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Electronic Voice Phenomena
"White Noise"
Research By Kscribe
Electronic voice phenomena is today one of the most fascinating areas of
paranormal research. Human-sounding voices from unknown origin are recorded
on such electronic media as tape recorders, digital voice recorders, video
recorders and other devices. Strangely, the voices are not heard at the time
of the recording; it is only when the recording is played back that the
voices are heard.
I will start out and clearly state that this story is one of fact and not
fiction.
On December 27th, 2004, I was awakened by my close friend of many years by a
phone call at 2:00 in the morning. It was Dr. Fredrick Myers, a Professor at
the Jerusalem Archaeological Research Center regarding an incident that was
bought to his attention by a colleague. It seems this individual who lives
in the same proximity of Dr. Myers, that being the Los Angeles basin, told
of a man I will call "Henry" who works at the Mountain View
Cemetery in Altadena, California.
Awaking from the deep peaceful sleep that every man enjoys after
toiling thru a long arduous snowy weekend, I was alarmed to hear his frantic
voice, fearing that a project that we are working on together had come to
some misfortune! This was to be the beginning of events that would
eventually change my life and challenge all that I believed! Fredrick began
his story, that was relayed to him by a colleague of his. A story told by
and of the man who was soon to become on intrinsic part of my all to
predictable life, Henry.
Henry retains employment with Mountain View Cemetery in Altadena, CA as a
caretaker, and has for the last 25 years. It seems the old chap, Henry that
is, knew my friend Fredrick thru some part time work he did up on the hill
were he resides. The story Fredrick told, raised the hair on the back
of my neck as if I was a startled black cat that ran into a pack of starved
wolves! Henry, working the swing shift at the cemetery had come upon one
of those new devices called a Ipod that allows listeners to record and play
back music, utilizing a small hard drive within the case. So what I'm
thinking, you wake me up for this? Going on, the story takes an interesting
twist when I am told WHERE Henry found it!
Henry, upon finding the device, takes it home and gives it to his teenage
son. The son, after figuring out the Ipod's operational process, runs into
the kitchen to show dad what strange sound's that are recorded on the hard
drive. This is were the story Fredrick was relaying to me, aroused my
interest! The sound's emitting from the device were of people talking thru
what seemed to Henry at the time, as a radio with lousy static reception.
After several minutes trying to understand the unintelligible sounds, Henry
rushes out of the house and frantically makes his way back to the cemetery,
stepping forward to the very spot, were by chance or providence, found the
find of the century!
At once, I threw the blankets off my carcass and with a burning anxiety, ran
thru the darkened hall into the kitchen to fetch the phone book! My life was
about to change! For the better or the worse I could not say, however be
warned that this story is for those who have a burning desire to understand
AND accept that the believes and views that they have in or about this life,
or the NEXT will change! Hopefully!
I arrived in Los Angeles on a flight at or about 7:30 pm on December 27th.
Dr. Myers was there to greet me and fill me in on all the details that were
not yet etched deep into the grey mass of my troubled mind. Thru the rain
soaked streets of L.A. we slowly drove, but the talk between us was
plentiful and troublesome. I pondered as in a daze, or perhaps it was the
feeling of disdain for my colleague who's words impressed upon my mind a
certain betrayal of credibility. The ranting's of a mad man perhaps, but not
the sound reasoning of my friend of many years.
On our arrival at Fredrick's home we were greeted by Henry, a tall,
gaunt man, with a dark coppery skin who's hand's betrayed his many years of
physical toil. We were seated in Fredricks sitting room to enjoy some tea as
Henry began his extraordinary if not to be described, cryptic tale. As the
time piece on the wall moved forward on it's endless journey, I sat there
keenly perceptive that the events that led up to this trip I had taken to
the City of Angeles, was a worthy vacation at best, and a absurd, even
embarrassing admission of gullibility. This feeling was not a
beneficial attribute for the sound minded!
After sitting there for hour after hour debating the issue under discussion
endlessly, I glanced at a ashtray that I had filled with the blackened
ends of my cigarettes. It was time to rest the weary mind! Fredrick,
perceiving my maneuver toward the couch for a little shut eye, motions me
back to the chair and to the conversation that I was un-successful in
eluding.
Looking me sternly in the eye, Fredrick with his deep German accent growls out "Ken, why don't we go out there. Henry is going to walk us thru this. You came all the way out here, bear with me for a few more hours" continuing, "I want you to meet someone out at the cemetery."
Oh great I'm thinking, how the hell did I get myself into
this lunacy!
Arriving thru the brick and iron gates of this wasted real estate, a
monument to those who neither speak, nor eat, nor contribute to my cause, I
glance at my watch. Half past one, I could have been in bed! Driving down
the path I notice the park like setting, a setting that I have grown to
despise, despite the beauty of the willow's at the entrance and the towering
pines that push toward the cold, dark, foggy night sky! After a short
stint down the pathway, we stop. Getting out of the Mercedes was painful,
for I had developed a prolonged dull pain in the ass from sitting on it all
day.
As I stand stretching my legs and arm's we are approached by a dark shape or
outline of someone or something coming out from among the trees. The day is
about to get longer...........
"Ken, I would like you to meet Curious George. George, is as you can
see, a man, and a rather bright one at that. The nickname he earned from his
inquiring mind at the excavations in Jerusalem. George is a
parapsychologists."
Well shit, I think, another nutcase. Seeing the skeptic that I am, old George steps forward and speaks. A remarkably refreshing voice without that damned annoying archaic German accent that Fredrick has yapped with all night!
"Glad to meet you Ken. Let me explain what I do. Parapsychologists try to observe the unexplainable phenomena, not explain it. The scientific methodology in this field dates from at least 1882. Have you heard of Ockham's razor"?
Yes I reply, I am quite familiar with it!
"Good, lets get the show on the road. Follow me" replied George.
As I walked behind my new found "friend" I had a feeling as if I
was a reluctant poodle out for a jaunt in the rain, being dragged or better
yet, pulled by the neck with a chain, as I would stubbornly refuse to move
my feet. But my protests tonight have gone unheard. The sound of grass,
saturated with the cold California rain, seemed to buckle under my feet,
much as the fog that hangs like a veil of doom across this vacant
landscape. It is night time and I am in a graveyard!
Arriving moments later, we arrive at the "appointed" headstone!
Reaching into his pocket, Henry hands George the much talked about Ipod.
Hooking up the microphone to the device and placing the Ipod gently on the
headstone and the microphone right over the grave site, we walk silently
into the ever increasing blackness of the night..........
As we walked toward the gates, we knew to be silent, as if we ourselves were
residence to this museum of granite stones. Several hours pass in deathly
silence...I reach into my pocket for another cigarette, damned it's empty!
Fredrick and George, sensing my agonizing anxiety, motion to each other. The
wait is over. We walk together quietly, wondering, or better yet,
anticipating the fruit of an excruciating evening. George switches the Ipod
off. FINALLY, my brain screams!
The ride back was what seemed an eternity. We were to download what ever, if
anything, onto the hard drive of Georges computer. We arrived shortly before
5:00 AM at some studio in a industrial part of town, a place that I
thought resembled old town Detroit. Entering the studio, I was amazed at all
the modern electrical gadgets that George used in his work. Well the
download took only 20 minutes, but the results of that download will take a
lifetime to digest, for there it was.........a voice..........in a
manner..........a characteristic acknowledgment of the style of the speech
that I not only knew, but grew to despise, for the voice is of
one..............................................................
HERBERT W. ARMSTRONG
Note: 457kb audio file
Every effort was put forth in order to clean out the static using the latest
technology. Using voice recognition, it is confirmed that this is of the
man, Herbert W. Armstrong.
Transcript:
"I say, follow me........I say, follow me......as
I follow SATAN......The
tree of life, wrong tree.....Don't believe God.....Because God loves evil
men.....The tree of life, wrong tree..."
Sponsored by COG Industries.
