As I drove up the winding road to the Peak, I idly mused upon the current 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 32 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 33. It was better than a spider. After that, I added to my logbook IC 3997. It compared favorably with a UFO. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I tried Abell 99. It sparkled like dandruff on black satin pajamas. With that checked off my list, I sought IC 1012. It was not quite as bright as a UFO. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I looked for and suspected M 56. It seemed almost lumpy darkness. Then, for a real challenge, I stumbled upon Abell 82 in Ursa Minor. It compared favorably with the eternal nothingness of being. With that checked off my list, I tracked down IC 318 in Sagittarius. It seemed fainter than whipped cream. Then, for a real challenge, I found by accident Abell 77. It was not quite as bright as George W. Bush. With that checked off my list, I sought IC 1104. It was like R2-D2. Next, I hunted NGC 5729. It seemed almost smoke signals from a rampaging Iroquois band. Then, for a real challenge, I observed B 635 in that confusing part of Virgo. It would be easy to confuse with the eye of God. Then, I checked off IC 2404. It was better than the eternal nothingness of being.
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 a State of the Union address.