Is “little planet.” Or maybe, “little planet planet.” (I’ve been changing it back and forth. I’ve also tried “little person planet.”)
I wish we could all get along.
Of course, if you want celestial gang wars, there’s always the Aries vs. Scorpio thing. Or whether or not one should pronounce Uranus so it sounds like an anatomical term—or use the modern, less pun-friendly variant.
I prefer to find out which of my friends have science backgrounds, and then relentlessly analyze their behavior in terms of what their sun signs are, just as Count Linguist, upon being asked why he likes to visit dictatorships, answers “because they make the best uniforms,” and keeps repeating it over and over until one gives up and laughs. (I usually break around 3:00 a.m., FWIW.)
“The fault, Dear Brutus . . . . ” That’s it. It’s us. Us, us, and more of us.
I am the man on the rack.
I am the man who puts the man on the rack.
I am the man who watches the man put the man on the rack.
—Thom Gunn, “Jack Straw’s Castle”
UPDATE: Really: where did I think I was going with this post? Did I get there?
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