Messier Galaxy Update

Follows an updated list of Messier galaxies that may be espied under the light polluted skies of Austink assuming a good night and 10" aperture. The reason for this exercise is that I, Crumby Ovate, wanted to espy a good many galaxies without leaving the backyard. Yet nobody wanted to explain to me which galaxies might be bright enough for me to espy from my miserable, light polluted location. So I had to discover the bright ones for myself. Which methodology, after all, is what average amateur astronomy is all about. Bright galaxies added since the previous entry are in bold. These should provide some hope for other average amateur astronomers desiring to see some galaxies from a heavily light polluted site. Also, I am not done hunting for bright ones, yet.

Messier Galaxies:

Spiral:

M 31, M51, M58, M64, M65, M66, M77, M81, M83, M104

Lenticular:

M84, M85, M86

Elliptical:

M32, M49, M59, M60, M87

Irregular:

M82

Lifer

Which would you rather espy, a miserable criminal locked up forever, or a natural history lifer? Most regular people never face this Druid Dichotomy. That’s right. Sadly, free enterprise has yet to capitalize on tours of the prisons that would allow regular people and retards to compile checklists of incarcerated lifers.

Seems like there should be a market by now, especially in the Republic of Tejas (ROT). Yes. Seems like the Mammonites should have figured out that lots of citizens in these parts would pay over plenty of chump change to espy lifers.

Whoa! What an idea! What a potential win-win situation for free enterprise and the ROT way of life!

Yes. Here’s the business model. We need an advertising budget, a bus, a bus driver, a tour guide and access to the lifers. Eventually, we may need a fleet of private luxury jets. All that might be easy. Especially if the prison gets a kickback from the tour. Yes. The prisons and the tour business would need to be in cahoots, a win-win situation. Yes, private enterprise and the state working in cahoots.

Each prison could compile a list of its miserable incarcerated lifers, together with biographies, and supply this to the tour company. Then the tour guide could work up an interesting presentation about the more interesting lifers, even embellishing the gory details. Teasers abstracted from this information could go in the advertising. Mercy! Imagine the kind of interesting information plus lurid imagery that could go in those teasers. Mercy!

Yes. Paying customers, you are fixing to fluff up your life lists for sure. Today we are visiting Huntsville State Penitentiary. Oooh! Consider all these miserable lifers you are fixing to get to check off your life list. Oooh! Just remember though. You can look, but don’t touch. Uh! Don’t get too close. We’re not liable if you get too close.

Ladies and gentlemen. Today we are visiting the illegal Mexican children prison in Williamson County. Yes. The blight on society you are currently espying is known as lifer Baby Jesus. Baby Jesus sneaked into the ROT illegally. You probably should notice that Baby Jesus is too little to work construction. The fact is, Baby Jesus is too little for gainful employment of any sort. So baby Jesus is, at the age of two, already a career criminal. Check Baby Jesus off.

Omega Centauri, Espied at Last

Smothered in the cloying embrace of the Ample Bosoms, I overslept. Yes. Those bosoms must have temporarily deprived me of my senses. Deprived of my normal senses I somehow overslept.

Or, at 4:15 AM I awoke to panic. Something, a large evil doer maybe, had me by the neck. I sat up. Whoa! It’s already 4:15 AM., Crumby. You overslept. Yet the Goddess eventually sent a dream to awaken you.

My dern neck hurt. So as soon as I got out of bed, I took a pain pill right after I urinated. I need to get an economy bottle of those pain pills. Those pain pills are what the doctor ordered for the nose surgery. But those pills are, I have discovered, best employed against the general miseries.

Then, once I took a nice pill, even before I put on any outer garments, I headed over to the parlor window and looked out. There they were, naked celestial bodies. Yes. The sky was clear.

No time to spare. I had to multitask. I drank my Chock Full O’ Nuts instant coffee as I multi-layered into my cold weather average amateur astronomer outfit while simultaneously gathering up all the gear. Then I headed out, with only a small dog for company. Anon, the small dog deserted me. I was entirely alone.

All righty! Previously, in the galaxy search I always forgot about M64, possibly because I confuse it with the invisible M63. Yet those twain are entirely different. Turns out, M64 is visible, or was this morning at about 4:45 AM. M64 is also an easy star hop from Vindemiatrix.

After successfully espying M64, I decided to try for NGC 5053, the faint globular near M53. Nope. Still invisible.

Then I went for M61. This morning, 16 Virgo was naked eye plus spectacles, making for an easy star hop. Trouble is, even so, M61 was only just on the cusp of visibility as a stellar nucleus. After some debate with myself. I didn’t count it.

Neither did I count M98 nor M100. Those twain were invisible.

Hmm. I expect that some of these invisible ones may be visible if they get higher in the sky at an hour further removed from Ogma’s rising. But even then, Crumby, you shall require a very clear night.

I sped over to Corvus at around 5:15 AM. From last night I had learned that M83, the Seashell Galaxy is an easy hop from 1 and 2 Centauri which are an easy hop from Gamma Hydra which is an easy hop from Beta Corvi. All these stars are easy, naked eye this morning.

M83, is just barely north of the Hydra-Centaurus borderline situated in a helpful star triangle visible in the finder. This morning I found M83 just visible in the trusty 40mm plossl and very visible at about 100x in the 12.5mm X-Cel. M83 is nowhere near as bright as M104, but certainly, considering its declination, a bright galaxy from this location.

Now for the really exciting part. Stop hyperventilating Crumby. Breathe normally.

Turns out, just about all of the Centaur is currently visible from the back yard. No ladder is required. An average amateur astronomer just needs to move around a bit to get a tree free view. The fact is, Zeta Centauri is visible just barely above the tree line. Which means, Omega Centauri is also visible barely above the tree line.

Yes. I was scanning the tree line, with my trusty Nikon Superior Elite 10x42s when I first espied Omega Centauri. Shocking! Omega Centauri is huge. I mean like huge. I shall always remember how huge Omega Centauri appeared this morning. The time is 5:56 AM. Omega Centauri, the mightiest of all the globular clusters visible from Earth is sighted from my miserable light polluted backyard. Yes. Omega Centauri is visible even though I had to go out in the open, mine eyes unshielded by the barn, the Hwy 290 and Austink ISD lights blinding bright. Yes. There is Omega Centauri, skimming the tree line.

Telescope Treats or Tribulations

Ever since I espied eight Messier galaxies in one night, I have been longing for another similar night. That’s right. I need and deserve another night similar to that one.

Tonight may be the night I have been longing for. I am all set. The Great Red Tube is collimated. Plus, I put some tape inside the 1.25" adapter. The tape takes some of the slop out. Plus I switched adapters, substituting a one screw for a three screw. Both those adapters have too much slop, but at least the one screw adapter is less pretentious.

Jeez Louise! How is an average amateur astronomer supposed to collimate his or her Newt when the Cheshire, or home made laser collimator, and accordingly all the eps, have wiggle room in the adapter. Jeez Louise!

Anyway, I am officially fixing to approach the Merciful White Goddess with the topic, Merciful WG, I, Crumby Ovate, your faithful yet slavish worshiper, need to have another night similar to the one when I got to espy all those nice galaxies. OK, maybe?

Maybe Crumby. Maybe you have been forgiven for guzzling up all that expensive gin that you found hidden in the freezer. Maybe.

I am very sorry about that gin, WG. But you may understand that when I drank up all that gin, I was under a lot of stress. Yes. I was stressed because of my impending nose operation. I was fearful that something might go wrong and I would never get any more gin. That’s why I drank up all that delicious gin. Now I feel like I have fully atoned for that gin. I have suffered a lot.

All righty then, Crumby, maybe you have suffered a lot. So I promise, you shall have another night like the night you espied the eight Messier galaxies. The type of night you are longing for could be tonight. But maybe not.

Later.

Excellent! The WG has come to my rescue despite the gin. The seeing in these parts is, once again, about as good as it ever gets. Try to remember Crumby. The wind is light and variable. The temperature is in the low 30s. The relative humidity is around 25%. Those conditions are favorable to happy viewing.

All righty. I have fluffed up my Messier list. The newly espied are M68, the very faint globular in Corvus, M82 in Ursa Major, M85 in Coma Berenices, M99 in Virgo and M94 in Canes Venatici. Funny about M82. I have looked and looked for that one, having espied its nearby, brighter companion, M81, several times. Yet tonight, there it was, very long and skinny compared to M81, both in the field of my trusty 40mm plossl. M82, at close to culmination, was perhaps the brightest of the new galaxies espied tonight.

Galaxies that eluded me, or were so faint that I could not in good conscience count them are M63, M95, M96 and M83. M83, as everyone with a lick of sense knows, is fairly close to Omega Centauri. Turns out, I espied some of the stars that are very close to Omega Centauri. However, those stars were behind a tree. Yet as DY3 makes progress, ever higher those stars may ascend relative to me. Omega Centauri may be within my grasp, anon

Omega Centauri

Whoa! I may be able to see Omega Centauri from the back yard one of these days. Truth is, I can espy Canopus, right now. So all the equipment I may need is a ladder.

Hearsay indicates that Omega Centauri is the finest of all the globular clusters visible to average amateur astronomers from Earth. That being so, I need to espy Omega Centauri. I have a goal.

How many humans or proto humans have espied Omega Centauri? No one knows. Perhaps though, a keen eyed proto human or two espied that magnificent globular long ago. Yes. There those proto humans were, up in a tree, gazing at the naked heavenly body of Omega Centauri, wondering what that fuzzy light in the sky implied, and if it was edible.

A Centaur is half man, half horse. Presumably, besides Centaurs there are also Lady Centaurs, also known as Centaurettes. Little is written up on Centaurettes. But we know from what is written in the ancient manuscripts, and also from various artists’ conceptions, that Centaurs have the head, torso and arms of a human plus the body, legs and whanger of a horse. Consequent from such anatomy, Centaurs are extremely interesting and popular.

The most famous Centaur is Chiron. Chiron is a botanist and astronomer. Hearsay has it that Chiron was the first person or hemi-person to organize the stars into constellations. If this is correct, how come the constellations we espy today are generally lacking in botanical nomenclature? Course there is the Sunflower Galaxy. Maybe Chiron named that.

What do Centaurs eat? Are they herbivorous, like horses? Are they omnivorous, like people? To find out, an average amateur scientist might wish to take a long look at a Centaur’s digestive system, beginning with the toofers and winding up at the anus.

But to heck with that. That is way too much trouble, hard work, and nasty to boot. Yuck! That reminds me of my chordate anatomy cat. I actually took my cat home with me to study up on it before the final practical. Yes. I put that stinky old sagitally sectioned cat in the refrigerator. I studied and studied. Mercy! I still flunked the practical. I got mixed up in the middle of it. Then I had a panic attack. Also, apparently, some of the scholars taking the practical moved some of the pins around. That may not have helped.

No. We don’t need to dissect a Centaur. Instead, an average amateur scientist like me can easily speculate on the diet of the Centaur. That’s because I happen to know that horses and I like some of the same foods. What are those foods? Easy that, oats, corn, apples and carrots. As it turns out, your average Centaur thrives on a diet made up of just those four food groups.

Now I need a plan to espy Omega Centauri. The best plan is to charter a rocket ship and fly through the middle of it. A chartered rocket ship is probably unrealistic. Which brings me back to my ladder.

Ray’s Precipitation Summary for DY 2

I, Ray Pistrum, Sun God Trainee, have not religiously kept track of all the miserable precipitation events the Cow Barn was blessed with during the miserable tail end of DY 2. Yet here is the final ballpark sum.

14.75" + 2.20" + in the neighborhood of 0.05" = 17.00".

Correct. In DY 2, a miserable year, the Cow Barn received about 17 inches of precipitation.

If the Mammonites and retards want to turn these parts into a desert, they are going about it the right way.

Now here's Crumby, my bosom companion. Crumby, Have you worked up any ovations for DY 3?

No, bosom companion Ray. I am focused on helping to bring on the rapture. I figure, getting shut of the retards would automatically make DY 3 a great year. Praise the Goddess!

Yepper Crumby. Me too. Praise the Goddess!

The Solstice is Past

The daylight hours are on the increase. A new year, Druid Year 3, or DY 3 for short is here at last. Praise the Goddess. I barely escaped DY 2. Yes. Barely, with reduced functionality.

Here we go. Once more, tiny planet Earth is hurtling through the depths of space. Once more, tiny planet Earth is orbiting along at a good pace. Here we all go. Whee!

OK. Yesterday I was fixing to make some resolutions for DY 3. Alas, I forgot to make any resolutions. Then today I said to myself, Crumby, don’t waste any time on resolutions. Instead, you need to concentrate on helping to bring about the rapture.

Yes. The rapture shall be great. I am 110% in favor of immediate rapture. That’s because rapture promises to rid tiny planet Earth of a significant number of retards.

Hark! Where shall I be when the rapture, er, raptures? Perhaps I shall be seated in my Lazy Boy recliner playing channel roulette. Whoa! What are Fox and Friends up to? Whoa! Rayetta, Ray! Y'all got to come see this. Fox and Friends are going ephemeral. Whoa! Look at that. They are floating, floating above the Fox and Friends couch. They have sprouted tiny wings. There they go. Up, up and away. Never to be seen by mere mortals again. Good!

Or perhaps I shall be out in the backyard, espying naked heavenly bodies. Suddenly the ep fov is filled with retards ascending to the high heavens. There they go. Whee!

Hmm. I bet all the light polluters got raptured. Now I can go around and turn off all the outdoor lighting in these parts. At last, once I get those lights off, and once the airways are cleared of the departed, I may finally get to espy NGC 246.

Yepper. Bring on the rapture.

Retard Republic

Yes. Here we all are, regular people and retards alike. In the Republic of Tejas (ROT), retards outnumber regular people 2 -1. But that’s only in Travis County. Elsewhere, the retards occur at a much higher rate. Like in some counties, the retards fetch in close to 100%. Actually, in some of those counties where the retards make up close to 100% of the population, the actual percentage may be more like 110%. That’s because some of the retards are so retarded they need to count twice.

How does the ruling class keep all the retards entertained? Easy that, the retards, via the Media Conservative are regaled with Lake Levels and Allergy Reports. That’s right. The Lake Levels never change. The Allergy Reports feature “Mountain Cedar” pollen.

One might obviously wonder, maybe, How these parts might go months without precipitation, yet the Lake Levels remain changeless. One might obviously wonder, What is Mountain Cedar?

Needless to say, the questions never get asked. That’s because everyone knows the Lake Levels and the Allergy Reports are designed to entertain the retards. And everyone also knows, that oscillating Lake Levels might freak out the retards. It is way better to keep the Lake Levels at the same constant altitude so the retards won’t freak out. As to Mountain Cedar, well, Mountain Cedar may be a code that only retards can understand.

Druid News Service (DNS): News Flash - ‘Tard to Pray at White Palace

That’s right. The well-known retard, Pastor Rick, gets first grumble over the grub at the White Palace. So what’s unusual about that? Nothing at all. A ‘tard performing the first grub grumble is a tradition at the White Palace, especially lately. Yes. Getting a ‘tard to do the honors is a late tradition. But possibly also an intermittent tradition dating all the way back to, but possibly not including, the early, religiously ambivalent presidents.

That is correct. It is hard to believe that Thomas Jefferson would invite a ‘tard to do his first grub grumble. Hard to believe, but not out of the question.

Turns out, Thomas Jefferson, in common with the ‘tards of his day, was ignorant of the evolutionary processes. Why would a relatively smart fellow like Jefferson be just as ignorant as the ‘tards on such an important topic? Easy that, everybody was a ‘tard on that topic in those days. Ha! Back then, there was no Theory of Evolution. No. All there was at that time was ‘tard tradition reinforced by mass ‘tard opinion.

Yet even back in those days of blissful ignorance, there were those who practiced, even in the absence of Mendelian genetics, selective breeding. Jefferson, a cutting edge intellect of those times, probably practiced some selective breeding, personally.

OK. So maybe Jefferson’s first grub grumbler was in on the rudiments of practical animal husbandry or botanical sexuality. If so, the first grub grumbler prayer probably appealed thusly: Lord God All Mighty, we ask Thee to please make sure, that with a little help from selective breeding, the turkey breasts and English peas shall therefore increase abundantly in size, generation to generation, so that by the time our children’s children, and etc., etc., shall have need of those large turkey breasts and peas, they shall be available in jumbo economy size to all those eager hungry masses, the future offspring of our thrusting, writhing loins. Yes. So that those, our many descendants shall not go hungry, nor lack for protein that turkey breast and peas may, henceforth, always provide the righteous or paying customer. Praise Jesus! A-Men!

Yepper. That prayer at that time may have been every bit as ignorant or even way more ignorant than the artist’s perception of that particular prayer provided above as a typical example. Nevertheless, consider the possibilities for the upcoming invocation. What if, somebody, not a total ‘tard like Rev. Rick, got to give the grumble? What if like a really smart selective breeder got to give it? What if, like a genius person who knew all about sissy breeding gave the grumble?

OK. I have discovered that if I breed two homozygous sissies together, the eventual offspring, nearly every time, is also a homozygous sissy, or two, or three, or maybe a large litter made up entirely of homozygous sissies. Ha! Do you know what that means? Ha! Alas, I can see from your ‘tard expressions, you don’t. No. You have no idea. You are too retarded to understand the significance of my work. Therefore, I pray to God that you shall wise up before it is too late. Praise Jesus! A-Men.

Man Alive! Would that prayer offend a great many, or what?! But in these wicked times we probably could use a prayer that focuses on the economy. Please, please, please, God. Send Jesus back. Yes. But this time, make sure Jesus is like a banker with a solid background in accounting or maybe real estate. Then, once Jesus is back, we can turn over the miserable economy to Jesus. Jesus shall fix the miserable economy.

Praise Jesus! A-Men.

The Kinglet’s Legacy, Part 2

It figures. Off he goes to miserable Iraq, the air conditioned part, frivolously wasting a bunch more of my money. Yes. Kinglet Bush just had to get another lick in, another trip abroad at the tax payer’s expense.

Good Goddess! So the big deal of the trip is, almost getting smacked on his knuckled noggin with chucked shoes. Yes. Mercy! Goddess Knows what that miserable Iraqi shoe chucker is currently suffering. Probably torture.

But back to the Kinglet. Yes. The Kinglet and his legacy. The Kinglet’s legacy shall be the best legacy money can buy. Hopefully though, the ruling class shall not give much back to the Kinglet. Our precious ruling class is like that. Even though Kinglet Bush facilitated the looting of the national treasury, which benefits the rulers greatly, they may not show any gratitude. They may eschew the trickle down. Hopefully, Kinglet Obama shall cut the Bush family out of the welfare for the rich loop. Yes. Hopefully, Kinglet Obama shall make sure the Bush bunch is excluded from subsidies, grants, tax abatements and gifts at the tax payer’s expense. Hopefully, the Bush bunch shall have to spend their own money, not mine, on the legacy.

Yet that appears unlikely. Because, the Kinglet’s Legacy is the Department of Homeland Security, the Patriot Act, wiretapping, torture, Gitmo, Abu Ghraib, imperialism, fascism, a looted national treasury and the rule of the lawless. Quite a legacy. That legacy may endure. That legacy may have some inertia.

Messier Galaxies

All righty then. These are all the Messier galaxies I, Crumby Ovate, have espied in my capacity as average amateur astronomer in the light polluted skies over Austink, hard upon the Hwy. 290 west corridor not far from Spec’s World Class Liquor Store. All these galaxies have passed the light pollution test. A great many other galaxies have flunked the light pollution test. But not these. No. I espied these.

Messier Galaxies:

Spiral:

M31, M51, M58, M65, M66, M77, M81, M104

Lenticular:

M84, M86

Elliptical:

M32, M49, M59, M60, M87

Yet, I am still fixing to figure out why I may espy some galaxies and not others. So far, I have not discerned the necessary pattern. I have not memorized sufficient data, yet. The clouds need to break by Christmas, DY 3, so I may continue acquiring data.

Give Blago 50 Dollars and Let Him Go!

For crying out loud. Here in Americano Land we have just enjoyed the greatest transfer of wealth in the history of the country; the recipients, a few thousand wealthy Republicans. Yes. Those scum, abetted by Kinglet Bush & Associates have utterly looted the national treasury. They have stolen almost all the money and now they are fixing to seize as much of the public land as they can seize before the criminal Bush vacates. And people are pissed off at Blago for fixing to sell a senate seat for chump change. Jeez Louise!

At Least I Tried

Yes. Out I went. Mercy! By 5 AM I was all set up, facing Spica and Corvus. Yet the Moon beamed behind, big time, distracting me. Plus, I kept accidently breathing on all the optical devices.

I fussed and fussed. The Lomos knobs were stiff from the cold. The dern Rigel did not want to cooperate with its calibration. Man! This is the most trouble I have ever had ever with my Rigel, Crumby thought. I couldn’t see Corvus without my spectacles. The nasal fumes emanating from my pollen mask fogged my spectacles up. If I took off the pollen mask my nose hurt from the cold air surging into those twain tortured trills. If I took off my spectacles, I could not see the stars. Either way, the Moon blinded me.

I fussed and fussed. Finally, I may have gotten B230 centered in my trusty yet goofy 40mm plossl. But every time I tried to look around for M68, the optics steamed up. And the dern Moon was like unto a spotlight on me. That particular Moon was overbearing. That Moon was wearing me out. Pretty soon the abject hopelessness of the situation became apparent. No. I shall not espy even M68 this morning. This situation is too miserable.

Yes. The situation was too miserable. So I gave up. Yes. I am a quitter. A dang quitter.

Now my dern nose is totally stopped up. Well not totally. The right trill is doing a little better than the left trill. That left trill is plugged like a dry hole. Waaaaaaaaaaah!

OK. I need to calm down. I need to think positively just like an average Americano dumbass enrolled in a ropes course might think positively. Let’s see. Duh!

OK Crumby. At least you were man enough to be out in the frigid, stygian, wilderness with one of the closest, brightest Moons ever practically rubbing you with its craggy craters. Yes. You were outside, trying to at least do something. Yes. You were out there, working hard at average amateur astronomy, trying to set a good example for all the miserable Americanos tucked into their nice warm beds, dreaming about their personal relationships with the Demon Mammon.

Later.

Ha! I am way better. Has anyone ever played the game, Boogers that look like animal crackers? I have now personally played that interesting game. Here’s how that game is played.

The boogers that look like animal crackers are in your trills. But it is against the rules to blow or sneeze those boogers out. You have to wait until one of those boogers oozes down a ways due to the Force of Gravity that Druids worship as the Great Hermaphroditic Lord or Lordette of Gravity, Upup the Mighty. Then, once it oozes down a bit, you reach in with a Q-Tip. If you are lucky, that booger may stick to the Q-Tip. Ha. Once it sticks you can haul it out, wriggling and bleating.

Turns out, I used this methodology to extract two huge boogers, one from each trill. What animal crackers did they look like? Easy that, they looked like nudibranch animal crackers.

Now I can breathe way better. So there is hope. Hope for the future.

See how positive thinking plus inspired action based on rational thought can help. Actually, the positive thinking is bullshit. But the inspired action based on rational thought or maybe epiphany can help.

All righty then. When may I actually espy some more of those naked celestial objects in the eastern sky? Hmm. Dern. That morning is still Christmas of DY 3. Same as last time I checked. Yikes! On that upcoming Christmas morning, the Moon shall be in Scorpius. What does that celestial event, portend? Ooooooooo!

Functional Endoscopic Sinus Surgery (FESS)

I just had this done to me Tuesday. I have only had to take two pain pills so far, following surgery. The first pain pill was for the dern breathing tube down my throat. The second was for general miserableness as opposed to actual pain. My nose, post operation does not hurt much at all. However, it bleeds every now and then.

My worst post-surgery woe was constipation. Yes. Because I was denied fluids on the morning before the surgery, and I was already a bowel movement behind, I knew I was fixing to wind up constipated, either that, or I would shit all over the place during my operation. Well, apparently I didn’t shit all over the operating room. I got the alternative. It’s like one of those Druid Dichotomies people are always talking about. Which would you rather have, constipation, or shit all over the operating table?

Praise the Goddess, I was spared the embarrassment and probable expense associated with shitting on the operating table. Man, I bet patients shit, fart and piss practically all the time during every operation. And, I bet when that happens, the cost of the operation goes up. Yes. I bet they hire a special team to clean up the mess or suction out the gas. It’s like a hidden, shameful cost of surgery that no one likes to talk about in polite company.

So I have been stressed out over being stove up since before the operation. About the first thing I did when I was fixing to wake up from the anesthesia was check my undears for pay dirt. I was relieved to find no pay dirt and no peepee in my undears. But the flip side was, I was overdue.

Tuesday night I went to bed fully loaded. Stupidly I ate big bowls of Grapenuts cereal with milk and raisins and popcorn, separately, thinking all that might loosen me up. They didn’t. By Wednesday afternoon I was getting desperate. I know what you better do Crumby, I thought to myself. You better drink three cups of coffee in rapid succession.

The three cups of coffee got me going finally and I enjoyed a much-needed ablution. However, during my ablution I strained so hard that a great quantity of blood squirted out my nose. Dang. Fortunately it was just one good squirt, like a horny toad does, or did, when there were horny toads.

Now it is Thursday. The main aggravation now is, I am not allowed to blow my nose. That means clumps of dried blood and snot doogles are infesting my trills. Not only can I not blow my nose, I can’t use my trusty squirt bottle either to clear all the bloody snot doogles out of my trills. I can’t use my trusty squirt bottle until Sunday and I can’t blow my nose until Tuesday. Boo-hoo-hoo. Snort.

All I can use on my nose to try and break up some of the bloody snot doogles is saline nasal spray. It does not help much. Boo-hoo-hoo. Sniff.

As I lay helpless on the operating table, a blue norther blew into Austink bringing about 0.25" of much needed precipitation to the Cow Barn. Now, the sky is clear. The Moon is full and up all night. Yet I wish to espy NGC 4361 in Corvus and M68 and M83 in Hydra tomorrow morning about 5 AM as the Moon shall then be hard upon the western horizon. Trouble is, I am not supposed to lift anything heavier than a milk jug. That would include the Great Red Tube and the Lomo.

Dern it! I won’t have another decent chance at those naked splendors until that greatest of all the Mammmonite holidays, Christmas. Yes. All the Mammonites celebrate the triumph of the Baby Demon Mammon over Baby Jesus on December 25 of the Julian. But I can't wait that long to espy those naked splendors.

OK. I think I am well enough to try for those naked splendors if I dress warm, wear a pollen mask and make sure my head never gets below my heart when I lift what not. Hark. I have decided. I shall try.

Another year, DY 3 is upon the Druids. That's correct. The Solstice is not far off now. Praise the Goddess!

The Virgo Galaxy Cluster - Heh-Heh!!!!

Take heart average amateur astronomers. Even if you stay in a light polluted shithole like Austink, you may espy some galaxies, anyway. Yes. That is correct. There is hope. So take heart.

Only this morning, for example, I personally espied eight Messier galaxies and maybe a couple or three NGCs. And, heh-heh, I didn’t have to leave my yard. Heh-heh. Here’s how all that happened.

Yesterday afternoon, right before I enjoyed a nice nap, I headed out to collimate the Great Red Tube. I made sure it was spot on. Then I took my nap.

During my nap, I dreamed that my personal copy of the Sky Atlas 2000 had an Appendix B sheet featuring a blow up of the Virgo Galaxy Cluster with lots of stars featured down to about 10th magnitude. I don’t know why I forgot I had that resource, but I remembered finally after I dreamed about it, better late than never. Appendix B, as it turns out, is very helpful. Actually, Appendix B, or something similar, is probably essential for navigating around the Virgo Galaxy Cluster.

So when I headed out this morning, around 4:15 AM I toted the Sky Atlas 2000 along with my usual gear. But before I headed out this morning, I had already headed out the previous evening. Yes I needed to espy M37. So let me start my explanation there.

M37 has historically given me lots of trouble. That’s because it does not show in the finder and barely shows in my trusty yet goofy 40mm plossl. A couple of times when I looked for M37, I never found it. When that happens with anything I look for, not just M37, I get really pissed off. Sometimes I get so pissed off I become irrational and hopping mad. It is during those hopping mad episodes that I am liable to injure myself.

But last night I found M37 before I got hopping mad. Taking the finding of M37 fairly easily as a good omen, I decided to check out the Trapezoid. Dern it. I had to use really high magnification to see six stars and even then, one of those stars I had to almost imagine. I took that as a bad omen. But of course, the Moon was bright and I figured the Moon was messing me up. Once the Moon was down, which it would be by 4 AM, I should be OK. So I went to bed with neutral or perhaps slightly positive prospects.

All righty then. These are the Messier galaxies that I espied this morning in the Virgo Galaxy Cluster in the order that I espied them: M60, M59, M58, M87, M84-M86. The last two I espied simultaneously. That’s almost as many galaxies as I have previously espied ever. Plus, those are the six I set out to espy. None of those six were accidents. Plus, I figured out that the unknown galaxy I had espied the previous morning was M60. Heh-Heh!

Espying those six was fairly hard work and by the time I espied M84-M86 it was already 6AM. So I thought, Crumby, Ogma is fixing to arise. Let’s try for those two up in Leo we have never espied previously. Those two should require minimal star hopping. Plus Leo is high in the sky.

Boom! Heh-heh! Easy. M65 and M66 were simultaneously easy. What a good morning! Seeing was good. The fact is I could even imagine that I could espy NGC 3268. But not officially.

That’s eight Messier galaxies in one morning. Heh-heh!

The Virgo Galaxy Cluster, Progress at Last

Yesterday evening I went to a party. At the party I got worked up. I am prone to get worked up when I have an audience. Yes. I am easily overstimulated by my own antics. Once I get all worked up, it may take a couple of days for me to wind down. Consequently, last night I lay fitful upon the Ample Bosoms. Pretty soon my bad leg started hurting. Also, I had gas.

Sleep deserted me. There I lay, moaning pitifully and farting. Pretty soon the air in those parts was redolent with some of the worst farts I have ever personally had the misfortune to encounter. My bad leg ached and ached. I had to do something. Get up Crumby. Get up and head on out.

What could I do to entertain myself at 2:30 AM. Easy that, I could go outside and gaze at the heavenly bodies in all their naked splendor. But first I needed to look out the window. Yes. There they were, naked splendors dimmed only by the horrific light pollution characteristic of these parts and by tree branches.

Uh oh. Nasal fumes condensed upon the window glass. Hold it. Do fart fumes also condense upon the window glass? Yes they do.

Crumby! It is extremely frigid out in the savage wilderness tonight. You should put on as many clothes as you can put on. Yes. Put on all your clothes. Pretty soon I was so laden with clothes I could hardly limp around the parlor.

Then I decided I needed to have a discussion with the WG. Blessed yet beautiful WG, this is your loyal Ovate, Crumby. To protect myself against the frigid, savage wilderness I am fixing to enter into, I have put on all my clothes. Bound up so, plus crippled, I can barely walk. But now I am afeared that I may be easy prey for the large fierce mammals that may decide to sneak up and trample me or afflict me with their antlers. Merciful WG, how can I protect myself from those vast herds of stampeding ungulates?

Fear not Crumby. You smell especially bad. Those are perhaps the stinkiest farts, ever. What have you been eating? Never mind. I don’t want to know. Just realize this Crumby. You shall be perfectly safe from the ungulates. No evil doer of any sort, including the wild ungulates, shall pester you this morning.

Thus reassured by the kindly yet friendly WG I headed out. I had to make two trips before I could get all my gear transported to the desired location. Normally I just need one trip. But the gear that I normally stow in my armpits would not fit. No. The dern clothes took up all that room.

Despite the WG’s assurance that the ungulates would not pester me, I kept on the alert. I could hear them round about, snorting, kicking the chainlink fence, rattling their antlers against the miserable deciduous shrubbery. Dern hoofrats! The biggest one of those monsters has a rack with 26 points. I think he must have got irradiated.

There I was, under the stars with only ten tons of venison for company. There I was, almost inert, freezing. Before heading over to the Virgo Galaxy Cluster proper, I tried for M63 and M94 again. No luck. Dang it!

Yet there is always hope. Which galaxy in the Virgo Galaxy Cluster has stars nearby that might appear in the finder? Easy that, M49 is the best example of just such a heavenly body. Anon, there M49 was, a hazy spot situated between twain sixth magnitude stars. Ha!

Then also I probably espied the bright core of nearby NGC 4526, sandwiched between two 7th magnitude stars.

OK. Back to the middle. I searched midway between Deneloba and Vindemiatrix to no avail. Waaaah! I was cold. I wanted to espy more galaxies.

OK. Maybe I should search closer to Vindemiatrix. That did it. I found one more hazy spot closer to Vindemiatrix. Trouble is, I don’t know which galaxy, or hazy spot I espied.

Tomorrow morning may be clear too. Yet not as cold. Yes. I now have lots of hope.

The Kinglet’s Legacy, Part 1

Just about everyone shall rejoice when the reigning Kinglet is out of the White Palace at last. Yes. Many shall jump and shout with joy. Me too. Actually, I am too crippled up to jump. However, once that great day comes at last, I shall hobble around in a circle at a good pace and shout.

Also, Red’s Good Vs. Evil Cow Barn wishes to make it clear to the Kinglet, plus his hoards of relatives and minions, You bunch are not welcome at the Cow Barn. Don’t come around here. That is correct. Don’t any of you candy asses even set foot in the bar ditch out front. Come around and you could get smitten on the noggin with half a cabbage. Why half a cabbage? Easy that, symbolism. The current Kinglet is half a cabbage short of a noggin. Plus, we already ate the other half.

Does anyone living have a foggy notion of what this Kinglet’s core principles are? Hmmm. Let me guess. Feelings, la-de-da, la-de-da. Yes. That must be it. This Kinglet’s core principles are the same difference as his feelings. Doubtless, his feelings would be hurt, these days, were his feelings not buffered against the slings and arrows of outraged fortune. Buffered by what? Easy that, class privilege combined with a looted national treasury. Whom has the loot? Easy that, the Kinglet, his minions, relatives and golf buddies have the loot.

Yes. The Kinglet felt like his crowd had long been denied free and easy access to the national treasury. So his main core value consisted of the feeling that he needed to get that access, both for himself and his associates. So that is what he did, get that access.

Thus, having gotten that access, the Kinglet’s principles or feelings are salved. All is OK in the Americano Homeland from the perspective or feelings of the Kinglet. Plus, the Kinglet feels like he liberated 50 million miserable Muslims. How did the Kinglet come up with the number, 50 million? Easy that, he felt like there were probably about 25 million miserable Muslims in miserable Iraq, and about as many in miserable Afghanistan, to whit, 50. And the Kinglet liberated them all. Jeez Louise!

Anon, we shall have a new Kinglet, a smarter Kinglet. Maybe the new Kinglet shall stop appealing to our common sense once he is finally ensconced in the White Palace. That’s my hope. A cessation of his appeals to the mythical common sense would go a long way toward convincing me that the new Kinglet was worth the trouble and expense (three dollars) that I personally lavished on his candidacy.

The fact is, since the election, the new Kinglet, via his appointments, seems to be expressing the useless ideas of the same old ruling class. Yes. The new Kinglet is expressing the ideas and opinions of a corrupt and venal ruling class that is generally out of useful ideas. But I could completely forgive the new Kinglet that trespass, if only if he would cease appealing to common sense.

Yes. The new Kinglet may keep miserable Gitmo going. He may bailout all the gluttonous rich people. He may keep tapping everyone’s phone. He may torture the Bejesus out of the usual suspects. He may keep our brave occupation forces in Iraq and Afghanistan, forever. He may watch haplessly as the next unprecedented natural disaster carries off untold dozens of innocent Americanos. I can forgive him all that, maybe, if he will just quit appealing to my common sense. Jeez Louise!

Now! Getting back to the current Kinglet. At this very nonce he is skulking around the White Palace feeling this or that. Maybe he feels hungry. Maybe he’s thirsty. Maybe he’s horny. There is really no telling which of these core principles is foremost on the mind of our precious current Kinglet. Yet, like everyone else, I weary of considering the current Kinglet.

Instead, I need to consider Mr. Karl Jung. I propose that the feelings of Dr. Jung should be expunged from Americano life. In practice, this would include banning all his books, pamphlets, treatises and all derived books, pamphlets and treatises produced by Jung’s disciples, critics, scholars and what nots. Especially, the process of expunging Jung from Americano life would make illegal, use of the phrase collective consciousness. Also expunged would be 12 step programs, Myers (sic?)-Briggs, GRID, rope courses, team building exercises and especially, common sense.

Why common sense? Easy that, common sense is merely the vulgarization of collective consciousness.

Good Goddess! Please let it be true that the dumbasses are in eclipse. Please let it be true that they shall suffer like dogs at the dog pound. Yes. Dogs at the dog pound are a good simile.

The Virgo Galaxy Cluster, Revisited

Dern it. I meant to get up early. Yet there I was, supine upon the Ample Bosoms. There I lay, dreaming. I was enjoying one of the recurrent dreams I have. In that particular dream, eight elderly sages are providing me with advice on water conservation. The advice is fairly redundant and therefore comforting. Yes. I have lots of redundant yet comforting dreams. Sometimes eight elderly sages are providing advice. Sometimes I am performing redundant chores. Sometimes I am watching ants work.

In any event, these type dreams are so comforting and reassuring that I may not wake up. Which is precisely what happened this morning. Crumby, it is not necessary to flush the commode every time. Nor is it always necessary to wipe the seat if you pee on it. That pee may eventually dry up on its own. Besides, if you wipe up the pee every time, and toss the paper in the toilet, you shall have to flush more often. That wastes water, Crumby. Not to mention, paper.

By the time I shook myself free of the eight elderly water conservation sages, the clock indicated 5:50 AM. By the time I was dressed for the frigid, stygian darkness it was nearly 6 AM. Out I went. By 6:30 AM, Epsilon Virgo was fading fast and I still have not espied a single member of the Virgo Galaxy Cluster. Not one.

The Virgo Galaxy Cluster

Between the stars Deneloba and Vindemiatrix is the famous Virgo Galaxy Cluster.

This morning, early, I limped out into the frigid, stygian darkness. A cold wind blew. Yes. Another dry norther afflicted me. But this time I was prepared. I wore my secret Druid coat. Yes. My secret Druid coat has this characteristic. Once cleansed of most of the pet hair, no cold wind can penetrate that coat or get on my upper buttocks while I am garbed in that particular coat.

Nevertheless, the wind blew so hard that the Great Red Tube did verily shake and quiver. The wind also blew my dolly over in such a fashion that I could have easily been smitten by that dolly. Praise the Goddess, I was spared getting smitten by my dolly.

Spectacles and pollen masks may, as simultaneously employed on the fore-noggin, intermittently blind a person. Here is how that works. The air that circulates in the nasal or sinus region of the noggin is heavily laden with moisture. That moisture laden air of the nasal or sinus region of the noggin, when exhaled, wants to somehow escape out the top of the pollen mask. Once it escapes out of the top of the pollen mask it wants to condense on my spectacles, effectively blinding me. Also, it wants to get on the eps too.

Yes. That is correct. In that circumstance, blinded by nasal exhaust, I am almost helpless, an easy mark for an evil doer fixing to sneak up on me. Fortunately, few evil doers lurk out in the frigid, stygian wilds at that time of the early morning. No. Those evil doers are tucked into their nice warm beds.

Not to make excuses, but despite some effort I have yet to espy a single Virgo Galaxy Cluster galaxy. No. Not even one. So tomorrow morning I shall try again, assuming clear skies and diminished wind.

Sadly, I am fixing to conclude that those galaxies are invisible from these parts. But not just yet.

Yet, I may never espy a galaxy of the Virgo Galaxy Cluster. Not even one.

A Special Movie Review - The Orchestra Wives Versus The Killer Shrews

OK. I got a little bored recently due to poor health keeping me shut in. Naturally I began to play channel roulette on the TV. All of a sudden I came upon Orchestra Wives. The scene I watched is the one where four of the ladies are gossiping and one of the ladies starts telling all the stuff the other ladies have told her about each other. Then the ladies start fussing and fighting. Turns out, one of the ladies is bonking one of the other lady’s husbands which is bad because everybody involved is associated with the orchestra. It’s like a sex at work comedy only everyone is always at work.

Funny. I never thought about wives traveling around with the orchestras of those bygone days. I reckon I always figured all the guys in the orchestra were bachelors or queer, I mean gay. Or, the wives stayed home while the orchestra was on the road.

Anyway, I had to quit on Orchestra Wives because George Montgomery, the famous Dinah Shore’s husband, stars in that particular movie as a trumpet player. Generally, George Montgomery stars in cowboy shows. So I found his role in Orchestra Wives, disturbing.

Pretty soon I found the Killer Shrews. Obviously the killer shrews featured in the movie are dogs made up to look sort of like shrews, maybe. By the time I happened upon The Killer Shrews, some people had somehow fabricated a bunch of oil drums together. I guess the people took the lids off the oil drums, turned the drums upside down and roped the drums together. Then the people somehow got inside the drums. After that the people could go along at a fair pace inside the drums like a turtle. The drums protected the people from the killer shrews. However, a lady inside the drums carelessly allowed a killer shrew to pull her boot off when she stuck her leg too far outside her drum.

That’s all I got to observe of The Killer Shrews. Now though, I am planning on viewing The Killer Shrews in its entirety, some day, if I ever get the chance. But I shall make no such effort regarding The Orchestra Wives.

Boy Howdy! Warm Me Up! Dang!

Yesterday I assembled the Great Red Tube. It needed collimating.

Early this morning the frigid stygian darkness beckoned. I knew that I should put plenty of clothes on including my green, brownie pants. Besides my green, brownie pants these were the garments I put on. A pair of cotton socks. Slip on canvas shoes featuring two holes in each shoe. Undears. Wranglers. T-shirt. Sweatshirt with hood. Trusty wool coat. Gloves. Brrr! I like to froze to death.

These were the naked objects I was fixing to espy. M53, NGC 5053 and M64 in Coma Berenices. M84, M86, M87, and M104 in Virgo. M94 in Canes Venatici.

Now I know. I shall need more clothes on my feet and more clothes on my upper buttocks tomorrow morning. That’s right. More socks. Boots. An upper buttocks covering. I have a plan for my upper buttocks which includes a long coat purchased many moons ago. That coat ought to do the trick. I need to clean the pet hair off that coat. Yes. I shall take some time today to clean the pet hair off that particular coat.

Two of the naked objects I was fixing to espy leapt out at me. These were M104, the famous Sombrero Galaxy, and M53, a globular cluster. The rest of the naked objects did not leap out at me. The fact is, if they are anywhere near as bright as the ones that did leap out at me, I should have espied them too. But they didn’t leap out.

Yes. Tomorrow morning I shall have additional clothes on my feet, plus my upper buttocks shall be properly covered. Then, properly garbed, I can make a leisurely search for those naked objects that so easily eluded me before.

I wonder. Has nudist amateur astronomy ever been anyone’s passion? One might assume that nudist amateur astronomy would be a summer passion. But then there are the Dipterans to consider. Mercy!