Driving Into a Test Pattern Moon

On a winding road of Channel Eight I come across a test pattern, for I am late In the form of the moon, an eclipse? Oh, great! I stare into the eyes of grayscale fate. I feel mesmerized, violated, a pawn somehow. There it is, in front of me, an unbelievable wow. No animal in sight – not a horse, human or cow. Who on God’s gray earth will believe me now? I expect to hear the National Anthem of course. This test pattern eclipse is a nineteen sixties discourse. Have aliens somehow learned our secret code in Morse? And will they now take to their planet by weirdness or force?