News You Can't Use: US Air Force Threatens to Destroy Property Next Door to Area 51 After Owners Refuse to Sell

It's not easy living next to Area 51, what with the alien autopsies, families of dangerous mutants, air planes flying over your house occasionally and all the other crazy ideas about this forbidden zone I've cobbled together from heavy metal music videos, late night radio broadcasts and awful remakes of classic movies. It appears this "not easy" is about to be upgraded to "impossible" (I already have a copyright on "Pimping is Impossible" so don't get any ideas) thanks to the latest attempt by our government to dislodge a family, presumably of the non-mutant variety, from this national blind-spot.

They've been bombed, shot at, and intimidated for 60 years. But the Sheahans don’t want to give up their land to the “neighbours from hell.” 

"Yup, Air Force done dropped this hee-ah bomb on our house. We ain't movin' and we ain't taken no charity, no suh." You would think a very brief carpet bombing campaign would be enough to defeat a residential neighborhood and you'd be correct, but please, accept these tall tales from the citizen rebels that aren't about to see their home become a storage building for dead space invaders.

Located in the Nevada Desert, the military base officially known as “The Nevada Test and Training Range” borders on the Sheahan’s property, which has been in the family since 1889.

Military prototypes and other high tech devices related to national security? Yeah, right. We all know you're holding Big Foot and possibly the original non-Coca Cola Santa Claus in there, just admit it.

The family’s allegations range from illegal government searches and checkpoints to military jet attacks on the mine and a devastating cancer cluster that has seen the premature deaths of several members. 

Great, now when I'm playing my video game on a plane the guy next to me will be yelling for me to shoot the "cancer cluster" instead of the hell-fire missiles.

But the final straw — and the one that drove the Sheahans to end an extraordinary six decades of silence — came last month when the US Air Force (USAF) gave them an ultimatum: sell up for $5.2m or watch it seized and destroyed for free.

"We finally figured out that, because we're the government and own everything under the Removal of Freedoms Act, we could just demand the property instead of beaming in cancer or using the experimental weather control device to drive them out."

The family turned them down, claiming the offer was less than half the true value of the land and didn’t come close to compensating for Area 51’s legacy of disease and lost livelihood.

This property contains a valuable mineral pyrite mine, lots of blasted wasteland and several different shrubs. 10 million, minimum.

Last week, USAF filed a lawsuit seeking to have the property condemned to speed up acquisition. If successful, the Sheahans will be left with nothing.

Lawyers: worse than disease rays or air force strafing runs.

“We want them to know what they have done over the last 60 years to our family is not acceptable.”

"I blam mah Eee Dee on dem foo fat-er tacks."

The USAF says it wants the land because, after decades of escorting family members in and out of the highly-restricted space, it can no longer ensure their safety.

Yeah, a likely story. We know you're pure evil, nice try though.

But Joe Sheahan told CNN that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Let's have a nice, rational and unbiased discussion of how germ warfare killed your cattle and Soviet ghosts are keeping you up at night.


“What they really want to buy is our property, our access rights and our view."

We must close the "view gap" with our Russian "friends" before it's too late.

Deploy the eminent domain lawyers.

The family’s Facebook page describes them as “ardent patriots” who have tried to be “flexible to the requirements of Area 51”. 

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Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.

Twistaplot #5 The Sinister Studios of KESP-TV

It's been nearly a year since the last time I looked at a Twist-a-Plot book and to be totally honest that's not some huge coincidence but instead is the result of the amazing semi-volition I'm able to muster. The series was a let-down, simply stated. Time heals the sarcasm and limp plot wounds, though, so might as well get at it. Besides, today's subject looks promising. The premise is intriguing (Sinister...studios???) and it's a nice break from all the space-themed fare we've been getting recently. Back to earth, back behind the camera for the sexy and deadly world of local affiliate stations.

"That's it kid, just repeat what the government told you to say and you won't get blasted."

I'm getting my boredom on in a "careers" class, listening to some teacher drone on about the "real world" and "jobs." Like any healthy person I've got very little interest in this obvious trick bag. That is until the common core dispenser announces unpaid internships. Man, how sweet that would be. Missing school, acting as a go-for, not getting any of that long green but maybe a positive reference and a page or two for the "brag book," yeah this is the stuff. 

Does it get better? Hell yes, it gets better. One of the positions is at KSEP, presumably the fictional analogue of KRON-4. Clearly, this is the time to get hype. As you probably already guessed, I get this assignment. It turns out I'll be there over spring break, so that whole "miss school" plan has withered on the vine, but the prospect of being a tiny part of a soon to be completely irrelevant form of mass communication is more than enough to act as a counter balance. I'm gonna be on the moron box!

"Five hundred hours of work for a possible reference...golly!"

I head down to the studio, not even suspecting it might be of the left handed variety. All is not well, however, because inside the place is as empty as a Coffee Party meeting. Also, there's a letter sitting out suggesting that my glorious non-compensated position was supposed to be cancelled. There's a door, but it's for authorized personnel only, so I decide to sit in a chair and wait. Doing nothing is always the best choice when faced with an ambiguous situation, right?

Despite my best efforts, I can't keep from doing wrong. I answer a phone call. The caller wants to speak with "Betsy" and then I open the door to find her standing there. A bizarre conversation about tornadoes is the result and I get a non-choice where both options go to the same page. Twist-a-Plot, why do you always have to provoke me?

Will ignoring warning signs ruin my are day?

We head into a hall full of colored footprints and I immediately start hurting my chances of getting that slightly positive reference by acting incredulous. It's for tour groups, Betsy explains. We then enter a room full of monitors and at this point it's pretty clear I've stumbled on one of those weather control stations a former pro rassler tried to warn us about. I call her out on this, but get sent out for my troubles. As I leave I see a man in an astronaut suit in front of a control panel on one of the monitors. Space weather manipulation? What is going on here?

From the author of "Unidentified Flying Outrage"

 I decide to come back in, possibly for a final confrontation/last stand against the shadow government and its agents but instead am met with apologies and "It must have been your imagination!" Well, I'm mollified. I'm given a list of weather terms to study and tuck right into that. Suffice it to say the letter is actually a rambling note that explains we're under attack from a weather-controlling "foreign power" and Betsy is actually a secret agent infiltrating the station. I see. 

I'm not sure what she wants from me, but seriously, it ain't happening. I sit and wait, something that is becoming my primary coping mechanism. She doesn't return, so I call the Pentagon and a Deus ex Machina is deployed. Why Betsy just didn't make this call herself is left unexplored. I'm declared a hero and given my own weather station for some reason. Now I want to be a meteorologist. I'm really not sure if this is a happy ending or not.

Living the dream.

This was the usual Twist-a-Plot mess, suffering from a bizarre plot, poorly thought-out decision points and a disappointing ending. I guess the premise had some potential and maybe some of the other paths are better realized but I'd have to say skip this one.

"I would know, I was in an underwater demolition team."

Check Out My Books!

Aaron Zehner is the author of "Posts from the Underground," now available in paperback and e-book. Read free excerpts here and here.

His first novel "The Foolchild Invention" is also available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.