An extraterrestrial civilization signal has been detected, evidence will be published in a month

[zaangalewa]

Nope. The ocean distributes the heat it stores to the polar regions via thermohaline circulation currents.

I'm afraid you'll have to have that big mouth beaten to death after you die. Why for heavens sake do you still try to speak with me? What is your motivation to do so? Do you have any explanation for your weird and absurde behavior?

 

[ding]

I'm afraid you'll have to have that big mouth beaten to death after you die. Why for heavens sake do you still try to speak with me? What is your motivation to do so? Do you have any explanation for your weird behavior?

Your God is politics. Mine is Truth, Love and Logic... among other extant attributes of reality.

 

[zaangalewa]

Your God is politics. Mine is Truth, Love and Logic... among other extant attributes of reality.

Vade retro, Satana.



Another night, one of the far too many
In which once again sleep will not come
And, as so often before, you are drawn against your will
Into the dark streets without a specific destination
And carelessly you push as if it were a ball of paper
With your feet a dead pigeon in front of you
The girls stand waiting on the wall by the train
They know you and haven't spoken to you for a long time
The man there stays in the shade, pretending to read
And only dares to come out when your footsteps have faded away

Some of those you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they do a poor job of hiding their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness is already an offense

And in every bar at night you see on your way
Many strange men, full glasses in their hands
They don't want to lay their heads on the grease stain
Which, above every shabby hotel bed, on the wall
From the heads of many hundreds of other men
Who lay here before them and how they were condemned
So drink that the barmaid speaks a word to them
With whom they would not show themselves, not in daylight
She knows this too, without revealing it
But surely she won't let any of them into her bed

Some of the people you meet here are like you, they are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they do a poor job of hiding their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness were already an offense

And at the urinal, where the hustlers are waiting again
Under bushes, trees you've never seen so dark
You turn around again and avoid this garden
Because you still have an image in your mind's eye from before
The gay old man, early in the morning in the pansy patch
His skull bashed in and turned on his stomach
His brains sucked up by the flowers during the night
He lay there without pants, all skinny and exhausted
From a life of misery, like his death so gray
And his toupee still hung in the thorn bush, wet with blood and dew

Some of those you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they do a poor job of hiding their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness were already an offense

Even in the waiting room, drunken men are dozing now
Talking to themselves, always the same sentence
You too sit down at the table with that wormwood bum
He finds his warm place here every night
Fresh scars, days-old dirt almost cover
The tattoo on his wrist from prison
Slumped over on the table, like most here
The head in a pool of red wine, snot and beer
You wonder how he can sleep so bent, bent and bent
Can still sleep and you envy him for it

Some you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they hide their mistrust, their fear only poorly
As if their loneliness is already an offense

You sit there and gradually begin to dream yourself
See yourself as a sick pigeon that barely moves
Far from the air and the sun and the tall trees
Lying down to die in the air shaft of a house
And from the dreary window holes above your grave
Sputum and stench fall down on you without a break
Sounds you hear as your life force trickles away
Of which rattling, spitting, cursing are not the worst
But high above you, you can see a bright square
A piece of sky, a piece of hope, you're already moving your toes
Stand up, flap your wings and wake up trying
To fight your way up to the spot that is called life for you
Which only looks like an often-used handkerchief

Some of those you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they do a poor job of hiding their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness were already an offense

Translated with DeepL.com (free version)

 

[task0778]

An extraterrestrial civilization signal has been detected, evidence will be published in a month​

They're probably watching reruns of I Love Lucy as we speak. And they wanna know why we cancelled Gilligan's Island.

 

[ding]

Vade retro, Satana.



Another night, one of the far too many
In which once again sleep will not come
And, as so often before, you are drawn against your will
Into the dark streets without a specific destination
And carelessly you push as if it were a ball of paper
With your feet a dead pigeon in front of you
The girls stand waiting on the wall by the train
They know you and haven't spoken to you for a long time
The man there stays in the shade, pretending to read
And only dares to come out when your footsteps have faded away

Some of those you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they do a poor job of hiding their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness is already an offense

And in every bar at night you see on your way
Many strange men, full glasses in their hands
They don't want to lay their heads on the grease stain
Which, above every shabby hotel bed, on the wall
From the heads of many hundreds of other men
Who lay here before them and how they were condemned
So drink that the barmaid speaks a word to them
With whom they would not show themselves, not in daylight
She knows this too, without revealing it
But surely she won't let any of them into her bed

Some of the people you meet here are like you, they are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they do a poor job of hiding their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness were already an offense

And at the urinal, where the hustlers are waiting again
Under bushes, trees you've never seen so dark
You turn around again and avoid this garden
Because you still have an image in your mind's eye from before
The gay old man, early in the morning in the pansy patch
His skull bashed in and turned on his stomach
His brains sucked up by the flowers during the night
He lay there without pants, all skinny and exhausted
From a life of misery, like his death so gray
And his toupee still hung in the thorn bush, wet with blood and dew

Some of those you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they do a poor job of hiding their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness were already an offense

Even in the waiting room, drunken men are dozing now
Talking to themselves, always the same sentence
You too sit down at the table with that wormwood bum
He finds his warm place here every night
Fresh scars, days-old dirt almost cover
The tattoo on his wrist from prison
Slumped over on the table, like most here
The head in a pool of red wine, snot and beer
You wonder how he can sleep so bent, bent and bent
Can still sleep and you envy him for it

Some you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they hide their mistrust, their fear only poorly
As if their loneliness is already an offense

You sit there and gradually begin to dream yourself
See yourself as a sick pigeon that barely moves
Far from the air and the sun and the tall trees
Lying down to die in the air shaft of a house
And from the dreary window holes above your grave
Sputum and stench fall down on you without a break
Sounds you hear as your life force trickles away
Of which rattling, spitting, cursing are not the worst
But high above you, you can see a bright square
A piece of sky, a piece of hope, you're already moving your toes
Stand up, flap your wings and wake up trying
To fight your way up to the spot that is called life for you
Which only looks like an often-used handkerchief

Some of those you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they do a poor job of hiding their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness were already an offense

Translated with DeepL.com (free version)

Life is unfair. Expect to make sacrifices. God did.

 

[zaangalewa]

Life is unfair. Expect to make sacrifices. God did.

This is not the Christian message. You are on my ignore list now.

 

[ding]

This is not the Christian message. You are on my ignore list now.

You worship politics. Politics is YOUR God. You sell entitlements. You sell victimization. You do not sell accountability, freedom or liberty.

 

[ding]

This is not the Christian message. You are on my ignore list now.

It's God's message. Life is not fair. Expect to make sacrifices. God did.

 

[Sherlock Holmes]

The subject of the thread is the promised release of evidence of extra terrestrial intelligence, so where is this promised evidence? Has everyone forgotten the title of the thread??

 

[Fort Fun Indiana]

The subject of the thread is the promised release of evidence of extra terrestrial intelligence, so where is this promised evidence? Has everyone forgotten the title of the thread??

Is everyone but you supposed to be researching and presenting the evidence?

 

[Sherlock Holmes]

Is everyone but you supposed to be researching and presenting the evidence?

I'm asking if the "evidence" alluded to in the OP:

Evidence of the existence of an extraterrestrial highly developed civilization has been discovered, the evidence will be published in less than a month. This was stated by director Simon Holland, who has worked on documentaries for the BBC and NASA-funded projects, the Daily Mail reports.

has appeared yet, it's been over a month and the OP said it would be shown in less time than that, I can find nothing later than Oct 15 or so.

I think it's fair to say the original claim was false, Holland was incorrect.

 

[Sherlock Holmes]

So, still no sign of this promised "evidence" then?

 

[Fort Fun Indiana]

I'm asking if the "evidence" alluded to in the OP:



has appeared yet, it's been over a month and the OP said it would be shown in less time than that, I can find nothing later than Oct 15 or so.

View attachment 1044199

I think it's fair to say the original claim was false, Holland was incorrect.

Have you seen it or found it?

Do you think he possesses magical acces to information that you do not?

Don't spam the thread with your sealion trolling.

 

[Sherlock Holmes]

Have you seen it or found it?

Do you think he possesses magical acces to information that you do not?

Don't spam the thread with your sealion trolling.

It's a general question, directed at anyone who might know why evidence was promised but has not been forthcoming, if you have no information then perhaps someone else interested in the thread might.