A member of the alt-right Proud Boys who also professes a belief in the pro-Trump Q-Anon conspiracy murdered his brother with a sword, prosecutors say, because he had become convinced that his brother was a Reptilian lizard person. Buckey Wolfe, 26, exhibited signs of mental illness, according to prosecutors, and had filled his Facebook page with images of conservative politicians and pundits as well as Pepe the Frog. Reptilian lizard people are best known from their appearance in the borderline anti-Semitic works of British writer David Icke, who is popular with far-right audiences because of his conspiracy theories about quasi-Jewish international banking elites. Wolfe made social media postings referencing elements of Q-Anon that endorse Icke’s Reptilians claim—ideas also repeated in media like Ancient Aliens and other “fringe” programs, which helped spread them beyond the fringe of the fringe—and he was reported a fan of Alex Jones, the InfoWars conspiracy theorist who has promoted ancient astronaut and Nephilim conspiracy theories on his far-right talk show.
The Q-Anon conspiracy, as you know, is a more elaborate version of the earlier Pizzagate conspiracy, surrounding the idea that Donald Trump is working in secret to take down liberal pedophile elites. This latter claim has been championed by Ancient Aliens star David Wilcock, who reemerged online this week after several weeks’ absence.
I remain torn about how to cover David Wilcock. On the one hand, the fact that the ancient astronaut theorist resigned from Gaia TV and was made to disappear from most of the past season of Ancient Aliens is news. But on the other hand, Wilcock himself has admitted in print to self-diagnosed mental health problems, and it feels a little exploitative to dwell on his rambling, self-pitying literary output. Yet, he has a large following, with 67,000 Twitter followers and a YouTube channel whose videos frequently top a million views apiece.
Wilcock himself invites his readers to view his alien revelations as intimately tied to the traumas, real and imagined, of his personal life. He personalizes his cosmic narrative by imagining every event in his life as part of a grand cosmic narrative designed to help him ascend to guru status.
In his latest blog post, he discusses the thirtieth anniversary of UFO fantasist Bob Lazar’s claims to have worked on recovered UFO wreckage at Area 51. In so doing, he chose to relate his discussion to his college experience, adding information and detail beyond the period covered in his 2016 book The Ascension Mysteries. (My review: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.) You will recall that the Ascension Mysteries covered the period in Wilcock’s life up to the end of his first semester at SUNY New Paltz, when he says his freshman roommates bullied the vulnerable, insecure Wilcock into becoming a cleaning slave for them and he took refuge in the school library, where he discovered the ancient astronaut theory.
In his blog post, he describes still more of his freshman year, which he remembers as a year-long bacchanal or sex, drugs, and violence, resulting in a 10% graduation rate, with just 200 of his 2,000 classmates taking a degree. (SUNY New Paltz claims a 73% graduation rate today. While I can’t speak for 1991, the trend has been fairly steady over time.)
So much beer was spilled on the floor of our suite that you had to peel your shoes off of it to walk, which I guess gave us better exercise. […] We had fully co-ed dorms. Guys’ suites on the right and girls on the left, in the same hallways and floors. More than once I helped nurse one of the girls down the hall through terrible episodes, holding their hair back from the water as my mother would have done for me. In many cases I was the only person willing to help anyone. […] I ultimately found out from campus staff that my particular suite of four rooms in 212 Dubois was the most problematic and drunk area of the entire school that year.
Wilcock paints what is a rather standard description of college partying as a nightmare that nearly destroyed him. That’s not to defend college students’ debauched behavior, of course, but Wilcock’s self-pitying is not exactly coming from a moral high ground. He confesses that his reaction was in large measure thanks to the fact that he was a stoner constantly high on pot and reading High Times while his roommates were drunks who preferred alcohol because, he said, the TV told them to. He says that his roommates considered him a drug addict, which he seems to dispute but then admits to having consumed vast quantities of many types of drugs that year. Though he was high to the point of his body growing sick, he blames his failure to bond on his roommates for getting drunk, and Wilcock carries his anger over this social failure with him more than 25 years later. To justify his social failures, he blames the government and a corporate conspiracy.
He chooses to view his classmates’ drunken antics as the product of corporate manipulation via TV messages and a government-orchestrated system of social control designed to suppress and oppress:
Knowing how few of us were going to graduate, and living through the non-stop party going on, I started seeing the hidden truth of the New York State (SUNY) college system. The freshman dorms felt like cages for crazed animals. As long as we didn’t blow up the buildings, they got their money. Business was business. The state was providing an “insane asylum” for fresh high-school graduates who had been broken by the system. […] Providing shelter buildings for hordes of partiers at a hundred bucks a day could be a pretty good business, if you think about it. The state authorities would clean it all up at the end of the year and start over with new tenants a couple of months later. It was a government business. Provide cheap, short-term housing for crazy people who party now, pay later.
I think we should stipulate that college isn’t exactly “cheap,” but Wilcock’s memory is faulty yet again. Today’s college tuition is crippling, but back when he attended in the early 1990s, it was much more affordable. He estimates his SUNY tuition at $10,000 per semester, but the official SUNY tuition in 1991 was $1,650 per year, according to the New York Times. (SUNY tuition is set by the New York State Board of Regents.)
Wilcock also remembers the staff at SUNY New Paltz as inebriated and indifferent:
I was also quite surprised to see that the adult campus employees I interacted with on my job were often like children, and clearly addicted to various things. Most people were not as academic or disciplined as my parents had led me to believe was commonplace. They were “just getting by.” For example, it was obvious that most of the Maintenance employees were alcoholics, and many were visibly intoxicated on the job. Everyone seemed to be self-medicating from their exposure to a sick society, and the trauma that this then created for them. I traced much of the problem back to television, and the non-stop “buy, buy, buy” messages to profit from our distraction.
In his 2016 book, Wilcock previously explained how he was unable to tell fantasy from reality while watching TV commercial and how he has experienced dreams about influential commercials for decades.
In true Wilcock style, he wanders away from autobiography to offer the kind of outrageous statement that seems tailor-made to encourage corporations like the parent company of the History Channel to not want to do business with him. He suggests, for example, that the Oscar Mayer jingle is a coded acknowledgement of the deep history of “Pizzagate,” the fictitious pseudo-scandal imagining that Democrats, liberals, Jews, and/or space aliens were running a child sex-slave ring: “In the post-Pizzagate world it is also very ‘odd’ to hear children singing about everyone loving them because they are edible ‘wieners.’”
Wilcock typically rambles in his blog posts beyond my tolerance for his stream of consciousness thoughts. This was only the introduction to an endless post that explained his belief that he risked his life and that of his now-wife to expose the “truth” when a secret conspiracy called the Dark Alliance tried to get him to repudiate the UFO fantasies of Corey Goode in order to discredit Goode. “Only six days after I charged forward to expose the Dark Alliance and defend Corey, there was an attempt on my soon-to-be wife’s life. The Dark Alliance continues to be active in their coordinated attacks through videos, articles and social media, but my expose’ of them did damage their agenda.” Wilcock alleges that the Dark Alliance tried to induce a suicidal depression in Goode, and Wilcock jeopardized his family’s life to save Goode from committing suicide according to their plans.
This whole storyline makes me uncomfortable, and it seems hard not to see it as a fantasy gloss over mental health issues that shouldn’t be used for profit. Obviously, I don’t know either man and can only judge by the details Wilcock has provided, clouded though they are by his imagined conspiracy.
The best way to fight back against the conspiracy, Wilcock claims, is by paying for videos from Orchard Media, the company that distributes Hunt for the Skinwalker; Bob Lazar, Area 51 and Flying Saucers, and (or course) Wilcock’s own most recent film.
I am an author and researcher focusing on pop culture, science, and history. Bylines: New Republic, Esquire, Slate, etc. There's more about me in the About Jason tab.
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