I’d love to know how I would discover a new world. I don’t even have a telescope. I have binoculars. But if NASA hasn’t discovered that binocular world, I’d be quite startled. Maybe NASA isn’t real. Just there in name to comfort us. Imagine the scenario if a huge asteroid was heading our way and we didn’t have NASA. Panic on the streets. Looting. Looting of toothbrushes. What? I’m practical. Why loot a TV?
But this isn’t about looting. It’s about an impossible scenario. Naming my own planet. Wow. What an honour. Too good an opportunity not to dick about. I have to do better than what we have now. Just take a gander at these real minor planet names. Racquetball. Hack. TARDIS. D’Haveloose. Wabi-Sabi. Ianfleming. Xiwanggongcheng. Aakashshah. ZZ Top. Jabberwock. Queen’s (yes, with an incorrect apostrophe). Lac d’Orient. Echo. Oaxaca. Cabibbo. Page. Fahrenheit. Bacon (hopefully with bacon trees).
We can do better than this. Well, depends what one means by ‘better’, but yes, you get my picture. What is my picture? Fuzzy? Probably. Hmm. Planet names. What to choose.
I’ll just go for it. Choose a name that makes no sense. A name that would make visitors to the strange, alien world smile. A random assortment of three words, although I don’t think the people in charge of naming planets allow you to use three words. Only one word allowed. Eh, screw ‘em. My world. My rules. It’s name?
The Crimson Honeysuckle.
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Please feel free check out the latest posts from my other two blogs:
The Indelible Life of Me
My Lovely Comb
Pray For Mojo