Whenever I get bigger and rounder—which happens with irritating frequency—I don’t try to squeeze into clothes I already have. I buy bigger clothes. Nothing makes you look fatter than clothes just a shade too tight.
I usually buy clothes that are a shade too loose. You’d be surprised at how many people ask me if I’ve lost weight.
I have a somewhat serious refracting telescope—one that comes with a mount so heavy I have to pay neighborhood kids ten bucks to haul it out front for me. Refractors are good for looking at planets, but not so good for the pocketbook.
I prefer looking at planets. You can tell one in the sky because it doesn’t twinkle. However small, what you see up there is a disc, a shaft of light. One that comes through the atmosphere relatively undisturbed. But the nearest star is more than 7,000 times farther away than even distant Pluto; which is far, far away. Others are 7,000 times farther still. Or 700, 000,000. So no matter how big and bright, or powerfully magnified, even the closest stars are just points of light that twinkle. Stars all look alike to me, just different colors.
Our nearby planets and their large satellites, however, are places. Places we can go if we want to. Places that may have evolved at least some form of primitive biology—which would provide an immeasurable insight into our own. Places that might harbor stores of water ice—providing oxygen to breathe, and fuel to travel even farther beyond. To be sure, you can’t fly there quite yet, but you can still visit these places, with even a good set of binoculars, as they put on their celestial Broadway show every night of the year.
My mother used to say “bound and determined”. The other day I said it. What is “bound and determined”, anyway?
If I was bound the only thing I’d be determined to do is get unbound.
The four Galilean satellites of Jupiter are not mere moons. They are worlds unto their own. Ganymede is larger than Mercury. Europa has an outside chance for life.
But there is another body that is just as remarkable. And unlike the others, It has an atmosphere…a bit heavier than ours. Mostly nitrogen, as is ours. It has wind and weather, maybe precipitation, small lakes and even small seas. There are mountains. Boulder-strewn deserts. Volcanos. The gravity is about one-third that of Mars.
There is the fact, though, that the temperature on even the most pleasant day is about 300º below zero. The rain and the small lakes/seas are ethane, methane and lots of other “thane”s you don’t want to know about. One-third the gravity of Mars is less than that of the moon. The volcanos spew liquid water that stirs the atmosphere. Other interesting stuff.
An interesting place, for that matter. Fascinating. But you wouldn’t want to plant your tomatoes there.
I don’t mean to be a crab, which I am, but why can’t the Super Bowl guys just ditch those roman numerals for good. Or at least be consistent. Let’s see…
Today the Green Bay Packers beat the Pittsburgh Steelers XXXI-XXV in Super Bowl XLV.
The first quarter was all Packers, as they jumped out to a XIV point lead. Aaron Rodgers throws well, on his way to an eventual CCCIV in passing yardage.
In the second quarter Pittsburgh gets on the board with X, scoring twice; while Green Bay scores VI on Greg Jennings catch, then kicks the extra point for I—sending the teams into the locker room with the Packers holding a comfortable XI point lead.
Coming out for the third quarter, the Packers struggle to score. The Steelers close within IV.
The Packers are unstoppable in the fourth, scoring on an VIII yard touchdown pass to Jennings and kicking a late field goal for III points.
Again, final score: Packers XXXI; Steelers XXV.
Wanna know how much the commercials cost?
Kathy bought into one of those Super Bowl pools at work. Squares cost $5.00.
She just told me the big winner won two quarters.
I don’t get it. Why would anyone bet $5.00 just for a chance at 50¢?
I think he got soaked.
I finally got through to my Neurologist. He says that he’s real busy and to leave him alone and that I’ve got a lot of nerve.
Well, at least I got my diagnosis.
While the commentators were busy rattling off stats and records after the Super Bowl, I looked down at the list I’d been compiling between bites of nachos. Since I know nothing about football, it gives me something to do. Among the most significant records I took note of in this 2011 Super Bowl XLV:
Most players with fully tattooed arms. Most helmets flying off without heads in them (that’s a different category). Most flags thrown for having too many felons on the field. Most egregiously self-absorbed rendition of the national anthem since the last egregiously self-absorbed rendition. Most opposing players joshing with each other after the play is whistled dead, instead of hitting each other with chairs. Most butt pats of questionable duration. Most memorable commercials that will be mostly memorable for what it cost to put them on the air. Most players displaying outrageous hair—I think the guys on the other side should be allowed to grab anything that sticks out.
I really need to pay more attention to the run-up before the Super Bowl.
I heard it was being played in Dallas at the Cowboys’ stadium, and immediately decided I was for the other team.
I’ve never liked the Cowboys.
People have asked why I’m no good at Scrabble—you know, with my love of words and all. First of all, I’m not good at anagrams…un-mixing all those mixed up pieces of wood. Secondly, half the words they allow are only good for a game of Scrabble. I like regular words.
If I want to learn a foreign language, I’ll take up French. Or crossword puzzles.
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