Crumby’s Telescope Tomfoolery Notes - Camelopardalis or Camelopardus, or the Giraffe or the King’s Camel Leopard

But I’m weary Crumby. I want to go to the Ample Bosoms.

Noper. I need to stay up, so you need to stay up too, Lleu Llaw. Your steady hand may come in handy, anon. Imagine, if you eschew the Ample Bosoms for a while longer, anon, an old fat man, naked except that he is painted up the color of a rainbow, with some chicken or emu feathers also painted up, glued hither and yon about his otherwise naked person, shall come faunching merrily across the sky.

No he won’t.

Well, maybe not. Maybe the King’s Camel Leopard won’t show. But a strange beast of one sort or another, may show up, with a fierce long tongue, several cubits long.

Yawn. All righty then, Crumby. What’s the long tongue for?

Plucking treats from on high, Lleu Llaw, and also for grooming between the toes and other sensitive spots. The long tongue of this particular beast is 100% prehensile. Look! See where Luciferetta is grazing over yonder. If Luciferetta was the beast we are considering, she could extend her tongue all the way over here to your location and use her tongue to get that plum out of your shirt pocket. Then she would make of her tongue a simple machine, an inclined plane in fact, and that plum would roll onward toward her maw, cubit after cubit it would roll along until finally at long last it reached that slurping maw and find itself smackingly enjoyed. Then that great tongue would seize upon the stone of the plum and fling it, sling like, with such velocity that should it be flung our way, we should have to rely on our ever alert, wide-awake wits to evade that plum stone, speeding our way like a bullet or comet, whichever.

Yawn.

Hark, Lleu Llaw! The noble Sun God Trainee, Perseus, has cleared the barn roof. It won’t be long now before this strange beast that keeps the Crippled Charioteer company that follows along after Perseus makes its presence known to the twain of us. Have I explained to you Lleu Llaw, that Perseus, and Cepheus also, are two syllable names? That makes me wonder if perhaps the name, Cletus, is not actually spelled, Cleteus. What do you make of that Lleu Llaw?

Snore.

Apparently, and despite all my efforts, Lleu Llaw sits supine upon the Ample Bosoms after all. Er. Luciferetta. Come on over hither Luciferetta. That’s a good cow. See Lleu Llaw there. He’s asleep. Give him a good lick or two on the noggin. He’s salty. Then you can have his plum.

_____

Boring technical stuff. One, Beta and 11/12 are nice. Two, three and seven were all impossible last night, although three showed a bow tie. I reckon that 12th mag companion of two was just too dim to show in the glare. I may try again tonight, Goddess Willing, and this time I’ll use alternative gear, orthos. . Also, Cygnus is in a real nice spot early, for the nonce. I need to look at the Blinking Planetary again. Cloudy curtain was at 2:30 AM. Now here's some advice, that's always good advice. Never sniff your fingers at the supper table when someone is watching you.

Keeping Our Illegal Alien, Safe

Where the heck is Raymone, Crumby?

Beats me Rayetta. You know how he disappears for days on end.

Yeah, but he must have been in the lab today, because he left a Plant du Jour for Ray.

Yep. Maybe he’s gone out to visit avec les couchons. He likes to visit the swinery area when there’s plenty of young shoats.

Well go find him Crumby. And then bring him straight to my office.

Yes maam.

Crumby heads on out to the swinery area to ascertain if he has ovated correctly on the current whereabouts of the CB’s resident Gaelic illegal alien, Druid, and photographer, Raymone, with the purpose of fetching Raymone along to the office of the Lovely Druidess Rayetta.

There you are Raymone, just as I foretold.

Oui, Monsieur Crumby.

Just look at all these little shoats. They sure are cute at this age.

Oui, Monsieur Crumby.

Er. The Lovely Druidess needs to see you in her office, Raymone, huit, huit.

Oui, Monsieur Crumby.

After bidding adieu to les couchons petite, the Crumby Ovate and Raymone head on back in the general direction of Rayetta’s office. The Lovely Druidess awaits within.

There you are Raymone, visible for the nonce. Crumby could you shut the door, please, on your way out.

All righty then, maam.

And stop calling me, maam.

All righty then.

Shut the door, Crumby!

Yes maam.

The door shuts avec the departure of the Crumby Ovate, leaving Raymone alone with the Lovely Druidess.

Jeez Louise! That Crumby gets on my nerves! Mercy! Hello Raymone. Have a seat.

Merci, Madamoiselle Rayetta.

Hmmm. Listen up Raymone. The reason I have interrupted my very busy schedule to visit with you this morning is due to the extraordinary, even, some might say, unprecedented shenanigans on-going in the Mammonite Christian Homeland. Know this Raymone! Lots of the Mammonites are on the alert. They are out to capture you and then torture you mercilessly to find out if you know anything they want to hear. Then, once you tell them what they want to hear, they will deport you to Algeria and the Algerian Secret Police shall torture you mercilessly for many years in Algeria. Do you want those awful things to happen to you?

No, no, no, Madamoiselle Rayetta.

Course not. Course you don't want those awful things to happen to you. There now, that’s a good boy, Raymone. Stop that sniveling. There, that's better. So Raymone, what you must do is be very, very, very, very stealthy. You must never, ever leave the relatively safe grounds of the CB unless you are invisible or cleverly disguised as a regular white boy, and never ever, appear as a foreigner, or as a foreigner sympathizer. Do you understand all that?

Oui, Madamoiselle Rayetta.

Good. Now run along.

Oui, Madamoiselle Rayetta

Ray's Thought for the Day - Another Druid Dichotomy

Which would you rather have, a delicious cinnamon bun, or a pervert as your congressperson? I, Ray, have already made my choice and it was delicious. That kind of choice is easy for Druids to make. But for Mammonite Christians, the choice is not so easy. The Mammonite Christian process for choosing might include: 1) Who better to put in charge of internet child pornography that an authority on the subject! 2) Ethical standards in the real estate business are above reproach! 3) My congressperson keeps the Homeland safe from the foreigners. Can a cinnamon bun do that? 4) My congressperson unzips for the trickle down! Is a cinnamon bun a substitute for the trickle down? I don't think so!

See what I mean? Druid dichotomies are not so simple at they first appear. It takes in the neighborhood of 20 years training to figure out a Druid Dichotomy.

Raymone's Plant du Jour - Datura wrightii

Hi there. I'm known as sacred datura. It's easy to see why the Druids like me so much, isn't it? Besides my obvious religious significance for Druids, a dandy anus ointment may be prepared from my leaves. Raymone had to get up early to take my picture. I'm a nocturnal bloomer.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Slow Talker in the State of Denial

You know, now that it's Okie Dokie to torture all the foreigners, maybe US Homelanders could make an exception and torture a slow talker journalist along with all the foriegners and foreigner sympathizers. A little torture might get him up to speed.

All righty then. You know all those scenarios that you may imagine where a little torture might save somebody's property rights. How about this imaginary scenario? You espy a bunch of ignoramus foreign children fooling around where you have reason to suspect a bomb could be planted. You can't just let the bomb go off and destroy private property or hurt somebody. Those children know something. So you round up those foreign ignoramus children that are fooling around in their neighborhood. But they won't talk. So they need a little persuasion. Yep. It's Okie Dokie to torture those children. No one will ever know.

Raymone's Plant du Jour - Verbesina enceloides

Hi there. My name is Verbesina enceloides. I am a recent arrival at the CB. Yep. They brought me here and then forgot where they put me. So I almost died of thirst. Then they found me again when I was pert near dead. So then they started watering me. As you see, I have now perked up.

My common name is generally spelled, cow pen daisy. Bet you can't guess what doesn' t eat me.

Doing Business in the Colonies. R. Ears and C. Ovate.

The global corporations (gcs) always need a little help with getting the trickle down economy up and running in foreign parts. Generally, the gcs will partner up with the government of the miserable country they are fixing to do business in. This usually works out swell for the gcs because the local government rulers realize they will top the list of trickle down recipients once the trickle down starts trickling down. Sometimes, though, the miserable ignoramuses that head up the local governments won’t partner up and have to be replaced.

Occasionally, replacing the local miserable ignoramus leaders, requires a really big partner. That’s where US comes in. US is happy as larks to help the gcs get shut of the local miserable ignoramus leaders, so US can get the trickle down, trickling in those parts. US is a nation-state obsessed with the wonders of global trickle down. US loves trickle down. US is addicted to trickle down. More, more, more, US needs more trickle down. Trickle down faster, please. Hurry on up!

Yepper, the gcs have an "addicted to trickle down" partner in US. It’s no wonder then, that US is willing to give unlimited help to the gcs. US doesn’t even bother to keep tabs on all the help US gives the gcs. US help is unlimited, virtually.

All righty then. You’re in the Army now and not behind a cow. Actually, you’re pretending to be in the old inefficient Army in the days before Chitlin and Rumpler modernized the Army. There you are imagining that your mean old sergeant is bossing you around 24/7. There you are, peeling potatoes. "They don’t pay me enough for all this work I do!" you complain. Then you get to thinking. "Gee whillikers. They need to outsource all this work I do. A private contractor could peel these taters cheaper, and more efficiently." you surmise.

Yep, a global corporation can peel those taters, all righty then, and happily, the cost to US is virtual. Also happily, the Army can focus on fighting off local miserable ignoramuses in the colonies instead of peeling potatoes.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Dern it!

The bosom companions are disappointed with today's intermittent newsy news feature.

Dern it! I wanted to find out what the Kinglet was having for his Ramadan supper last night.

And I wanted to find out what the Kinglet felt about his supper guests' body language.

Shucks!

Shucks!

Oh well, let's go irrigate something Crumby.

All righty then Ray. Say Ray, is Hope coming on back to the CB, anon?

Noper, the boy giant Goliath has been spotted in Florida. He's hid out in the dense woods down yonder now, maybe. Anyway, Hope's gone down to cover the boy giant's latest escapades.

Druid News Service, Newsy News Feature - A Hopeful Supper

Goodness gracious sake alive! This is Ms. Hope Remains, Ace Reporter for the DNS with another intermittent Newsy News feature. Merciful heavens! I knew that this assignment was just hopeless. I should have stayed at the CB. Merciful heavens! I couldn’t get anywhere near the supper event the Kinglet hosted. Even transmigrated as a fly, I couldn’t get in. And hanging around those parts as a fly is dangerous. I very nearly got swatted. Mercy! So instead of getting any newsy news for you viewers at home, all I got was the same load of crap everyone else got, which is the upside of my fly transmigration.

Darn it! I couldn’t even find out what they ate. Sorry Ray, honey, I know, you especially, wanted to know what was on the supper menu. As to the facts, pre- bib and tucker, the Kinglet opined,

I look forward to having dinner with friends of mine who don't happen to share
the same faith I do but nevertheless share the same outlook for a more hopeful
world.

And,

All of us must protect our countries, but at the same time we all must work
together to make the world a more hopeful place.

That was the highlight of that. Then they all trooped off to supper. I, Hope Remains, Ace Reporter, waited around for a seemingly interminable spell, hoping the Kinglet and his guests would come back and inform everyone about their nice supper, including what was on the menu. But no, of course the Kinglet couldn’t do that. No hope of that! Instead, out comes the minion mush mouth. As soon as I espied him, I buzzed off. Goodness gracious! What a waste of time! Perhaps Mr. Musharraf, who appears affable and communicative, shall spell the menu, anon.

Anyway, here I am at the DNS studio with some post supper analysis and digestion. With me is Dr. Hector Protector, Safety Expert. Dr. Protector, what did you make of the Kinglet’s pre-gustatory pronouncements?

Very exciting Ms. Remains, very exciting, and good for the trickle down economy!

Really, Dr. Protector! How do you figure that?

Ha! The Kinglet realizes that hope is the common denominator that trumps faith. There’s always hope, no matter the faith, and hope remains, even in the absence of faith. That’s why the Kinglet was willing to enjoy a free supper with those Muslims at the taxpayers expense. But let me, Dr. Protector, ask you a question, Missy Ace Reporter. Under what conditions do you hope, the most?

Goodness gracious, Dr Protector! Why generally I hope the most when times are hard and I hope times will get better. Or like just now, I was hoping to get a scoop and find out what was on the menu.

Certainly you hope for those kinds of things, sweetie. Me too. And that’s where the virtual safety business comes into play. You see, the Kinglet understands that making the world more hopeful is the same difference as making the world more miserable, scary, hard and dangerous. The worse it gets, the more hopeful everyone is. Then along I come, Dr. Protector, with virtual solutions for the hopeful. That Kinglet is the best salesman I ‘ve got!

Goodness gracious sakes alive, Dr. Protector. I’m starting to think you are a bad person. Yes, I’ve decided. You are a bad person! All you viewers out there in TV land, Dr. Protector is a bad person!

Calm down sweetie. I’m just giving the people what they want, more hope.

Yep, you are, you creepy jerk! Well let’s see now. What’s next? Oh my goodness! Hello burly boys and girls! Could you burly boys and girls, please take Dr. Protector out back and beat the snot of him?

What the hecks going on here! Unhand me! You can’t do this on TV. Help me, somebody, help me, I’m Dr. Hector Protector! Ms. Remains, stop this! I ‘m gonna sue! Unhand me, you varlets!

Yep. That’s nice. I guess reality trumped Dr. Protector’s virtual safety program for the nonce. And guess what, the burly boys and girls are fixing to hurt Dr. Protector really bad. Cause he’s a bad person. Goodness! This newsy news feature turned out better than I’d hoped. This is Ms. Hope Remains, Ace Reporter, signing off for the DNS. Watch out for the Wicker Man!!!!

Ray's Thought for the Day - Thoughtless

Yep, today I am thoughtless or nearly so. That's the way it goes when you're an orphan, raised by kindly aquatic mammals, then suddenly turned out of the mole hill. There I was, turned out, wandering along, sadly bereft of all my fossorial friends, with only my bossy sister for company.

"Change me Rayetta, I need another change!" I'd holler. But my sister would say,

Hmmm. Ray, you shall use that diaper more than once or learn to change
yourself.

So it's no wonder I am intermittently thoughtless, reckless and fey. Then, Praise the Goddess, Badgemagus Swineherd, Ph. D., rescued me and Rayetta from our perilous wanderings.

I'm not sure how many diaper changes I went through before Dr. Swineherd found us. But it could have been a great many. Since Rayetta and me only had one diaper each, we would sneak into houses when nobody was looking just to wash and dry our diapers. That's mostly all I did in those days, wash and dry my diaper, or fret over the condition of my diaper.

From whence doth the irony that so afflicts many, come hence from? Could my diaper, be the very artifiact that has afflicted me so with irony? Possibly.

Rayetta is sentimental about our early years. She keeps our diapers in the cedar chest. On our pretend birthday, Rayetta brings forth the diapers and spells,

So you think you had it tough. Well here's my baby clothes, and here's Ray's.

And there my diaper is, in a vacuum sealed zip-loc, pay dirt and all. Mercy!

Crumby's Telescope Tomfoolery Notes - How Many of US, Dream of Being Mammonite, Christian, Republicans?

Not me. I'm too busy with other interesting stuff. But the great fallacy among the Mammonite Christian Republicans is that everyone wants to be just like them. While actually, considering the global population as a whole, almost no one wants to be just like them. Even here in the glorious Homeland, they are a minority, and nobody else in the Homeland wants to be just like them. Not even the rest of us white boys want to be just like them. Even though, the rest of us white boys may be genetically predisposed to be just like them. But we have learned better, from the environment, Praise the Goddess.

As Ray pointed out, maybe, in his interesting thought this morning, the miserable Iraqis have no incentive to stand up. Because anyone that stands up, is saying to the world, look at me, I've converted to Mammonite, Christian Republicanism.

By the way, have you noticed how fat all the visiting Iraqi dignitaries appear? Most of the Iraqis on TV are skinny, but all the dignitaries that come to visit Chitlin and Rumpler are plump. Yes, apparently, even in Iraq, one can scare up a Mammonite, Christian Republican wannabe or two. But not many more than, two.

This is not to say that the fat are more prone to Mammonite Christian Republicanism than the thin. Such may not be true at all. Actually, I would have to spell, "Those that overeat and exercise to get off the extra weight, are more likely candidates for recruitment to the Mammonite Christian Republican ranks than the don't give a shit, stocky. Then there's the nervous eaters to consider, some other time."

Wise up boys and girls, globally. The Mammonite Christian Republicans are forcing their fantasys upon you. They are creating a world in which they will feel comfortable and righteous, and richer. And you, will be part of their world, the downside. Won't that be fun?

All righty then. I'm all set to do an important telescopery gear experiment that will allow me to determine the mysterious focal planes of my eps, maybe. But the stygian darkness is held at bay by the fickle Ogma and other light sources closer to home. So I need to kill some time here in the laboratory.

I think I just read that the Kinglet is having supper with two stand ups tonight, or maybe tomorrow night, Karzai and Musharraf (sp?). The Kinglet, if I didn't imagine what I recently may have read, was spelled to have remarked that he (the Kinglet) would check out their body language at supper tonight.

Er. I knew that the Kinglet relied upon two sources, feelings and divine intervention before going into decider mode. But now, unless I imagined what I just read a while ago, I learned he also relies on body language observation. Reckon what interesting feelings shall overtake our moody Kinglet during tonight's body language observation and supper session. Could the feelings trigger the Kinglet's decider mode, uh, uh, uh, uh?

So the Kinglet's stand up trenchermen companions better watch their body language lest they do something the Kinglet may feel, and then decider upon. Mercy! I hope, Hope covers the post-supper. Maybe she'll ask the Kinglet to give examples of how he felt after observing a particular body language event.

But my advice to the two stand ups is, whatever happens, don't sniff your fingers.

Later

Lleu Llaw, let's get ready to go on out. Here's my plan. You take all the eps on out and line them up on the lawn furniture next to the Newt.

How should I line them up, Crumby?

OK, that's an interesting question. OK, on your left hand have all the UO eps, from biggest to littlest. Then all the rest of the eps trailing after those, also biggest to littlest.

All righty then.

Now I'm going to work up a little table here so we can plug in the experimental numbers. Holler when you're all set up Lleu Llaw and I shall emerge with the table.

Later

Crumby! Lleu Llaw's hollering his fool head off out in the east pasture.

Thanks Rayetta, for that news. I have been so focused on this interesting table that nought else penetrates my noggin for the nonce.

Lemme see, Crumby.

All righty then.

Hmmm. Three columns and 15 rows. I can see how such an intricate table might totally absorb the Crumby Ovate to the exclusion of all that's auditory.

Yepper. But now Rayetta, I am all set to navigate the stygian darkness, with only Lleu Llaw's mournful cries to guide my feet out to where we have the gear set up. Bye.

Bye Crumby. Don't spook my cows!

All righty then.

Later

Have you ever put tape on a microscope slide, expecting later to look at something on the microscope slide reflected on the tape? I probably have, but I can't remember where, when or why? Maybe that's why I was skeptical about focusing on a bright star and getting it to form an image on the tape. Especially, I was worried about all the air bubbles trapped between the tape and the slide. "Those air bubbles are bound to be detrimental to viewing" I surmised, correctly as things turned out, probably.

Later

OK. I was fearfully right about the tape, but then I am always right about suchlike. So Lleu Llaw and I agree that the best focus of the star on the taped slide would be, the littlest and roundest we could get. We also agreed we would measure from the distal end of the exposed focuser tube to the top of the 1/25" ep adapter. That measurement, turned out to be 53 mm. Only one of the eps we use requires more than 53 mm for focus. That one is a Celstron 40 mm Kellner which focuses at 59 mm as measured, meaning that its focus is 6mm towards me, above the top of the adapter, maybe.

The rest of the measured ep focal planes were all positive, meaning they were all less the 53mm. The high powered ones, like the 4mm Ortho were a lot less. To focus that one the focuser has to move in a whopping 16 mm from the focuser focus at 53 mm. Also, I confirmed that the 18 and 12.5 mm X-Cels are not parfocal. There's between 0.5 and 1 mm difference in their focal planes. So I repeat! They are not, parfocal.

Now what I have to figure out is a couple of items. 1) Were we close enough for government work on the baseline focuser focus distance. 2) Does 1) matter since we have relative values for lots of eps.?

Later

Ray's Thought for the Day - Everybody, Stand Up!

This stand up silliness the Kinglet and his minions are always going on about is too silly. I wonder how you say, Stand Up! in Iraqi? You miserable Iraqis need to, stand up for US! I wonder if any of the Mammonite colonists running around in the Green Zone know how to so instruct the miserable Iraqis in the Iraqi language(s)?

Why the heck would any of the miserable Iraqis want to do that, stand up for US?

Silliness is contagious. And the Dems have caught, it. They also demand that the Iraqis stand up for US. Stand up you miserable Iraqis, so we can get the heck out of here.

How about an alternative policy approach to the miserable Iraqis. How about this? Say, "Hey, you miserable Iraqis, take a load off, sit on down." Then maybe, US could send all the miserable Iraqis who were agreeable about sitting down, a nice Lazy Boy recliner.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Tax Exempt?

No, the Cow Barn is not tax exempt. But it should be. No tax exemption for Druids is just another one of the many inequalties and persecutions we have to put up with due to our pagan religion. Course there's also the fact that we have never applied for tax exempt status.

Anyway, the Druid program for dealing with terrorism starts out, 1) Don't exaggerate the threat. 2) Stop colonizing other countries.

These two simple steps eliminate nearly all the terrorist threats and don't cost anything. In fact, mucho deniro savings devolve from the first two steps of our program. However, it is argubable as to whether our program, considering only the first two steps, is good for the global, trickle down economy.

The CB Collective Hollers- Free the Civil Service!!!!

Why do we need honest scientists and ethically trained mere mortals working in a US civil service free from the political machinations of the ruling class, the Kinglet’s minions and the Mammonites? Here’s an example of, why. The Department of Interior (DI) is charged with managing the federal lands that belong to US. The Druidry in these parts has long been aware, and commented much upon, the lamentable working conditions at the DI. It’s a national disgrace. Environmental laws are routinely ignored. Tax revenues from mineral extraction are 25% of what they were pre-Kinglet. Mammonite swindlers have bilked millions from our US Indian colonies. And these national disgraces are just part and parcel of the thorough going corruption at DI.

How do you think all these shenanigans, on-going at the DI, make the DI workers feel. Terrible, I bet, if they’re honest workers. That’s why we should not have a bunch of certified political swine rooting in at the head of all the agencies every time some crazy person gets appointed kinglet. Rather, the civil service should be independent, science based and looking out for US.

Mercy! We may never recover from the Kinglet and his thieving Mammonite minions. The Kinglet really feels like all the public land should be sold off at a fire sale or maybe just given away to his ruling class and Mammonite pals. Praise the Goddess, too many of US might squeak if he did that, up front. So alternatively, the Kinglet felt like it would be a good idea to put all his Mammonite pals in charge of all the government agencies. And that’s what the Kinglet, did do. That’s why the shenanigans are on-going at the DI. Mercy! We may never recover from the Kinglet and his thieving Mammonite minions.

Guess what! One function of a democratic state is to protect US from the rich and powerful globalists and Mammonites. Obviously, we need that protection. Most obviously!

Raymone's Plant du Jour - Justicia runyoniii

Buenas dias. I'm Justicia runyonii from the Tamaulipan. But I am not in the Tamaulipan, but instead, I am at the Cow Barn. I migrated up here with considerable help. Since there's not much water here, we water willows do not exactly thrive, despite getting hosed down lots. Nevertheless, we finally decided it was wet enough to flower, seeing as environmental conditions are not going to get any better. No use waiting any longer. So here I am, flowering.

And then there's me. I'm just too cute.

Crumby's Telescope Tomfoolery Notes - No, No, No

The prevailing cloudy conditions have proscribed my notes. I have, no notes, to spell up. So I'm going along to the laboratory to visit with my bosom companion, Ray. Here I am, arrived at that location. Quest cue say, Ray?

Bonjour Crumby.

Ray, we need to decide on a permanent location for the Galileo Gravitator, considering both its religious and scientific functions or capacities, whichever.

Put it over there on the lab bench next to the dissecting scope. That's my advice.

All righty then, Ray. We can bring in some extra chairs if we need to worship it. Right?

Correct Crumby.

Crumby rigs up a space for the Galileo Gravitator.

There now Galileo Gravitator. You're all settled. Let's plug you on in. There.

Ray! Which sphere would you prefer to be rigged up for the nonce?

Rig up the Moon, for the nonce, Crumby.

All righty then.

Crumby rigs up the moon and the twain bosom companions enjoy the levitated, rotated and lit up virtual moon for a spell.

Say Crumby, would you go to the trouble of voting for someone just because they like dogs?

Noper. The only dogs I will be voting for this time around will be yellow dogs, even though, as usual, it's a case of the lesser of two evils. However, one has to consider the relative size of the two evils and one of the twain evils is way too big for its britches.

Well, that answers my query, somewhat. Do you think the yellow dogs will adopt any Druid programs if they win?

No. The Druid programs are too radical. Can you imagine a civil service completely independent of politics, all of them working scientifically and efficiently to protect the human environment from the ruling class and the gluttonous Mammonites? That would be too much to ask of the yellow dogs.

Then why take the trouble to vote for yellow dogs, Crumby?

A vote for the yellow dogs, if it counts, may delay the arrival of the Wicker Man, Ray. That's why.

Later.

Hark! The skies have cleared, intermittently. Lyra is right overhead almost. Down and to the right is Draco's noggin. Remember all this Crumby, for future reference. But this night the double double was easy at 185x in the Lomo. The Ring Nebula was nice too. And Otto Struve what's its number, was nice. One of these night's it may stay clear long enough for me to get to espy all the ones I want to espy in Draco, again. I did have a look at Omicron, maybe. Nice! That brightest star in Draco's noggin sure is yellow or gold, whichever. Nice! But honestly, I sure wish I had my charts for these notes. The charts are out in the barn.

Lleu Llaw, fetch in the charts. They're out in the barn. Watch where you step!

Later, the next day.

Continuing to spell to myself a bit, out I went, into the crisp stygian darkness, all alone except for a good many dogs, some of them terrestial dogs, some of them celestial dogs. Why the heck is the little celestial dog named Procyon? Maybe for the same reason I have heard of dogs named Pig and Rooster. Pig and Rooster resemble their namesakes in certain aspects of behavior or appearance, maybe.

What I was about, was the attempted espyization of the companion stars of Sirius and Procyon. I wanted to see if I could detect them in the Lomo. The problem with the companions is that they are white dwarfs, tiny little things, mere celestial midgets, lilliputians of light, shadowing in the glare of their gigantic starry neighbors. The telescopery gear employed included the 7.3-22mm zoom, the 1.8x barlow, the 6mm UO ortho and a couple of different filters. I feel like I may have espied the Pup, which is the name of the White Dwarf orbiting Sirius. But I also, feel like, maybe I didn't. I don't feel like I espied Procyon's white dwarf, even close. Anon, I shall replicate this experiment employing alternative gear plus Lleu Llaw Guffes, Lion of the Steady Hand.

Dang! I nearly forgot something interesting. One of the reasons I got that zoom was because I felt like it might be a good ep for terrestrial views in the smaller Lomo and the C-90. And that "felt like" was a pretty good prognostication. Plus its dandy handy for the naked celestial. But once I discovered that none of my filters, or my focal reducer, would screw into the zoom, I was aggravated. That zoom is threaded, but so far as I know, nothing habitating on this plane actually fits those threads. So I sent a bunch of satirical e-mails referencing the situation to the zoom vendor. The vendor never e-mailed back and I have since learned that no response may be the usual methodology of that particular vendor. But, on the other hand, I discovered just this morning that I can set the filters inside the rubber cup on top of the zoom, and at that location, they filter pretty well and don't fall off, maybe.

Which has reminded of yet another vendor of telescopery gear. As I am aware, coma, is something of a problem my Newt causes me. A while back I thought about replacing the 4-vane spider with a 3-vane spider, but I haven't made any progress with that. I also thought about purchasing a coma corrector, but the cost cost seemed prohibitive to one of my semi-employed status. But now, the Baader Planetarium Company has this coma corrector designed for my Newt and manufactured by Celestron, Goddess Knows Where, that vends for under $150. However, that's still a lot of money. So I set about researchng the multi-purpose coma corrector (mpcc). Research eventually led to a US vendor who soon responded to my many questions regarding this product, the mpcc. However, the vendor had a question for me too. What are the focal plane of the eps you would be using with the mpcc? Uh, oh. Er.

Not wishing to be appear unnecessarily ignorant, I responded to the vendor that I would need to get back to him later on the focal planes of my eps after doing some research. So naturally I have been doing some research. But to find out anything of practical value I had to secure a guest membership in yet another astronomy club in addition to the two free ones I am already a member of. Then I had to rustle up an old microscope slide and some frosty backed scotch tape. Now, what I have to do is follow the methodology provided due to my guest member status and I shall soon learn the focal planes of my eps tonight, maybe. Tools needed besides the taped up microscope slide are metric ruler, flashlight, eidetic memory, or pencil and paper.

I have two pre-concerns. 1) Reckon should I measure from the top of focuser or from the top of 1.25" adapter for baseline? 2) Will I actually be able to focus a star image onto the microscope slide with frosty side toward the focuser? Er. Er.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Ramadan Ray

Yep. Like most of the Muslim world, I, Ray, am celebrating Ramadan. However, unlike the Muslim world, maybe, I know nothing about Ramadan. Nothing at all. I don't even know what Ramadan means. So today, to celebrate Ramadan, I am fixing to fry up some chickens and have those chickens with plenty of mashed potatoes and chicken gravy, and some peas and cornbread. Happy Ramadan everybody!

The real weather versus the virtual weather was interesting yesterday. The real weather was that we got 0.05 inches of rain in the guage, and, as I now note a wind shift. Plus the temperature has backed off from the mid 90s. But the virtual weather, had us all drowning and otherwise slaughtered by unprecedented atmostpheric phenomena. Obviously, the robot weather channel has been suborned, along with the rest of US, plus our US colonies, by the Kinglet's minions, working virtually hard to keep US safe, virtually.

Let's see, skipping around in my noggin, I wonder if I can think up some examples of how down-sizing and out-sourcing the government has worked out so far in the Iraq colony? Yep, I can think up a few. Praise the Goddess. Watch out for the Wicker Man!

Say, maybe in addition to an anthem, the miserable Iraqis need some more incentive to convert to the Mammonite Christian Republican faith. Perhaps, the Iraq colony needs a name change. How does Nuevo Tejas sound?

Druid News Service - US Culture Today - Congress Unanimous, It’s OK to Torture All the Foreigners

Hi there US regular people and boys. I’m Ms. Hope Remains with today’s intermittent newsy news US culture feature, an intermittent service provided by the DNS.

Yep. It looks like it’s going to be OK to torture foreigners going forward. The retroactive torture of foreigners is OK too. So all you foreigners beyond the US Safe Homeland better watch out. If the Kinglet feels like you are fascists, or fascist sympathizers, first we are going to cluster bomb the bejesus out of you. Then we are going to round up the ones of you that survive, and you are going to get tortured without mercy until you tell us what we want to hear.

Consider this. Maybe we round up a thousand or two thousand of you. Every one of you is a fascist or fascist sympathizer. So each and every one of you is bound to know something our brave interrogators want to hear. Soon you’ll be begging for mercy after our brave interrogators get around to you. Course, that might take a few years. Meantime you get to rot in prison while our brave interrogators decide which ones of you to torture next.

Yep. US grand old white boys have done a deal. And the virtual democrats are hunky dory with the torture deal, too. Cause they don’t want to appear weak, as opposed to appearing virtually weak. Goodness gracious! Torture must be very, very good for the trickle down economy to garner so much support and enthusiasm, so quickly. And my goodness! Gas prices are already going down.

My goodness gracious sakes alive! This is Ms. Hope Remains, Ace Reporter, signing off for the DNS. Watch out for the Wicker Man!!!!

Ray's Thought for the Day - Another Druid Dichotomy

Let's see. Which would I rather have for my treat today, some nice green leafy spinach or my delicious cinnamon bun. Spinach is one of my favorite leafy vegetables. I like it raw with Baalamic's Vinaigrette, sauteed in olive oil with garlic, baked up in a pie with mushrooms and cheese, scrambled with eggs and onions and more cheese. Mmmm, boy! On the other hand, there's my delicious cinnamon bun to consider. What would I do without my delicious weekly cinnamon bun? Well, I would be very upset, even aggravated, maybe. Somehow, considering all the facts, I suspect I shall choose my delicious cinnamon bun over spinach for my treat.

So! There's this bunch of rich white boys who take over the government. They tell everybody that the government is no account. The government needs to be friendly to the trickle down economy and small, they say. Then the rich boys set about making the government friendlier to the trickle down economy and virtually smaller. So now we have a friendlier and virtually smaller Food and Drug Administration. Mercy!

Crumby's Telescope Tomfoolery Notes - All the Celestial Constellations Grouped Taxonomically

Introduction

Both Lleu Llaw and me, the Crumby Ovate are taxonomic thinkers. So we worked up a taxonomic grouping for the various constellations as an aid to our perusal of their naked splendor.

All the Celestial Constellations Grouped Taxonomically

Group I - Artifactianus

Most of these are tools, that is, simple machines working together as a team. However, two crowns are included. Also, there’s a poop deck, a complex musical instrument and a simple musical instrument.

Antlia
Ara
Caelum
Carina
Circinus
Corona Australis
Corona Borealis
Crater
Crux
Fornax
Horologium
Libra
Lyra
Microscopium
Norma
Octans
Pictor
Puppis - This one might actually belong in Mammalianus.
Pyxis
Reticulum
Sagitta
Scutum
Sextans
Telescopium
Triangulum
Triangulum Australe
Vela

Total 26-27 artifacts

Group II - Amphibianus - Maybe

Obviously, the amphibians are not well represented in the sky.

Cetus - maybe
Lacerta - maybe

Total 0-2 amphibians

Group III - Avianus

Apus
Aquila
Columba
Corvus
Cygnus
Grus
Pavo
Phoenix
Tucana

Total - 9 birds


Group IV - Ichthyologiianus

Capricornus is half fish, half mammal.

Capricornus - maybe
Cetus- maybe
Dorado
Pisces
Piscis Austrinus
Volans

Total 4-6 fish

Group V Invertianus

Cancer
Cetus - maybe
Musca
Scorpius

Total 3-4 Bugs or bug like

Group VI - Mammalianus

This is the largest group. Many of the human or proto human mammals in this group are doing something by way of a trade. For example, Bootes is herding.

Andromeda
Aquarius
Aries
Bootes
Camelopardalis
Canes Venatici
Canis Major
Canis Minor
Capricornus- maybe
Cassiopeia
Centaurus
Cepheus
Delphinius
Equuleus
Gemini
Hercules
Indus
Leo
Leo Minor
Lepus
Lupus
Lynx
Monoceros
Ophiucus
Orion
Pegasus
Perseus
Puppis - This one is sometimes included in Artifactianus.
Sagittarius
Taurus
Ursa Majoris
Ursa Minoris
Virgo
Vulpecula

Total 32-34 mammals

Group VII - Miscellanianus

Coma Berenices
Mensa

Total - 2 whatever

Group VIII- Reptilianus

Cetus - maybe
Chameleon
Draco
Hydra
Hydrus
Lacerta - maybe

Total 4-6 reptiles

Later

Last night early, ere the clouds came along, Lleu Llaw Guffes and I, Crumby the Ovate assayed to test out our new taxonomy to see if it had any practical application. So Lleu Llaw says, "Crumby pick out a couple of the groups at random and I shall then guide the great red tube verily toward a representative of each group that is handy to my steady hand."

So then, I Crumby, ovated randomly on a couple of the groups. Now listen up. When you're doing science, its always important to start out an experiment, randomly. That's why I ovated randomly and not prejudicially. So the two groups I randomly picked out, ovationally, happened by chance to be, Artifactianus and Reptilianus.

Mercy! In two shakes of one of Ray's naughty lambs' tails, Lleu Llaw had Lyra, a complex musical instrument, one of the artifacts, in fact, visual in the twain sighting mechanisms of the great red tube. So we espied parts of the Lyre, which is generally thought to be the first of the complex musical instruments. According to the out of print Golden Skyguide, the particular lyre up yonder may be the Lyre of Orpheus.

What about Pan's Pipe, Crumby? Pan's Pipe may have pre-dated the Lyre.

Let's not go there Lleu Llaw. I have heard enough relating to the randy antics of the Artiodactylans, total or partial, for the nonce.

The next stop on our random celestial journey turned out to be Draco in Group Reptilianus. Lleu Llaw also found the anterior of the Dragon, expeditiously. The droll spell pertinent to dragons in the out of print Golden Skyguide, is "Dragons have abounded in mythology for 5,000 years and are useful if you want something guarded." Yep, that's true. Dragons like to guard stuff, treasures especially. But they are also useful for heraldry, the Welsh flag, knight errantry and population control. Interestingly, dragons seem to prefer stupid meals.

So we espied the noggin of Draco the Dragon until the clouds obscured Draco's noggin. Actually, those particular clouds may have been by-products of Draco's fiery innards, belched out by the dragon from annoyance at our close perusal. Which was indeed close. For twixt Rastaban and Nu, that may correspond to the the eye and a hearing mechanism, respectively, is an interesting little binary that may correspond to something located between the two previously described organs.

However, the hot, sulfurous breath of Draco the Dragon soon obscured all. Put this gear up Lleu Llaw, please, while I go into the laboratory and do some research.

All righty then, Crumby.

The Druid News Service - US Culture Today

Hi there boys and regular people. This is Hope Remains, Ace Reporter for the DNS. Today I am reporting on a new newsy feature the DNS may provide intermittently. The new newsy features intermittently provided, maybe, are collectively spelled, US Culture Today. Today the newsy feature is, Did you know that 250,000 of US may be infected with HIV and not know it?!!!! Guess what? That means all of US get to be tested for HIV. Except nobody knows how many of US there are, so some of US may not get tested. For example, those of US that nobody knows about, won't get tested. Also, those of US who self-medicate, won't get tested. So some of US won't get tested even though the test may be mandatory, eventually, maybe. But a great many will be tested, eventually, as soon as the responsible bosses figure out what part of the economy the tests are good for and just how good for those parts of the economy those tests will need to be, good for.

Oh my goodness! You can decline the test, these days, if you want to decline, and if you decline to take the test, the fact that you declined the test will be kept, confidential. My goodness! But if you take the test, you get a nice little color coded bracelet to wear. The twain color bracelet coding hasn't quite been worked out yet. And this is the really exciting part. Every time you go to the doctor, you have a chance to collect the other color bracelet.

So that's our US Culture today. This is Hope Remains, Ace Reporter for the DNS, signing off. Hold it. I almost forgot. The next US Culture Today, newsy news feature may be Famous ones of US who suddenly discover they're Jewish. Won't that be interesting?!!!!

Ray's Thought for the Day - Counting Sheep, Ray's Dream, Interpreted

Yep. At long last, after much toting about of the telescopery gear, and after Crumby ate up all the apricot fried pies, my dream got interpreted by the Ovate. Here’s how that went.

Mmmm. Those fried pies are delicious. Those particular fried pies are the best ever. The dough is just right. Not too crispy and not too sweet. Plus, the apricots are actually identifiable as apricots, not merely slime, and those apricots combine a tartness and sweetness that is delectable, a temptress of the tongue, virtually. Tell me about your dream, my bosom companion.

It was terrible, Crumby, terrible. I was in charge of all these sheep. But all those sheep were unconstrained by any fences and they kept running off every which away. Plus, in my dream I had to keep careful enumeration of the sheep. I had to count them constantly to keep track of all of them even with some of them galloping off this way and some galloping that way. “What’s wrong with all these crazy galloping sheep?” That’s what I cried out in my sleepy despair. “I shall never succeed in keeping up with all these sheep so that I know how many I am shepherding.”

Then I, Ray, discerned why my sheep were so excited. The Teletubbies were spooking my sheep. That was precisely the situation. The Teletubbies were chasing my sheep hither and yon, making it impossible for me, Ray, to keep tabs on the many sheep. “You Teletubbies cease chasing my sheep around. Stop it.” I cried out. But the Teletubbies only chased the sheep even more and then the Teletubbies, first one and then another of the Teletubbies, each caught a sheep, and, and, and. No Crumby I can’t go on.

You must Ray. You must go on. Be brave Ray. Tell your bosom companion what the Teletubbies did with the sheep they captured.

All righty then, Crumby. But you will be shocked! Just as I was, shocked! I tried to rush over to where the closest Teletubby was fondling one of my sheep. My feet shuffled along expeditiously enough and I was gesticulating like a windmill and hollering as loud as I might holler, but with all that effort, I made no progress whatever towards the most proximate Teletubby-sheep combo. In short, I was rooted to the spot, and nothing I did, mattered. All I could do was, witness.

Mercy! What did you witness, Ray? Tell your bosom companion what you witnessed!

Polymorphous intraspecific sex acts, Crumby.

Which ones Ray?

All of them, maybe.

Mercy!

Can you describe some of these acts, Ray?

Ray’s description of the polymorphous intraspecific sex acts involving the Teletubbies and Ray’s ovines is censored. Employ the limits of imagination.

The Arkdruid

Mercy Ray!

Yes, Mercy! Crumby. Mercy is what I cried out in my helpless, sleepy despair as the Teletubbies and my sheep disported themselves graphically out in the endless confines of the vast fenceless pasture. Suddenly though, my ears were verily assaulted by a profound, “Baaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” This particular baa was the loudest and most profound you can imagine Crumby. Lo and behold here came an enormous ram. His fleece was the color of purest gold and he was bow-legged in his distal portions.

Bow-legged eh, Ray.

Yepper, bow-legged out of necessity, Crumby. Anyway, up came this golden, distally bow-legged ram right on up to where I was rooted on the spot. And it says, “Ray, you are a bad shepherd.”

“Yepper, maybe I am, Mr. Talking Ram. But I am apparently rooted to this spot, bush like, and therefore can not be held accountable for the scandalous behavior going on out in the pasture.”

“All righty then, Ray. Since you are a bad shepherd and bush like, I, Aries the Golden Ram, shall sort those Teletubbies out.”

“Er, if you don’t mind, get a count on my sheep, too, Mr. Aries, sir.”

So then Aries the Ram sorted out the four Teletubbies from the sheep and had his way with those Teletubbbies, especially the lavender Teletubby. Mercy!

Did Aries the Ram enumerate the sheep, fer ye, Ray.

Noper. Once he finished up on the last Teletubby, he ambled on off, more bow-legged than ever.

Hmmm. I see Ray. Let me interpret your dream in silence for a minute or two. Er. Er. Er. Er. All righty. The main significance of your dream Ray, is the number four. That number, four, is the numerical code for me, the Crumby Ovate, so that’s why you hastened out to the east pasture to consult with me, Crumby the Ovate, about your dream.

Well then Crumby, go ahead on and interpret my dream, fer me.

I already did Ray. Weren’t you paying attention?

Uh, aren’t you supposed to tell me what the dream means?

Oh! That part. Yepper, I suppose I may be supposed to tell you all that. All righty then. Ray, you have been made nervous and high strung by your hard lessons at the Sun God Academy. You need to explain to your thrice lovely tutors that they are over working you so much that you have become nervous and apprehensive, that you can’t rest, even upon the Ample Bosoms, and that you need a break from all the hard lessons that are making you a nervous wreck.

Yeah, right Crumby. My sister is going to fall for that. Right! And you still haven’t told me what my dream means, either.

Yes I have Ray. You just weren’t listening.

Yes I was, too. But what about all those sheep, and the Teletubbies and Aries the bow-legged ram. What do they mean? And also the fact that I was rooted to a spot. How about that?

Ray, my bosom companion, I should spare you those horrible details that you, alas, dreamed upon.

No, no, no, Crumby. I want to know about those horrible details, especially.

Are you sure about that, Ray?

Yepper.

But as Ray answers up affirmatively, he feels a shiver run up or down his spine.

The Arkdruid

Whoa! Maybe I don’t want to know all those precise details right now Crumby. Maybe I can figure them out on my own, anon.

That is as I foretold, Ray. For you have sought out the Crumby Ovate. And it is said that those who seek out the Crumby Ovate, may get an ovation, or maybe not.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Untimely Ripped

Jeez Louise! I can't believe that, I, Ray, am up so early, untimely ripped from snarkling at the Ample Bosoms. Er. Let's see. We have some kind of safety procedure for assaying the stygian darkness in the wee hours. As I journey towards the east pasture, I'm required to holler out, Don't shoot, it's Your Name. Er. Your Name is italicized so that must mean something else. Man alive, I can't think so clearly in the morning. Er. Hold it. Olwen's up. I'll ask Olwen. Olwen, can you explain this safety instruction to me.

Let's see Ray. It says Don't shoot, it's Your Name. Um, that means you holler out, Don't shoot, it's me, Ray. Be sure to holler those words precisely Ray, and maybe Crumby won't shoot you.

Thanks darlin'. Have fun at work.

Olwen White Track, Moon Goddess, departs upon her round about job.

All righty then. I need to go visit with Crumby about the sheep and the Teletubbies. I had a dream about sheep and Teletubbies that woke me up. Perhaps the Crumby Ovate can interpret my dream, fer me.

Meantime.

Lleu Llaw, guide the great red tube down and just a tad to the right of Castor the Semi-Twink. Go pretty far. Further, further, further, further, stop. All righty then, let's espy that one. Whoa! It's a dang double. There are twain stars apparent where there might be but one instead. It must be a wide one to be espyable with this goofy 40mm Kellner.

Crumby, that is not the goofy 40mm Kellner ensconced in the focuser. For the goofy 40mm Kellner is ensconced in the cigar box.

Huh?

Some other of the telescopery gear, besides the goofy 40mm Kellner is ensconced in the focuser, for verily the goofy 40mm Kellner is in the cigar box.

Oh! Hand me the the good for 10,000 years flashlight, Lleu Llaw, and we shall soon discover, once I have made an examination with the good for 10,000 years flashlight, which of the telescopery gear is fixed in the focuser.

Here 'tis Crumby.

Hark! It is none other than the wide-eyed 16mm Konig. That explains a lot. Fetch forth the 1.8x barlow so that we may peruse this interesting double close up.

Here 'tis Crumby.

Ah yes. Have a look see Lleu Llaw.

Don't shoot, it's me, Ray.

Dang! What's all that hollerin' about?

Later.

It is your bosom companion approaching Crumby, and he is crying out, Don't shoot.

All righty then. Lleu Llaw, guide the great red tube off toward Sirius the Dog Star. Then, look down and to the right a little for the brightest star in those parts. Espy that one while I see what the heck my bosom companion is hollering about.

Don't shoot, it's me Ray.

Stop all that hollering Ray. You'll spook your sister's cows and I'll get another boxing.

I'm supposed to holler like that Crumby. Hollering like that is my safety instruction for the nonce.

Not that much, Ray. Once you espy that you aren't shot, you need to stop hollering.

All righty then. Crumby, here is what brings me hence through the stygian darkness, er, what's Lleu Llaw doing?

Lleu Llaw is espying a binary star of the Constellation Canis Majoris, possibly located on one of its canine-like paws.

I want to espy it too, Crumby. Lleu Llaw, let me have a looksee.

All righty then Ray. Here 'tis.

Hey, I only see one star.

You must espy very carefully Ray, for the bright star's very brightness obscures another little red star located at about 10 o'clock. You must supply an imaginary clock face, Ray, for the upside down and backwards Newt lacks a clock face with numerals.

Yepper. I espy it. Mercy. The little one is obscure.

Yepper, we need a filter, maybe. Crumby, hand us the Ultrablock.

All righty then. Here 'tis.

Okie Dokie Ray. Watch, I am going to screw this filter into the 16mm Konig real fast then I'll stick it all back in the focuser real fast and adjust the great red tube in right acscension and declination real fast while you have a looksee. All done. What do you see now Ray?

Er, this filter sure makes everything dark.

Yepper, but it should dim the bright star so you can see the obscure little one better. Is that what's happening?

Noper. It's completely dark. The stars have all vanished.

Look very carefully Ray.

Noper. I don't espy any stars. They all vanished, Lleu Llaw!

Lemme see Ray.

Oops!

Mercy! Lleu Llaw, Ray, you're tardy, for the clouds have come along. They are a curtain to your perusal of the naked canid splendors, ovates the Crumby Ovate.

Shucks!

So Ray, since your out here anyway, you can help Lleu Llaw put up all the telescopery gear away while I sit here and do some more important ovating.

Yeah but, Crumby, you need to interpret my dream.

All righty then, once you and Lleu Llaw get everything toted up, I the Crumby Ovate shall enter into the labyrinth dreamscape of my bosom companion and interpret your nocturnal thoughts as easily as if those dreams were delicious apricot fried pies. An apricot fried pie or two that I may have for breakfast anon shall be no more bother than your dream Ray. Perhaps I shall interpret your dream as I dine upon those tasty apricot fried pies.

All righty then.

All righty then.

Later.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Sprachen Up, One God Poohbahs!

Crumby, I have a another one god poohbah question. Since you couldn't answer my first one god poohbah question, maybe you can answer this iteration or question.

Ask away, Ray. Remember, common sense has it that there's no such thing as a stupid question. Ha! Is that ever stupid? Common sense is correct about nothing, but it is right, politically considered, about everything.

Right, my bosom companion. But you are actually supposed to know something about one god poohbah behavior, Crumby, due to all your training on one god poohbah shenanigans. Anyway, who may I ask a one god question, if not the Crumby Ovate?

All righty then, Ray, I am all ears my default. Query away.

Okie Dokie. Why is it that not one Mammonite Christian poohbah has gone on TV to stand up for Pope What's His Name.

Easy that. No pope here, Ray.

Huh?

Easy that. No pope here, Ray.

What?

No pope here, Ray.

Jeez Louise, Crumby! Can you explain what you just spelled. I heard you, bosom companion, but I don't understand what you are implying by the phrase, No pope here.

Sure! I can explain, no pope here, to my bosom buddy. The Mammonite Christians despise the pope. That's why the honest Mammonites holler, "No Pope Here!" The Mammonites don't care if the pope chooses to fuss with the Mussalman or Muslims, whichever. The Mammonites would like to see the Muslims off the pope and vice versa. So they are bound to stay neutral until the pope actually gets offed. After the pope gets himself offed, should that actually happen, then the Mammonites might cry some crocodile tears. Also, they would definitely cry out their support for the cluster bombing of Arabia and the surrounding continents. Many would holler to high heaven, "Cluster bomb those Muslims who murdered pope What's His Name, Praise Jesus." However, if someone offered them a bunch of money to shut up about cluster bombing something or other, they'd shut up. The have a lot of prinicples when it comes to cash flow.

Er. I see. Well, what would it take for the Mammonite Christian one god poohbahs to get all riled up at once and go on TV like the Muslim one god poohbahs did in response to Pope What's His Name?

Mercy! Ray you are chock full of queries this evening. Hmmm. One thing that would work would be to have a game show contest on TV. The game show contest theme would be, "The one god talks to me and this is what he says, to me. And he talks to me, almost exclusively." But there would have to be a great prize, like perhaps a thousand or two thousnd dollar prize to the winning one god poohbah. Such a game show should fetch them forth, out of hiding. Or maybe one of the Teletubbies will fornicate with a sheep. If a Teletubby fornicated with a sheep, and their love was so hot that an Ameican flag caught fire, the Mammonite poohbahs would be on TV like muses on English poets, or me on telescopery.

Thanks Crumby, perhaps some such shall come to pass, and I shall at last, learn the true idenitities of the Mammonite Christian poohbahs.

Crumby's Telescope Tomfoolery Notes - Rising Stars

Yikes! I was too late to prevent my bosom companion, Ray, from posting that spell. Those type spells make me nervous. That's why I wanted to interdict Ray. But soon I forgot all about that spell, so maybe it didn't make me nervous after all.

My faithful sidekick, Lleu Llaw Guffes, Lion of the Steady Hand, toted the great red tube, sometimes referenced as a 10" Newtonian reflector telescope, out to the east pasture yesterday evening. We set it up, all righty then, and gave it all the necessary ablutions so that it would be fired up this morning when the twain of us, both Lleu and me, Crumby, bounced off the Ample Bosoms and headed on out to the east pasture, defying the stygian darkness.

Yep, out we went. Lo and behold the eastern sky was right pert just like yesterday morning. Plus, we were up and at 'em by 4:30 AM so we had plenty of time for an exacting perusal of the many naked celestial wonders headed our way. Which is the point I am trying to allude to here, referencing the title of this interesting spell. Rising stars, those headed this way, may be easier to keep track of, as opposed to those same stars, headed off west, or setting, as some might say. I am not sure why rising stars are seemingly easier to keep track of than setting ones, but that seems to be my case.

Here they came, the naked celestial wonders straight at us. Lleu Llaw was kept very busy, his steady hand guiding the great red tube steadily, hither and yon. What all did we espy? Later.
_____

Later it is, and I find myself wearied by all the chores I did today. Lleu Llaw, why don't you spell what we espied while I go take care of some important ablutions.

All righty then, Crumby. Yepper, the Crumby Ovate and me, Lleu Llaw Guffes, the Lion of the Steady Hand had a first rate astronomical experience this morning. First, we espied somewhat of the Twinks. Then at Crumby's beck and call, I zoomed the tube around steadily, espying various puppy dog stars, but also stars of the terrible Monoceros.

What Crumby and me like to do is pick out a multiple star system, then I guide the telescopery to the star system, steadily. Then Crumby gets all excited, or maybe not, as we espy that particular system of from one to more than one star. I can tell you that Crumby got very excited when I guided the telescope steadily right on to our espyization of Beta Monceroti. I got excited too, when Crumby finally gave me my turn to look.

What else did we espy? Well, we espied Kappa Gemini, Castor, one of the twinks, and the famous Eskimo Nebula. Crumby says that the Eskimo Nebula tha the thought he espied previous to my visit to the CB may not have been the actual Eskimo Nebula, but a hallucination or evil spell cast upon Crumby by crazy people to make him surmise that he saw the Eskimo Nebula. However, Crumby assures me that this time we actually espied the Eskimo Nebula. In the upsides down and backwards Newt, there's a bright star just to the right of the Eskimo Nebula that makes it possible to guide the telescopery right there. Then, comparing the bright star and the Eskimo Nebula simultaneously, one is struck by the fact, that of the twain naked celestial objects in view, one is struck that one of the twain is a star and the other is a planetary nebula. Crumby, now experienced thoroughly in these matters, believes that every faint fuzzy should have a guide star nearby, close. But Crumby also believes that the world membership of Class Aves should line up, biggest on the left to smallest on the right, so that Crumby could stroll along, as if he was a general on parade, and thus strolling, identify all the global members of Class Aves to his heart's desire.

What else did we espy? Well, we got the lay of the sky at that time in these parts which is lotsa fun, even for a steady hand. There's the Twinks. Then there's the little dog, the one horned mystery animal tht is an insult to bilateral symmetry and the big dog. Above that is Orion and higher still is Taurus. All those naked celestial wonders we espied and discoursed upon. Especially, mutiple stars we espied. Crumby likes those.

Lleu Llaw, are we done yet?

Yepper.

I'm not quite done in the comfort station yet.

All righty then.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Saddam's Epic Trial

So the Kinglet had to have some of his minions pull the plug on one of Saddam's judges. Saddam just had to have been dictator. Correct! Just like the Kinglet is presently the imperialist decider in Iraq. Correct!

With dead people piling up in Iraq like shit at the dog park, having Big Saddam on trial for whatever is a down right hoot. Jeez Louise, what a bunch of lunkheads we now have running US. Why didn't they move the trial to Geneva? Oh, never mind, they speak French in Geneva, don't they? Our crazy imperialist wannabe leaders, the Kinglet, Chitlin, Rover the Himmler clone, Sleeza and Rumpler, maybe, couldn't very well haul Big Saddam all the way to Geneva? Some of them speak French in Geneva.

Gee whiz. We pay taxes, so, we support monopoly capitalism, globalization, colonialism, imperialism, militarism, virtual work and the lifestyles of the rich and famous (at least partially, if not generally). Plus, these days, we get George Orwell's worst nightmares thrown in for free.

Who threw in George Orwell's worst nightmares? Easy that, that very person or perhaps demon who threw those worst nightmares of the Druid Orwell, in, would be Evil Minister Rover, Number One Boy to the Wannabe Fuerher, Wannabe.

In closing, doubtless, many, might consider my thought today a mere rant, the mentally incontinent ravings of a lunatic. But since I have a moon goddess girlfriend, and you don't. I am a lunatic, and you, sadly, are not.

Hold it! I Ray the Pistrum am not closing shop quite yet. Because, since I maybe ranting, yet the Arkdruid and Red,and Nancy the Goddess or Practical Jokes,
and my sister and girlfriends don't seem to be paying me any mind for the nonce, here's another thought. Maybe, Druids don't care how bad the Mammonites and the various other idiots behave, because the Druids know something no one else knows. Maybe!

Ray, it's your bosom companion, the Crumby Ovate. Whatever you do, don't post that spell!

Crumby's Telescope Tomfoolery Notes - Rise Up Lleu Llaw

Rouse yourself Lleu Llaw from slobbery repose upon those ample bosoms. We should assay the gloom of the stygian darkness, anon.

Yawn! All righty then Crumby. Let us hie hence into that very gloom you mention.

Out we went. Mercy! The eastern sky is the best it has ever been, ever, or at least since the advent of the Tomfoolery methodology in these parts. Mercy!

Confusion reigns, for I can not decide upon which celestial wonder should have precedence over some other celestial wonder, all nakedly splendid. Mercy! Also I can't decide which of the vast array of telescopery gear available, to employ for the espying of all these marvelous wonders. Er. Lleu Llaw, fetch forth the Lomo for the fickle Ogma is fixing to betray the Druidry anon.

Hurriedly, we set up all our gear. Mercy! Where's the binoculars? There they are, lying all dewy upon the grassy sward. Dang it! Someone left the binoculars out all night. Where's my bandana? Yuck! Not that one, the clean one.

At last we were all set. There was the crescent moon and Saturn up a ways along the ecliptic highway. And the Twinks, up above that. Lleu Llaw, adjust the Lomo handles Twinkward! Yepper. There's Mekbuda, named for when Buddha was planning a trip to Mecca, but decided to stay home. There's also the interesting lesser twink of the twain, Castor. Mercy!

All the celestial wonders, even Orion's dogs also are shining down on both the Crumby Ovate and Lleu Llaw Guffes. Mercy! Sirius the Dog Star is so bright that I send Lleu Llaw off to get us some sun screen. Mercy!

Yet lurking among the brilliant celestial wonders of the eastern sky is also that strange, yet mysterious, beast, that makes mock of bilateral symmetry, the Monoceros.

The Galileo Gravitator Arrives at Long Last

Yepper. Here's me Crumby, and Ray, my bosom companion, having our picture took with the Galileo Gravitator, plus Saturn. The ecologically astute will notice that Ray and me are almost exactly the same color as Saturn. So if we were on Saturn, we would be invisible. Right Ray!

That is correct, Crumby. If we were on Saturn, assuming we could cope with the powereful rotational pull exerted on Saturn by the Galileo Gravitator, we would be entirely invisible due to the fact that Saturn would be mimicking us for its own protection or vice versa.

So Ray, it appears that my Galileo Gravitator has finally arrived safely at the Cow Barn, despite the machinations of the Demon Mammon, the Kinglet, and the many bushwhacking goose steppers that swear allegiance to the Kinglet, and no telling what other evil doers that were out there in the Homeland trying to keep it from me. There are also, no telling what adventures my Galileo Gravitator could tell regarding what all it had to to do to survive so it could get here at last, to the relative safety of the CB. What a terrible journey through both the stygian darkness and Ogma's fickle glow that must have been. Right Ray!

Doubtless Crumby, the Galileo Gravitor and its four associated globes, had to undergo terrrible hardships to get here at last. Did you notice, Crumby, that its shipping box was perilously crunched on one of its shipping box corners?

Yepper, I noticed that Ray. That crunched corner gave me a sinking feeling when I espied it, but fortunately, all the globes, Saturn, the Moon, Jupiter, and Mars, plus the Galileo Gravitator itself, survived the crunch, no doubt a parting shot from a frustrated Bushwhacker/Gossestepper or the Demon Mammon, unharmed.

Doubtless you are correct Crumby. Fortunately all the "safe journey spells" we warded onto the internal packaging paid off, and even that vicious kick prevailed not, when countered by Druid Magic.

Oh so true, my bosom companion. Oh so true. Maybe we should also have Raymone take a picture of the crunched corner of the external packing box, Ray?

No Crumby, I don't think so. After all, all's well that end's well, eventually.

Er. Perhaps so, Ray, perhaps so. Besides, we can keep that viciously kicked box around for evidence, for later, maybe.

Yepper.

Crumby's Telescope Tomfoolery Notes - The Puppy Dogs

The resilient Crumby Ovate, generally recovered from the savage ear boxing lately received, plans another celestial adventure.

Let’s see here. We have a great many different celestial dogs, a sure sign of the dogs’s generic importance. Here they all are described in the out of print Golden Skyguide. Let’s sum them up. There’s Canis Major, the Big Dog, Canis Minor, the Little Dog, Puppis, the Littler Dog, sometimes known as Poop, and Canes Venatici, the Hunting Dogs. That’s a great many dogs, all righty then. Lleu Llaw Guffes, the Lion of the Steady Hand, and me, Crumby the Ovate, have our work cut out for us, espying all these canines. Perhaps, the skies shall clear anon, and we shall then proceed to the perusal of all these dogs with some attention to detail.

Here are some interesting potential facts noted in the out of print Golden Skyguide pertinent to the Big Dog of the Sky. “Sirius, the Dog Star, called by the Egyptians, Sothis, is the brightest object in the sky except for the Sun, Moon, Venus and Jupiter. At 9 lt-yr, it is the fifth closest star to Earth. It’s 9th magnitude companion, the Pup, 10".3 away, is a white dwarf orbiting Sirius every 49.9 years.”

So, in addition to all the dogs listed above, there is also this white dwarf Pup. Mercy!

Whoa! This is disturbing. "Dog days" are a hot period in summer when Sirius, high in the daytime sky, adds to the Sun's heat. Mercy! I would never have thought of that on my own. Sirius is invisible during the daytime.

Oh Crumby!

Uh, oh.

It’s time for another Potential Safety Topic - Environmental Hazards - firearms safety refresher class.

Dang! All righty then, I’ll be right there, Lovely Druidess Rayetta.

Hurry up Crumby, Red is getting aggravated.

Jeez Louise! I’m coming along, expeditiously as I am able.
_____

Crumby’s first actual thought, (engendered possibly from his evil Mammonite Christian past), upon hearing the musical voice of the Lovely Druidess, was to fake deafness, attributing the deafness to the ear boxing he had lately received at the hands of the Lovely Druidess. But Crumby’s second thought, was to think better on that option and go along expeditiously like a Druid.

The Arkdruid

Ray's Thought for the Day - Real Rain Versus Rover Rain

Yip! Yip! Yip! Yep, finally, we got some real rain at the CB. We got over an inch, that is, almost 11 tics, in the guage. Plus, the rain falls still for the nonce, though unenthusiastically. Apparently, the remnants of a hurricane moved in from Mexico and collided with a norther to produce real rain in these parts. Whatever! Praise be to the Merciful WG for Taking Pity on the Parched Cow Barn!

Prior to this real rain event, we have been irrigating, incessantly. So maybe, the combination of the rain and the irrigation will be enough to green up the herbs before first frost. We shall soon see about that.

Historically, we have relied upon the amusing robot weather channel for entertainment and as a prognosticator of virtual rain. Lately, with a hurricane remnant and a cold front colliding overhead, the robot assured us we were all liable to drown in the resulting flash floods. Danger Will Robinson, you are all liable to drown in the widespread flash floods!

The trouble lately, with the robot rain prognostications is, they have not seemed very funny. That's because we needed real rain, not virtual rain. Plus, the irrigation is expensive and potentially virtual.

Here's a spell I just thought up. About the most famous liar ever from these parts is Minister Rover, excepting the slighty more famous Kinglet who is not actually from these parts. So in honor of evil Minister Rover, I, Pistrum the Ray, declare that virtual rain shall from this time on be known as, Rover Rain.

Crumby's Telescope Tomfoolery Notes - Cetus, Your Personal Ancestor?

Crumby! Crumby! Crumby Ovate! Wake Up! Rouse yourself from suckling upon that Ample Bosom!

Whoa! What's happening Lleu Llaw? Are the evil doers attacking me? Where's my dang assault rifle? Here it is!

No, no, no, Crumby. Calm yourself. But not too much. For I have exciting news. I have located a marvel, no less than a hideous leg, belonging to Cetus the amphibian or walking catfish or some monstrous intergrade of amphibian or catfish unknown to science.

Whoa! Bang!

Yikes! Mooooooooooooo!

Ooops. I need to remember to keep the dang safety on. Is anybody shot? Lleu Llaw, are you shot? Are any of you cows, shot?

Some time elapses. During the elapsed time, Crumby the Ovate determines that nobody is, shot. Accidentally, Praise the Goddess.

I'm real sorry about that Lleu Llaw. Uh, oh. Here comes Rayetta.

Crumby Ovate! You are fixing to catch Hell right now!

Crumby Ovate! You better not have shot my cows!

No, no, no, Rayetta! I am entirely innocent! None of the cows got shot! Owwww! What did you do that for Rayetta?

Look at the poor things. They're scared to death. Even Luciferetta is scared to death. Now I shall have to stay out here with them til they calm down. Crumby! You have interrupted my busy schedule and now I have to stay out here and keep the cows calm. What do you have to say for yourself?

Owww! Stop boxing my ears around Rayetta! Owww!

Is that all you have to say for yourself?

I am entirely innocent Rayetta! Owww!

Stop that hollering Crumby! You're liable to stampede the cows!

Then stop boxing me, Rayetta!

Goodness! All righty then! What I have to put up with in these parts! Hmmmm. All righty then. I have regained my composure. So Crumby, what's all the shootin' about?

Er. Someone forgot to put the safety on my assault rifle.

Crumby! Stop that Mammonite Christian double talk or you will get a real ear boxing this minute!

Owwww! Yepper, it was me, Crumby, that forgot to put the safety on, Lovely Druidess Rayetta.

There that's better. See, that's the way a Druid fesses up. Don't you feel better now?

Yepper, I do fell better now, Lovely Druidess Rayetta.

All righty then. What else are you boys up to besides shooting the place up and scaring my poor cows half to death?

Lovely Druidess Rayetta, I, Lleu Llaw Guffes, Lion of the Steady Hand, have beheld one of the terrible huge legs of the great monster of unknown taxonomy, Cetus.

Hmmm. All righty then, since I have to stay our here in the stygian darkness anyway, to keep the cows from galloping around, I may as well listen up. Say more regarding this phenomenal one-legged monster, Lleu Llaw. On the other hand, Crumby, you keep quiet and give me that carbine.

Yes maam.

So then, Lleu Llaw Guffes, Lion of the Steady Hand told the Lovely Druidess Rayetta all that Lleu Llaw and Crumby had discovered in their long study of the creature, Cetus, that very same horrid creature that had almost eaten the naked Andromeda, raw. Crumby, meantime, reflected upon his Druid Training, and fear of another ear boxing, and so reflecting, kept, quiet.

Hmmm. That is all very interesting Lleu Llaw. So you have established that the monster, this Cetus, is capable of swimming about like a fish, but also has the capacity for life on land, no matter how strenuous a terrestrial existence might be, for it.

That is correct, Lovely Druidess Rayetta.

Hmmm. Have you boys thought on the possibility that Cetus could be the veritable ancestor of many of those about us in the environment these days, particularly those faunching around in the US Senate?

No! We have not progressed so far in our thoughts, Lovely Druidess Rayetta.

Course not. But I, the Lovely Druidess Rayetta have, just now. My hypothesis is that this hideous creature, Cetus, is the very Holostean beast that crept landward and eventually spawned Senator Cornyn and Senator Allen among others. What poor unfortunate maiden, sidling near the sea, was suddenly violated by this slimy beast? No, no, no. That is too ridiculous for contemplation. Violation by, at most, a hemi-penis, ridiculous! Besides, there wouldn’t have been any maidens sidling around back then anyway. The time I am considering is long prior to sidling maidens. No, the beast must be parthenogenic, or capable of some ghastly form of self-fertilization. And its offspring, continually dividng themselves like amoebas, have eventually evolved into the horrid little US senators, Allen and Cornyn. What do you boys think about that hypothesis?

I, Lleu Llaw Guffes, support that hypothesis, unreservedly, Lovely Druidess Rayetta.

What about you Crumby?

Are you sure I may I speak up, Rayetta?

Yepper.

Then me too. I, Crumby, agree too, unreservedly. Can I have my carbine back?

No!

Ray’s Thought for the Day - Pet Parades

As is well known, we have some dogs and cats at the CB. Why don’t any of the semi-tame CB dogs ever get to go along on the Promenade for Produce? A great many other dogs get to go, why not ours? Easy that, our dogs would start a fuss. Even the oldest, semi-continent, semi-tame one of our dogs would, start a fuss. How would they start a fuss? Easy that, they would attack the other dogs on promenade parade or steal food. So they don’t get to go. They’d start a fuss.

If you want to learn about the cultures of foreign parts, read suchlike related articles in what passes for the daily newspaper that is probably intermittently delivered to the general vicinity of your doorstep in your parts. Chances are, since the articles are syndicated, you will learn the same stuff from your daily, that I, Ray, learn from mine. A personal observation: the spells in the syndicated articles on foreign culture, seem way more accurate than the science related spells, that are spelled out in that same venue, syndicated newspapers. I know nothing about culture in foreign parts. So the articles may spell virtually anything, real or virtual, and I’m good to go with whatever, because I don’t know any actual facts independent of what I’m reading. That’s why, my opinion is, that the foreign culture articles must be more accurate and factually-based, than the science articles.

The foreign culture article that attracted my attention today was No sale of cats, dogs in Saudi Arabia. The fact is, according to Ms. Donna Abu-Nasr, the author, Saudi Arabia is the only Arab country that restricts pet ownership. Another fact is, “some youths have been buying them (pets) and parading them in public”. So now the government has banned the sale of pets, that might get to go on parade otherwise, in the municipalities of Jiddah and Mecca. Doubtless, especially, the ban applies also to dogs with behavioral agendas similar to those behavioral agendas our CB dogs display. Naturally, all the pet store vendors and veterinarians, in Jiddah and Mecca, are freaking out over the ban. The ban may be bad for their economy.

One part of this interesting article that especially caught my attention was the name of the author, Donna. Remember, I am entirely ignorant when it comes to Muslim culture. I know nothing. But in my opinion, the family names and the Christian names of Muslims are presented in an order reversed to the way our own names are presented. For example, if I was a Muslim, then my name would be, Pistrum Ray. Sallam, all righty then! So that opinion got me to speculating on whether Donna might be kin to some of the other famous Donnas, like Donna Reed, or, Oh! Donna!, or the famous Cheech and Chong, Donna.

Here’s another interesting fact presented in this very interesting and informative article. “Conservative Muslims consider dogs unclean.” How about that? Druids do too, sort of. That’s why we don’t eat them, and only keep them around for company. Ha! We Druids have some common ground with the conservative Muslims after all. I was beginning to wonder if we had any common ground and here we have some common ground to stand on. We should open negotiations. I can’t do that on my own though, open negotiations. The older Druids would have to make that decision. Praise be to the White Goddess in all Her from Three to Five Iterations.

Finally, the most interesting fact of the entire article is this fact. “ Muslim tradition holds that the Prophet Muhammad loved cats - and even let a cat drink from his ablution water before washing himself for prayers.” Good Goddess! A common behavior of the kitty cats indicates more common ground, fer sure!

Ray's Thought for the Day - Promenading Affably

Good Goddess! Surely it is a fact, and not a mere opinion, that no Sun God Trainee, prior to me, Ray, enjoyed such delicious cinnamon buns, ever. Those poor saps had to make do with no telling what compared to my cinnamon buns. Wormy, cursed figs and such, you betchum.

Yes, off I went on the Promenade for Produce. But I was late off the mark and so many dudes and dudettes were there assembled by that late time, that I was made somewhat nervous by the high density of the dudes, dudettes and their pets. But Sun God Training promotes affability. Plus, I required some tomatoes and peppers for tonight's pasta extravaganza and, also I required my delicious cinnamon bun. So I was shopping affably enough when I suddenly espied a group of sedges held captive by one of the vendors. (True it is that a great diversity of both fruits and vegetables are vended at the Promenade, but much else, even sedges are vended. Praise the Goddess, the rub down vendors have learned to avoid me).

So, curious about the little captive sedges, I, Ray, promenaded on over to espy those sedges more closely. And also, to gaze upon a Cuphea which is the marvel that led me on the promenade in the general direction of the sedges in the first place. I had to go past the Cuphea to get to the sedges and had it not been for the Cuphea, I might not have espied the sedges. That said, I engaged the vendor, also an affable fellow, in discourse, both on the topic of the Cuphea and the captive sedges.

These are the facts, not mere opinions, relating to that discourse. The one gallon Cuphea vends for $7.00. Some 4" Cupheas kin to the Cuphea in the one gallon, may be vended anon. The sedges are from a grower in Florida.

So much I learned factually from the affable vendor. Then, observing my keen interest in the captive sedges, the affable vendor pulled off some of the sedge infloresences and presented those to me, affable Ray, as a gift.

Very excited I waxed, and then, with much alacrity, I sped along back to the laboratory. For I was keen to determine what might be the taxonomy of the captive sedges from Florida. Somewhere nearby is a picture of an achene. Hark! It's our old buddy, Scirpus koilolepis, maybe.

So, I have already had a very interesting and delicious time of it for the nonce. And maybe that seed will grow up to be a sedge, adjacent to the bird bath.

Crumby's Telescope Tomfoolery Notes - Cetus, Monster of Mystery

Yep. Cetus the aquatic monster of unknown taxomonic status is both large and confusing. Having located Beta Cetus, that some call Deneb Kaitos, a night or two ago, I felt ready to have another look at such a celestial mystery and monster. So out the twain of us ventured, both Lleu Llaw Guffes and Crumby the Ovate, to espy what we might espy of the hideous creature that would have devoured the beautiful yet naked Andromeda, had not Pegasus the Flying Horse and Perseus come galloping along in the nick of time.

Crumby, do you reckon Deneb Kaitos is the eye of the great amphibious or aquatic monster, or perhaps the opening of its venter shoot?

Well Lleu Llaw, since we haven't seen much of the monster yet, I reckon Deneb Kaitos could be one or the other just as easily. But you bring up an interesting point relative to the life style of this hideous creature. It just about has to be amphibious and not merely aquatic. Andromeda, by all accounts, was chained upon a high prominence well above high tide. So the monster must have had some adaptations for crawling or slithering on up the high prominence.

You know Crumby, Cetus could be a giant walking catfish, its kidneys adapted to water retention in a saline environment, but also blessed with a full complement of organs necessary for visiting a comfort station on land. It would probably have to go to the comfort station immediately upon exiting the saline environment to keep from exploding. So Deneb Kaitos could very well be its venter hole, depending of course, upon which end of Cetus, Deneb Kaitos is situated on.

You surprise me Lleu Llaw. Where did you learn so much about the osmotic regulatory practices and general anatomy of our finny friends?

Much I learned from my cousin, Dylan, who could swim as well as any fish.

Oh! That's right. I forgot your family history for the nonce previous to this nonce. Too bad about Dylan.

Yepper, poor Dylan.

I thought Dylan was your brother.

He may have been my brother, and my son.

How could he be your cousin and your bro, er? Oh, I see. It's a hill folk thing.

Yepper, hill folk. Plus, the ladies would never tell us what the heck was happening in those days.

All righty then Lleu Llaw, I understand. Listen buddy, it's going to be awhile before Cetus rears his ugly head or caudal region, whichever comes up first. So we better look around in Aquarius awhile. According to the out of print Golden Skyguide, the Age of Aquarius will begin in about 600 years so we need to be ready. Look up there. See that little bunch of stars that looks like a kite sort of. We'll go look there first. And then we'll go off to the right aways and espy Messier 2 for awhile. You know Lleu Llaw, since you were kinfolk of Dylan, and the Age of Aquarius may be dawning in just a few hundred years, you could maybe help me to pre-adapt for that eventuality. I could use some gill pouches and maybe a little toe webbing. Say Lleu Llaw, did you know Rayetta already has webbed toes?

She does?

Yepper, Rayetta was raised up when she was little by star-nosed moles. So was my bosom companion Ray, but somehow Ray missed out on the toe webbing.

I bet their real momma didn't tell their real daddy anything either.

Er, let's not go there, Lleu Llaw. Look, there's Zeta. It's a neat one. Hold the great red tube steady now and you can have a looksee.
_____

Later
_____

Lo and behold Crumby, I have espied the eye, or anus of the great monster.

All righty then Lleu Llaw, let us together ascertain which end is which of this horrible beast, Cetus.

Perhaps Crumby, if we are in agreement that Deneb Kaitos indicates the anterior or the posterior, we could then use that information to proceed to the other end of this mysterious and ferocious creature.

Yep. Which way do you reckon the other end lies, Lleu Llaw?

Hmmm. Let us display some wits about ourselves Crumby. The last we heard tell of this creatures antics, it was put off its feed by the timely arrival of both Pegasus the Flying Horse and Perseus the Sun God Trainee.

Uh huh. Let's see. If I was a monstrous amphibian or perhaps a walking catfish and the delicious morsel I had espied was untimely snatched from my slathering jaws, what might I then do? What might I then do? Er.

Here's what I, Lleu Llaw Guffes, Lion of the Steady, would do under those same trying circumstances. First, I would crawl off some where and get a nice drink of fresh water to get myself properly tonic-ed. After that, I would lumber disappointely off towards the sea from which I had come out of in the first place.

That makes a lot of sense Lleu Llaw. So all we need to do is check the lay of the land around Cetus to determine which way he is headed?

Correct Crumby.

All righty then, Aries the Ram is up and to the left. He's a land animal. Aquarius is off to the right and down. So Cetus must be headed left towards the sea. Ha! Deneb Kaitos must be some anterior organ or other.

Yepper, Crumby, Deneb Katos, could be the premaxillary-ethmovomerine block of Cetus, or one of Cetus's hideous occiputs.

Yep. OK. Move the great red tube left, Lleu Llaw until I holler stop. Stop!

Ha! There it is Lleu Llaw, a heterocercal caudal fin characteristic of the holostean fishes. Have a look see.

Yep. Perfect! Now all we need to do is backtrack and espy for legs or fin-like appendages that might serve as legs.

Yep.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Who are the One God Poohbahs?

Now we're starting to get somewhere at last. Remember, the Dowah of Iran and the Kinglet, representing the Mammonite Christians, are going to stage a debate on TV. The subtopic of the debate shall be, "God Talks to Me - No He Doesn't - He Talks to Me, Not You - You Infidel, Heathen, Whichever." To add some tone to the debate, Pope What's His Name has also agreed to participate. In fact, Pope What's His Name is doing some trash talking publicity to scare up some interest in the debate. Plus he's flushing out more potential debate participants on the Muslim side. Trash talk on TV does that, flush out more participants.

So just a minute ago, I, Ray, learned that Pope What's His Name got a big rise out of the Muslim one god poohbahs. So much of a rise, that many of those Muslim poohbahs started hollering and complaining and also naturally got their names and cities of habitation in the newspapers. Hopefully, the Kinglet won't decide they're all evil fascists right away and they will get a chance to participate in the great one god debate before a cluster bomb catches up with them.

Now all some Muslim somebody needs to do is go on the TV and say something especially trashy about Paul's Epistles or Jonah's Great Fish or Whale and I will then know, who among the vast hoards of one god worshipers, shall be the rest of the representative poohbahs for the upcoming one god debate. See, I don't need the Crumby Ovate to tell me this stuff.

Druid News Service (DNS) Newsflash!!!! The Kinglet Speaks - Homeland, Homeland, Uber Alles

Achtung Dumbkopfs! Whoa! I mean, may I have your attention please, my fellow Homelanders. Now listen here, this is your kindly Kinglet opining. I have been working hard today and the work was hard work. But there’s no rest for the wicked so I have some more hard work to do. Like, for example this speech I am fixing to give. Uh, I have an important speech today. And it’s hard work. Er. Where was I. Er, uh, uh, uh, here I am. Yes! Minister Rover wrote this speech for me. So it’s important you pay close attention. What I am about to speechify on is perilous to the Homeland and very scary due to all the evil out there beyond Our Homeland and also because everyone hates us and wants to kill us all. Lemme see. Where’s the start of Rover’s speech he wrote for your kindly Kinglet? Uh, buh-de, buh-de, uh, uh, uh. Here we go.

Today, the homeland is much safer. The Islamic fascists are on the run everywhere. There is no safe refuge for the Islamic fascists anywhere because we are after them everywhere. We are a lot safer than the Islamic fascists. But are we entirely safe? Sadly no, we are not entirely safe. Many of the Islamic fascists are still out there everywhere. Plus, besides the Islamic fascists, there are lots of other kinds of evil people that hate us. They are fascists too, just not Islamic fascists. The important point is, no matter what kind of evil fascists those people are, they hate us and they want to kill us, anyway they can. So we need to get all the other evil fascists on the run everywhere too.

But what happens when we have all the evil fascists everywhere on the run? Imagine that, evil fascists running around everywhere all over the globe. We will need to kill them all and then round up the leftovers, right, and interrogate the leftover evil fascists to find out what the rest of them, that we haven’t managed to kill or round up yet, are up to. Right?

Here’s something really scary. What if the different kinds of evil fascists are all in cahoots everywhere? What if the combined forces of evil fascism are out there all over the globe having meetings, and at the meetings they are telling lies about us behind our backs? Plus, at these same meetings they are planning to kill us all, right? All the evil fascists that attended that meeting that we don’t subsequently kill need to be rounded up and interrogated, obviously. Because, right, they are all fixing to kill us and they also know a bunch of other evil fascists that are fixing to kill us too. So obviously, we need to be able to torture the ones we have captured, the evil fascist prisoners we have captured that were fixing to kill us all, and we need to make them tell our brave interrogators everything they know about the evil fascists that are still out there running around fixing to kill us all. That’s common sense, right?

Did you know that the City of Geneva is geographically situated very close to France, and might as well be a part of France, because almost everyone that lives in Geneva speaks, French? Did you know that the French hold conventions in Geneva? Recently, at one of those conventions, the French concocted a new convention. This relatively new French convention in Geneva threatens Our Homeland. Get this! The French are telling us not to torture prisoners that we have captured. Prisoners that we captured to protect Our Homeland, that were trying to kill us all. And these same prisoners personally know other evil fascists that are on the loose outside the prison and all over the globe that are also trying to kill us all. So the French and some of the French speakers in Geneva are telling us, how to do our business. What a joke that is, right?

Not only are the French telling us how to do our business, they the French, want to arrest all our brave interrogators. They want to arrest all our brave interrogators for torturing evil fascists who have been captured in the very act of trying to kill us all and who personally know thousands of other evil fascists who are fixing to attack Our Homeland or Our Homeland’s globally distributed property and take away Our Rights. What a joke that is, right? Do you think for a single second, that we should pay any attention whatever to French conventions in Geneva? Of course not.

The Homeland is safe, but not entirely safe. Thousands, potentially millions, of evil fascists are still running loose all over the globe. Every one of those evil fascists is out to kill us all. They hate us and they have no respect for Our Homeland or Our Global Property Rights. So when we capture an evil fascist, it is absolutely necessary that our brave interrogators torture that evil fascist. Torturing each and very one of those evil fascists is the only way to make them talk. That’s common sense. And a little common sense is what we need to keep us safe.

Sadly, some sheltering in the safe environment of Our Homeland lack common sense and are sympathetic to the evil fascist murderers. They believe we should just turn the captured evil fascist murderers, the killers of innocent women and children, loose. These evil fascist sympathizers believe the evil fascist prisoners that were fixing to kill us all should be given an airline ticket and maybe a box cutter. Use your common sense. What do you real patriotic Homelanders think a released evil fascist would do with an airline ticket and a box cutter? Use your common sense to think about that!

I, your Kinglet, am working really hard to keep our safe Homeland even safer. But it’s hard work. Especially when fascist sympathizers want to turn all the captured evil fascists loose. Plus, the fascist sympathizers, just like the French, want to arrest our brave interrogators. Ha! None of these fascist sympathizers have any more common sense than a Frenchman. Right? Use you common sense, Homelanders, and help me do the hard work of keeping us safer. God bless the Homeland.
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Yikes! This is Ms. Hope Remains, Ace Reporter for the Druid News Service. For some liberal rebuttal to the Kinglet’s pep talk we have here with us on the relatively safe grounds of Red’s Good Vs. Evil Cow Barn, Dr. Hector Protector, Safety Expert. Dr. Protector, what did you think about the Kinglet’s pep talk?

Well now missy, in my opinion this was the Kinglet’s greatest oration and pep talk ever.

Why’s that Dr. Protector? The Kinglet’s speech really scared me. I was really scared.

Course it scared you sweetie. It scared me too. But I’m in the safety business and the Kinglet showed he understands that the safety business is good for the economy. With thousands, maybe million of evil fascists running loose, and more virtual evil fascists turning to evil fascism every day, there’s no limit on how scared everyone will be. Evil fascists running loose globally spell full employment, stock splits, bigger dividends, mercy, the limits to expansion and growth in the safety industry are virtually limitless. Especially considering all the virtual possibilities for growth and expansion of the industry. The Kinglet has some common sense so he understands the importance of all that, considered globally and virtually.

But goodness gracious sakes alive, Dr. Protector, this is crazy. It’s crazy to think every poor soul outside the Homeland is an evil fascist. It’s crazy to have secret prisons and secret this and secret that and torturing in secret. The US is a democracy for Goddess Sakes, not just a homeland.

Times change missy. You have to consider what’s good for the economy.

All righty then. Thanks a lot Dr. Protector for all that liberal insight. This is Ms. Hope Remains, Ace Reporter, signing off for the DNS. Goddess Bless and watch out for the Wicker Man!