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Pluto, former planet, February 18 1930 - August 24 2006. Died by consensus in Prague, at the fine old age of 76.
Today, August 24, 2006, will forever be known as The Day That Pluto Died. (Much in the same way as August 21, 2006 will forever be known as The Day We Pay Royal Mail For Our Postage Changed.)
You were never much of a planet, but a planet you were, from the time you were spotted wandering across photographic plates, to 'til the votes were counted in Prague and your status reduced to that of "dwarf planet". Forever cold and icy, the first seeds of your demise were sown by the upstart object still officially titled 2003-UB313 (a catchy name if ever there was one), affectionately known as "Xena". How could you be a planet, they questioned, when there's something bigger than you out there that we can't call a planet yet?
You almost made it, but a final amendment calling for planets to clear all before their path cast you down, finally, to your new lowly status. Textbooks and web pages will be ripped up overnight, and only the curator of the New York Natural History Museum will rest easy, haven stricken you from his display long ago.
Pluto leaves a large family of Plutonians, who shall be a fitting memorial to their forbear.
No flowers.
( My own take on Pluto )
Today, August 24, 2006, will forever be known as The Day That Pluto Died. (Much in the same way as August 21, 2006 will forever be known as The Day We Pay Royal Mail For Our Postage Changed.)
You were never much of a planet, but a planet you were, from the time you were spotted wandering across photographic plates, to 'til the votes were counted in Prague and your status reduced to that of "dwarf planet". Forever cold and icy, the first seeds of your demise were sown by the upstart object still officially titled 2003-UB313 (a catchy name if ever there was one), affectionately known as "Xena". How could you be a planet, they questioned, when there's something bigger than you out there that we can't call a planet yet?
You almost made it, but a final amendment calling for planets to clear all before their path cast you down, finally, to your new lowly status. Textbooks and web pages will be ripped up overnight, and only the curator of the New York Natural History Museum will rest easy, haven stricken you from his display long ago.
Pluto leaves a large family of Plutonians, who shall be a fitting memorial to their forbear.
No flowers.
( My own take on Pluto )
