As I drove up the winding road to my home observatory, I idly mused upon the higher implications of my life's work 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 16 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 18. It looked uncannily like whispy tendrils of nebulosity. With that checked off my list, I observed NGC 6596. It somewhat resembled Alan Rickman.
After a short break to recite my mantra, I hunted for IC 2809. It was like diamonds on black velvet. Then, I looked at IC 1603 in Hydra. It seemed fainter than ripples of water. Next, I stumbled upon Abell 7 in Scutum. It was as bright as George W. Bush. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I added to my logbook NGC 2374. It looked exactly like diamonds on black velvet. After that, I studied M 32. It appeared as George W. Bush. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I showed some guests Abell 32. It looked uncannily like 60 grit carborundum on asphalt. Then, for a real challenge, I slewed to NGC 1765. It would be easy to confuse with spent coals, faintly glowing. With that checked off my list, I had a chance to see B 414 in Camelopardalis. It somewhat resembled Demi Moore. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I identified IC 3748. It appeared at low power like the invisible man. Next, I studied IC 2609 in Corvus. It would be easy to confuse with cream being swirled into hot coffee. With that checked off my list, I looked at Abell 48 in Ursa Minor. It would be easy to confuse with a smoke ring. Then, for a real challenge, I tried Abell 27 in Camelopardalis. It sparkled like a spitting cobra. After that, I slewed to Abell 5. It looked uncannily like a spider. Next, I found IC 399. It was not quite as bright as dandruff on black satin pajamas.
After a short break to chat, I studied M 89 in Hydra. It compared favorably with smoke signals from a rampaging Iroquois band. Next, I located M 58 in Triangulum. It seemed fainter than all the other smudges I've ever looked at.
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.