7/26/26
Peak Underground: Adam Gorightly on Kerry Thornley
Before Discordianism took shape during a series of bowling alley conversations between Kerry Thornley and Greg Hill, before Principia Discordia became one of the strangest underground books ever written, and long before internet culture embraced irony, chaos, and reality-bending narratives, there was Kerry Thornley himself.
In this engaging interview, writer and historian Adam Gorightly examines the extraordinary life of the man known by many names—Kerry Thornley, Lord Omar, Omar Khayyam Ravenhurst, Jesse Sump, Ho Chi Zen, and others. From his role in founding Discordianism to his writings on Zenarchy, philosophy, pranks, and the cultural aftershocks of the Kennedy assassination, Thornley's story continues to challenge conventional ideas about belief, identity, and the nature of reality.
Gorightly has spent decades exploring the outer edges of American counterculture, making him an ideal guide through Thornley's complex legacy. Whether you're discovering Discordianism for the first time or revisiting one of its central figures, this conversation offers a thoughtful introduction to one of the most inventive minds ever to emerge from the Peak Underground.
Here's an essential list of Hilaritas Press library publications. Home to Robert Anton Wilson's legacy, they've published some remarkable works:
Prometheus Rising — Wilson's most influential exploration of consciousness.
Cosmic Trigger I — RAW memoir.
Quantum Psychology — model agnosticism and perception.
The New Inquisition — skepticism, pseudoscience, and scientific dogma.
The Starseed Signals — a rediscovered Wilson manuscript with strong appeal for readers interested in UFOs, consciousness, and speculative ideas.
Mavericks of the Mind — interviews with visionary thinkers across science, psychology, and consciousness.
7/25/26
Remembering Pan
The Little Moon We Forgot... and the Ancient Name We Never Did
Every so often, a space mission delivers an image that makes even lifelong astronomy enthusiasts stop scrolling.
One of those moments arrived during the final chapter of NASA's Cassini mission. In 2017, the spacecraft returned breathtaking close-up photographs of Pan, one of Saturn's smallest moons. Barely 17 miles (28 km) across, it looked less like a moon than a flying saucer, a giant ravioli, or something dreamed up by a surrealist artist.
The images spread across the internet almost overnight.
Then, like so many remarkable discoveries, they quietly slipped from public memory.
Perhaps that's why Pan is worth remembering.
The epistemological journey of Pan may be more fascinating than its orbital one. Before Pan became a moon orbiting Saturn, it was already an idea. Every generation inherited the name differently: first as a god, later through Peter Pan, and today as one of the Solar System's most peculiar little worlds.
In Greek mythology, Pan was the god of shepherds, forests, wilderness, music, and untamed nature. His sudden appearances were said to inspire overwhelming fear, giving us the word "panic." He represented the unpredictable edge of the natural world—beautiful, mysterious, and occasionally unsettling.
Centuries later came Peter Pan. While J. M. Barrie's famous character is not a retelling of the Greek deity, many literary scholars have noted echoes of Pan's symbolism: eternal youth, freedom from convention, playful rebellion, and a refusal to fully enter the ordinary adult world. The ancient name continued its journey through culture, gathering new meanings without abandoning the old ones.
Then astronomy adopted it.
Discovered in images from the Voyager era and later studied in extraordinary detail by Cassini, Saturn's Pan turned out to be unlike almost any moon we'd ever seen. Orbiting within the Encke Gap of Saturn's rings, it slowly accumulated ring material around its equator over immense spans of time, giving it the distinctive shape that has prompted comparisons to a flying saucer, a walnut, a dumpling, and an oversized ravioli.
Nature, once again, proved more imaginative than fiction.
There is no hidden message in Pan's appearance. No grand mystery waiting to overturn planetary science. If anything, Pan demonstrates something equally satisfying: the universe doesn't need embellishment to inspire wonder.
One of the things I appreciate most about discoveries like this is how they remind us that science still has the power to surprise. We become accustomed to polished artist's renderings and familiar planetary portraits, then a tiny moon appears that looks like nothing we expected.
For a brief moment, millions of people looked at Pan and had exactly the same reaction:
"Wait... that's real?"
It was, according to our favorite jackasses at N A s A, ESA and the Italian Space Agency....
And perhaps that's the greatest lesson Pan leaves behind. Not every extraordinary image points to the unknown. Sometimes it simply reminds us that reality has always been stranger—and more beautiful—than our imagination gave it credit for.
Sometimes the most remarkable discoveries aren't the ones that change the universe.
They're the ones that quietly change the way we look at it.
7/24/26
Before the Internet Heard Everything: Twenty Years of Pirate Radio Reports
Before the internet placed the world inside a search box, people sat beside shortwave radios after
midnight and waited.
Out of the static came distant governments, religious broadcasters, political revolutionaries, pirates, propagandists, hobbyists and voices whose origins were never entirely established. Signals faded in and out. Languages collided. A station might exist for one evening, change frequencies without warning or disappear before anyone determined who was operating it.
Some listeners wrote down everything they heard.
The Review of International Broadcasting, a shortwave-listening newsletter published between 1978 and 1997 is such an interesting study. Edited by broadcaster and radio historian Glenn Hauser, the publication documented unusual programs, legitimate international stations, pirate broadcasters, transmission schedules, equipment and reports from listeners scanning the bands around the world. Many of the newly digitized issues came from Hauser’s own collection.
The collection functions like a handwritten intelligence service operating outside government.
Its contributors were not simply reviewing entertainment. They were identifying transmitters, comparing reception reports, noting frequency changes and attempting to determine whether a mysterious voice belonged to a licensed station, a political operation, a clandestine service or someone broadcasting illegally from a homemade rig.
This was open-source intelligence before the phrase became fashionable.
A shortwave listener could hear several competing versions of the same international event. A government broadcaster might describe stability while an opposition station reported revolt. One country might jam another country’s signal while insisting that nobody was listening. Pirate stations mocked commercial radio, violated national regulations and sometimes vanished before authorities—or audiences—could find them.
The archive is valuable precisely because these reports were written while the signals were still alive. Later documentaries often turn strange broadcasts into clean legends. Contemporary listening notes preserve uncertainty, conflicting identifications, failed receptions and theories that were later disproven.
That makes the collection more than radio nostalgia. It is a record of how people investigated information before algorithms began deciding what they would encounter.
The strongest FMPU approach would be to select one year and reconstruct its underground dial month by month. Which pirate stations appeared? Which countries were jamming foreign broadcasts? Which programs were repeatedly reported but poorly understood? Which unidentified signals developed mythology around them—and which were eventually explained?
Audio would make the investigation even stronger. Surviving station identifications, pirate broadcasts or shortwave airchecks could be embedded beside the original newsletter reports, allowing readers to compare what listeners documented with what the transmissions actually sounded like.
The Digital Library of Amateur Radio & Communications already contains tens of thousands of preserved items involving shortwave, amateur broadcasting and communications history. It has also archived more than 1,200 episodes of Hauser’s World of Radio and numerous listening diaries and related programs.
Before everyone carried the world in a pocket, the world arrived unpredictably through the atmosphere.
You turned the dial slowly. You listened through the noise. You tried to determine who was speaking—and why they wanted to be heard.
Three New Mandela Effects—and the Old Copies That Refuse to Cooperate
FMPU is not sure what to make of this strange deal going on with some things it remembers from childhood being one way, only to find out its got some weird new detail. The strangest part of the Mandela Effect is not discovering that a scene differs from how you remember it.
It is realizing that the 40-year-old copy sitting in your closet contains the supposedly “changed” version too.
Nothing appears to have been replaced. Your VHS tape, DVD, photograph or battered family recording has been sitting untouched for decades. Yet when you finally check it, the evidence contradicts the scene preserved inside your head.
Consider Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. Many viewers remember Charlie entering his family’s cramped home with a conventional rectangular Wonka Bar. He pretends that he has discovered the final Golden Ticket, allows everyone to celebrate, and then reveals the joke.
But the candy Charlie unwraps is not really a bar. It is a strange round, pie-shaped confection resembling a MoonPie. The rectangular version may feel more natural because nearly every other important chocolate wrapper in the film contains an actual bar. The mind may have quietly rebuilt the scene using the movie’s dominant image. The example resurfaced online in 2026, with viewers expressing disbelief at the round candy.
A more recent controversy surrounds Britney Spears’ “Toxic” video. Many people vividly remember Spears wearing a transparent rhinestone bodysuit. Spears and director Joseph Kahn have both explained that the crystals were attached directly to her body, with only limited coverings. Similar sheer costumes from other performances may have blended with the video in collective memory.
Then there is the ear-piercing scene in the 1998 version of The Parent Trap. Viewers frequently remember the twins placing a lemon slice behind the ear. The film shows an apple slice. Lemon simply fits the imagined logic better: it feels sharper, more medicinal and more likely to belong in a questionable homemade surgical procedure.
Psychologists generally describe memory as reconstructive rather than photographic. Familiar images, later reenactments and cultural repetition can fill gaps with details that feel completely authentic.
That explanation is reasonable.
But it does not eliminate the chill of pulling an old cassette from a closet, pressing play and discovering that the physical past remembers the scene differently than you do.
7/23/26
ONE HUNDRED UFOs, TWO MYSTERY BOATS AND A GOVERNMENT PIE CHART
AARO’s newly posted Fiscal Year 2025 UAP report contains one detail capable of escaping the usual bureaucratic chloroform: a U.S. Navy report describing approximately 100 airborne UAP and two likely uncrewed surface systems off the coast of Virginia.
AARO says the event remains under active investigation with the reporting unit. That single maritime case sits inside a report containing 319 new submissions, 114 of which were resolved during the covered period. Another 256 older cases were also closed, bringing the annual total of resolutions to 370. Every resolved case was attributed to ordinary objects—including balloons, satellites, birds, aircraft, drones, one rocket launch and one manned jet pack. �
AARO +1
Yes, a jet pack made the federal UFO report.
Magic Pop thanks the government for its service.
The report’s less theatrical revelation is that AARO has become much better at identifying satellite flares. A new analytical capability allowed the office to resolve 238 reports as reflected sunlight from satellites. AARO says these flares can resemble intense luminous orbs and account for a growing portion of its solved cases. �
AARO +1
That supports the skeptical position: a large pile of strange-looking reports can collapse quickly once investigators have the correct modeling tools. “Unidentified” is a temporary condition, not a birth certificate from Zeta Reticuli.
But critics of AARO will reasonably focus on what remains unresolved. Of the 319 reports, nine were referred for deeper intelligence and scientific analysis, while 191 were placed in an active archive because the available evidence was insufficient. The office also says two reports involved possible electronic or avionics interference near operational aircraft, though it has not determined whether the reported UAP caused those effects. �
AARO
FMPU OPINION: The Virginia incident is the story because scale changes the question.
One distant light can be misperception. One hundred airborne objects accompanied by two surface systems sounds less like a wandering weather balloon and more like either a coordinated drone operation, a serious sensor or reporting failure, or something genuinely unusual.
None of those possibilities is trivial.
Yet the internet will almost certainly turn “approximately 100” into an alien invasion fleet before AARO publishes the sensor data, duration, formation, distance or environmental conditions. The government provides one sentence. The algorithm supplies an entire mythology.
That is contemporary disclosure: a massive report arrives wearing sensible shoes, while one unexplained paragraph jumps through the window and becomes famous.
Release the underlying evidence. Show the tracking data. Explain what “approximately 100” actually means.
Until then, we do not have an answer.
We have the world’s most expensive teaser trailer.
7/21/26
THE NDA IS DEAD. PLEASE REPORT TO THE GOVERNMENT.
The fastest-moving UAP story today is not another orb, triangle, tic-tac or airborne household appliance.
It is the reported decision to let former federal employees and contractors speak about UAP information without being trapped by old nondisclosure agreements—provided they speak through approved government channels.
Fox News reported on July 21 that President Donald Trump directed federal agencies to allow former employees and contractors with relevant UAP information to meet with AARO or the PURSUE task force and have applicable NDAs waived for those authorized discussions. Administration officials stressed that this is not a blanket declassification order and does not permit people to dump classified material onto podcasts, Reddit or X. �
Fox News
That distinction matters.
Under the reported process, a witness would first approach cleared government investigators. Information could then move through established review and declassification procedures. One administration official said material that genuinely clarifies the UAP issue would ultimately be made public, while also admitting the government does not yet know whether these potential witnesses possess anything significant. �
Fox News
The broader PURSUE initiative is already releasing unresolved UAP records on a rolling basis. Its official site says the effort spans dozens of agencies and tens of millions of records, while warning that “unresolved” often means only that available data is insufficient for a definitive conclusion. �
U.S. Department of War
Believers will view the NDA move as a possible crowbar applied to the locked cabinet. For years, whistleblower advocates have argued that secrecy agreements, clearance concerns and fear of prosecution prevented firsthand witnesses from speaking openly.
Skeptics have a simpler response: removing a legal obstacle does not manufacture evidence. A witness may be sincere, mistaken, exaggerating or describing an ordinary classified program. Testimony still requires documents, sensor data, corroboration and a chain of custody.
FMPU OPINION: This is potentially important—but also wonderfully bureaucratic.
The government is telling alleged keepers of the greatest secret in human history that they may now reveal it privately to the government.
That is disclosure eating its own tail.
Still, the move could matter because it shifts the argument. “I cannot speak because of my NDA” may no longer be enough. The next question becomes sharper:
What do you know, what can you prove, and did you actually report it through the authorized channel?
That is healthier than another decade of silhouettes, voice modulation and promises that the truth is coming after the next subscriber milestone.
Magic Pop thrives in the gap between secrecy and spectacle. Algorithms reward the tease. Institutions reward controlled procedure. The public gets stuck between them, watching confidential mythology become content.
Waive the agreements. Hear the witnesses. Protect legitimate secrets.
Then release the evidence that survives scrutiny.
7/20/26
Critical Gorilla 002 - THE ATTENTION ALCHEMIST
Creative Rationale
The first weekly installment explores the modern attention economy as an enormous psychedelic ritual rather than a technological one. Critical Gorilla isn't angry or frightened—he's awake. He stands in the center of an exploding carnival where every distraction competes for his gaze, yet his focus transforms the chaos into insight. The image celebrates discernment over outrage. It asks a simple question: Who profits from your attention?
This piece intentionally shifts away from conspiracy imagery toward symbolic visual storytelling, reinforcing Critical Gorilla's identity as a cultural observer rather than a preacher.
THE GOVERNMENT HAS HIRED SCIENCE TO EXPLAIN THE GOVERNMENT
Harvard astrophysicist Avi Loeb says the United States government has asked him to lead a scientific advisory council devoted to unidentified anomalous phenomena. Know what you're getting into before nibbling on the "Harvard" part. This will be one frat party you are not invited to attend. The council is expected to advise the White House, Pentagon, intelligence agencies and other federal offices while examining cases the government still cannot confidently identify. Loeb says the group has requested access to more than 50 cases and intends to publish findings publicly.
That is the verified part.
Now we enter the fog.
Loeb’s July 19 article revived attention around the council because it offered the UFO audience something it adores almost as much as a blurry orb: institutional validation. A Harvard scientist is discussing UFO evidence, national security and government data without immediately laughing himself out of the room. Major outlets have also reported that the council includes specialists from several scientific fields and is intended to provide evidence-based advice to a federal UAP governance structure.
Supporters see a long-overdue bridge between government witnesses and scientific analysis. They argue that even mundane explanations—drones, balloons, plasma effects or sensor artifacts—matter when unidentified objects appear near military facilities. Loeb has suggested that some rapidly moving lights could be laser-generated plasma rather than physical craft, while acknowledging that at least one reported 2023 “orb” incident remains difficult to explain from the publicly described evidence.
Critics see a different problem. Loeb has repeatedly promoted provocative extraterrestrial interpretations of limited evidence, and some scientists accuse him of generating headlines before completing the slower rituals of peer review and independent confirmation. Others note that the council’s effectiveness will depend on its authority, funding, access to classified sensor data and willingness to publish conclusions that disappoint the UFO marketplace.
FMPU OPINION: The council’s greatest enemy may not be secrecy. It may be the internet. Loeb has said some things Harvard probably wishes he hadn't.
A careful scientific finding—“insufficient data; probable balloon”—travels online like a man carrying groceries. “HARVARD UFO CHIEF STUDIES ALIEN MOTHER ORB” arrives like a green fireball driven by The Flinstones.
This is the modern disclosure trap. Government releases information. Influencers strip away the uncertainty. Skeptics perform ritual mockery. Believers declare another historic breakthrough. Everyone receives content; nobody receives clarity.
Loeb’s council might deserve a fair chance, but its success should not be measured by alien headlines. It should be measured by whether the public receives usable evidence: original files, sensor specifications, competing hypotheses and clearly stated confidence levels.
Magic Pop begins where ordinary facts collide with extraordinary expectation.
The council may help study that collision—or become another official logo floating through the cultural fog. I am not a big fan so just give me a proper hd photograph and I will shut up.
7/19/26
THE VICE PRESIDENT, THE DEMONS AND THE UFO MACHINE
Vice President JD Vance supplied the UFO world with exactly what it never lacks: another metaphysical accelerant.
During a July 15 appearance on The Joe Rogan Experience, Vance expanded on his earlier remark that aliens might be “demons.” He also described himself as skeptical that the United States possesses extraterrestrial craft or bodies, leaving the conversation suspended somewhere between theological suspicion and political shoulder-shrugging.
The interview quickly spread through UFO forums, YouTube clips and religious media, where the phrase “aliens are demons” arrived prepackaged for maximum algorithmic combustion.
The timing matters. The government is currently publishing UAP records through its PURSUE archive, with the fourth release dated July 10, 2026. The program describes itself as an interagency effort involving defense, intelligence, energy, NASA and the FBI. Meanwhile, AARO continues to define its work as a scientific, data-driven investigation of anomalous reports.
Into this bureaucratic landscape walks the vice president carrying a theological fog machine.
There are at least three reasonable reactions.
Religious interpreters argue that unidentified phenomena may not fit neatly into the extraterrestrial category. They point to folklore, visionary experiences and traditions involving deceptive nonhuman intelligences. This does not prove demons, but it explains why some believers refuse to treat every strange light as a visiting aerospace engineer.
Materialist skeptics see something less exotic: a politician casually reinforcing superstition while admitting he has no confirming evidence. From this viewpoint, balloons, drones, sensor errors and classified technology remain better starting points than fallen angels.
Many UFO researchers occupy the uncomfortable middle. They reject premature extraterrestrial claims but also resist reducing decades of unusual testimony to weather balloons and religious panic.
FMPU OPINION: The important story is not whether JD Vance has correctly identified Hell’s aerospace division.
It is that American UFO discourse increasingly bypasses evidence and travels directly into mythology. A government archive releases grainy files. A podcast converts uncertainty into theology. Social media divides the audience into demons, aliens and idiots before anyone examines the sensor data.
This is Magic Pop with a church organ.
The phenomenon—whatever it is—has become a cultural projection screen. Technology, religion, national security, entertainment and political identity are now piled onto the same glowing object. That may be fascinating, but it is not disclosure.
Disclosure requires records, provenance, instrumentation and analysis.
Everything else is mythology wearing a government badge.
7/18/26
Do Not Mind-Control Me, Bro!
MKULTRA Isn't the End of the Story. It May Be the Beginning.
For decades, MKULTRA has occupied a strange place in American history. Once dismissed as fantasy, it is now an acknowledged CIA program involving experiments with drugs, hypnosis, behavioral modification, and other controversial techniques conducted during the Cold War. While many records were destroyed in the 1970s, surviving documents and congressional investigations confirmed that the program existed, even as many details remain unknown.
Recently, the subject returned to Capitol Hill as members of Congress revisited MKULTRA in the broader context of government transparency and public trust. The hearings weren't about proving cinematic mind control. They were about understanding what government agencies did, what records survived, and what lessons should be learned.
That's where the conversation becomes interesting.
MKULTRA has evolved from a historical program into a cultural metaphor. Every generation seems to reinvent the concept of "mind control" to fit its own anxieties. Yesterday it was hypnosis and LSD. Today it's algorithms, social media, targeted advertising, recommendation engines, and AI-driven personalization. The mechanisms are different, but the underlying question remains remarkably consistent: How much influence can institutions exert over what we think, believe, and pay attention to?
FMPU isn't interested in shouting, "They're controlling your mind!" Nor is it interested in dismissing every concern with a wave of the hand.
Instead, we ask a more useful question:
Where is the line between persuasion, propaganda, psychological influence, and genuine manipulation?
History shows that governments, advertisers, political campaigns, and media organizations have all studied human behavior. That doesn't mean every modern technology is an MKULTRA sequel. It does mean the public should understand how influence works.
FMPU Angle: Don't Mind-Control Me, Bro!
The greatest defense against manipulation isn't paranoia.
It's curiosity, media literacy, and the willingness to ask difficult questions before accepting easy answers.
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