A Cabin in the Woods

The last day of the year. I sit in a cabin in the cool morning air and a fire is made to warm the small cabin. I talk to two men twenty years my elder. They teach me things of lost worlds that only live with the work of old men. At 53 I am becoming them in my own way and am and will pass what I can to younger generations.

With apologies to George Lucus

I drew the above poster in 1977 and it was published by T-K Graphics. I believe I drew it three weeks after Star Wars came out. This is something I wouldn't do today but I was young and foolish. I found this poster on eBay today with the starting bid of $19.95. Strange to see a knockoff poster of Star Wars I drew being called rare on eBay.

As far as I know, knock off that it is this is the first poster of the Cantina from Star Wars.

The above photo is by the eBay seller cindy92002

The top photo is by me of a copy someone tried to color in. I don't who tried to color it in or why they stopped. I do know it wasn't me. Desiree I'm redoing this poster for you ( see comments below ). I'm going to take the color out , lower the bar and rework some of the aliens. The original drawing was destroyed years ago and I've always wanted to rework this drawing. I won't finish this poster redo until we finish The Recreators ( a graphic novel Desiree and I are working on ).

The plot sickens. Below is a email exchange between myself and the eBay seller cindy92002

"Dear cindy92002 ,

I'm Bob A Vollrath and I drew the poster you have for sell. May I use your photo in my blog Endangered Truth (Blogspot). I'll list you as seller on my blog."

"Dear (eBay name),

Sure, no problem. We have no idea what it is worth. It was in my collection for awhile. I bought it at a garage sale in Chatham, IL. The woman said her son did it."

I laughed when I read "The woman said her son did it."

Of course I must bid on the poster now, so I can sign my name to it and write Chatham IL.

Merry Christmas 2011

Merry Christmas. My beloved Grand Daughter and I in matching PJs on Christmas morning at her house.

Space Crawler Artist-3D. Com

I'm working on a video graphic novel about space travel and the above 3-D image from Artist-3D.Com will be used to build a model for that video. This should have gone up on my blog Atomic Toy Spaceship but I have ads on that blog and that is against the terms of free use for this image. "Space crawler NASA equipment" - 3d model

Magic Technology

I've decided to write about things that the readers of this blog will more likely than not refuse to believe. I know someday the secrets I have had the great fortune to be eye witness to, will be revealed to the general public. The how and why of that reveal I can only guess at.

In the 1990's I was in the right place at the right time to witness two impossible looking technologies. The first was a triangular UAP ( Unidentified Aerial Phenomenon ) that I believe was the A-12 Avenger II but could possible be the TR-3A or the TR-3B Black Manta. I knew from the moment I saw the impossibly slow plane that it was some type of military technology but I couldn't understand why the triangle shaped object didn't stall and fall out of the sky at the very slow speed it was going. It didn't sound like a jet plane as it made the sound of a small electric transformer. I was not the only witness to this event.

The second event was the B-2 Bomber turning invisible to the naked eye at a air show at the now closed Richard-Gebaur Air Base. For many years I have wondered if I had a break with reality due to heat of the day or had seen one of the B-2's secrets up close. Two weeks ago I meet a witness that was part the ground crew at that air base during the air show and had seen what I had saw many times over. I now know what I saw was real.

I was sick from the heat and decided to leave the air show at the time the B-2 bomber was going to do a low fly over. I thought no one would be leaving at that time and I wouldn't be sitting in a hot car trapped in traffic after the B-2 fly over. If you look at the above ariel photo of Richard-Gebaur you can see a gray area below main runway at the bottom of the photo. That is were my car was parked. As I walked onto the shallow grass covered valley before the end of the runway the B-2 flew into view with its engines roaring. I was very close as the bomber took up a sixth of my field of view.

The engines roared louder and the B-2 dived down into the valley as if it was going to plow into the parked cars. I braced myself for the coming death as there was no time to run and then the impossible happened. In less than a second as if the bomber had flown into a mirage and the jet plane became invisible. Then I hear a muffled sound of engines. I see something in the sky halfway between where the B-2 vanished and the end of the runway. It was as a piece of the sky was floating away and up over the end of the runway. The B-2 pops back into view and does the flyby down the runway.

The full sound of the B-2 engines comes back the moment it becomes visible.

more to come....

quantumG and me

I don't want to be a You Tube idiot but I am if you believe quantumG. I believe the United States Air Force has some of the most advanced technology on planet Earth but much of it is hidden from us for Military, Political and Ecological reasons. In my last two videos I speculate on the possibility of a secret atomic rocket. I may be completely wrong but I think putting concepts out to the world beyond the proven is a way to learn for all of us.

I have become a big fan of Epic Future Space on You Tube and when the host of that show called for a video response, I created one asking about cutting edge technology in space exploration. No problem until my second video when I asked Mike about the possibility of the military using Atomic Rockets in secret.

Then the comments come and I am all different kinds of crazy. The mean ugly side of You Tube is in full force. quantumG (his You Tube name) even goes as far as to write that I'm polluting the internet with stupid. I answer all his comments and try to take the high road when I do.

The above screen shot of my last You Tube video shows off my sluggish left eye. Blood is pooling in my eye socket at the time and my vision in that eye was like the flicker of a candle.

At seventeen I was told part of the vision in that eye was gone forever but two years ago I got full vision back in that eye. Since then my brain has had trouble with my new found vision and of late it feels like my body is rejecting my left eye. Needless to say I don't feel good when I made the video.

In video I come off bad as I'm not good in front of a camera. I'm a grumpy old man in the video and even make fun of my self in the title "Epic Space; Ask Mike The Grumpy Old Man Edition."

I leave the video up for a few days and then put it on the private setting. I may delete the video and work on making a better one. I'm not sure what to do.

Maybe I got what I deserved as I've been blunt with my comments on both You Tube and Blogger. I never got to the level of hate speech that quantumG did but writing what you really think isn't always the best way to go.

Everything and Nothing at All

The Age of Magic lasted from December 11, 1975 to December 11, 2011. It lasted in me me that long but it didn't feel like 36 years, it felt like a billion years. I'm tired, so very tired. I gave my magic away.

A few weeks after I gave my magic away I became very ill and started to go blind in my left eye.

It was like a candle flickered in my eye as my vision was a flame dying out. Each morning I expected to wake blind in one eye. My father is blind in one eye from a stroke and I thought that would be my fate too.

I went to my grand daughter's house to play with her, hoping to see her with two eyes for as long as I could. As I rubbed my closed left eye in pain my grand daughter Cordelia watched me.

"All your magic is gone Grand Dad."

I think to myself ; "Does this four year old know that I gave her magic given to me by my Grand Mother English ?"

"What happened to my magic?"

"You gave it all to me."

I smile. "May I have some of it back?"

"Just a little bit. I need most of it."

She puts her right hand over my left eye and the pain goes away. The stress of taking care of my 82 year old parents left me.

As I leave my Grand Daughter's house she leaves me with four year old words of wisdom.

"Always keep some of the magic for your self Grand Dad. Everyone needs a little magic."

Over the next few days my vision improves.

Dining in Hell

I'm dining in Hell. It's my Host Birthday. I look to my right and see a child drawing with an orange and red crayon. The only colors allowed in Hell. A man without papers sits father down the table, a hard worker for sure. His beautiful mate beams across the table with love in her eyes for she needs nothing on paper but hopes to have it soon.

My Host looks at me with a bit of contempt.

"I don't know if you've ever eaten where there is good food?"

I hate hot food. The spices burn my mouth. The food is ruined in my mind but I eat to fit in.

" I've eaten in fine places before."

The Host ignores me. He is surrounded by his friends. That is how it should be. His mate sits by a woman with a pierced nose. There is two other couples present to my left and one half of one of the couples is a man of action. He once wrote that teapots happens. I think his name was Max.

The meal in Hell ends and a small piece of Heaven is found in the laughter of a child.

We drive through a city that a few try to occupy. Too few for me to see.

Then we are in a home. The mother and child are asleep. The host take out a metal cigarette that weed is hidden in. He shows me a magic mushroom and talks about DMT and tells me I have a crutch under my mind. He blows smoke into my face and I fell the effects of the weed.

I hate weed as much or more than spicy food.

I go to sleep and fix the effect of the weed on my mind. A trick I learned during a massive stroke given to me by two doctors. Before I go to sleep I put up a barrier to protect me from Night Terrors. Earlier this year my Host had thrown a Night Terror at me. Something I'll never allow again. I go to sleep.

I am everything and I am nothing. I am you and you are me. I am a woman watching her husband hung in a burning building during the Civil War. I am black. I am a slave.

There is a God and no God can be found. The Goddess binds with God to form the One Soul, the We, I, It of everything. We are the mushroom and the mushroom eaters. We are the hunter and the hunted. We are the raped and the rapist. We are all the good and evil in all the realities imagined and many not yet dreamed of.

I am the severed head in the Guillotine basket and the man that picks the head out of the basket and watches it die with a breathless scream. I am a scribe, a painter, a cameraman, a scam artist that works for a President. I am a liar, a man killed by a woman's knife.

I am the laughing warrior that dies a fool's death for a uncaring mother.

I am in the future living in a giant pyramid covered in crops and forests. I am a robot with two large lens for eyes.

I am a alien life form larger than the Earth. I live floating in a gas giant larger than Jupiter.

I am shaped like a giant button and it begins to rain molten iron on my back from a cloud of metal vapor. I enjoy the cool rain.

I live in the core of a star with skin of molten diamond and a heart of a super magnet. My blood is molten gold.

I am nothing and I spin the universe into something with pure imagination. The politics of facts means nothing to me, for I own nothing and nothing owns me. I try to spin the universe in all directions at once but can't find infinity, I can only add another spin to the universe making it expand and contract at the same time.

You are there with me and I am there with you. We are all pin pricks of God, Goddess and the One Soul. We are all everything and nothing.

I wake from my dream. Dress and leave my host house. I drive home on the endless road that now seems so finite. I'm not sick at my stomach from the hot spicy food I ate in Hell the night before and wonder why.

Cordelia the Zebra Unicorn

This is a early version of the Zebra Unicorn painting. Vicky Charriere the owner of the Golden Unicorn took this picture and agreed to let me name this painting after my Grand Daughter.

All of Vicky's photos are used with her permission.

Epic Fail Unicorn

This painting was painted over with a new bull unicorn based on the Indus Script Unicorn.

Sometimes I try to create a piece of art out of my head but this time it didn't work at all.

Three days after a spider bites me on my right hand I'm in a car wreak and injure the same hand again. In the same car wreak I have a head injury that damages a gland in my brain and then the heat of the summer makes for this terrible mess of a painting. This bull unicorn looks more like a dog than a cow.

Goat Head Unicorn

This photo was taken by the owner owner of the Golden Unicorn and shows a early version of the large Goat Head Unicorn.

Golden Unicorn

The Golden Unicorn painting is located at the Golden Unicorn Antique Mall in Holden Missouri. This is an early version of the painting.

The Unicorn Project

Last Spring, I forgot how to draw. A head injury in a car wreak left me with a mess of a mind.

So I took on a job on a large scale to get that ability back.

This Side of Anger

I'm at a funeral. I don't want to be there but I am. I'm there for my former wife Jackie Goss. I watch as she takes the hand of her grand daughter, our grand daughter to her mother's coffin.

The casket is open as we are at the visitation. Brave little Cordelia walks towards the dead body of a great grand mother she never knew in life and meets her for the first time in death.

Cordelia stops ten feet from the casket holding her dead grandmother and won't go another step. Jackie speaks to her about her mother.

For some reason I need to put or get something from my Daughter-In- Law's van and return to the visitation as the Minister talks about the life of my former Mother-In- Law.

The minister said something that shocks me, he talks about Helen's anger. The one thing we had in common, my former Mother- In- Law Helen and I were both angry people.

Did we get along? I wish we had more than we did. We had terrible fights both feeding off each others anger. I could never hate Helen because many of the things she said against me were true. Without her life I would not had known Jackie and would not have the sons I have now and I would not have the beautiful grandchildren I have now.

I wonder if a minister will say I was a angry man after my death. I hope not.

Then I get ready to leave the visitation and go home but my grand daughter wants me to go to graveside. My son Micheal is a pall bearer and so I drive to Waverly MO from Holden MO.

Once again I plan to go home but my grand daughter wants me to come to the family get together held at a lakeside park. So I go.

Jackie's family doesn't hate me as I imagined they would. I'm talking to my Daughter-In-Law when she gets into a verbal fight with my Grand Daughter. The fight doesn't end well and I take Cordelia to a swing to have a heart to heart talk to her about anger.

In the above photo you can see me talking to the still angry red cheek little girl.

Then two step cousins come over and I push the three in a swing. Their father is a Mexican National in this country without the right kind of papers. He has called me on the phone many times. I thought he was angry at me because I wouldn't give him any information over the phone as to the location of his children. Carol Goss the mother of his children said he was more frustrated by his English skills than anything.

I wonder if I'm a racist and I'm just projecting my own fears about Mexicans in the United States. Then I look down at the two girls talking about how their mothers don't understand them and a little boy looking up at me smiling and happily talking to me in words I can't understand. It's English but at a pitch I can't hear.

What right do I have to keep these beautiful children from having a relationship with their father? What if he takes them and the mother never sees her children again? I could be wrong either way. I keep pushing the swing.

Months later I see the photo of my two grandchildren together, Cordelia and Denver. I think I could see Denver more often if I had better control of my anger and didn't argue with his father so much. Breaks my heart.

Yesterday my youngest son wakes me and tells me I'm depressed and begins talking about suicide. I'm not depressed I just have so little sleep during the week. My 82 year old father stays up to three in the morning most days. Most days I get three to five hours of sleep broken into two sleep periods. I'm always tired. Neither of my parents can hear well and I am can't sleep from the TV blaring. I hate sleeping to the gunfire of westerns as I always dream of war.

My son tells me I need to cut off contact with someone because he has. I refuse. My day is ruined after my son leaves. I'm full of doubt about myself and can't draw or do art. I'm angry.

My mother comes home with my father and I fell guilt for not driving him and my mother when I learn he had a near miss on the road. This could happen to anybody I tell myself but it doesn't make me fell any better.

I get my anger under control just as my Son, Daughter-In-Law and sweet Grand Daughter come to the door.

"Well you didn't commit suicide."

My youngest son says in cruel humor. Where is the sweet man that takes care of the mentally challenged?

All my anger comes back but I hide it as best I can so my Grand Daughter can't see it.

Why would my son talk to me like that? Was I that bad a father to him? I try to get away from him and go to my studio. I try to control my anger but he follows me. He bullies me in my studio and I take it. Today I'm putting a lock on my studio door.

Today a lock will be my side of anger.

Goodbye for Now.

I won't be back to writing posts until I've finished my work on the Graphic Novel "The Recreators" I'm doing some of the art on that project and my Parents health and that of my own has kept me away from that project for too long.

I'll see you on the other side of a Graphic Novel.

Carol Goss & Jackie Goss

I've decided not to post my address so a family can be in contact with their children.

Call and leave your contact information and I'll get it to the mother of your children.

Be nice when you call.

Because of a series of phone calls I won't be posting photos of my family or family events on this blog.

Flying Atomic Planes

Does the United States Air Force fly planes powered by atomic reactors?

If so does this pose a health risk to the people of planet Earth?

Russia admitted to bombers with reactors in 2007.

Lost Parents

A man and a woman sometimes calls on the phone.

One is a father and the other is a grandmother.

They want to know where their children are?

I ask for contact information to give to the mother of the children and they turn the phone off.

I do not know you but you should know me. I will die before I would endanger the life of a child.

Give me the contact information or stop calling.

To the man. I never back down to a bully. Be polite when you call and have the courage to speak when you call.

Finished Nightmare

I was in a Nightmare. A chop shop of imagination. It was a Money Coward's Paradise.

I was tempted with objects both lost and found. I rejected all things and was given to Hell.

Hell had no effect on me for I had found inner peace. Then I was asked to kill myself for other people's dreams.

I said I would die for my dreams and no one else's.

Five demons attacked me, wanting me to die for their dreams. I killed two of them and let three live a Money Coward's Hell.

Fall of Empire

Birth of a Nation or Birth of an Empire?

The Fourth of July.

Fireworks and Food.

Family fun.

Warriors in far off lands.

Fighting for life and liberty?

Fighting for corporate rule?

Designer Demons

I'm getting tunnel vision. The truth will never be told. I'm holding on to a past that I can't win in. Why do I care?

I'm creating my own demons to hold me back. I fight battles I can't possibly win against powerful men that could destroy me with little effort. Why do I care?

I care because these type of men are destroying my county. They practice the highest form of crime and they make me sick to the very core of my being.

They are at the core of the bribe machine called politics.

Wielder of the Memory Sword

How many children were injured to protect a rich man's ego?

The memory cuts deep into my soul.

Why did you brand me a pervert? To protect your own fragile ego? To make me the bad guy? Didn't work did it.

Who owns that land?

You know what land I'm talking about.

I know you will censor me. This blog or at least these posts will be pulled down. I can't pretend it didn't happen.

Do no Evil is a good motto. I wish it was true.

Dancer on the Dark Dream

I'm falling through a hell of my own design and as I fall angels whisper names for me into my soul.

Are angels real? Is hell real? Am I real?

I don't know.

Most of the names I like.

Keeper of the Cosmic Crayon.
Warrior of the Wasted Dream.

I don't know what they mean but I like the sound of these titles for myself spun out of my mind.

I hate the the title; Dancer on the Dark Dream but it is part of me too.

What does it mean? Does it mean anything?

I love all the people on this planet in a way most people can't imagine. Hate is a coward's emotion.

I pity the rich men that tried to put me in prison for telling the truth. I was such a liar. It's a joke on me that I told a truth that was the greatest fear of poor men that had great wealth. Cowards that hide behind mountains of money. Poor in imagination and poor in truth.

Who owns the land that Union Station Kansas City sits on?

Keeper of the Cosmic Crayon

Who owns the land Union Station Kansas City is on? Does a corporation lease the land from someone?

Who cares? I care. I think I gave twenty dollars to a billionaire. Don't you hate it when billionaires ask for hand outs?

Pity the poor billionaire, who needs our help and please give what you can.

Warrior of the Wasted Dream

Time to tell the truth.

I'm not going to write about what is wrong with me any more. What is right with me is more important.

The above photo is a flag of the imaginary nation of Wink. The truth is, all nations are imaginary.

The above photo is a test pattern for my imagination. It helps me think when I look at it.

I have a question that has been eating at me for a few years; Who owns the land that Union Station Kansas City sits on?

Wish Granted

I have always been lucky. My wishes have all come true. I don't believe in luck but talk or write about it as a glass half full way of looking at the Universe.

My Daughter-In-Law Amanda is a glass over flowing. She has given me so many wishes.

I wished for a wife for my son Micheal to help him control his impulsive nature and give him the love lost from a broken family.

I wished for a Grand Daughter and for a good mother for that Grand Daughter.

I wished someone would help me become more organized and help me start a resale business.

Amanda has granted me all those wishes.

I love you Amanda. I wish you to always feel that love I have for you.

Plus One

My friend Crystal couldn't find anyone to go to a Rock Concert with, so on a whim she asked me.

"Yes I'll go, sounds like fun."

She got in free because she knew the Drummer in the band and I was her Plus One.

The Lesser Dreams

The Lesser Dreams sang him to sleep and as he lay in the unfeeling black void he was consumed by evil.

People don't believe in evil anymore and that is the power of the perfection of wrong.

I woke up screaming. I had a Night Terror. I'm 52 years old and I woke up screaming as if I was a frighten child. I hear Becky's voice in between my own screams.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's having a Night Terror" Said my son Mark as if it was a natural thing.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help it." I said.

I was in Florida on a Island connected by two bridges to the East coast. I was on a family vacation. I was sleeping in a little room next to the larger bedroom in the duplex we were staying at.

Why did I have a Night Terror? I hadn't had a Nightmare in years and now to have a Night Terror on a family vacation.

I wanted to explain it to my son Mark and then without warning I was in Mark's mind or was he in my mind I'm not sure. I was showing him my Night Terror as if that would explain everything to him. A black cocoon of evil was eating me alive and only a single ray of sunlight keep me alive.

This time Mark woke up and began talking about us being in the same dream or that he was in my mind. I'm not sure I was half asleep.

The next day we talked about what happened. It made no sense.

Becky and Mark

Somewhere in that photo is a Space Shuttle in the background. Becky and Mark had to put up with me and my broken mind during the trip and I got a taste of what my parents must feel like around me (Not really as my 82 year old parents have better minds than I do).

I love them both for being such good parents to my grandson.

Cordelia & Daddy taking a Ride

I love these two more than all the things I can imagine.

Denver & Grandpa Walking by the Sea

As I walked along the racing waves I made up a song about Denver and I walking by the sea and how great it was to be free.