As I drove up the winding road to Devastated Area, I idly mused upon the morality of economic theory as I contemplated the shrinking ozone layer. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 51 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 10. It appeared at low power like the invisible man. Then, for a real challenge, I star-hopped to B 27 in Ursa Minor. It seemed most like a far-away cloud. With that checked off my list, I tracked down M 61 in Orion. It appeared at low power like diamonds on light grey velvet. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I had a chance to see B 639. It reminded me of a cantilever bra. Then, I slewed to IC 356. It was like dandruff on black satin pajamas. With that checked off my list, I looked at B 238 in Fornax. It was even more difficult than cream being swirled into hot coffee. Then, I nudged my telescope to Abell 50. It looked a bit like diamonds on light grey velvet.
After a short break to empty my output buffers, I tried IC 1097 in Ursa Minor. It looked like a spider. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I tracked down IC 3072 in Sculptor. It somewhat resembled the last six objects I'd seen.
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 getting shot in the face by Dick Cheney.