I arrive home, having contributed another 8 hours to the stream-lining of American consumerism, and fueling the crack-like addiction that destroys the productivity and ingenuity of our youth. An unfortunate circumstance, pettling distractions in one world, while I run through the internet naked and screaming wildly for everyone to wake up. A hypocrite. A Solid Snake-Oil Salesman. But I’m on a motherfuckin’ paper chase.

On this particular day, I feel more battered than a Bisquick-lathered Rihanna. I retreat into the couch, as I power up the Xbox. Not to play games, cause like any good drug-dealer, I never use my own stuff. No, Netflix is my addiction, though this night, my internet connection speed refuses to feed me. Fuck, without some aggressive stimulation, I fear I might start thinking about how trapped I feel. I quickly utilize one of the 17 readily available methods to check my trusty internet-mail in search of such a distraction. What’s this? I’ve been invited to attend an event entitled, “Project Pegasus: A brief history of time travel/The hidden history of the discovery of life on Mars” and I just about cum my pants.

A two day event? $25 a day? I immediately buy my ticket and spread the word. Four days later I’m Mapquesting, Swedenborg Hall, which I’m assuming is part of UCSD’s campus, as the only party interested in this event that I happen to know. I grab a notebook, two joints, and a pen; and make my way to the car. I’m so excited, I almost, almost, skip.

15 minutes before the designated start time, I arrive at the address. The building is remarkably small for such monumental subject matter. I light my first joint, and write the heading, “Day 1: A Brief History of Time Travel w/ Andrew D. Basiago ” I exhale a deep breathe, and my joint reminds me that the last time I had to attend something of interest alone, it was a Disclosure Project lecture to update the community on the current strides to expose the UFO/Extraterrestrial cover-up. Odd. I mean, shit, I didn’t even have to see You Don’t Mess With The Zohan alone. That’s not really ironic, but it’s something.

At 12:55, I extinguish my friend, and stagger out of the vehicle coughing like the guy in every movie with a burning building that you thought wasn’t going to make it out. A few people seem irritated by my presence. I say, join the club. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a marque with some empty message of dull inspiration. I skim it and notice the word, “prayer.”

I also notice I cross chiseled into the door. I start to loose my erection.

Just inside the door is a typical folding card table, with several pamphlets and postcard looking things, none of it interesting even to me. A woman sitting there asks to see my ticket, I show her. She asks if this is my first time hearing Andrew speak. The thought that everytime someone tries to get me into a cult it starts with those words, flashes through my mind. I dismiss it and say, “Probably.” She ignores my non-answer and informs me that she saw Andy speak at, and I shit you not, “Joan Ocean’s Dolphin & Teleportation Symposium” in Hawaii 2 months prior. I feel my mind start to close.

I take a seat in the empty second row, and again, feel like this room is way too small. I count the seats: 6×6=36. Seriously? Across from me, in alignment so perfect, it would make the Great Pyramids jealous, there sit three textbook members of any conspiracy audience:

 

A grey-haired lady with a permanent smile-wearing bedazzle-cuffed clothes. I’m willing to bet anything that she works “the power of crystals” into the first 15 minutes of any conversation, not that there’s anything wrong with that.

 

Second, A pale, chubby, serious-looking, goateed man. His depth of character highlighted by his black turtleneck and slicked back hair. If he could train a raven to stay perched on his shoulder, he would.

 

And lastly, a real living-breaking stereotype. A crazy-haired kook, with too many pens in the chest pocket of his old stained button down shirt. Obviously, unbuttoned to reveal his less-than-white, white tee. He squints out of the bottom of his coke-bottled glasses with his forehead pointed at the ceiling fan. Pen-to-paper, with nobody even close to the podium.

The captivated audience

 

I glance around for signs that they might be filming a very creative, and frankly genius,  reality show.  Doubtful, but I don’t rule it out.

At 1:15 a man announces to the 11 of us that we’ll be waiting a few more minutes. There was an accident on the 8, and they believe traffic is the reason the room is about empty. I reserve judgement.

At 1:35 a woman approaches the podium. An apparent pastor, she says the bible is a “quantum text.” It’s the first thing I write down. I don’t know what it means either. She introduces the man of the hour, Andrew Basiago, takes her seat in the front the, now 18 members of the audience. So selfless.

For several minutes he introduces himself and explains his group, Project Pegasus, which I’m already familiar with through my “research.” He says he knows he was the first American child to teleport, back in 1968, because his secret government scientist father said so. Our shadow government has apparently had several types of teleportation technology since the 1960’s and currently use it to teleport members of the Executive Brach around the world. The weed informs my brain that that seems like a shitty way to keep a secret. I am then told that every President since Carter has used teleportation. I know.

Around 40 minutes into his schpeal, Andy announces, in so many words,  that his goal is to expose and implement teleportation technology because our highways are crowded, and car accidents are bad. Which, again, we know is responsible for this piss-poor crowd.

As the long introduction fizzles out, Andrew D. Basiago draws attention to his first slide, which reads: Part 1: The People. At this time, he notes that Project Pegasus was a, uh, project; under the umbrella of D.A.R.P.A.which is a name I’ve heard thrown around many times, usually at 2AM in the middle of some 18 part interview with Project Camelot. Regardless, a quick Google search reveals that the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency has a very real and easily navigated official website. I decide to follow them on Twitter. My high asks me on it’s way out, “Wasn’t DARPA in Lost?”

Andy B. mentions the CIA using the Project to preform “remote sensing of time, to prepare the US government contingency plans for future events.” He credits, or exposes, several people as project heads: Harold Agnew, Ralph Parsons, ect. Most of the names mean nothing to me. He credits, Nikola Tesla, as a pioneer in time travel technology. I wouldn’t be surprised, Tesla was incredible.

At roughly 2:30, Andy sternly announces, “Teleportation must be made public!” It receives the first applause break of the day, and I realize I’m not nearly high enough for this anymore. He goes on to say that Ronald Rumsfeld has always been an informed player on the bureaucratic side of time travel and teleportation. Andy says Donald Rumsfeld refused to pay him $30,000 for his testing for Project Pegasus due to the fact that he would become a known whistle-blower in the future. (now) Which poses an interesting question about timelines. Which came first: Don denying payment, or Andy B. breaking his vow of silence? Deep.

At 2:45, Andy is wrapping up a long tirade about the dangers of conventional travel, and I’m wrapping up my count of how much money this event has brought in. 18 people X $25 a ticket = $450. As that sinks into my head, he starts talking about how he knows, Bill Richardson, governor of New Mexico. He met Bill in the Project, and from his jumps forward in time, knew Bill would become the governor. Earth-shattering.

He throws out a few similar quips about things he saw in the future, none more exciting than Gov. Bill Richardson’s rise to power. Mostly just saying he knew certain political figures would have certain jobs, and all of which are things that have already occurred. Convenient. I start to think he’s just a bullshit salesman. Because it takes one to know one. Andy rounds out the second hour by explaining that he’s allowed to speak out, because when he was taken into the project, he was only 8yrs old. So obviously all the forms he signed, swearing himself to secrecy, are non-binding. You can’t sign a legal document at 8. Touche’

Just as I start to feel like I might have wasted a day off of the grind, I get this,”In 1972, Dr. Sterling Colgate sent me back in time to 1863 Gettysberg, where I witnessed Lincoln giving his famous speech.” Now we’re getting somewhere.  He pulls up a slide of a old sepia-toned picture his father apparently found in Time Mag. It shows a large 1863-lookin crowd, with a small boy standing in the foreground. I am informed that this is the only known photograph of a time traveler and the boy in the picture is him. I become aroused.

Time Travelin Andy, the proof.

At around 3:15, we break for lunch. Just after our speaker makes his first statement of the day that I can totally agree with, “We are meant to live, not to survive.” It, again, has nothing to do with actual time travel, but I write that down, circle it, and make my way out to the car. A friend is waiting.

Through the big, grey, cloud engulfing the interior of my car, I can vaguely make out figures hurrying back inside. After the first half playing out the way it did, I see little need to rush. 10 minutes later, I run out of things to do, having taken all my Scrabble turns and checked Facebook twice. Sure, let’s see what this guys got.

I reclaim my seat, infecting the room with the smell of Super Silver Haze and Polo Black. I arrive in the middle of a tale our great speaker is relaying to the crowd about a young man named, John McCain, who was shot down behind enemy lines and was being held as a POW. Apparently, this man would have probably died there, if it wasn’t for Mr. Basiago remote viewing his location. Hero.

At 3:45 Andy explains the way in which directors of the project would get useful information from a time-traveling  8yrs old. I transcribe the conversation he had following a leap to the future:

“Hey Andy, where did you go?”

“I was in Seattle. I think I was in my own apartment”

“Was there a TV on?

“Yes.”

“And what was on that TV, Andy?”

“The President of the United States.”

“Do you remember his name?”

“Barak Obama.”

The great reveal is met with “Ohs” and “Ahs” from the silly people among me. Again, he “reveals” something everyone in the room already knows, or at least most of them. I would have been more intrigued if he caught the next Top Chef winner.

It’s convenient enough to actually see the future president on TV during the exact 12 minutes he was in the future, but he also caught his name. A name which we’re all used to now, but for an 8 yr old traveling through the 4th dimension, Barak Obama is not something I could remember. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t chosen. Did he see it spelled out on the screen? Did he hear it spoken? How did he know Obama wasn’t just a congressman? I just see a few holes in the story. Well, yeah, and the time-travel part.

An hour into the second half, I start to lose my cool. Drew starts telling me that his experiences are fact, but those stories about the Montauk Project have to be disinformation, because time travel only lets you see your own future.

Now, I personally hold the Montauk Project conspiracy very close to my heart. It’s easily one of my top 3.  I feel like he’s trying to make a bunch of shit up, while dismissing other stories that have many more witnesses and whistle blowers attached to them. Look it up. For a second, I feel like that ridiculous crying YouTube thing. “Leave the Montauk Project alone!” Sorry.

At 5:00, Andy makes another statement of outrage, “The US Government is restricting the American people’s ability to see their future!” I feel like he’s running for something.

Andy “explains” a technology called The Chronovisor by telling us it exists. It was given to us by the Vatican. The Ark perhaps?

He says, “I suspect I was lied to when I was told The Chronovisor only caused me to be a spectral presence of my quantum self in a moment in the past, because if that’s true, how did I eat and drink?!” I think I watch a few minds blowout for good around the room.

In the final hour of this nearly 150 minute lecture he tells us about all the events he witnessed, live, during his time travel trips: The signing of the Declaration of Independence, the actual crucifixion of Jesus, a civil war battle, the assassination of Lincoln, and once by mistake ended up in prehistoric times watching long neck dinosaurs eating trees in AZ. I am not making this up. Keyword: I.

Andy B. wraps up his presentation by teasing the crowd about tomorrow’s Mars lecture, in which he will explain that we have bases there that we use jump-rooms to go back and forth from. Apparently, Mars has 500,000 of us there right now. I think, that seems like a lot of people to maintain a pretty massive secret.

He completes the purging of extraordinary bullshit from his mouth ever so gracefully, and with perfect form, tops off his masterpiece with a capstone turd: “Obama was actually in my training class the first time we used the jump-room to Mars. So yeah, Obama has been to Mars too.” The star atop the tree. The icing on the cake. Tune in tomorrow.

I thank myself for the pleasure and make my way towards the door. The last thing I overhear is a woman asking him what the Crucifixion was like. I don’t even listen to the answer.

So, is Project Pegasus a real, secret, government project involving teleportation, remote viewing, and time travel? I cannot say, but I don’t think Andrew D. Basiago was involved in any of it, if it is, or ever was. Because if even 10% of what he says is true, he should be doing ads for Dos Equis, because they got the wrong fuckin guy.