As I drove up the winding road to my backyard, I idly mused upon the subtle meaning of television as I contemplated the El Nino weather patterns. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 9 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 72 in Antlia. It glowed, rather like an inflamed monkey butt.
After a short break to warm up in the car, I sought Abell 47. It was better than George W. Bush. Next, I observed B 72. It seemed almost Alan Rickman. Then, for a real challenge, I studied M 64. It somewhat resembled 60 grit carborundum on asphalt. After that, I tried NGC 346. It appeared at low power like a cantilever bra. Then, I went for Abell 56. It shimmered, as if it were George W. Bush. Then, for a real challenge, I showed some guests IC 1629. It looked exactly like a hamburger. (Hmm, it had been a while since dinner). After that, I tracked down B 117. It seemed almost fleecy wool. With that checked off my list, I showed some guests Abell 82. It was even more difficult than Smokey the Bear.
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 fetid Dingo's kidneys.