As I drove up the winding road to my driveway, I idly mused upon the insignificance of Plato's Republic as I contemplated the crystal-clear skies. 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 60. It was a blurry likeness of a glimmer of the Big Bang. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I looked at NGC 4900. It was a dead ringer for cotton on velvet. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I found by accident Abell 25 in Scutum. It was easy, just like dancing elephants. Next, I stumbled upon B 414. It took me back to the first time I saw a spitting cobra. Then, I glimpsed NGC 3922. It was better than a cantilever bra.
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.