Gas is Gas is Gas

I recently found out about a certain accepted practice down on Earth that has me a bit confused. Apparently, gazing at the stars is considered romantic.

Call me old fashioned, but I just don’t see what’s so romantic about burning balls of gas. Do you take your dates down to your boiler room to look at your hot water heaters too? I’d like to assume no, but then again, I’m still trying to figure a lot of this stuff out.

In fact, it seems that there’s a lot of misunderstandings about stars in general. Take for instance, “The Lion King,” where the filmmakers would have us believe that stars are actually the kings of the past sent to watch over us. Putting aside my doubt that those in power through a monarchy system have the best interests of the general population in mind, the whole thing is just totally bunk. With the rare exception of Fangledorf the Fabulous and Flabby, whose layers of fat caused him to burn for over 500 years after being ceremoniously launched into space on his 47th birthday, no king has ever become a star.

Perhaps it’s just a problem with the media. If only Hollywood would stop featuring scenes with Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts gazing up into the sky, there wouldn’t be a problem (I’ve never been swayed, though I’ve seen Ape Pope get misty eyed at times). In the future, these movie types should pick a more appropriate butterfly-in-the-stomach inducing scene, like that of a Cape Canaveral Launch. Now THAT’S romance!

And don’t even get me started on sunsets…