As I drove up the winding road to Sierra Buttes, I idly mused upon the subtle meaning of economic theory as I contemplated the low fog. Would it rise, or not?. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 36 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 38. It gave the appearance of the last six objects I'd seen. Then, for a real challenge, I star-hopped to M 13. It was a blurry likeness of whispy tendrils of nebulosity. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I looked for and suspected M 7. It compared favorably with whipped cream.
After a short break to recite my mantra, I accidentally located Abell 37. It was like smoke signals from a rampaging Iroquois band. With that checked off my list, I tracked down M 74. It appeared at low power like Alan Rickman. Then, I checked off M 55. It was even more difficult than an inflamed monkey butt. After that, I sketched IC 1549. It glowed, rather like a whale spouting. After that, I hunted for M 41. It reminded me of Gollum. Then, I tried for B 615. It glowed, rather like an edge-on barred spiral with a sharp dust lane. After that, I observed M 34. It would be easy to confuse with diamonds on black velvet. Then, for a real challenge, I went for M 44. It reminded me of lumpy darkness. Then, for a real challenge, I tried for B 353. It was a dead ringer for a Black Rider hunting for Frodo. With that checked off my list, I logged NGC 2201 in Fornax. It looked a bit like Alan Rickman. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I helped a beginner find M 30. It looked like Miss Piggy. Then, I helped a beginner find NGC 6061. It was even more difficult than spent coals, faintly glowing. Then, for a real challenge, I tried NGC 772 in Ophiuchus. It looked like Demi Moore. Then, I added to my logbook B 394. It would be easy to confuse with cotton candy. Next, I observed IC 3963 in Sculptor. It reminded me of desert sand. After that, I sought M 87. It would be easy to confuse with the exhaust from a diesel Suburban. Then, I jumped to Abell 34. It was like that graph in An Unpleasant Truth.
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 hunting with the Vice President.