Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve looked up to Planets as being pretty much the only thing better then Volcanoes, which I also grace with a capital letter simply out of love. I admittedly based much of my love on scale because as a smallish lad, I was impressed by anything bigger then me. In fact, here is a shortened list of my favorite things from childhood in ascending order:
- The Titanic
- A Volcano
It was simply based on size, you see; I was obviously much more fond of my Dad then a Volcano, and there’s no really comparing the two anyway (well except maybe for the time when Steve Jacob and I nailed Dad’s car with a soccer ball and he asked us to stop with the ball but it happened again and he yelled “AM I TALKING TO THE BIRDS” and we ran away and giggled in the little alley, the point of this tale simply being that my Dad ERUPTED, like a Volcano, haha!!). If some scientist came up to me and said my Dad wasn’t my dad, I would be equally angry, because he’s the best, and also, who am I going to borrow money from? So, Pluto, not a plant? No! It’s a Planet, I just spelled that wrong.
Take a look at the sheer unbridled arrogance of these pricks: “Pluto is dead,” says Caltech researcher Mike Brown. Can you believe this guy? Apparently, it is going to be classified as a “dwarf planet,” which is “recognized as the prototype of a new category of trans-Neptunian objects.” Um, fine, well, enjoy your, like, INFINITY trans-Neptunian objects! I decided I need answers straight from a primary source, so since I couldn’t afford a trip to Prague, I got really drunk and pretended to interview Pluto itself (read Pluto’s replies in a deep manly voice because it deserves that and that’s how I made believe it talked).
Dan: This all happened so fast man, are you okay?
Pluto: Eh, you know. One day you’re a planet, and then you’re a dwarf planet. It’s a forced demotion. There’s nothing I can really do, I guess.
D: I bet Neptune is being a real asshole about this, huh?
P: God, you wouldn’t believe it. Like, the other day we were hanging out, and we watched Equilibrium…
D: God, that movie is tight.
P: …Yeah, so we’re watching it, and we got into this really deep conversation about, like, feelings and stuff. And now, today, he’s listening to “Break Stuff” by Limp Bizkit really at an obscene volume, and I guess he’s too cool to hang out all of a sudden.
D: Ugh. Well look man, I gotta bounce, I’m tired, and I got work tomorrow. Thanks for the interview, and I’m really sorry about this whole thing. Good luck man.
P: Are they still gonna teach kids about how I’m the smallest planet and have the coldest surface?
D: (I got kinda choked up) Yeah, dude. Of course.
P: I get it, man. It's cool.
I woke up, and my head hurt really bad. No more planetary status for Pluto… I nursed my hangover, and thought about classifications, and how easily life changes. My job title could interchangeably be Clerk Typist or Lackey, and my car is either the “Deal Sealer,” as I call it, or the “please don’t make me get into that thing again” that everyone else likely refers to it as. You never know exactly what someone else is thinking about you, and life is both precious and vast. One day, when some astronaut rockets into the cosmos, trailing the memories of Old Earth behind her, riding stardust into the soul of change, Pluto will be waiting, a sanctuary, New Earth, its shell falling behind as its Phoenix spirit ascends into Valhalla and it becomes the first brave new home of humanity. That might not make sense to you, man, but it’s a nice thought, right? So that night, I chilled out with some buddies, and popped in Equilibrium, and we had a deep conversation about feelings and stuff. Later, I left the house and walked to my car to drive home, and stopped to look at the sky. I noticed a distant twinkle, a wink of the heavens, and I smiled, and knew what I had to do. Pluto isn’t dead, Mike Brown. You’re dead.