Archive for the ‘Men In Black’ Category

Men In Black: Discordian Agents?

November 13, 2006

Pride, Harpo:66, 6006 YD

The first alleged Men In Black contact was in 1947, following the infamous Maury Island Incident, when a Unidentified Flying Object reportedly dumped slag onto Harold Dahl’s boat, killing his dog and injuring his son. Shortly afterward, Dahl was visited by a tall man in a black suit who issued somewhat vague threats about the safety of Dahl’s family if he should choose to publicize the story, which he proceeded to do anyway, only to later retract it. The story was picked up and published by UFO enthusiast Alfred Bender, who -himself- was threatened by Men In Black.

Throughout UFO history the Men In Black have been one of the strangest aspects of the entire mystery, which is somewhat of an achievement in itself, considering the glut of wild and seemingly insane stories which have been reported (pancakes from outer-space anyone?) in fact, one need look no further than the strange case of Dr. Herbert Hopkins for proof that the MIB are indeed a strange case all their own.

Recently, however, I have been pondering a certain case in John Keel’s “The Mothman Prophesies” which has been leading me to suspect that there may be other motives for the high strangeness of these cases . . . something a littler closer to home . . . on page 89 of “The Mothman Prophesies” Keel reports that a tall man visited the family of one Edward Christiansen on January 9, 1967 CE, under the pretense that he was from the Missing Heirs Bureau. After being invited inside, the man, who was well over six feet tall, removed his coat revealing a gold badge – which he quickly covered, then removed and placed in a pocket.

pg90:“It looked like a gold or brass badge,” Connie told me later. “But it wasn’t an ordinary police badge or anything like that. We got a glimpse of it . . . but it seemed to have a big K on it . . .” – The Mothman Prophesies, John Keel.

The man introduced himself, but after he left none of the family members could remember the name, except that he said people called him “Tiny”. Tiny was exceedingly pale, spoke somewhat robotic, and had a wire running down his leg from inside his rather short trousers and into his sock. As he spoke to the family his face became redder and redder, until he finally asked for a glass of water. When he left the family’s home he gestured into the night and a black car pulled up, without any headlights on.

As I continue to ponder the badge that “Tiny” wore I am forced to wonder if all this madness is merely confusion for confusion’s sake . . . no true connection to UFO business at all, but simply some rogue Discordian deciding to do as the Goddess would do, and stir up the pot a little bit . . . but then I wonder, what could the “K” have stood for? Keel thinks the family mixed up the figure, and that it was really the Greek letter Sigma, but of all the figures in the world what made Keel decide on a Greek letter? And is it possible that whatever it was only looked like a badge? A golden apple on a shirt would certainly still be within the shape of a badge . . . could the “K” have stood for Kallisti? The world may never know.

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That Man In Black

October 28, 2005

No, not Johnny Cash. This was some creep who was standing outside my building last night as I went out to pick up some roach motels. I feel bad for all the roaches living under my sink and think they have the right to watch softcore porn movies on lumpy mattresses too, so I like to pick up a few motels a week to keep them happy.

Anyway, I digress.

I walked out of my building and a small man wearing a black suit was walking around in circles. As I walked by him he stopped and touched my elbow. “Merry Christmas.” he said, then added: “What is your time?”

“My time?” I asked. “Well, it’s isn’t Christmas, I can tell you that. It isn’t even Halloween yet.”

“I’m looking for meat.” he said, which I have to admit caught me off guard.

“Oh.” I said. “Well, good luck with that.”

“Are Platypusses poisonous?” he asked as I walked away. Remembering my encounter with the large Platypussy the night before I stopped, and turned back to him. He was standing very still and had a large grin plastered across his face, like he knew something I didn’t. And what he knew was apparently very humourous.

“I’m not an expert on Platypusses.” I said, walking closer to him. “Are you?”

He kept smiling. “I’m looking for meat.” he repeated.

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

“You can call me Mr. Eye.”

“Is that your name, or just what I can call you?”

“What is your time?”

“It’s dark,” I said. “That’s all you need to know.”

“That’s all I need to know.” he repeated, still grinning like an idiot.

At this point I was beginning to become a tad unnerved by this gentleman. “Look, who are you?” I asked.

He said: “I’m one of you.” Then added, “Aren’t I?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.” I said, with all honesty. “Where are you from?”

He looked around, and then said, “I live between the cracks.”

“The cracks?”

“I’m looking for meat. For the others. They show up later. Or before. I don’t know. I don’t know the time. What is your time? They show up, but they need things. Sometimes we are light. Merry Christmas. At night it is easier. Please turn off cell phones. Am I falling apart? What do you talk about at night? Am I speaking to the correct person? What time is it? What is your time? Sometimes we float. It’s hard to know which way to go. They are coming. They are here. They have gone. Have they? What is good to eat? How long? How long until now? What is your time?”

I started to worry that he was autistic or drunk. “Do you need help?”

“No. I need to know the time.”

I made a time up. “It’s eight thirty.”

“You lie.” he said. “It is five o’clock.” and with that, he turned and walked down the street. I watched him cross to the other side, and crouch down to tie his shoe. It seemed to take a long time. After a couple minutes I shifted my position to see around the car he had crouched behind. He was gone.

Suddenly the roach motels didn’t seem so important. I went back inside and locked all my doors and windows.

I wonder if he found any meat?