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Friday, August 25, 2006



My Very Exotic Maid Just Showed Up Nude

Well, it's official; Pluto is no longer officially defined as a planet in the scientific community. With that said, here's a fondest tribute to our little purple gerber widow of the celestial spheres; to me and all trans-planetary dreamers you will always be the pie of the sky, with a special poetic bonus as well; the parrot-headed "Extra Tropical"! :)

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My Very Eccentric Mother Just Shanghaied Underappreciated Nanny Pluto
By: Noah Eaton
8/24/06

Once upon a time,
there was a man named Percival Lowell,
who vowed to find that ninth planet,
if it meant never once resting on his laurels,
you see it was long speculated,
that another planet was perturbing Neptune’s orbit,
just like they suspected with Uranus,
and Neptune was discovered by Sir Johann Gottfried.

Lowell passed away amidst the mission,
but on lived his intergalactic pursuit,
astronomers hypothesized coordinates,
perfected each parabola and square root,
then one day in February 1930,
an astronomer named Clyde Tombaugh,
saw an object moving between photographic plates,
and he declared, “Holy smokes!”

Tombaugh moved on the double,
to Harvard College Observatory,
and when the news struck like lightning,
boy, the meeting erupted into a conservatory,
now all the gas gerber needed was a name,
and nominations came pouring in worldwide,
they included Zeus, Perseus and Prometheus,
but they were all denied.

Then one day a write-in candidate,
stood out and took the biscuit,
credited to a grand-niece cuttie,
living in Oxford, England,
yes, her name was Venetia Phair,
she thought the name should be a monogram,
named after the initials of Percival Lowell,
and Pluto became every space cadet’s hologram!

Then her father the Falconer,
forwarded the golden ticket to Professor Turner,
the response was unanimously favorable,
and was officially announced
by Director Vesto Melvin Slipher…

May I introduce to you Pluto,
she’s to baking like painting’s to Pierre Rousseau,
she’s as peppy as Women’s Day in Maputo,
and can broadcast a game like Phil Rizzuto,
but some detractors can be so rude-o,
they’re obsessed with throwing a feud-o,
narrow-mindedly coming to conclude-o,
that it’s orbit under definition is too skewed-o…
.
.
.
You see, some just can’t tolerate it’s right to exist,
since a very long time ago,
who seem to prefer negativity,
like Ann Coulter or Janeane Garofalo,
arguing, “It hangs on the fringe!”,
or “It’s just an object of the Kuiper Belt!”
or better yet, “It has a wonky, peculiar orbit!”,
I think their propaganda smells like rainbow smelt!

The International Astronomers Union say modern observations,
are changing how we view our solar system,
therefore our nomenclature of objects,
should reflect our current rule of thumb,
ah, I’m in complete agreement there,
Lord knows we can’t dwell in the age of Copernicus,
we mustn’t turn our backs from the future,
we must face the truth like Oedipus.

But then they add planets should be re-defined,
as any round object orbiting the sun,
but if the center of gravity is outside the larger object,
does it not make the smaller object a planet, anyone?
And wouldn’t our own moon,
also be considered a planet,
as it retracts from Earth and forms its barycenter,
or even Janet Jackson!

They’re treating our misunderstood Pluto,
like some Trans-Neptunian Object,
after all she’s done for us all these years,
she receives much willful neglect,
inspiring Mickey Mouse’s sensitive canine,
and songs from Christine Lavin and 2 Skinnee J’s,
and the Hugo Award-winning Starship Troopers,
and that whole Space Battleship Yamato craze.

She guides the guardian of the gates of time,
on the anime favorite “Sailor Moon”,
it’s guest-starred on a Bjork album,
Cowboy Bebop, even Doctor Who...

Why all the hate for dearest Pluto,
their views of her are more overcast than Juneau,
a more misunderstood teacher than Giordano Bruno,
she’s just a shy, celestial bird of Juno,
after inspiring Lean Cuisine frozen food-o,
there’s only a gesture of exclude-o,
despite the contradictory public mood-o,
the IAU don’t want to include-o.
.
.
.
Pluto widely influences astrology as well,
ruling death, rebirth and transformation,
asking us to transcend that which we know,
and come out stronger in appreciation,
it governs our reproductive systems,
and all that is undercover and secret,
but if your Pluto is conjunct with Saturn,
oh, be warned Pluto could also be destructive.

Pluto rules the sign of Scorpio,
my Sun, Mercury and Saturn,
the sign of desire, instincts and magnetism,
braiding each rhythmic pattern,
it has multiple natures,
between the vengeful scorpion and the wise eagle,
and the higher-conscious dove,
transforming passions into something peaceful.

Pluto is in the crumbling of every empire,
and every tragic event,
as well as the phoenix of hope that rises,
that accents re-birth as hearts mend,
and in the heart of each Indigo Child,
in the mind of each detective,
who searches for truths among the chaos,
seeking clarity from their perspectives.

Yet some merely like to snub their thumbs,
on their noses daring the lil’ purple’s existence,
loving to mock and laugh and slander,
and never keeping their distance,
Raphael's Astronomical Ephemeris of the Planets' Places,
didn’t even include it on its longitude tables,
stuck back as late as 1975 on Page 39,
dismissed as a hunk of debris fable.

What is the sign of Scorpio,
destined to be ruled by now,
will Mars rule both this sign and Aries,
each day from here on out…

What a poor easy target, that Pluto,
ganging on the underdog like Bluto,
unleashing all their judo,
on our mysterious cousin Pluto,
if only they could construe-o,
a reason for her to be reviewed-o,
but they’d rather like her to be denude-o,
love to boo and collude-o…
.
.
.
Meanwhile the plot thickens,
they want to group Pluto with a new clique,
they call themselves the Plutons,
all with their own unique sort of schtick,
they’re all round Pluto-sized spheres,
beyond the realm of Neptune,
with orbital periods that exceed 200 years,
impugned as an eccentric sort of platoon.

They include Charon,
a fellow moon of Pluto that’s almost inertial,
(No, that’s Charon, not Charo,
you must have fell asleep watching that Geico commerical!)
And then here we have Ceres,
the largest object in the asteroid belt,
orbiting the sun between Mars and Jupiter,
ooh la la, isn’t she svelte.

And finally there’s 2003 UB313,
or better known tentatively as Xena,
some theorize she has a feminine battle cry,
like a laughing hyena,
I can ever imagine the Klingons,
laughing away when we break the story,
that 92% of eighth-graders list that planet,
on their tests as UB-40!

Holy sweet Alaskan asparagus tips,
does Pluto only exist now in those who dream,
like Philip K. Dick of “UBIK”,
and Joseph Michael Straczynski,
am I doomed to crawl into my dryer,
and pretend it’s a spaceship porthole,
and stare at an enlarged boysenberry on a tapestry,
imagining I’ve found you, Planet Pluto.

Now thousands of scientists,
have planet-napped my frigid beauty in Prague,
it’s got me and fellow geeks worked up,
like a bunch of pickerel frogs…

This is an ode to dear Pluto,
long a symbol of controversy on the news shows,
I guess to some it was never born under a halo,
taunting and haunting her like Cujo,
why must some always be so crude-o,
have a preference to seclude-o,
well, you always set my mood-o…

oh dearest...

dearest...

...Pluto...

(Tell your second cousins,
Hygiea, Pallas, Ixion and Vesta,
Varuna, Quaoar, Orcus and Sedna
that I said hi…

…as far as I see it,
you will always be,
the pie of the sky!)


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Extra Tropical
By: Noah Eaton
8/22/06

(Nothing like daydreaming in ¾ time,
like taking a siesta in a tire swing,
being stranded on a sandbar,
living like a gypsy on a bee sting fling.)

Me and my baby were on a tropical contact high,
down on the Pink Beach of the Bahamas,
steel drum symphonies were playing more capriciously,
than can be depicted in any closet drama,
beachcombing these shores like Eleutheran adventurers,
wading in cursive waters the color of candy floss,
inviting as your fantasy fashion photo shoot backdrop,
winking to me more revelling than the finest wine of Alsace.

She was as effervescent as an island’s prime season,
pirouetting upon each shady veranda,
leaving dusty chairs for those with greater reason,
freeing each piece of her heart from memoranda…

…cause she’s counting each of her days as a separate life!

Live your life and forget your age,
not all you see is optical,
breathe in the unforgettable hibiscus,
see how life can be extra tropical…

Extra tropical!
(She shakes me like a hurricane!)
Extra tropical!
(She wears her smiles like a daisy chain!)
Extra tropical!
(Her spunk and poise is contagious!)
Extra tropical!
(It’s so cute when it becomes outrageous!)

Some learn their whole lives to agree with nature,
she must have been born with a leaf of grass on her tongue,
she believes in all of the work of the stars,
youth was never meant to be high-strung,
so she lets her spirit jig like a giddy katydid,
across each hidden side of a summer’s leaf,
she partakes more than tea breaks and banana pancakes,
she leis it on the line if you know what I mean.

She is well aware no instruction book,
ever came supplied with Spaceship Earth,
she just floats amidst the blueberry popsicle skies,
drifting across imagination’s vibrating firth…

……cause she’s counting each of her days as a separate life!

Live your life and forget your age,
not all you see is optical,
breathe in the unforgettable hibiscus,
see how life can be extra tropical…

Extra tropical!
(She shakes me like a hurricane!)
Extra tropical!
(She wears her smiles like a daisy chain!)
Extra tropical!
(Her spunk and poise is contagious!)
Extra tropical!
(It’s so cute when it becomes outrageous!)

(Steel drum solo!)

Wanna take a little joy ride,
hang glide on the bright side,
wanna take a bright vacation,
dedicated to decoration,
belly buster dive into your creation,
acclimate to it like a crustacean,
develop a fixation,
with your inner-space station!

Live your life and forget your age,
not all you see is optical,
breathe in the unforgettable hibiscus,
see how life can be extra tropical…

Extra tropical!
(She shakes me like a hurricane!)
Extra tropical!
(She wears her smiles like a daisy chain!)
Extra tropical!
(Her spunk and poise is contagious!)
Extra tropical!
(It’s so cute when it becomes outrageous!)

(That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it,
that’s my philosophy, believe it if you wish,
building a tree house on the tallest palmetto,
duetting to a macaw’s larking libretto.)


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XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

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