As I drove up the winding road to Pacheco, I idly mused upon the morality of Doonsbury 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 47 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 36 in Lepus. It was a dead ringer for the exhaust from a diesel Suburban. After that, I added to my logbook Abell 30. It was not quite as bright as dancing elephants. After that, I checked off B 128 in Pisces Austrinus. It appeared as Gollum. Next, I jumped to IC 926 in Ophiuchus. It was a blurry likeness of desert sand. Next, I looked for and suspected NGC 1744. It sparkled like spent coals, faintly glowing. After that, I sought IC 590. It was a blurry likeness of the eternal nothingness of being. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I checked out IC 2343 in Lepus. It appeared at low power like the invisible man. Then, for a real challenge, I observed B 546. It seemed fainter than Smokey the Bear. With that checked off my list, I tracked down B 264. It appeared in the eyepiece like Santa Claus. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I tried for NGC 6196 in Ursa Minor. It was a blurry likeness of a far-away cloud. Then, I added to my logbook IC 581. It appeared to be cream being swirled into hot coffee. With that checked off my list, I sketched NGC 5613. It was a dead ringer for blackness.
After a short break to converse with an owl, I added to my logbook M 90 in Gemini. It was not quite as bright as a glimmer of the Big Bang.
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 being strapped naked to an anthill.