Russian PM not joking – extraterrestrials live among us according to MIB documentary

Prime Minister Dmitry Medvedev’s off-air comments that Russian Presidents are given a secret file about extraterrestrials living among us created much media interest. Most news reports claimed that Medvedev was simply joking. His apparent reference to the Men In Black movie as a source of information on a super secret agency that monitors extraterrestrials on Earth was commonly cited as key evidence that he was in fact joking. The reasoning is that no political leader would refer reporters to a comedy to clarify national policy. It has now emerged that Medvedev was not referring to the Men in Black comedy after all, but to a recent Russian television documentary titled “Men in Black” that reveals many details about an extensive cover up of extraterrestrial life visiting Earth.

However, a more accurate translation of what Medvedev actually said about the Men in Black phenomenon was: “You can receive more detailed information having watched the documentary film of the same name.” So Medvedev was referring to a Russian “documentary film” titled Men in Black, not the Hollywood blockbuster by the same name...

Russian Men In Black (MIB) documentary, a number of prominent UFO cases in Russia and the USA are discussed. The Roswell UFO crash is covered, along with a number of extraterrestrial abduction cases, and UFOs disabling nuclear weapons facilities. The documentary examines testimony that extraterrestrial bases have been established on Earth, and that some are in restricted US military areas with the full knowledge of the Pentagon. The documentary even goes on to seriously discuss President Eisenhower’s alleged meeting with extraterrestrials, where agreements were reached with some of the visitors giving them permission to take some of the Earth’s resources in exchange for advanced technology...

We had to turn away about 100 after packing every room we could find with a screen and some chairs. The “altar” area and the aisles were full again after the altar call. I’m sure many were re-dedicating themselves, although there were quite a few who accepted Jesus.

Our Church is now working on plans to help direct youth who accepted Jesus to Churches in their area. We’ve been developing relationships with a lot of Churches over the past several years in development of a project called “Feed New York.” TSC is funding food pantries for Churches that want to start one. The only qualification is the Church commit to pray.

Sunday’s Sermon was about the widow of Nain, and how Jesus restored hope to the village by going to the dead youth. He saw that as a type of starting the awakening of New York with the spiritually dead youth. We are in a 3 day period of fasting and praying for the youth, and Pastor Carter wants us all to do what we can, either working or praying for the events of the past 2 Fridays to take root. He said one of the people who came forward on Friday said, “I’m an actor in the pornographic film industry, is that a sin?” Pastor said, “Yes, it is.” The man said, “I make a lot of money. I will lose a lot of money if I give that up.” Pastor said, “Yes, you will.” The man said, “Well, if that’s what Jesus wants me to do, that’s what I’ll do.”

The important part being that the man did not have even the most basic knowledge of Christian living. When I was young, even those who were “bad” knew the definition of “good.” Now they have no idea.

If this is the start of a major move of God, it’s an exciting time.

Pastor did say one funny thing. He said we had planned this 3 day period of fasting and prayer for a long time. He was confused that God didn’t wait. :)

If anyone is interested, all Sermons are posted on line. www.tscnyc.org. And if you try to come see the play, come early.

“Captain on deck!” The statement sounded through the command center. Control personnel, unused to military flourishes, stood uncertainly to their feet.

Captain Warren Robertson stepped through the door and returned the salute being offered to him by Commander Mark Wilson. Robertson dropped his salute and Wilson did the same. “Captain Robertson, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said as he offered his hand.

“Likewise, Commander, although I wish the circumstances were different. I’ve wanted to visit Titan ever since my first trip, but I was hoping for a happier visit.”

“As were we all, Captain. May I present my Executive Officer, Mallory Dawson?”

The young woman at Commander Wilson’s side held out her hand. “At your service, Captain,” she said. “Are your accommodations acceptable?”

Captain Robertson shook the offered hand. “Everything’s satisfactory, Ms. Dawson. Commander,” he turned his attention back to his host, “what’s the schedule for the rest of the day?”

“Dinner’s at 8 bells. That gives us two hours. I understand your Loadmaster and my Quartermaster have already arranged a meeting at the loading dock. I think everyone else can just relax until we eat. You, Miss Dawson, and I can move in to my office and review our schedule, if that’s acceptable to you.”

“That will be fine.” He followed the two of them through the command center to an adjoining office.

“Brandy?” the commander offered as he reached for a decanter on the desk.

“I think I’d better not. I’m not used to this oxygenated atmosphere. I get pretty messed up if I drink in space. Water’d be good, though.”

“I understand. Mal, do you have the schedule ready?” The commander brought the drinks and they sat around a conference table as Mallory called up the schedule onto its surface. She quickly opened three views and pushed them across to the two men.

“Based on the information we received about The Valerio, we estimate 18 hours loading,” she said in a crisp, professional manner. “But that’s based mostly on our experience receiving supplies and loading ore. This is by far the most complicated operation anyone on the station’s been involved in and we don’t really know how long it will take.”

Captain Robertson nodded. “It’s a complicated operation, made more complicated by the state of the equipment on Valerio,” he agreed. “When she was new and everything was in working order, things went smoothly. I don’t want to tell you what in-flight repairs we made coming out here. The fleet isn’t what it used to be.”

Commander Wilson gave a nervous laugh. “She’ll get us home, won’t she?”

“We’ll get us home, Commander. Vallerio is just a machine. The crew will keep her running.”

“I think we can drop the formalities in here, wouldn’t you agree? I’m Mark, this is Mal.”

“That’ll work, but I’ve never liked Warren. People call me Skip.”

“OK, Skip,” Mark replied. “What do you think we’re really looking at?”

“This is my third total evac,” Skip said, looking into the ice in his glass. If all the equipment were top notch, it would probably take us about 18 hours. But all the equipment isn’t top notch. It’ll take us somewhere between 3 and 5 days. We’ll have problems beyond equipment, though.” He looked up at Mark.

“What do you mean?” Mark asked.

“Shutting down space has been hard on everyone. The fleet, the bases - people aren’t happy. There’s even been some rioting back home.”

“Yeah, we’ve seen the video.”

“Those news hounds like to make it sound worse than it is, but the people who care are expressing their frustration. We’re working with the people who care the most. You can count on some personnel trouble. And, even though I’ve done everything I can to pick the most reliable people the fleet ever employed, I expect some as well.”

Mal said, “We hoped we could count on their professionalism to avoid that.”

“They will all try to be professional. I’m not talking about anything major like sabotaging the equipment or anything. But there will be things that slow us down. Figure a worst case of five days before we pull out. We should be able to beat that.”

“When will we transfer to Valerio?” Mark asked.

“Those not directly involved in the loading can transfer as soon as tomorrow. We can let that be individual choice. Valerio has the best cargo and liner crew I could find. We’re prepared to take good care of your people right away. You have thirty-six crew left on the base?”

“That’s right,” Mal answered.

“Then those who haven’t volunteered sooner will have to transfer up on the last day. As soon as the last piece of cargo is stowed, we’ll want to get underway. Hanging back only invites trouble.”

Mark nodded. The door to the office opened and a head poked in. “Forgive the interruption, sir.”

“What is it, Richards?” Mark asked.

“You’re needed in the crew’s quarters. There’s been an incident in Mr. Garrison’s room.”

“What kind of incident?”

“I think it’s best if you come see for yourself.” Richards was clearly uncomfortable.

Skip said, “It may have started already.”

“OK,” Mark said, standing up. “Mal, see to our guest.”

“You may need your XO with you for this. I can find my way to the loading dock. I want to see how Smitty is getting on with your Quartermaster.”

“All right, you’re the expert. Mal, come with me. See you at dinner, Skip.”

All three of them followed Richards back through the office door and out of the command center. Captain Robertson turned toward the loading dock while Commander Wilson and Miss Dawson moved off toward the crew’s quarters. From his first evac he had studied the map of each base so he could find his way around like a native without having to ask for directions. He knew the staff of the outpost would have other things to do besides babysitting him.

Skip had started his career on the big liners, ferrying the rich and famous to the hotels on the Moon and Mars. The liners had been fine and fancy, the time in space rivaling the time on the planets for luxury and entertainment value. Skip knew how to handle everything from space sickness to requests of a less-than-savory nature from passengers who had gone to space specifically to get away from the laws of the nations on Earth. He’d learned to be sensitive to what his passengers would need before they would need it.

Skip had dreamed of commanding one of the liners, but fate intervened. Or, rather, the people of Earth had intervened. They grew tired of space. The cross-galactic travel of science fiction wasn’t materializing, and the Moon and Mars lost their appeal pretty quickly. Anywhere else was too far for pleasure travel, even with the newest drive technology.

As the passengers dwindled the fleet mothballed the liners, one by one. Skip had been due to be named XO on Delta Queen when the order came down that she was to make her last cruise. It had been spectacular, but the entire passenger division felt the pain when the last passenger debarked and she was towed to her final resting place in permanent orbit. Ready to be re-commissioned at any time, she was one of twelve museum pieces circling the earth out of reach of anyone who might have been interested in touring her.

Skip had been a sharp enough officer that Valerio had requested him, and he’d agreed to transfer to freight. The mines would surely remain profitable for long enough for him to retire, and a freighter with the latest equipment would be preferable to a planet-bound berth. Thinking this, he agreed to the transfer and was named XO on Valerio. But the apathy toward the conquest of space continued faster than the advancements that could increase its value. The fleet barely broke even, and part of the way it remained operational was by avoiding improvements in its freighters. Skip was named Captain of Valerio at about the time the decision was made to shut everything down. One by one the freighters joined the liners. The best equipment was pulled for the ships still flying. By the time Valerio left to shut down Titan she was less than 50% original, and even with all the replacement parts she was hard to keep flying.

Skip was, actually, pretty tired of going over this history in his mind. But the trip to Titan had made him particularly maudlin. He wanted to be positive. He wanted to give these miners, these brave souls who had manned the outpost farthest from Earth, these determined men and women who had stuck it out to the end to be sure Titan was shut down well, he had wanted to give them a trip home to rival the glory days of the liners. But deep down he knew he was officiating at a funeral. And it weighed heavily on him.

He found the loading dock and walked toward the two men inspecting the freight that would make the final journey back to Earth. Everything that was not bolted down would be loaded on Valerio. The rest would be shut down and left in case man ever again ventured to the moons of the outer planets. Skip went over and introduced himself to Mr. Inhoue, the Quartermaster, and to review the plans the two were making.

Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.