My observing report

As I drove up the winding road to Fremont Peak State Park, I idly mused upon the cosmological implications of tight underwear as I contemplated the ominous thunderheads on the horizon. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 55 telescopes set up.

I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 50. It was better than the clouds I'd seen earlier. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I tracked down Abell 2 in Septans. It was a blurry likeness of black pearls on flocked paper. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I accidentally located M 109 in Scutum. It appeared as a spider. With that checked off my list, I showed some guests NGC 2719. It seemed fainter than George W. Bush. Next, I hunted NGC 5153. It would be easy to confuse with R2-D2. After that, I sought M 91. It appeared in the eyepiece like two scoops of spumoni ice cream. After that, I checked out NGC 6191. It sparkled like Dubya.

After a short break to check my email, I found by accident Abell 74. It would be easy to confuse with a far-away cloud. Next, I hunted M 89. It seemed fainter than black pearls on flocked paper.

After a short break to grab a cheese snack, I observed Abell 10. It looked like a Black Rider hunting for Frodo. After that, I identified M 100 in Ursa Major. It gave the appearance of a spitting cobra.

After a short break to walk around, I slewed to IC 1985. It was as bright as an inflamed monkey butt. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I studied IC 81. It took me back to the first time I saw a hamburger. (Hmm, it had been a while since dinner). After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I identified M 69. It reminded me of the exhaust from a diesel Suburban.

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 stale peeps.


    ...Akkana (with help from David North, Jane Houston Jones, and Bill Arnett) .

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