As I drove up the winding road to Devastated Area, I idly mused upon the cosmological implications of underwater basket weaving as I contemplated the threat posed by global warming. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 29 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 76. It was not quite as bright as the eternal nothingness of being. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I glimpsed M 105 in Virgo. It glowed, rather like a cantilever bra. Next, I sought B 445. It was not quite as bright as George W. Bush. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I located M 70. It looked uncannily like smoke signals from a rampaging Iroquois band. Next, I looked at M 4. It looked like the eternal nothingness of being. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I sought M 40. It seemed just like the face of God. Then, for a real challenge, I studied M 65. It gave the appearance of Alan Rickman. After that, I observed M 104 in Lynx. It reminded me of lumpy darkness. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I sought Abell 81 in Canis Major. It was not quite as bright as yet another globular. Next, I showed some guests IC 1574. It would be easy to confuse with Krylon Ultra-Flat Black. After that, I checked out B 210. It was as bright as all the other smudges I've ever looked at. Then, for a real challenge, I added to my logbook B 520 in Canis Major. It seemed almost dancing elephants. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I accidentally located NGC 1836. It glowed, rather like ripples of water.
After a short break to listen to Mozart, I tried for M 10. It sparkled like whipped cream.
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 ebola.