According to the eminent astronomer and physicist Moore Patrick, astronomy just isn’t funny anymore. Over the last few decades, Patrick believes, Space and the Universe have become staid, banal, and devoid of mirth.
Moore Patrick, A Grumpy Gus
‘It stopped amusing me after Halley’s Comet was such a disappointment to me in 1986. Up until then, I was always chuckling at the Big Bang, the Moon landings, and the mishaps of various Apollo missions. My merriment did not falter much through the 70s either, even when NASA sent Voyagers 1 and 2 into the Heavens.’
Patrick was so disillusioned by all things cosmic that he decided to do something about it. Last week he was at a particularly low ebb due to the Peserverance Mars Rover and its inability to send back clear and uplifting pictures of the surface of the Red Planet.
Moore Patrick, Space Junkie
‘The pictures sent back to Earth were so grainy and boring. And when the Mars helicopter Ingenuity took off I just felt such deep despair.’
Patrick decided the only way to bring back some fun to proceedings was to write a poem, which is presented as follows.
THE KUIPER BELT
By Moore Patrick
Break’eth the morn to no song at all
Birds with their voices unloud
It rain’eth on I as stood like a fool
An idea it hung like a cloud
My garden a wilt in keenest of dews
Roses with mist like a breath
It rain’eth on them and each of their hues
Till an idea it rose from a Death
Cloaken in black and dark of despair
The grasses of water they felt
It rain’eth the morn as brushing my hair
I thought of a new KUIPER belt
When rains come on fast and thy heart is of cold
Much sorrow may swill at thy heel
Do not timid be but put thee in bold
Thy trouser hast much to conceal
With a new KUIPER belt to fasten in true
Now stand’eth the tallest in pride
May it rain’eth the more in skies melted blue
And banish the sins that I hide
My new KUIPER belt it shine’th through night
Be so kind as to see it so worn
When down is thy mind it must be a sight
To wake’th in pride the next morn
Patrick sits back in his chair and puffs on a large Havana as I conclude my interview with him.
‘More tea?’ says he.
‘When I’ve stopped laughing,’ says I.