The reason I have introduced Major Dames is that he made the word "Killshot" quite famous as we were heading into the year 2012 - and that passed - and we haven't yet had anything like a Killshot.
"Killshot" means a massive solar flare, so big that it would wipe out all electricity on our planet.
It would fry computers and cell phones. Vehicles which these days include computers for many reasons would stall on the spot.
Planes would just drop from the sky.
Traveling by air that day would be a fatal move.
Optionally, you're on that magic cruise of a lifetime. Perhaps you've gone to Antarctica. And the ship's computers quit.
Quite a few Admirals of the world's various military powers would be a little ashen-faced too.
How do you get several thousand sailors off an aircraft carrier when you don't have enough lifeboats, and if you do, the winches are powered by electricity.
So there you are, dead in the water - eventually.
A killshot would plunge us back into the dark ages, that's for sure.
Major Dames and his military colleagues had considerable success with their remote viewing program - they would not have kept doing it for years if it didn't work.
He retired from the military and has since produced a DVD course that teaches the art (if you can call it that) of remote viewing. Having had some success with "the art" myself, I can speak from personal experience.
Because of that experience, I have learned that while one can accurately remote view a future event, pinning it down to a specific date or time frame is indeed risky business.
Of equal importance, as far as I'm concerned, is the fact that the future is not set in stone. Things can change. You might say that timelines shift. Things just don't happen exactly when or how you predict.
An example, which I've used before, is to imagine calling a friend (close or distant doesn't matter) and saying "I'll be over in an hour. See you at 3 o'clock." Or you might specify some time tomorrow or later in the week. You set a date and time.
You jump in your car, hustle onto Route 66, and floor the pedal. Or maybe you're making haste and lots of dust on the 300-mile Nullabor plain from Perth to Adelaide (been there, done that).
Unexpectedly, something happens to slow you down. It might be that flashing blue light behind you on Route 66, or an Aborigine standing on one leg expecting perhaps one car every 24 hours to stop and buy his handcrafted boomerang - or exchange it for a warm can of beer.
Either way, you don't make it to your destination at the time you first specified.
But you do make it - eventually.
Eventually, it happens.
(I said IT happens, Okay?).
