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Book description:
Dino Kraspedon (1905 - 2004) was the pen name of Brazilian Oswaldo Oliveira Pedrosa. He was born in Pedra do Baú and died in Uberaba, Minas Gerais. In 1952 he published Meu Contato com os discos voadores (My Contact with Flying Saucers), a book that tells the story of his claimed contact with a flying saucer commander, who didn't give any name, at a road near Kraspedon's homeland. The visitor basically explained physics concepts from a different perspective, and gave insights on how to improve humanities social conditions. His book became popular at the time it was printed and Kraspedon was accused of Communism, given the content.
E-Book Content
Dino Kraspedon MY CONTACT WITH FLYING SAUCERS A Pleasant Surprise The doorbell rang three times. My wife came and told me that there was a parson at the door who wanted to speak to me. "What does he want?" I asked apprehensively. I don't know, but it looks as if he wants to preach at you, replied my wife. Almost every Sunday Protestant parsons, or ordinary preachers, would come along to preach at us or try to convert us to their belief. As, at that time, I was an atheist in the widest sense of the word, I hated long biblical dissertations and, in fact, had an aversion to anything that smacked of religion. We won't be able to go out with the children now," I remarked. "No, I suppose we won't," said my wife," but never mind, if we don't go today, we'll go another day." "It's not fair that the children should miss their walk. The will have to go out after lunch by themselves." I had a good mind to tell the parson I could not see him, but then decided that he was probably quite harmless. After all, he was only coming to see if he could get me into heaven. I went downstairs far from pleased, but maintained an air of politeness, and managed to put on a smile. Sitting downstairs, however, I found a well-dressed man in a good cashmere suit which fitted his athletic body perfectly. As a rule priests dress unostentatiously, but this one was singularly well turned out. He had a white shirt with a stiff collar, and a blue tie with white geometrical patterns. His shoes did not look as if they had been worn for more than a month or two. My attention was drawn to the fine weave of his gloves, and I remembered where I had seen this type of glove before. As I came face to face with him, I almost lost my voice with surprise; I recognised him as the captain of a flying saucer. In November 1952 I was touring with a friend in the State of Sao Paulo. On reaching the top of the Angatuba range coming up from Parana, we were confronted by five saucers hovering in the air. It was a rainy day and visibility was had. I went back to the same spot later and spent thee days and nights there in the hope of seeing a saucer again. On the last night, after a series of episodes which we will
not go into here for fear of digression, a saucer landed and we were given the chance of going inside it and meeting its crew. We stayed on board for about an hour looking at the various pieces of equipment in the machine. The Captain was kind enough to explain how they all worked. At the end of our visit, this fascinating individual promised to come and see us as soon as he was able. And now, four or five months later, he had come as promised. "Your surprise is quite understandable," he said, getting up from the armchair and extending his hand, "but I have come to return your visit to my craft. I have come, not only because I promised, but because I very much wanted to have the pleasure of seeing you again." "I feel I hardly deserve such a gracious gesture on your part, especially as I have nothing to offer you but the hand of friendship." "If you were to offer me the whole Earth, but not the hand of friendship, it would be worth nothing. Only friendship has real value. I accept it with gratitude as I have