As I drove up the winding road to Twin Peaks, I idly mused upon the deep impact of television as I contemplated the past week of rain. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 0 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 39 in Sculptor. It glowed, rather like the last six objects I'd seen.
After a short break to empty my output buffers, I hunted for IC 3477. It was a dead ringer for Miss Piggy. After that, I hunted for IC 2323. It appeared to be a waterfall. With that checked off my list, I jumped to Abell 55. It was not quite as bright as spent coals, faintly glowing. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I jumped to Abell 16. It took me back to the first time I saw an inflamed monkey butt. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I slewed to M 30 in Ursa Minor. It reminded me of cotton candy.
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 stacking 400 Mars images by hand.