An Open Invitation to the MiB

I have been trying unsuccessfully for the past few weeks to get a first-hand peek at some supposed real-life Boogums from Another World, the legendary Men in Black (henceforth referred to as the MiB). The MiB, according to all accounts, usually travel in groups of three, although there are a growing number of reports of only two turning up, as seen in this video:

I have Tweeted my intentions a few times, and I have made some bizarre posts on Facebook that I deleted as soon as I sobered up. Some may say that it is a bit irresponsible of me to invite such a visitation. After all, we don’t even know who or what the MiB are. Theories range from federal agents engaged in psychological operations to demons from the nether regions. What if they abduct me, probe me, and/or mutilate me? To this I would say that I have studied this subject extensively, and of all the accounts of human interaction with these beings, none have ever turned violent. I would not expect any encounter I might have to prove to be any exception. All they would have to do is show up, and they would sufficiently scare the hell out of me in such a way as to convince me to stop asking questions. Hell, we could even share a drink, and I would stop harassing them purely out of polite courtesy. Maybe they could let me drive their jacked-up classic Cadillac with the weird lights on the dashboard…?

I am getting ahead of myself. For those of you who do not know, the MiB are nothing like they are depicted in the Hollywood film franchise of the same name. They are odd characters, dressed impeccably in black suits and hats, but the suits are the only things that look normal on them. They resemble humans, but have an odd robot-like countenance. They seem to have no comprehension of the social norms observed by humans, and they just look weird. One of my favorite detailed accounts describes one as having lipstick smeared across his pale alien-like face. Another has a male and female pair becoming involved in some disturbingly awkward heavy petting while visiting the home of one UFO witness, with the male MiB stopping to ask his human host if he was groping his female counterpart correctly. Yet another account has one melting to a puddle of goo while in police custody. Their bizarre behavior offers only two possible explanations: 1) It is purposefully unnerving to add to the fear factor as a means of psychological manipulation or 2) These poor weird bastards just aren’t being trained properly.

Look at these poor bizarre bastards. They don't know what they're doing! Or do they?
Look at these poor bizarre bastards. They don’t know what they’re doing! Or do they?

(In my eternally-upcoming book, “The Spaces Between”, I have created a character whose sole job it is to train MiB to appear less conspicuous when among normal people. I got the idea based on my own experience of teaching English as a Second Language in various countries around the world.)

Are all of these accounts just tall tales? Most likely. Yet the fact that they persist intrigues me. What’s more, I have had a weird MiB-related experience myself — a coincidence, perhaps, but still it affected me enough that I slept with the lights on for a couple of weeks afterwards. It occurred one night back in 2001, when I was living alone in Pittsburgh. I was up late one night reading the awesomely bizarre book “The Mothman Prophecies” by John Keel — specifically Chapter 9, which deals with UFO witnesses being pestered by MiB, and often receiving weird phone calls in which they hear a man babbling very quickly in some unknown language, or a series of random high-pitched beeping noises. It was just around midnight that I was reading this chapter when my phone rang (many people still had land lines back then, and I was one of them). It being a startling coincidence and a very loud ringer, I felt the hair on the back of my giblets stand up. I walked to the kitchen and answered the phone. All I heard on the other end was a series of random high-pitched beeping noises. I tried to play it cool and pretended to have a conversation with the beeps. “You don’t say? How fascinating for you!” and then there was some static and the call ended. It may not seem much to you, my literate friend, but at that point in time… well, John Keel’s work is darn creepy, albeit an exciting read. And that was one hell of a coincidence. I have never received a phone call like that before… or since.

And now I would like to receive such a call again. Galdangit, I miss the weirdness! I thrive on it. Hence, this blog-post attempt to get in touch with these wacky fellas known as the MiB. They arrive in twos or threes, wearing dark suits, and driving brand-new looking vintage Cadillacs, usually at night with the headlights off. Witnesses report seeing weird purplish or greenish glows emitting through the windshield from the dashboard. They come to the houses of witnesses, looking like the zombie Blues Brothers, and proceed to try to convince the witness to keep quiet about whatever weirdness they may have recently seen (usually a UFO sighting). Some witnesses report that the shoes worn by MiB have very thick soles, and they often make strange allusions to time in their parting: “We will see you in time.”

Men in Black: Alien, psychological intimidation, other-dimensional... who cares? Just enjoy the weirdness.
Men in Black: Alien, psychological intimidation, other-dimensional… who cares? Just enjoy the weirdness.

Speaking of my eternally-upcoming book (which I mentioned earlier), here is an excerpt that I have been sitting on for years:

The cows were spooked, and with good reason. Over their herded heads a dark object had appeared, hovering silently. Had there been any humans in the vicinity, they would most likely have remained completely unaware of its presence, but the cows were aware. Cows were very sensitive to the arrival of such inexplicable objects, as they had become quite the hot-button topic in modern bovine society. To humans, these things were still largely things of science fiction, and therefore, of no general interest whatsoever. But the cows remained wary, although they knew they were not the sort of cows that were so often endangered by the presence of such objects. They were Pennsylvania dairy cows, and although attacks on dairy cows were not unheard of, they were rare enough that the cows avoided a stampede. They simply herded closer together and idly sauntered off, away from the object, which had now begun to slowly descend on the pasture below. The cows watched it nervously, quietly, from a relatively safe distance.

As the cows watched the dark oval object descend, they themselves remained unaware of another object approaching from the west, an object that humans would have taken immediate notice of, had there been any humans in the vicinity. But this particular sort of object cows had long ago become bored with, as cows are wont to do. Occasionally, they would glance in the direction of one of these objects as it passed by their fields, but only because some idiot occupant had felt the urge to lean out of it and yell, “Moooo!” at them. Cows still had no idea just what this was meant to accomplish, but they had long ago stopped caring. This new object was, if you haven’t already guessed, a car. To be more specific, it was what would appear in broad daylight to a trained eye to be a brand-new 1991 black Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham. The car crept almost silently into the pasture with its lights off, a dark shadow moving among darker shadows. It stopped several meters away from the mysterious oval object, which now hovered silently in the air twenty feet over the grasses of the pasture. The cows waited.

Slowly, a small circular hatchway on the underside of the oval object slid open, and a small platform descended to the ground below. Standing on the platform were two tall, dark-clad figures. Once on the ground, these figures moved silently towards the Cadillac, the side doors of which now swung open. The dark figures slid into their seats as the platform slowly raised back into the oval object, and both panel and car doors were quietly closed. The oval object then ascended into the starry sky and vanished into the night. The Cadillac sat for a moment, not moving, and the cows now turned their attention to the eerily silent vehicle. Suddenly, the darkened window on the passenger’s side slid down, and a pale, pointed face poked out like a small moon in a black sky. It looked at the cows. The cows stared back.

“Moooo!” said the small moon, then up went the window and the Cadillac drove out of the pasture, headlights still dark, and turned onto a small dirt road headed for the human world.

Who are those dark figures? What will they do when they reach the human world? And were they properly trained by Aveus Darris, the character in the book tasked with training MiB to act more “human-like”? You will just have to await the book’s release, which is due to come about as soon as I have some fucking stability in my life. So most likely never.

I digress. I am writing this to invite the MiB to come and visit. I am sure whomever they serve as operatives have no reason to waste such bizarre tech on me, a lowly little fellow with no connections and no information they would wish to keep silent, but still — the gesture would be appreciated. I have seen two UFOs in my life, if that helps. Keep in mind, as stated in previous posts, “UFO” does not necessarily mean an alien space ship from another world. It simply means I saw something flying that I could not identify. Who knows? MiB are not necessarily from another world, either. They could be U.S. military intel tech from some psy-ops branch someplace (that’s ‘psychological operations‘ to you, the layperson).

The first UFO sighting I recall was in the company of my immediate family at the time: My mother, my sister, my father, who was ex-US Air Force and ex-CIA, and our dog, Sam. We were sitting on our back porch in northern Pennsylvania one clear June night, my sister and I enjoying the bean bag chairs we had received the previous Christmas, and my parents enjoying some down time. Suddenly, we spotted a red orb in the skies over the field behind our house. High in the clear summer sky and about the size of a softball from where we sat, it zig-zagged in a seemingly random pattern, executing 90-degree turns that are impossible for any known man-made aircraft. When I tell this story, I always say that after about fifteen minutes of flitting across the sky, it zipped over Pickle Hill to the North and was gone. In fact, I really don’t remember much after seeing the orb. I have a terribly selective memory.

The second sighting that I recall was in that same field a few years later. This time I was in the company of a friend of mine, and we were playing in the field one night as we often did. I believe it was Autumn, but as I said, my memory is terribly selective. We noticed an oval object, glowing white, moving silently overhead. At first, we didn’t know what we were seeing, but as soon as it registered that this was something we had never seen before, we realized it was a UFO. At this point in my life, I had become a fan of the “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” series by Douglas Adams, so, perhaps in hopes of catching a lift so that I didn’t have to go to school the next day, I jumped up and started waving at it. My friend grabbed me and threw me to the ground, saying “Quit it! We don’t want them to see us!” Who? And why? The thing turned slightly, and this one did disappear behind Pickle Hill to the North.

So there’s that. I do have those experiences. And if the MiB or whomever they work for do not want me to tell these tales again, then, well sir, they’d better damn well show up and have a drink with me. Honest to goodness, I am no threat. I may actually be a ‘friendly’ to their cause, whatever it may be. I just want to see one, and, perhaps, chat with one and hear all of the wonderfully bizarre things it will say.

I guess that is all I have to offer. Just a curious — and easily terrified, I might add — mind, and a life-long interest in such strangeness. I really mean no harm to the MiB as, apparently, they mean no serious harm to us. I would like to be an ambassador in this sense — an ambassador to oddities.

Well, now I am home, and I am right back in Pennsylvania, not far from where I saw those first two UFOs. I would like to see more. I would like to meet the occupants, if there are any, and I would like to have a chat — perhaps a drink — with these notorious MiBs.

Published by pookabazooka

I am an ape living abroad, writing to stay focused and to remember the things I think about. I post them here in case you'd like to spend a bit of time thinking about them, too.

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