As I drove up the winding road to Sierra Buttes, I idly mused upon the current state of the human spirit as I contemplated the crystal-clear skies. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 36 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 65 in the western sky. It looked uncannily like cotton candy. Then, for a real challenge, I sought NGC 4991. It reminded me of Alan Rickman. With that checked off my list, I accidentally located B 42 in Pisces Austrinus. It was better than one of Martha Stewart's doilies. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I jumped to IC 422. It looked exactly like whipped cream. After that, I nudged my telescope to M 93. It glowed, rather like the invisible man. Then, I looked at NGC 3489. It was a blurry likeness of Dubya. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I slewed to NGC 4881. It appeared at low power like black pearls on flocked paper. Next, I showed some guests Abell 75. It compared favorably with cotton candy. With that checked off my list, I logged Abell 38 in Canes Venatici. It appeared in the eyepiece like dandruff on black satin pajamas. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I hunted Abell 65. It looked uncannily like two scoops of spumoni ice cream.
Finally, it was time to pack up and leave. As I drove home, I contemplated the events of the night, and realized that any night out under the sky with good friends is better than internet sex.