Best Evidence Privately Held

[Guest Cervelo]

Swamp Bandit is that you?

[Guest]

I was under the impression it was someone else who brought up the avatar in post #95.

I brought the pics up in post #70. Not sure if they were brought up before that.

[Guest LissingMinx]

Seriously. No need to play "who started it". Why not just move on and try to avoid bringing it back to this in the future?

So yeah...Big Phil. Great big somewhat bigfooty shape digitally enhanced to the point nothing looks real. Who knows?

[Guest]

Seriously. No need to play "who started it". Why not just move on and try to avoid bringing it back to this in the future?

Just owning up to the part I played. Not particular "sorry" it came to this, since this is precisely what this thread is about. I just wanted Sas to know that was the only reason I brought it up... not that I'm going to hold this grudge against her every time I see her post.

[Guest]

Boy, I went back over this thread, and it's a lot of bickering. I have to stand by my last post. Others badger people, laughing at their ideas, ganging up on them, and making fun of them. This is the very soul of bullying.

This is the very same ridicule that causes witnesses to keep a sighting secret, that causes believers to keep their mouths shut, and others to keep their evidence private. And causes some to conclude that the internet is teeming with riffraff and a colossal waste of time.

I do not refuse to post, I usually cannot post, they are too big, I guess. I try, but first I have to adjust the quality until there isn't any quality left, then try 20 times to post one dang picture. It's just not worth the effort. I have posted some. I had a gallery but ended up making it private because people who are unable to spot the creatures made further demands and requests, for which I have no time or patience. Oh, and the pics in which you can't possibly miss the squatches go unremarked.

Now imagine those people who "claim" to have pictures suddenly post them. Would the bullies continue to bully, no matter what, or change their tune if appropriate? What do you think?

[Guest Luckyfoot]

Seriously. No need to play "who started it". Why not just move on and try to avoid bringing it back to this in the future?

So yeah...Big Phil. Great big somewhat bigfooty shape digitally enhanced to the point nothing looks real. Who knows?

I thought this topic was privately held evidence. Sasfooty claims to fit in this category and seems custom made for her input. Big Phil was just one portion of this thread.

I am critical of evidence. People playing games for attention should be weeded out.

Here's my Pledge. I have a lifelong fascination with the Bigfoot phenomena . I had my own little experience AND I will be getting out there , prolly in some BFRO event to start and then prolly a lot on my own . WHEN and IF I do find anything I WILL post it here. This Forum and Jeff Meldrum will be the first people I run to with evidence. When I have photographic evidence of Sasquatch trapesing around in pelts or otherwise I wont bait all y'all. I'm a good person that way. Honest I mean. I don't like to play games. That's how you build trust.

[Guest Jodie]

Luckyfoot, I wouldn't trust everybody. You never know who will see or read some of your stuff and run with it. Then it ends up on every bigfoot blog on the internet. I can see both sides of it, really.

Think twice before you give your cookies away.

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Edited November 13, 2011 by Jodie

[indiefoot]

Luckyfoot,

Do you want to tell us about your experience or are you just going to tease us with it?

[JDL]

My father tells a story from before WWII that I take to be based in truth even if the specifics have been lost in time.

Back then most small towns in the Southwest had a few people who still tried to make a living at prospecting. They alternated from disappearing for a month or so at a time looking for paydirt, and hanging around town picking up odd jobs on which to subsist. They were often fixtures at the local saloon where they seldom had more than enough money to pay for a single drink, and specialized in wheedling drinks out of the locals. Typically, the new face in the saloon was targeted for an evening of tall stories told in exchange for a series of drinks. They were seldom successful in inducing any of the regulars to buy them a drink.

As the story goes, one August evening a pair of local prospectors came staggering into the saloon after an absence of several weeks. They bellied up to the bar, breathless and exhausted, shaking like leaves. They ordered drinks and downed them in one gulp, then sagged against the bar. Curious, one of the locals asked what was up. They were nonresponsive, mumbling incoherently until someone suggested that the bartender pour them another drink. Finally they began to come around, and the locals managed to drag an incredible story from them. As the evening wore on, the full details were revealed over the course of several rounds of drinks, and retold over several more.

The prospectors had had quite an adventurous encounter. They were up in the local mountains prospecting and came across an old mine entrance. Hoping for the best, they entered the mine looking around. This was when they disturbed something monstrous. What they had initially perceived to be discarded pipe and cables began to move. Enthralled, they stood transfixed, until it became clear that they were looking at the body of a snake more than a foot in diameter. Then they ran.

It was a headlong tumble from the mine with many twists, turns, and falls, but finally, miraculously, they reached the exit to the mine and fell downhill. As they lay, though, catching their breath, they were horrified by the sound of rocks grinding and the staccato of the loudest rattle, they had ever heard. The snake had pursued them from the mine.

They leapt to their feet, drew their pistols, and began to fire, but their bullets seemed to have no effect other than to enrage the snake, which they could now see was more than fifteen feet long. Twice the snake struck, narrowly missing each of them, and they knew that they could never outrun it. One of them, or the other, or both, would surely die.

The snake struck a third time, and the first prospector dodged back once again, this time avoiding the snake's sabre-like fangs by less than an inch. That was when the second prospector did the only thing that he could think to save them. He dove forward and grappled the snake, wrapping his arms around the snake's neck just behind it's head. The snake thrashed and rolled, wrapping itself around the prospector, crushing the life from him, while he pled with the first prospector to draw his knife and kill either him, or the beast. In response to his partner's plea, the first prospector summoned depths of courage that he had no idea he possessed and entered the fray.

The details of the lengthy battle were many, and took time to tell, because the struggle lasted for more than two hours, but finally the snake succombed to exhaustion, and the prospectors were able to sink their knives into its vitals. Unsure, and unable to believe that it was finally dead, they retreated, rushing for town.

Needless to say, it was a good story, and the prospectors earned their drinks. The next night they were prompted to tell their story once again, and again drank free. The third night, word had gotten around about the fantastic tale, and the irregulars began to show at the bar. Again the prospectors drank for free, and, in part, on the house, because it was clear that their story was generating business. And so it went for over a week. But then the interest began to tail off, until finally, when the prospectors brought it up, in hopes of earning a drink, they were laughed out of the saloon and told not to come back unless they provided proof. So they left, claiming that they would come back with proof, and that the regulars would be forced to acknowledge that they were telling the truth.

Two days went by without their return, and the regulars had a good laugh at the expense of the prospectors, who clearly would not be able to return without losing face. Then on the third evening, they returned.

The regulars stood speechless as the prospectors brought in and unrolled the largest snakeskin than any one had ever seen. Larger than any of them had conceived could exist. It turned out not to be fifteen feet long, but twenty-two, with a clear diamond pattern, though the head and rattle were both missing - too damaged by the battle and by predation to be recovered.

Needless to say, the regulars were shocked, but had to admit the truth of the tale. This began the propsectors' lengthy period of celebrity. For weeks, and then months, they drank for free. People came from all over town and from neighboring towns to view the skin from the giant rattlesnake, now displayed prominently over the bar. The prospectors not only drank for free, but they began to earn money from their experience, granting interviews to newspapers, re-enacting their struggle, and even wrestling with those who wanted to wrestle the men who had wrestled the snake. But by far, the biggest payday came when the saloon owner offered to buy the snakeskin.

And so it went well into the fall and early winter, until the arrival of a little grey-haired old lady.

She came in the late afternoon, just as the regulars were beginning to congregate, and asked to look at the snakeskin. They took it down and she briefly examined it, then made an extraordinary claim. The snakeskin was hers. She pointed to a series of faded numbers inked on one edge of the skin and displayed a note that she had brought with her bearing the same numbers. The snakeskin, she explained, had belonged to her husband, a naturalist and professor at the State University. It was not the skin of a rattlesnake, but that of a giant anaconda, obtained in the Amazon, where such things were common. When he retired, he had moved the skin to his new home in the neighboring small town, where he had kept it on the wall of the dining room against his wife's furious objections. By the time he died, she hated the thing so much that she had simply thrown it out, expecting to never see it again. When she learned about the giant snakeskin displayed one town over, she suspected that it was the one she had discarded and initially did not care, but as she began to hear about it repeatedly, even from friends in the women's auxilliary, it began to gall her that something she had come to hate so thoroughly kept imposing itself even indirectly on her life.

She demanded the return of the skin, and when the owner of the saloon objected she threatened to sue on grounds that he had received stolen property. He reconsidered his position and stated that he deserved something in return for the skin since he had kept it safe for her. She reached into her pocketbook and withdrew a nickel, telling him that the nickle is what the skin would be worth to him after she had stopped by the local paper on her way out of town. Then she simply stared.

The saloon owner considered, then ordered that the skin be rolled up and returned to the woman. Satisfied, she directed that it be loaded into her coach outside. As she left the saloon, the owner asked her: "What are you going to do with it?" She turned at the door, surveyed him and the regulars with a withering look, lifted her chin, and said: "This time, Sir, I am going to burn it." Then she left.

Needless to say, the prospectors were no longer welcome, but the saloon owner and the regulars were too embarrassed that they had been so completely taken in by their story to be harsh. Besides, the escapade had brought in a lot of business over the preceding months, and many of the regulars had become secondary celebrities in their own right and they did not relish the thought of being known as an entourage of fools. But the prospectors were no longer welcome, and the saloon owner banned them from the establishment, expecting the story to simply fade away.

It did not, however, for within a week the prospectors were earning free drinks in the neighboring town, not with stories of the giant snake, but with stories of how they had fooled the folks in the previous town.

[Sasfooty]

WHEN and IF I do find anything I WILL post it here. This Forum and Jeff Meldrum will be the first people I run to with evidence.

I don't like to play games.

Good luck with that dream!

You're likely to find out that top "researchers" aren't very interested in other people's evidence, (unless you happen to drag in a body, or part thereof), then you have proof, & that's a different story. There's no money in it for them if somebody else has it. They want some to call their own, found on one of their TV quests, if possible.

I'm a good person that way. Honest I mean. That's how you build trust.

Since you're a such a good person, you're likely to run into some more BFs eventually. They like good, honest people, & occasionally let them get pictures.

Edited November 13, 2011 by Sasfooty

[Guest Dudlow]

Thanks for a well told tale, indeed, 'JDL'. I enjoyed that!

- Dudlow

Edited November 13, 2011 by Dudlow

[Guest]

Quote- Cervelo

It's also sad that now moderators and admins (who by the way are volunteers) have to qualify their opinions because of some members "gamesmanship"! Utter BS IMO!!!

I agree Cervelo... thanks.

**That statement made of course as a regular member, and not a member of staff....

:D

[Guest LissingMinx]

it seems to me having to make that qualifier comes with the territory when you accept any position, volunteer or otherwise that requires a certain degree of neutrality.

If you are choosing to make a statement as an individual with opinions on either side of the debate rather than a neutral moderator, well, that's the way it is. You either keep your opinions to yourself or you qualify them.

[Incorrigible1]

I'm not from Missouri, but I like their motto: Show me.

[Guest]

it seems to me having to make that qualifier comes with the territory when you accept any position, volunteer or otherwise that requires a certain degree of neutrality.

If you are choosing to make a statement as an individual with opinions on either side of the debate rather than a neutral moderator, well, that's the way it is. You either keep your opinions to yourself or you qualify them.

It's really not the end of the world folks..

If I make a comment in a thread, and dont qualify that its just my opinion (as a regular member), there are some members who immediately question whether the opinion expressed is an "official stance" of the forum, or of staff. It gets a little old sometimes- because as moderators here we are still allowed to express our opinion in threads, and it should kind of be obvious when we are doing so. Especially since there are very few "official" warnings or statements inserted in threads, and when they do appear, are clearly marked as such. (normally in bold letters)

It's something we've had to start doing to avoid accusations that "staff is being impartial" or "unfair", or in one recent case- that a comment I had made was "unbecoming for a moderator".

If I have to add a sentence in my posts clearly noting the difference, then so be it....

Oh, and this IS an "official" explanation that I am making as a member of BFF Staff....