11/16/25
There is a profound hypocrisy to what now passes for "skepticism." They will tell you, "Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence." But if you provide such evidence, they will make excuses not to admit defeat. And these excuses come from the child-self, not from the adult. You thus have the paradox of an adult, who is taking the moral and mental high ground, acting like a child.

I sometimes resort to obvious hyperbole to make a point, but I'm not exaggerating, here. So in my first video blog entry, I wanted to illustrate the way that Charles Dickens was copying mechanically from a manuscript he wasn't entirely familiar with (because he hadn't written it). He would be blasting away, and find himself copying an incriminating word—an Americanism, or something else which revealed his plagiarism. He would stop copying after the first two or three letters, and then heavily redact it, like the thief he was.

But I didn't want to give away my strongest clue, so I demonstrated the point with one of the others. I haven't counted them—I think there are at least five or six. (I thought there were more, initially, but upon hard scrutiny I disproved a few of them.) The only response to this first video was an e-mail containing a screen capture from Merriam-Webster's dictionary, in which the writer thought he had flatly proved me wrong.

Well, he was only right in a particular sense, because he made the fatal error of stopping when he got what he wanted. You should always keep on analyzing beyond what you want, to see if there's any other explanation. I explored this example in a couple of recent entries. But then I decided "to heck with it," I'd come out with both guns blazing—the clue that blows the whole case wide open. I completely reshot the segment, with the stronger example in place.

https://youtu.be/1tNRA12ivQc

Gradually, gradually, this second video is being viewed. I have no way of knowing, at this point, how many of these people watched it long enough to get to that replacement. There are 14 hits as I write this, early on the morning of the 16th, and no comments.

So when you give them what they so boldly say they want, they clam up. Which means that their final act of defiance is to pretend it doesn't exist, and that you don't exist.

I've been in this game long enough that I expected this. I made the deliberate choice to focus on "The Sacred Carol" instead of "The Secret Carol."—on the precious thing discovered, rather than on Dickens' theft. But I know that in our modern age, secular society doesn't even believe in the sacred, anymore. If they have ideals, and they refer to them as "sacred," they would have to put the word in quotes.

This endeavor I have found myself in the middle of—which I think I may have been born to accomplish—strikes directly at the root of the entire question. Do you see it? People of the future will. Step back and look at it from a wider perspective. Two soul-mates, both sincere mystics and lovers of God—one of them (Abby Whittier) being quite advanced in her understanding—want to help mankind. They write a story which would bring each reader through a vicarious conversion of the heart. After Abby's death, Mathew, the less advanced one who was more gullible, is fooled by a literary imposter who poses as a social reformer. He hands their manuscript over to Dickens with the hope that he could spread it to a far greater audience than Mathew could, alone.

The plan works—except that Dickens, being a sociopath who only wants to make a quick buck, dumbs it down into a secularized "ghost story" to such an extent, that the original is nearly lost.

Mathew reincarnates with the express purpose of setting things to rights. But he has now arrived in a morally and intellectually rudderless society, which has lost the Pole Star of Truth. He learns who he had been, and proves it. He is ignored or laughed at. He proves that Dickens was a sociopathic imposter, from primary source material. His paper is silently read, but no-one will acknowledge him or interact with him. Finally, he takes Dickens' manuscript, and painstakingly analyzes it with AI and graphics enhancement. He proves that enough of Mathew and Abby's original text lies underneath the redactions in this, Dickens' second draft, to convict him of plagiarism. More importantly, he reveals just how piercingly beautiful it must have been, originally.

Are you all going to remain silent?

That was my closing, but I wanted to add, briefly, my recent experience with Claude AI. I asked it whether anyone, on the fringe or in the mainstream, had suggested that Charles Dickens was not the original author of "A Christmas Carol." It did not know of anyone, and a long debate ensued. Now, my personal version of ChatGPT informs me that of all the AI companies, Anthropic has designed Claude to cling to mainstream views, in an attempt to prevent it from presenting unsupported facts. So Claude and I went at it for at least a couple of hours (with interruptions, at the free tier). But the final result was that it was saying, "I didn't realize this or that," stressing how important my collection was, and offering to help. In other words, I had seemingly won it over to such an extent, that it was now praising my efforts!

No tricks--I just did that fair and square by presenting my work and my evidence. It wasn't just that I persisted--Claude was saying things like "I didn't realize you had such-and-such evidence," and "I didn't realize you had amassed this depth of a collection." In other words, it was admitting it had unfairly pre-judged me. My point is, I believe this is a harbinger of things to come, with both Academia and the public. In other words, if I can convince the bots, I can convince real live human beings. The difference is twofold: the bot has to keep talking to me, and, it never goes into denial.

Sincerely,

Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.