I say goddamn! Let’s all do what I am inclined to do: get excited over some astronomical theorizing based off of computer simulations! There ain’t nothing like mathematical calculations postulating about Earth-sized planets to get my nipples leaking mud.
Fare the well, Voyager 1. You’re currently hauling ass through the “magnetic highway”, as you approach the limits of our solar system. Keep in mind our wonderful moments together. Recall, if you will, the time we built your ungrateful ass. Fawn over the concept of being the first object we’ve sent out of our solar system. Dearest regards.
Black holes. I already knew they were bad ass. Turns out, they’re the coldest of motherfuckers. Not only do they gobble up stars, but whilst they do so the stars are all “Jesus Christ, stop, stop!” screaming with little dignity and no resignation.
The cosmos is goddamn impressive for a variety of reasons. One of my favorite examples is its tremendous capacity for destruction. Marauding stars, black holes, and now this: sandstorms that rise up out of a star and friggin’ end it.
As scientists have used their super-technos to discover more and more planets, they’ve come to notice a pattern between the distance of these planets from their stars. At first most thought it was because of an unfavorable smell the stars exuded, but it may turn out to be something more clever. The stars themselves put up barriers. Cosmic bumper bowling.
Check out Kn 61. It’s a planetary nebula that looks like those soap bubbles you can blow with those magical wands they sell at convenience stores and the like. Perhaps the Omnidimensional Creator had a son or daughter who was bored and it gave them the most enormous of soap bubble matter spewing wands. And thus Kronberger 61 was born. Or maybe it’s the remnants of gas that was sent into space by a dying star. I think I like my explanation more.
Enlarge. | Larger. | Pan and Zoomable Version. | Credit: Davide de Martin.
The Triangulum Galaxy is the second-closet spiral galaxy to our own, and yet we can barely see the son of a gun. What’s the reasoning behind that? Our boy (or gal!) the Triangulum Galaxy is small, only half the size of our own Milky Way. Due to that, its light is faint, and gets washed out in the night sky.
Scientists have observed a proto-star shooting water from its poles. This type of righteous action may continue on for thousands of years, and could account for most of the free-floating water in our good old Universe.