debunked” quantum mechanics, if that means refuting the mathematical formulism. The basic equations of QM have been proven correct beyond any reasonable doubt.
I have merely expressed my agreement with what many other physicists (including Einstein) have said about the nonsensical interpretation of the theory offered by Bohr and Heisenberg. My views are publically available, expressed clearly in my book The Logical Leap and in the website for the book.
In regard to Einstein, to refer to him as a “moron” is the epitome of ignorance. He was a brilliant physicist who made highly original, crucial, and valid discoveries. Philosophically, however, he was a rationalist — his favorite philosopher was Spinoza, whom I admire but strongly disagree with on many fundamental issues. In my judgment, Einstein’s worst influence pertained to scientific method; he rejected the validity of inductive reasoning and insisted that theories are “free creations.”
You are also right that I do not have a Ph.D. I’m “all-but-dissertation” in both physics and philosophy. When I was in graduate school, I had difficulty motivating myself to write the kinds of dissertations that are judged to be acceptable by academics today.
I hope you find this clarifying.
Best regards,
David Harriman
Reply, Reply All or Forward | More
To
DAVID HARRIMAN
Oct 25 at 5:18 PM
Mr. Harriman,
I much appreciate your getting back to me. My email was not meant to impugn any of your views, but rather to alert you to what Jan Irvin has been publicly saying about you – I am completely aware that you never claimed to have debunked QP. But if you wish, I can send you an audio clip of Irvin claiming that you have, ‘completely’ so. Again, my email was merely a heads up. I find Jan Irvin to be an insufferable bore who knows very much less than he thinks he does. He has also insulted me for no good reason, except that I even-handedly (while complementing the over all interview) pointed out that he has misrepresented some of your views.
My only issue with your slant on physics is that (IMO) you make too much of various physicists’ ‘favorite philosophers.’ I doubt that either Bohr or Einstein were concentrating on what Kant or Spinoza or whomever might think when they were doing their physics – nor do I believe that the particle/wave duality showed itself in a physical experiment because a long-dead non-scientist claimed ‘it’s all in our heads.’
I recall reading that Einstein considered the observational verification of relativity (via the eclipse in 1919) as ‘the most emotionally satisfying moment of my life.’ This is hardly the sentiments of a man who did not view induction/observation as a vital aspect of his science.
Another example: I’m sure you’ve read of Einstein’s meeting with Hubble – re the expanding universe, which is inferred from relativity – and how Einstein considered his Cosmological Constant ‘the worst blunder’ of his career. This was based on the observation that the universe is expanding. So, based on observation, Einstein had the best and worst ‘moments’ of his life. From this I infer that he considered observation a vital aspect of physics. )
Along the same lines – in referring to your interview with Irvin – it perhaps would have been more illuminating to talk a bit more (or at all) about the science of QP and the tech advances based upon it, rather than the philosophical abstractions of Kant et al. A bit more balance. Having said that, and in spite of my annoyance with Jan Irvin – I found the interview fascinating and wish you and your endeavors only the best.
Allan Weisbecker
P.S. Calling Einstein ‘a moron, a fraud, and a third rate mathematician’ is of course beyond the pale in stupidity, but I’d be glad to forward you the quote from Irvin saying exactly that, in the context of your interview – implying that you would agree.
A lot of you read Can’t You Get Along With Anyone? A Writer’s Memoir and a Tale of a Lost Surfer’s Paradise. Most liked it, some hated it. Question is, is there more truth to the title than I really care to admit?
I dunno. I’d be glad for your feedback. Is it me? Or are a lot of people just plain fucked up and are deserving of the sort of aggravation I caused Jan Irvin?
By the way, on Jan Irvin’s site, in the comments section of a different podcast – Irvin and rising alt media star James Corbett – I was surprised to see my name mentioned, and an interview I’d done recommended. Here’s how that went:
Gary Gray
June 8, 2013 at 3:03 pm
Jan,
Too bad you didn’t get James Corbett to express[… w]hy he thinks a plane hit the pentagon on 9/11.
This interview is very worthwhile.
Allan Weisbecker
The alternative media
http://nwopodcast.com/fetz/media/jim%20fetzer%20real%20deal-weisbecker%20vs%20alt%20media.mp3
- Just under the above, Irvin replied:
Jan Irvin
June 9, 2013 at 12:50 am
Why would I? The interview was not about 911.
I had forgotten about that broadcast. So I listened to it. Holy shit, I must’ve pissed some people off! (Be forewarned: the above runs close to two hours…)
Okay. Enough is definitely enough. I had some more stuff to say – like about my immediately travel plans – but I’ll wait until next time…
Hold on! Just in! Another Jan Irvin gem:
You truly are a psychopath, as you admit not even willing to study the full presentation provided… and you ignored the 2800 page book on Einstein, which I was very clear who it was from. How totally dishonest of you, as before.
I don’t think I did call him “doctor”… do you have a quote for that? He taught at the University below my house. I didn’t say he was a doctor. You seem very psychologically disturbed.
Anyway, I won’t converse with you further. You clearly need a hospital bed.
[In order to never hear from Irvin again, I emailed a bet of $1,000 that I could furnish an audio clip of him calling Harriman ‘Doctor.’ That shut him up, of course.]
I gotta post this before even more bullshit comes in as a distraction. Christ, it never ends.
A couple days ago I left my Open Letter to Jan Irvin blog post as a comment on a forum that seemed to likewise call out Jan Irvin on his hypocrisies. Well, the response I got from the blogger was a surprise. I won’t subject you to the whole mess, but here’s his last email, which just now appeared in my Inbox:
I can see why Jan doesn’t like you…
Are you a Jew?
Boy, did he come up with that one with the wrong non-Jew. Here’s my answer:
…I’m as Aryan as they come, on both sides of the family. (My last name is German for ‘Baker of white bread,’ which says it all.) I’ve looked back at my ancestry for five generations and have come across not a single nigger, spic, gypsy, gook, slope, daggoo, wop, greaseball, abbo, mick… or, god forbid, a Jew. I’m pure.
Allan
P.S. The reason Jan Irvin ‘doesn’t like (me)’ is best summed up by an aphorism I myself came up with (feel free to quote me): ‘Lie about someone and they’ll get angry. Tell the truth about them and they’ll get outraged.’
This guy – a buddy of Jan Irvin as it turns out – is such an ignorant fuck that he thought the ‘Weis’ in my last name means I’m ‘a Jew.’ He figured to score some debate points by accurately ‘predicting’ I’m a Jew – the subtext being that it’s obvious that I’m a typical Jew.
But surprise! Not only am I not a Jew but I’m not a bigot either, putting him in a awkward position… I wrote him saying that (to me) he came across like a ‘flaming bigot’ and did he want to straighten this out?
He replied tersely that he did not want to straighten anything out, and I could do with ‘the knowledge’ (whatever that means) what I please. So I will. The guy’s name is Clint Richardson. Here’s the blog post that got my attention:
If you happen to be Jewish or if, like me, you have a bug up your ass about ignorant bigots, chime in at his blog. It’s likely he hasn’t ‘come out’ as an ignorant bigot to his subscribers…
My good deed for the day is done. That’s it.
Allan