Given the ramping up of NHI (non-human intelligence) disclosure by civilians and scientists, the UAP (unidentified anomalous phenomenon) Senate hearings, and the continued sleight-of-hand antics of the Air Force, Pentagon, and those in charge of keeping "secrets, it's time to share this origin TALE again. In 2012, I unleashed my latest creation at New York Comic Con. I had a booth and thought Mr. Gray was the perfect intergalactic hero to share with the cosplay and UFO community everywhere. I released a 2-part web series (with hopes for future episodes) and a graphic comic eBook about my misunderstood hero. David Lynch guested on Episode 1 and Richard Kind on Episode 2! (Check out the two full episodes and dozens of promos on The Mr. Gray YouTube channel.)
12-12-12...
THE MAYANS WERE RIGHT!
The world did end as we know it, AND so began the age of Gray enlightenment.
Hailing from Planet Zeb, Mr. Gray was sent to Earth by UFORA (United Federation of Registered Aliens) in 1967 to boost the TV ratings of his new Intergalactic talk show.
Little did the smallish, floating 756-year-old benevolent gray alien know exactly what adventures would ensue!
After accidentally falling from his craft and landing in the swamps of the New Jersey Meadowlands in 1967, he got lost in the Secaucus Triangle -- one of the most challenging stretches of interstate to navigate in the universe! After wandering for months in the godforsaken labyrinth and unable to communicate except ever-so-slightly telepathically, he is befriended by an elderly homeless man living in an abandoned radio station building in the swamp. Professor Frederick "Freddie" Schlumperhorn, a former Manhattan Project research scientist, places him under "house arrest." After much poking and prodding, he gets Mr. Gray's telepathy sorted out. He then tries to convince Mr. Gray of his conspiracy theories about the Illuminati and their quest to kill the fundamental science of the universe. After several months, Freddie grows weary of Mr. Gray's vacant gaze and turns him over to the NSA.
But the NSA is reluctant to place him in formal custody as they've got enough illegal aliens to harbor. However, one research scientist sees value in Mr. Gray. Based upon the popularity of The Mr. Rogers Show, he convinces President Nixon that Mr. Gray should host a somber, educational intergalactic talk show for children. It would be the perfect way to introduce young, less prejudicial earthlings to a new alien life form. Sadly, the first tapings (now classified) were so earnest and glum that the President and certain key cabinet members, even the easily swayed CEO of PBS, passed on the show. He was quickly placed under house arrest and buried in a secret bunker underneath the United Nations building in Manhattan.
So sad was Mr. Gray, in his failed bid to entertain Earthlings, that he put himself in a self-imposed coma and was soon to be forgotten by everyone. With only an old B&W television set playing an endless loop of talk shows—Mike Douglas, Johnny Carson, Steve Alan, et al., the world would have to wait to meet him.
Mr. Gray is suddenly awakened by the collective outpouring of psychic grief when the King of Pop, Michael Jackson, dies. He escapes and flees to the mean streets of New York City. After being rescued by one of his few friends in the NSA, Agent BJ, he agrees to hide in the janitor's supply basement at the Hit Factory in Manhattan, one of Mr. Jackson's favorite recording studios. He is imbued with a newfound purpose- to host his very own adult celebrity talk show, The Mr. Gray Show, from New York! He'll be a hero on his planet, Zeb, and a key "playa" in the universe's pop culture strata!
And, as the Mayans' presciently predicted day of 12/12/12 helped shift humanity's collective consciousness in accepting alien life forms from other galaxies far, far away.
And unwillingly, Mr. Gray would become the world's first Intergalactic emissary and secure his place in the cosmos as the "new" chosen one.
Illustrated by the critically lauded artist Michael Zansky and written by Dusty Wright and Susan Taylor; together, they have crafted a graphic novel to usher in this new age of enlightenment.
And on YouTube, please join the connoisseur of pop culture, Mr. Gray, and his friends—TV producer Marvin Felber, Agent Bianca Jones, AKA Agent BJ, Star Wars fanatic and intern Sky Windu, and others—on his new myopic adventures on Earth and beyond!
Here then, is an excerpt from the non-Dr. Seuss prose style of The Myopic Adventures of Mr. Gray, Part 1:
Crushed by the weight of his captors' expectations, Mr. Gray would soon learn even more about these People of Earth. And while he could escape in a flash, he thought it would be bad form not to afford these Earthlings their opportunity to see what they needed to see through him to advance their underutilized brains. They needed to evolve if they were ever going to join the Intergalactic community.
Those on his Planet of Zeb saw they had so much potential.
Even during the short period of enlightenment with Doctor Schlumperhorn in the Triangle of Secaucus, Gray quickly learned what his superiors had taught him before he left his star system.
"Remember, they are young. Many of them cannot always see beyond their stars. They may even disappoint you. So, show them the benefit of the doubt. Let them lead and learn while you follow…"
He let that soak in. He would find cause to go slow, even though his brain worked much faster and more efficiently than this planet full of water and carbon-based morons.
Yes, the People of Earth were benevolent, but they still had many who walked amongst them and had yet to evolve to the next level. Eventually, it would happen. And he cherished helping them on this quest. For even their people, the Mayans had written it about so many years prior.
They were close, very close.
And because they were, he had to let them think that they could contain his corporeal body.
Gray imagined a future where he and Sir William could float along and talk of things that he thought would make them both very happy.
So the affable alien, tethered in some antiquated, poorly-ventilated sub-subterranean basement of the Pentagon, would wait for his mucho marching orders. Those crazy, funny generals thought Gray was their patsy and that he would do whatever they said or suffer dire consequences.
And while Gray was slightly annoyed, he remained very empathetic. He knew that his tormentors were emotionally challenged.
They just needed a hug.
"Listen, son, there are grave terrors in the world, and we need to be ahead of the curve. You owe it to our country and your home planet." Said the somewhat politically correct 3-star General Robert Whitaker Burke, a man who could convince a girl scout, against her better judgment, to overcharge for her cookies.
"Now, we don't want to make it any more difficult for you than it may already be. We just need you to help us facilitate and modify certain behaviors on our planet that may not seem all that radical on your planet. But let's face it, son, you're small, you're gray, you don't have any visible genitalia. Hell, we don't even know if you defecate cuz ya got no anus!"
"Anus, schmanus," he mused telepathically to the two of them simultaneously.
"You will do as we say or suffer unspeakable things!" so barked 2-star General J. G. Patton, IV, pointing his lily-white finger at Mr. Gray.
"There's no time for silly games! The President has plans for you, son. Big plans. And when our beloved leader has plans, we must all oblige. There must be order before the chaos!"
"Goo goo ga joob," thought Mr. Gray. Weird but familiar, it was comforting brain food for the strange rituals these Earthlings must fester on. Oh, to be filled with awe of the black-and-white beauty of the Zeb world—the tightropes, the pomp, the circumstance, the rectangle rituals.
But how would he reach them if his show was never seen? Perhaps he was wrong in his quest for Sir William. Maybe he was better served making a dash to another planet, leaving these children to destroy the thing that they so long for. But what would be the point of that?
He knew that sometime in the near future, Agent BJ would burst into his chamber.
"Get dressed, buddy boy. We're going for pie!" She would squeal. "General Burke gave me a two-hour furlough for you."
Oh, joy, he thought. And he smiled, although Agent BJ would incorrectly think of his small slit of a mouth as a "perpetual grimace." Nonetheless, he was delighted. To be amongst the people again. To smell the smells of Earth was almost better than seeing any of them in color. Yes, sad to say, Mr. Gray could not see in color. He and man's canine mate shared the same fate.
Soon, he would be back on the streets. Back in the New York groove again. Dancing with himself. Floating and waving. Ah, to be young, gray, and in love with the most fantastic city in the galaxy.
But before any of that, he would first have to get switched on by the one many called "Tricky Dicky".
He wasn't all that tricky, really. He would be exposed. That he was certain.
That night he dreamed he was back with his pack on Planet Zeb.
It was the Game of Times. And so it was time to be inverted and to be extra-verted.
And thus it went down like this...
A crowd had gathered above and below him and his best mate, Uhurha. The Orb of Margorogo was suspended between them, and a mental rectangle had been rendered. All that was left was for the Match of Muldavini to conclude, and then they could begin. That could take three more Zeb days. If his math was sound, that was about two decades on Earth. Einstein would get it.
Oilay!
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