Contact in the desert – Full Review *Exclusive*
Day 1 We were somewhere around the perimeter of the conference grounds when the …. began to take hold, not the chemical kind, mind you, but the slow, toxic drip of recognition that I’d been here before. Three years prior, to be exact, wandering these same asphalt veins ( hotel ground) like a man condemned to rerun his own fever dream. Night One. That’s what the program says. The “getting familiar” phase, as if this were some kind of corporate retreat instead of a gathering of the damned and the curious. But I knew these faces. Christ, did I know them. The same desperate tribes of true believers, the glassy eyed prophets who’d been waiting since Roswell for someone in a suit to finally tell them the truth. Only now there was fresh meat, new blood drawn here by the media circus, the promise of those disclosure files dropping like manna from a bureaucracy that wouldn’t know truth if it sodomized them in an elevator. And drop they did right before this carnival kicked into gear. I’d been praying for it, scheming for it, hoping against hope that maybe just maybe the suits would treat it with some dignity, but no. That’s not how the machine works, is it? The elected officials, these bloated caricatures of public service, treated it...
