Inappropriate Use of a Podcast presents: Beyond the Near Horizon

Apr 18, 1990 - Brace Gaither

Don McLaughlin Season 1990 Episode 108

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Colonel Stephen Prather interviews former child star, president and founder of the Paranormal Penetration Infantry Unit, Brace Gaither.

INAPPROPRIATE USE OF A PODCAST is proud to present encore presentations of the iconic radio program "Beyond the Near Horizon" with host Colonel Stephen Prather. Since 1975, this innovative program has explored the unexplained, the occult and other controversial topics. Featuring interviews with unconventional experts from across the intellectual spectrum, every program lives up to the promise of its creator Colonel Prather to "not allow the ordinary distractions to thwart the search for wisdom and knowledge." As he reminds, "all that and more may just be revealed beyond the near horizon."

Podcast website: https://www.buzzsprout.com/2027077

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BNH 1990 Wed Apr 18 Beyond the Near Horizon with Colonel Stephen Prather

ANCR:  From an undisclosed location in the Upper Michigan Peninsula, it’s Beyond the Near Horizon featuring Colonel Stephen Prather. Now here’s your host, Colonel Stephen Prather.


CSP: 

Thank you Stephanie and to all those across the North American continent and the expanses oceanic and intergalactic, we thank you for joining us for the next little while as we journey together into the darkness, beyond the crest of the vanishing point and infinitely onward. It is Wednesday, April the 18th, we’re very happy to have you here.  Many of you may have noticed the return of our amazing announcer, Stephanie. She’s back after a month on surgical leave. And Steph, hSteph, I have to say, had I not collided with you carrying that mike stand on my shoulder earlier this afternoon, I would have never guessed you have a plate in your head. Welcome back and do feel free to let Ian know if you need another compress on that thing.

         So, we’re excited to have our maven of the introductory arts back on the bridge of this intrepid starship. Folks you are going to be even more thrilled about the show we’ve got lined up tonight. Some of you will know him from his role as the hateful boy “Peach” from the old Universal film ‘Wayward Starling.’ But if I may be so bold, most of you will likely recognize him as president and founder of the Paranormal Penetration Infantry Unit or the PPIU. That man is Brack Gaither and he will be here to talk to us about his latest spectral clandestine infiltration.

Before we get to additional items of substance, circumstance demands that I address a bit of a boondoggle we’ve been living through. At the end of March, we finally sprung for a new Milken Model II Jet Cooled fax machine. I made comments on the air, perhaps hastily, that our dry prairie was ready for the rains of truth to resume.  The exact words I used were ‘fax till you drop’ and I confess a tinge of regret now as we have been inundated with faxes 24/7 and it’s become a little paper nightmare. 

First, credit where credit is due-Stewart from Davenport, Iowa we thank you for finally convincing Endless Rhythm Jazzercize to stop faxing us lunch orders. I do hope Linda gets her tuna salad bagel, as she seemed very animated over that.

But in the main, I want to appeal to our friend Mildred Fortimier from Summit’s End, Idaho. By any measure, Mildred, you have lived an eventful life and your thirteen hundred page autobiography effectively captures its duration.  But we humbly clarify to you again that we have now received two and a half copies of that work via the miracle of the Milken Model II. I was able to persuade my sainted mother to take out a second mortgage to underwrite our spiraling paper, ink and maintenance costs, but I’m appealing to you directly to stop faxing your book before I’m forced to ask Marisol and her mother to make another trip to the blood bank. Please consider in addition to this that Marisol also supports four children from her previous two marriages, and one from my own former covenant, none of whom live with us. Appreciate your time.

So, I was enjoying a cup of my Argentinian Oblique Dark Roast this morning after the FedEx guy dropped it off last night. I’m reading a copy of the Upper Peninsula Pulse and nearly spit out a mouthful-mind you, it’s four-hundred dollars a bag so that would be an expensive spit-take. There, on the front page, I saw that the American Academy of Pediatrics in their April newsletter stated that children in this country spend more time watching television than on anything else except sleeping. Quick interjection here, I’ve never met a graduate of the American Academy of Pediatrics. Only my opinion, but I just don’t think most toddlers have the attention span for advanced degree programs. Even the most foolish could see based on the staff photo in the article that most of the current members had to have been grandfathered in.

Interesting bit is, based on the data the academy has collected, all of this time spent in front of a television has made kids from the US in particular more angry and obese. I don’t watch a lot of TV, but Marisol watches the Cheers and the Doogie Howser and she’s not really that much more violent that she was when we met. On average, I’d even say she hardly spends more than a couple of days in jail annually.  Not to go too far off track, but if your spouse isn’t handy with a switchblade or a torniquette, you have to ask yourself how you wound up in a loveless marriage. 

I certainly cannot claim to be an expert on these things, but I can say with very high confidence that the Soviet Union isn’t going anywhere any time soon.  So, if Johnny and Jenny want to flail on the occasional Noam Chomsky effigy, the more violent the better in my view if we expect to hold off the Ruskies. 

Alight, let’s hop onto a different Yak if we may. Yuri passed me a note- early this morning- that over the weekend, Greta Garbo passed away. I gotta tell you, I was completely shocked at this. Here’s a woman, that has been presumed dead for 51 years. Accomplished actress, world class aviator. As many of you know, Enoch Price and I wrote an entire book on this topic where we exposed the facade that was the Emilia Earhart identity, crafted by Garbo, who employed a revolutionary full head mask prosthetic. Add to this the compelling evidence that Garbo-again, we do not refer to the pseudonym Earhart for obviously reasons- was spirited away midair from the South Pacific by Keplarian visitors to our world. Not only did we find evidence suggesting that she had been relocated to a water world in the Kepler system, but multipoint analysis of overnight television static revealed after being decoded that she taught a class on advanced aerial techtonics on this far off world. 

Then today, comes the claim that Ms Garbo’s been living in New York City for almost forty years.  I would think that any reporter worth their weight in pork shank would have uncovered this years ago and it is certainly information Enoch and I would have appreciated before we wrote ‘Garbo in Space.’ Humiliating to say the very least on top of what we’re some pretty cruel reviews in 1987. Well, I spoke with Enoch earlier this afternoon and we both agreed we’re not going to give up the fight. We are not convinced by this latest suggestion and believe the best way to prove that is through hard data. After some impromptu discussion with our legal advisor after their shift ended at Dairy Queen this evening, from this day forward we have decided to funnel 50% of all sales proceeds of ‘Garbo in Space’ to fund the Garbo Communication Satellite Program or GCSP. Once launched into orbit, the GCSP will allow us a much greater chance of talking directly with Garbo in the Kepler sector. It will likewise put an end to destructive heresay of the type we encountered today. You can also donate outright to the GCSP via the Higher Plane Hotline 800-438-4444 or 1800 Get Higher spelled H-I-R-R. VISA, Mastercard, Diners Club accepted. All contributions to this defense of the real truth are appreciated.

Folks, when we return, birthdays, your faxes and letters and Brack Gaither. That’s next.

COMMERCIAL

It’s funny and a little amazing to think that it wasn’t that many years ago when you couldn’t even say that a woman was pregnant on television. Women have continued to break through many barriers since then and that success has left them expecting more. Well, the scientists and engineers at Primordial Gardens believe that starts at home and more specifically a little spot we call the bedroom. When I was a kid, my father helped instill in me the ethos of science, endlessly quoting Darwin, in particular a passage stating that “a scientific man ought to have no wishes, no affections, a mere heart of stone.” I subscribed to this belief and it was largely the reason my first wife Spruce and I decided to have a wrestling-themed wedding. But I tired of fitting in with the fittest and by the time I met Marisol on the Baltic island paradise of Gotland, I was ready to be a vendor of love, rolling my cart wherever my beautiful bride needed me next.

Well to the men in our audience who want to be that exponent of pleasure as I do, I am happy to announce a supplement that will help you do just that. It’s Paradise Explosion, from Primordial Gardens. I hesitate to even refer to Paradise Explosion as a supplement, as you’ll soon feel I think that you supplement it.  I don’t often say this, but I love the way you take this stuff. Every package of Paradise Explosion comes with a black, one size fits all velour hood, that you lower over your head and shoulders. Unwrap one of the half dozen pressure packed solution balls, bring it under the hood with your left hand, give the included butane lighter a flick with the right, open wide and you’ll never be ready enough for the pop that comes next. That’s the sound of the scientifically designed mixture of nutrients and inhalants disbursing into your nose and mouth. Hop in the shower and trust me when you come out, you will be ready to hunt antelope on the prairies of Mozambique.

You’re also in luck if you’re looking for a variety of flavors. Names like Man Daring Orange, Savanna Bannana, Mighty Melon and more will let you dial in your sex drive like a shortwave set with very, very long range.

While Paradise Explosion is still awaiting the approval of bureaucrats in Washington, I’m pleased to say that will not prevent you from taking advantage of this innovative prize fresh off the bus from Progressville. Here’s what you do. First, you’re going to call toll free 1-800-397-5633 or 1-800-EXPLODE. When one of the friendly, highly trained representatives answers, just tell them you’d like to order the new Leonard Nimoy edition of the King James Bible. Your choice of sleeve color doubles for flavor choice. Check, Money Order, VISA, Mastercard and American Express are all accepted. In about six weeks, you will receive a package post-marked from Bukit Timah, Singapore, from a randomized sender, with an addressee that is an anagram of your real name. 

And for you Ladies listening, if the hunter in your household is a little too dim to realize he needs his lightbulb changed, order that sucker on the sly. He’ll thank you for it.  Get caught in the explosion, Paradise Explosion, from Primordial Gardens.


CSP

Folks, we have one heck of an odor in the studio today and there’s a misty look to the room, not so subtle.  You know I think I’ve got a bright cheddar cheese sandwich forming over my head here. Brent Mirkalowski, the owner of the Happy Dragon Palace next door, came by earlier in the evening with a list of complaints. Nothing new about that, but he kept going on about a drifting grey cloud around twenty feet off the ground that smelled like the backseat of his brother-in-laws Impala. If that odor translates to anything like a cow pen on a warm summer’s night, I think we’re dancing with the same debutante in here.  

I don’t have to tell many of you that you can add this to the long list of issues that have plagued our lonely little strip mall here. Probably a lesson not to name commercial properties after either of the Gabor sisters. But, if you’re a devoted listener to this show, you also know there is really only ever one suspect that comes to mind, that being the ‘Antiques of Norway’ shop on the East side of us here. I’m not an expert on collectables, but I can’t quite determine why an antiquer would need two 36 cubic foot furnaces-even if they are painted with delightful elephant patterns-nor is it clear why they would run them 24 hours a day in rotation. 

Now, since I stir and drink my own Koolaid, I fully understand that Brent Mirkalowski might be executing a misdirection campaign designed to get me to go over and confront Rosemary Doss, who runs Antiques.  But as I’ve said many, many times, if the Michigan State Police, the FBI and Good Morning America couldn’t get anything out of that woman, I’m not in a hurry to end up in her furnace along with the last guy to cut her off in traffic. Not only is this woman built like a contract killer who kills with her hands, she very nimble for six foot four two ninety or thereabouts. So, I’m going to take in a big whiff of that smell and learn to love it.

Birthdays then. Television host, musical impresario and Envoy of the Cluffterian Interstellar Council residing on Earth, Dick Clark claims to be 61 today. Happy birthday Dick. 

Actor James Woods is 43. I haven’t seen any of his stuff, Yuri did he play Superman’s father in that mafia TV movie? Really? No. No, that’s different. Ed Asner and Faye Dunnaway played cops in this one. Lee Majors was a hit man who dressed in all silver. Oh. Okay, that’s a good point, I probably did dream it.

On this date in 114 AD the Roman Emperor Clostridiodes Difficile was born. Based on Yuri’s research, his very brief reign was plagued by sanitation system failures, punctuated by his own demise in the accidental detonation of his massive, methane powered sailing vessel. Happy birthday anyway I guess. 

Also born on this date, rap-artist C-DIFF, who had a breakout hit with ‘I can’t stop running’ earlier this year turns 22.  I’m not usually a rap guy, but the way he describes the human condition, hits you right in the gut. And I love songs that list the names of meat.

Very good. Now on to the ranks of our extended family here on the show.

Marcel Pritt, frequent guest and distinguished professor of yellow vapor studies at the University of East Cleveland, is 43.

Dr. Polly Pollard, Biochemist, Geneticist. You may know her as the former 1968 Olympian shot-putter whose astonishing throw of 354 meters was disqualified when it destroyed a Guillermo Ganders tour bus on the outskirts of Mexico City. She turns 51 today. I could listen to this woman talk for hours about how to handle vegetables properly. What a mind. 

        Cathy Terrence Beefter, from Sioux Falls, SD is 31. Certainly one of the more fascinating possession cases I’ve ever seen. Some may recall, she was 16, about to turn 17 when she called into our Valentine’s Day show way back in Feb 76, when she was known as Cathy Terrence. 

I have to say, you’ve got your possession by demons, movies stars, dead kings, aunts, uncles whatever.  Cathy is so far the first and only person I know to have been possessed by her future self. To be precise, by her 56 year old version, whom apparently works as a benefits processor for the bureau of unemployment in Modesto CA way out in the year 2015. 

       As you know we are skeptics on this program, so we didn’t buy this immediately. But, boy after she heaped endless praise on the benefits of Metamucil, for which she went into greater depth than we would have preferred, and the string of constant complaints about the size of her ankles, there was very little left to doubt.

Interestingly, she is also the only person I know who changed her name to a hyphenated form without marrying or being in a relationship of any kind. So, our best wishes to Cathy. 

Next we crack open your facsimiles and letters. Stick around.


COMMERCIAL

From everything I see, hear or read, being a parent is probably the hardest job you can do. While Marisol and I made the decision to put the rearing and education of our offspring in the hands of the Melanosis Institute of Earned Learning, I recognize that not everyone has that privilege.  Kids are an awful lot like nuclear waste, you have to know where they are at all times. Your little tyke can play quietly on the lawn or cut the brake lines on the mail truck when it stops for its delivery. One moment you’re watching your daughter curtsy to a wizard king in the school play and the next she’s packing C4 into plastic eggshells at Easter.

Central to the challenge of child oversight, whether they’re a toddler or a teenager, is their inherent mobility. Through the years you’ve heard me promote a number of solutions to try to tackle this vexing conundrum. And I still stand firmly behind products like Silly Shackles, Bridge of Doom, and Happy Harness, even though most of these were taken off the shelves by the hyperactive regulatory bodies in this country far, far too quickly. Nonetheless, I also recognize its time to move on and embrace the next generation of childcare technology

Answering that trumpet call, Gates of the Kingdom Corporation have been hard at work on a new tool to add to the parenting arsenal. They call it My Little Dungeon and it truly has limitless potential to change your everyday grind. Dr. Mengel Urt, the Dutch mastermind and head scientist at Gates of the Kingdom started their journey three years ago with a fascinating question. “If we’re willing to restrain our children in a variety of ways, why not simply imprison them?” And as Dr Urt maintains, there’s no good reason why the child can’t have fun along with the way.

With this inspiration, My Little Dungeon is designed to open a world of imagination for your child, allowing them the solitary time their creativity needs to thrive. And did I tell you, unlike many products, it’s built right here in the United States.  You wanna talk about durable,  these things are built tough; steel rod enforced, water sealed concrete.  Further enhancing the experience with the patina of reality, you will find inside each of these enclosures only the basics: a bed injected with artificial urine odor, combination toilet/sink, a loose brick for passing messages to the outside world and the patented My Little Dungeon shank-making station.  Add to this that every My Little Dungeon is equipped with a built in speaker that broadcasts authentic recordings captured from notable penitentiaries around the country. The singing, laughter, crying and screaming that are the hallmark of these institutions, play 24 hours a day, just like the real thing.

Can your family afford My Little Dungeon? Well, affordability is a priority for Gates of the Kingdom and to appeal to consumers of all ranks, there are three models to choose from. The most basic of these, the Pavlov, is tailored to meet the budget of most ordinary households. It’s officially designed to hold a single child, but as the brochure suggests, there’s no reason why you can’t keep two or three of those buggers in there. After all folks, it is prison. Also included are TV and exercise yard schedules and a reproduction of the classic ten ways to make meal loaf recipe book.

If you have an older child in the family who already tends to lord over younger siblings, you can go with the Stanford, which comes with an attached guard quarters outfitted with a spartan-looking chair and desk, small black and white television and choice of baton for the budding corrections officer in your life. Now, lastly - and not to play favorites, but if Marisol and I were suddenly tasked with looking after our own children, I’d have to choose the Milgram model.  Not only does it come with everything in the Stanford line, it also includes a medical quarters with a variety of tools for use by parents to help encourage obedience for your precious ones and if the mood strikes, maybe that neighbor kid who can’t seem to find the off switch for his stereo.

If you’re as impressed as I am, call toll-free 1-800-252-5433 or 1-800-25-2-LIFE for your quote today. Mention that you heard about it on this show and get 1.25 taken off the first of your liability insurance payments.

Post purchase, at a date and time of your choosing, one of the Gates of the Kingdom  boom trucks will arrive to lower the model of your choice by crane onto your front lawn or driveway. I guarantee, it won’t take long for everyone on the street to want one, even if they don’t have kids.

Find the everyday fun in your very own cellblock, My Little Dungeon from Gates of the Kingdom. Lock one down today.


CSP

I’m pleased to say that in between chapters of the Mildred Fortimier autobiography, we are still seeing other faxes come in. We have one of those to share with you this evening before we move on to postal correspondence. You know, I just got a spear to the head: at some point we’ve gotta have futurist Scott Ray Powers on this show. He’s predicting that we will all have portable fax machines at some point down the road. Watched an interview with him on television—last weekend I think-can’t recall the name of the show, it’s a lot like Oprah except the host is male and speaks Spanish. Mr. Power’s idea is that these miniature fax machines will be worn like a bracelet and roll up and down your arm to print the messages you receive. As I understand, the messages are printed in disappearing ink, so you have a minute or two to read them, before you can write a message on the same arm to send back.  Interesting stuff, Powers also sells a line of embroidered slacks, so lots to look forward to if we can get him booked.

Alright, the fax in my hand comes from Custom Shelving by Harold, In Minneapolis.  Here we go. Colonel, as the name may suggest, I have owned and operated a custom shelving business for the last nineteen years. I build usually in pine, birch or oak depending on what the customer chooses and I’m very well known for sourcing wood for these right out of the forest. I didn’t think twice about this until last December when I was working on a TV stand for the Atheist Ashram of Ridicule outside of St Cloud. I had started plane sawing into one of the logs after I got back from the mill when I noticed following the first cut that the broad side looked a lot like the actress/comedian Carol Channing. I chuckled at this, then went back to sawing. The second time around, the blade had only to touch the edge before this moaning like sound came out of the wood I’d never heard before. This was odd, but I carried on and then something incredible happened. Plain as I sit here writing this, I heard the words “Oh come on, you’re not really cutting into me are you?” Every lick of it in Carol Channing’s voice.

I ran inside to tell my wife Reebar and as she is a natural medicine expert she put me on a coconut-lemon juice enema regiment post haste. Although I haven’t heard a peep out of any logs since that time, I am consumed by guilt as I carry out a days work. I’m pretty much a serial killer except with trees. Looking for advice, Harold. P.S. bring this fax into our Whitcomb street location in Minneapolis and get 5% off any shelving refinishing.

Thank you Custom Shelving by Harold. This reminds me, many years ago in the first season I think, we were chatting with the Chambers Sisters—Fawn and Gayetta out of Seattle. They had something very similar go down. Their house had been recently fumigated for Siberian Runt Leeches and while the fumigation worked very efficiently, not long after, random pieces of furniture during the dead of night would start reciting Neil Diamond lyrics. If I hadn’t heard the cassette myself I wouldn’t have believed it. All spoken word, by the way, no singing. Based on the timber of the voices, I’d say that was a good thing.  Well, Fawn and Gayetta found this amusing at first, but as they said, and I have to agree - try getting a good night’s rest with a chest of drawers reciting “Kentucky Woman” on repeat. Next to impossible. Their solution was to burn every stick of their furniture in the driveway-a bit draconian in my opinion. And it went poorly. The winds kicked up and wound up torching the entire Loretta Switt subdivision there in Seattle. Fawn and Gayetta ended up doing six years each for third-degree arson. 

For that and other reasons, I’m going to consult a certain tome of sage advice from our friend and frequent guest Father Ricardo Rodondo of the Church of the Resonating Covepsring. I refer to of course his latest Manual of Spectral Management which I was thumbing through. I found what I think is a pretty darn good fit for your situation. If you folks listening at home have volume 11 of the MSM, just pop over to chapter 23 to read along. There, he’s talking about bleeding ceramic tiles, but trust me, this will work with most possessed building materials. 

Yuri is going to fax some photocopies of this whole chapter over, but bottom line, you’re going to be putting together what the Father refers to as a Poly Demonic Pro Forma Intestinal Tract or the PDIT for short. I don’t have a delicate way to put this, but it’s abundantly clear that you’ve got a lot of potentially evil matter backed up somewhere on your property and you have got to show that stuff the door. And that my friend takes some psychic encouragement if you will. 

You can make the PDIT in three sizes.  I’m going to say based on your story, you’re gonna want the family size. For best effect, this thing needs to be center stage in your living room or wherever you and your loved ones spend most of your time-the ritual you perform is going to radiate out from there and cleanse the whole joint.  Having done this once or twice, I definitely recommend moving the TV set into the kitchen or the John, depending on what kind of real estate you’ve got to work with. 

       You’re gonna need to strip down to your skivvies at this point. Cover the plastic with about a quarter inch of corn oil. Get down on that mat and roll around in that stuff until you are coated with it—resist the temptation to pour it over your head-to get the coverage you need, you have got o roll around in this stuff like a beaver high on blow in a shallow mountain stream. One by one, you’re gonna bring in each piece of wood and you’re going to tell everyone of them that you love them. Point of order, you’re not dispersing evil here, you’re sucking angelic energy through from the other realm-that is what will actually disperses your infestation. I was building a table for my breakfast nook, and it took around around three days, so you can work out how long this will take. Something you won’t find in the book, hire a neighbor kid to hose you down-it’s cold as a North Dakota tattoo gun, but you won’t regret it.  Thank you for the fax.

On to letters. I’ve been curious about this next parcel since it came in. Yuri has his own methodology for selecting what we do and don’t discuss on the show, but I’m glad this —looks like a 5 by 7 box — made the cut. We have a letter and a small jar here inside that come to us from Belinda Eldonberry in Enid, Oklahoma. She writes Dear Colonel Prather and Marisol, my mother Berylynn and I have been fans of your show since the Spring of 1981 when I tried to dispose of my cousin Melbourne’s swing set in a rented woodchipper and I spent some seven weeks in a body cast. Berylynn was particularly a fan of your Bigfoot episodes as in general, that elusive creature reminded her of her late husband, my dad Dilfer Eldonberry. Sad to say my mom herself passed away early last year while attempting to rescue two bass fishermen when their dingy was struck by a Dolly Parton themed duck boat. A few months passed before I stumbled upon a stash of a half dozen jars of her homemade jellied peach with jalapeños and chives. These were behind our table insert in the pantry and when I found them I immediately knew she would have wanted me to send a jar to you and Marisol. Mom stopped making her jellies in 71 or 72, so I’m excited to say it might be close to a twenty year vintage. It would be an honor to her memory if you could open a jar on the show live, but I’ll leave that to your discretion. Our best to you from the Eldonberry clan.

Well, Belinda I have to say looking at this jar reminds me that my own mother has been canning since I was a tot and in her advanced years continues the practice. When I look at jars of anything in general, I think of my mother. So it would be my pleasure to open and sample this on the air.  Yuri was kind enough to set out a nice place setting here. I’ve got the desert plate and two slices of toasted sourdough inside some dinner napkins in the basket ready to go. And of course, here in my hand we’ve got a nice dark amber hued jarred peach concoction. I’m just going to give this little guy a turn.

[ Exerting force on the jar ]

Leeroy Marvin, this is really on there.

[ Pop sounds as the jar opens. A low hissing sound can be heard ]

There we go. Alright, now I don’t know if folks can hear this, but this thing is outgassing a little. I don’t how unusual that is or how long that carries on. Sort of good news-that smell that was in here earlier seems to have dissipated, but the little jar who could here has a pretty acrid scent coming out the top. Fruity sort of dung odor. We’re gonna set this to the side while it settles down and I’ll be sure to slap some of that on a piece of sourdough during the break and provide my official review. So thank you Belinda and of course Berylynn wherever you may be listening on the other side of the great divide. 

Finally, our latest correspondence from Douglas P in Ft Smith Arkansas. Dear so-called Colonel, I can only be sure of one thing in a world where an imposter like yourself is allowed to broadcast to tens of thousands of innocent listeners and that is that this letter will undoubtedly be rushed off to an ante room where after it is dusted for fingerprints, it will be quickly burned. With this assurance in mind, I can reveal with little fear that I am in fact the Ft. Smith Farmer’s Market Streaker. Despite news coverage to the contrary, I am careful to wait for pockets of senior citizens to form before I strike. To my knowledge the youngest person to witness these acts was an eighteen year old mechanics apprentice-who was one and the same the person who riddled my naked body with a high pressure pellet gun and brought my career to an untimely end. 

He goes on. While the idiots that surround me flail around in search of a culprit, no-one believes or has even considered that it was I who single-handedly hollowed out my cousin Portis’ christening cake in January. I truly enjoyed watching that gloating little freak suffer.  He may look six months old on the outside, but he pulls the puppet strings like an aged master. Likewise it goes that I wrote the word ‘failure’ in eggshell house paint on the back of my sisters Betty Rizzo costume last Halloween. 

I pray so fervently for carnivorous beetles to swarm your body and reduce you to a sludgy pulp to be kicked and stepped in by pedestrians as they walk the filthy streets of this world.  May you find endless warmth and mercy in the everlasting love of our holy father, Douglas P.

Thank you for the letter. Marisol and I visited the Funterville Farmer’s Market not that long ago where we tried creamed gourd for the first time. A little underwhelming and ultimately super inconvenient as the folks at the tent had to run to find a phone to call poison control in when both Marisol and I collapsed with abdominal cramps. On the good side of the ham, they got there quick. I was a little less excited that Funterville County Poison Control or the FCPC as they insist on being referred, use Vampire Finches to drain toxins on scene. I generally like birds, and the Vampire Finch is a handsome little guy, but boy do you get a pit in your stomach when that thing punches its beak into you.  The minute I got feeling back in my extremities, I wrote a letter to the FCPC requesting a copy of their sanitation practices. They sent me back an autographed picture of Red Foxx. I have no idea what that’s about.

We do love hearing from you folks, so keep those letters and faxes coming. Up Next, get ready for the latest from the Paranormal Penetration Infantry Unit with Brack Gaither, do stick around.


COMMERCIAL

Every day in this wide world, many of us say our final goodbyes to those who have driven over the holy overpass into the afterlife. While it is comforting to have the odd locket or photo album or just fond memories to look back upon, it’s often, understandably, still not enough to fill the void that our loved ones leave behind.  We seek guidance, depending on our preference, from priests, family and friends, bartenders, CPAs. They all do their best.  For most of us, technology is the last thing we would expect to ride to the rescue, but you might want to park your RV before spreading any more butter with a table fork. That’s technology at the door and it’s here to help you grieve. Followers of our program will immediately recognize the name Professor Takamoto Miri-Ishu, Dean of Interstellar Obstruction Studies at the Virginia Beach School of Aquatic Linguistics.

If you’re like me, you’ve read his many excellent books and you occasionally wear his particle accelerator posse pajamas which we have featured frequently on this show in the past. So, nothing pleases me more though than to bring to you his next great innovation-this one for the grieving soul.

Imagine getting up early on a quiet Sunday morning. The previous Friday you sat plaintively with the rest of Fester family, laying your Grandmother Dicey Fester to rest. But now, the house is completely still. No sound of Dicey doddering around the kitchen in her slippers. You shuffle to the same counter, brew some coffee, grab your chipped mug from a silver anniversary dinner years past now. You fill the cup, pop in a spoon of sugar and stir absent-mindedly as you walk slowly to the window facing the back yard. Staring blankly outward you suddenly see the familiar figure of Granny Fester once again crossing the yard near the back shrubs. But, how could this be? The answer is very, very simple. That’s the Miri-Ishu Dead-No-More Relative Simulator System.

Professor Miri-Ishu surmises, and I tend to agree with him, that most of the time, we can definitely tell when someone we care for is circling the drain. That’s when you get the good folks at Miri-Ishu LLC on the horn, toll free at 1-800-846-3787 or 1-800-TIMES-UP.  After they get some bureaucratic details squared away with power of attorney and conservatorship for everyone in your family, one of the friendly dispatch operators will schedule a visit to your loved ones home from the Miri-Ishu LLC response van. Their expert technicians are going to spend the day making your soon to be ex-relative feel like a celebrity. They will capture high quality photographs of your soon to be departed performing every mundane task you can imagine. 

Around seventy two hours later a meeting convenient to your schedule will be arranged—usually in a busy public park or after hours in the warehouse district. Folks, that’s when you place an envelope with the predetermined cash amount in the hands of your assigned fixer, usually from the Balkans. From there, the real magic starts. The very next business day Miri-Ishu LLC installers outfit your home, inside and out with a custom circuit track, just like the old slot racers of the past. 

Once your loved one has finally boarded the Pan-Am to Cloud Country, follow the simple instructions to set the timers and when that clock strikes, up pops one of up to 16 silicon backed, life sized photo-realistic profile to roam the sitting room, push a mop across the kitchen, meet the mail carrier at the mailbox, you name it. 

Walk with the Dicey in your life again or let the kids and the dog chase her as she rounds the track. Order using the code B-E-Y-O-N-D, beyond and receive $50 off their patent-pending nagger package. Sensor-triggered recordings of your love one can be kicked off to complain when you spend too long in the bathroom, leave cabinet doors open or make observations on race relations.

Don’t wait to call Toll free 1-800-846-3787 or 1-800-TIMES-UP for your own Miri-Ishu Dead-No-More Relative Simulator System. Time may not be on your side, order now.


INTERVIEW PART 1

CSP

Quick progress report on Berrlyn’s jellied peaches. Can’t really see the jar, it’s rather cauldron like and it seems to be eating at the rubber seal on the engineer’s booth. But it does jalapeños in it, so I’m sure it’s perfectly safe. We remain vigillantly at the ready with our spreading knife and sourdough whenever it gives up the ghost. Should be a treat.

Joining us once again via the Higher Plane Hotline, is a man that will require very little introduction to our regular listeners. Brace Gaither is the child star of the 1950 technicolor masterpiece ‘Wayward Starling,’ the tale of a quiet Welsh village where all the children gain the power of flight. Brace of course played the awful “Peach,” the sadistic merchant’s son who methodically shoots each of the children out of the sky with his slingshot. But, Mr. Gaither’s career really took off when he left acting and in 1971 founded Poltergeist Out!, a paranormal research group that would perform their findings in the form of musical theatre. And of course in 1977, he would create the Paranormal Penetration Infantry Unity, or the PPIU. His infiltrations over the years have been legendary, as he has uncovered and sought prosecution for occult covens in nearly every major Fast Food chain in the United States and Canada. Welcome back to the program Brace Gaither.


BG

Great pleasure to be back talking with you again colonel, can you hear me okay up there?


CSP

Yes, we can hear you fine. I know you tend to keep your exact whereabouts close to the vest. Are you able to confirm that you are still in Puerto Barrios?


BG

I can neither confirm nor deny that I am in the territory of Guatemala, I regret to say. I do want to let you know that I spending a piece of every living day working to clear your name, sir.


CSP

Do appreciate the thought Brace, but I’m not aware of any active, serious aspersions that have been cast against my person presuming we exclude Douglas P from Ft. Smith.


BG

Only a man of great honor would carry the burden as you do Colonel. I want to let you personally know that I believe with ever fibrous strand in my body that you had no part in the death of Elvis Aaron Presley.


CSP

Well, two pieces of good news there. Number one, I think you may have mistaken me with Colonel Tom Parker. Second to that, not only is Elvis alive, we’ve talked with him twice on the show and he catered our Halley’s Comet watch party. Let me also say, that while he has an undeniable musical talent, that man is a true artist with Vienna sausages. To this day, his display of those at my little cousin Milt’s bar mitzvah is the best appreciation of the female form I’ve ever seen.


BG

That’s a huge weight off my shoulders. I truly appreciate it.


CSP

Don’t mention it. Now, I do understand that congratulations are in order. You recently got hitched.


BG

Yes, I certainly did, to a lovely Peruvian machinist, fourteen years my junior by the name of Mary Ann Margaret McKenna.


CSP

Mary Ann Margarett McKenna. With a name like that, she has to be from Nuevo Chimbote.


BG

That she is, you have an excellent command of Peruvian surnames, colonel. I’m a little more disappointed to say - around six days into our married life, I discovered that she’s an asset for Israeli intelligence. 


CSP

Not to be disagreeable or pry into matters too much Brace, but two income families are much more the norm these days. I’ve found that the income from Marisol’s seasonal work outfitting and arming the Snow Crab colonies on the Bering Sea has relieved a lot of financial pressure for our household.


BG

I read you, one hundred percent. Unfortunately, I determined that I was the target of a planned assassination wherein Mary Ann Margaret would lure me into a topless avocado bar where I would be suffocated using one of their popular tropical themed throw pillows. This was an inadvertent discovery. I normally wear three pairs of fresh-bleached calf high crew socks, regardless of what climate I’m in and while looking for some of Mary Ann Margaret’s Silk Pleasure Stockings to spell me when my armoire caught fire, I found the plans for my personal death tucked into the brochure for the San Salvador Johnny Cash Museum.


CSP

You know, you never see enough June Cash in those things, am I right? That’s a real bummer though. So how does annulment work where you are?


BG

Well, I determined that it might be best to avoid the involvement of the local constabulary and handle the separation in a more clandestine manner. 


CSP

Reasonable. 


BG

With that in mind, I chartered a Cessna 441 Conquest II turboprop to fly out to Panama City. As I could take no chances with possible co-conspirators or saboteurs, I was forced to give the scheduled pilot -gentleman by the name of Gabriel Loganzo III a handful of heroine infused Golly Gee Gummy Bears I purchased at a Tom Hortons outside the Gloria Estefan Spaceflight monument in Cusco. 


CSP

You know I can go through a bag of those Golly Gee in about a minute flat. Did soak them in a beef vinaigrette one year. Turned out to have a cognitive affect similar to peyote, which I think is pretty impressive.


BG

This was my first time piloting an aircraft. As I normally drive a lowered triple clutch 1982 Ford Komodo Passenger Van, I was able to transfer that expertise with very little difficulty. Regrettably, when we reached cruising altitude, I lost the element of surprise when my three inch Pearson knuckle knife caught on the seatbelt and failed to penetrate her ribcage. She managed to incapacitate me and by the time I regained consciousness, she had exited the aircraft via parachute. 


CSP

I hope you won’t take offense, but I have to say I’m a little surprised that she didn’t try to murder you before jumping.  You hear a lot of great things about Mossad, but boy, worldwide, this latest generation just seems to be one big letdown.


BG

To the contrary, you’ll be extremely encouraged to know that she made a very thorough effort to murder me. We had been cruising at 22,000 feet, but as she killed the throttle before jumping, the aircraft had plunged to 8,500 feet by the time I regained my faculties.


CSP

Well, that’s some effort I guess.


BG

As a side note, after landing while I enjoyed some Atlantic Bass with mango chutney a waitress at the La Curioso pointed out that a map compass had been plunged into my sternocleidomastoid muscle under the right ear. I likely failed to notice this due to the six inch wound to my left chest, just half a centimeter from my left ventricle. 


CSP

So you still had use of both your hands.


BG

Correct and she failed to dispose of the roll of duck tape between the pilot and copilot seats. In fairness the roll was partially concealed under the original pilots stack of Malaysian pornography.  Nonetheless, as a result I was able to limit my blood loss to around 4.63 pints.


CSP

I don’t know how you managed to get your deposit back. What a mess. Reminds me of our visit with the KISS tribute band, Phenotype back in 84. We’re still finding glitter in the corners from that one.


BG

This will sound a little planned, but I used a product you advertise on your show, sir. Spot Assassin. 


CSP

Great news, I hope you had the twenty ounce bottle with the spray nozzle in that case.


BG

No sir, I had the eight liter tub


CSP

That was our Mary Lou Retton promotion from a few years back.


BG

That’s the one, I was able to made do with that just fine.


CSP

Did we ever take a bath on that contract. What a vindictive demon that woman is. Well, maybe we’ll get some traction in Latin America now.


BG

I wish I could say that, but as it happens, Mary Ann steered the tiller north before she jumped, so we went way off track.  I wound up in the parking lot of the Hardees off Montgomery Highway in Dothan, Alabama.


CSP

Have to admit a double charco cheese would really hit the spot right now. Quite the honeymoon though. I understand this evening you will be regaling us with a recording of your latest infiltration, near Bangor Maine.


BG

Mesa, Arizona. Yes, that’s correct. As you know I solicit correspondence nationally and internationally for actionable leads. on January 11th of this year I received a letter from Juanita “Cobra” Garland, she’s a semi-professional female wrestler on the Desert Borough Circuit that operates in Arizona and western New Mexico.


CSP

I know their work well. 


BG

About eight months ago, her 23 year old brother Carlos Garland started taping episodes of Sally Jessy Rafael on their VCR and transcribing these onto scrolls, which he also illustrates. 

This activity has come to occupy around 18 hours of every day. This immediately peaked my interest and I arranged to interview Juanita in depth in the showroom of an abandoned Nissan dealership in Hatch New Mexico. 

She made it very clear that only one recent event in their neighborhood had occurred, that coincided exactly with the change in Carlos’ behavior. That was the grand opening in Mesa of a Clyde’s Chili Cove.  My investigation revealed that Clyde’s Chili Cove is a chain restaurant that has over 400 locations in Denmark, a single location in Tokyo and now Mesa, Arizona of course. 


CSP

That is worrying. I’m not all that sure chili is even legal in Denmark.  


BG

Once in Mesa, I paid an associate, Chuck Magic, to scout some preliminary intel.  Chuck already spends a good deal of time day and night around 14th and Montalban, where Clydes is located. He engages in the recreational use of a pair of crutches and is well known to the locals.  I instructed him to execute a lunch order on Monday March 10, 0-1200 hours local.  His instructions were to order a Chicken Fantastic with Cheese, a beverage and a side of his choice. I installed a Villechez 4200 medium range video capture unit in the head of his left crutch for surveillance. The footage I watched from the command center in the back of my Ford Komodo absolutely chilled my blood.

Not only do they not sell Chili, which apparently is their big inside joke, but they verbally ridiculed Chuck for seventeen minutes while he tearfully begged them not to inject his home style potato wedges with salsa verde. When he asked for a manager they placed a plastic bib on his person. That bib bore the image of Satan.


CSP

This brings to mind, the year we spent at the Covenwood Studios across town. Right behind us there was a Native American themed furniture store named Sharky’s - run by the Sisters of the Imminent Dematerialization. They did all their skin de-fleshing out front, and had a habit of holding up bits of flesh in very menacing gestures. Most inhospitable people I’ve ever met-I’ll just say you will never forget taking a ball of elk fat to the face.  


BG

I proceeded to contact the Clyde’s head office in Copenhagen and explained to them that in addition to publicly humiliating Chuck Magic, their placement of this latest Clyde’s Chili Cove franchise was stunting the progress of Mr Garland’s life. I added that this could also give rise to breach of copyright issues with Sally Jessy Rafael, regardless of the quality and natural eroticism of Mr. Garland’s illustrations. Regretfully, they refused to even transfer my call from the front desk. I committed right there and then to a full penetration PPIU operation. 


CSP

You know, I don’t understand people who are willingly blind to the suffering of others. Motor oil on a Trisket, I don’t get it. Well, coming up next folks, we listen in on another amazing infiltration of the occult world that surrounds us, lying just under the surface. All that and more from the PPIU and its intrepid leader, Brace Gaither, when we return. 


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INTERVIEW PART 2


CSP

Alright back with Brace Gaither. Brack, do we need any more set up for this?


BG

All ready on my on end, sir.


CSP

Okay let’s hear it.


BG

I’m holding the recorder about an inch away from the phone here. 


[Click is heard, playback starts]


BG (Recording)

This recording from Brack Gaither, Commander of PPIU advanced guard one. Date/Timestamp Wednesday, March 12, O-1030 hours. Running Casservox Ultralight Casette deck with chromium oxide cassette, with approximately 43 minutes recording time remaining, proceeding in the direction of Clydes Chile Cove from a southeast bearing, into a light wind. Judging on my flow flags, estimate windspeed at 1-2 miles per hour with 4 mile per hour gust. 


Reaching the end of the adjoining Porter Plumbing Supply parking lot. Approximately a quarter mile from the Ford Komodo at this time, bearing south to southeast. Approaching Lou Ferrigno Boulevard, which is much busier than usual for this time of the day.


[Traffic noise is very prominent]


O-1031 got a visual on my contact across Ferrigno Boulevard, Chuck Magic is waving me in. I am having some difficulty getting across this thoroughfare. I’m gonna try to outrun this Magenta…Chevy Astro..


Oh, damnit damnit damnit


[Scuffling heard, then the sound of wind]


CSP

What is that sound we’re hearing,is that wind?


BG

Yes, it was during this part of the recording that I tripped getting to the center median of Lou Ferrigno Boulevard, when I dropped my Casservox unit and I regret it was picked up by a ferruginous hawk.


CSP

I didn’t realize Mesa was gang territory.


BG

Uh no sir, I didn’t mean to mislead, it was picked up by an actual ferruginous hawk, and it did take me sometime to recover it.


CSP

So we get back to the on-the-ground recording then?


BG

Yes we do.


CSP

And how long of a gap are we talking here?


BG

Well, the ferruginous is a very special creature, very maneuverable even in a semi urban environment. Gap comes to around 41 minutes.


CSP

I don’t want to pull rank, but I think I’d give the fast forward button a go there.


BG

Absolutely


[Tape fast forwarding]


The casservox has one of the faster tape advancement motors on the market. Averages 30 seconds on a single side of the 90 minute chromium oxide cassette


CSP

[random comments]


BG

All done

Here we go.


CSP

[Playing resumes]

REC-CLERK

Sir, I’m not gonna tell you again, you need to leave 


BG

Alright, I’m actually in the establishment at this point


CSP

In the lions den great


REC-CLERK

Sir, it is your choice what you wear, but you have to wear pants in this establishment. The jockey shorts alone are not gonna cut it, honey. You can leave now or wait for the police-


REC-BG

My pants are out on that traffic median, ma’am. As I have explained I had an unfortunate wildlife encounter with a ferruginous hawk. I’m just trying to ask you some questions.  Are you or are you not a member of the Sisters of Brackish Water?


REC-CLERK

What in the hell are you talking about?

[Door entry ring]


Thank god


He’s right there officer. Please.


REC-COP

Can I help you there fella?


REC-BG

Well sir, I have to be honest, I question the oath you’re taking if you’re giving material aid to practitioners of the demonic arts.


REC-COP

Okay, did they take your pants. 


REC-BG

No sir, my pants are on the median.


REC-COP

Well, you wanna go out and get those.


REC-BG

Im here to obtain the truth sir.


REC-CLERK

He’s gotta be on cocaine.


REC-COP

I’ll make you a deal, let’s go get your pants, then we’ll come back for the truth.


REC-BG

Sir I am not confident these individuals are prepared to allow my reentry following the proposed retrieval. Sir please don’t touch my person. Sir I am on a reconnaissance-sir that is my thigh. Sir please release my thigh. Release my thigh. Sir, release my-


[Sounds of moaning, screeching, chaos, then the tape cuts off]


CSP

So that could have gone smoother in a couple of places.


BG

I think we have a clear sense of the occult activities on those grounds, despite our operational challenges. I do plan on dedicating next months PPIU newsletter to the late Chuck Magic.


CSP

I’m sure his family will appreciate that. Plans for a return trip?

[Sound of a prison door]


GUARD

Gaither? Times up.


BG

I’m afraid I’m going to have to take my leave sir. I have another press event


CSP

We’ll have to catch up on your next visit, I know I have a lot of questions


GUARD

Yeah, gotta get you to that press event, right?


BG

Do not touch my person. Sir do not touch my person.


[Disconnect]


CSP

Well, the one and only Brace Gaither.  Strange happenings at the Clydes Chili Cove in Mesa. If you listeners down Arizona way get a chance to drop in down there, do send us some Polaroids.  On the topic of cuisine, Berlyn’s peaches are still outgasing. But, I promise you that just as soon as that plume dies down, I will sit down to a nice helping. You can expect a review sometime this week.

Naturally, thanks to Kallie at the Coal Exchange for the Boiled Egg Spirits. I would not have matched hard liquor with your grade A large cluckers, but it’s got a nice bite to it with the salsa chaser. We do wish Hector a quick recovery from his sympathetic pregnancy sickness-and I certainly hope he finds out who he’s been in contact with that is pregnant so he can shut the door on that whole episode.  

As always we are in debt to the invaluable Yuri and our regina verborum, the recently returned Stephanie. Tomorrow night, we’ll be chatting with Quinn Walters, acting food safety enforcement officer for the city of Philadelphia. She is the first person outside Istanbul, Turkey to use an invisibility cloak to covertly monitor restaurants for health violations. She will share her -I think- gut-wrenching story of being inadvertently sealed in a 120 pound sack of sugar-snap peas and shipped to the dakotas. You might think differently about produce by the time we’re done-so join us if you would. Until then do not allow the ordinary distractions to thwart your search for wisdom and knowledge, all that and more may just be revealed beyond the near horizon. Good night.




——


INAPPROPRIATE USE OF A PODCAST is proud to present encore presentations of the iconic radio program "Beyond the Near Horizon" with host Colonel Stephen Prather. Since 1975, this innovative program has explored the unexplained, the occult and other controversial topics. Featuring interviews with unconventional experts from across the intellectual spectrum, every program lives up to the promise of its creator Colonel Prather to "not allow the ordinary distractions to thwart the search for wisdom and knowledge." As he reminds, "all that and more may just be revealed beyond the near horizon." 


THIS EPISODE: Colonel Stephen Prather interviews former child star, president and founder of the Paranormal Penetration Infantry Unit, Brace Gaither.


YouTube (this episode): https://youtu.be/roisugTEV8U


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People on this episode