In the hole he goes.
Let us pray. In the name of the father, the son ... and in the hole he goes. That's all I've got. You want some more? Some hail Marys or something? Try dial-a-prayer. Even agnostics can find reasons to pray. Mine was on the occasion of examining the space craft that will take us on our next interstellar tour, yet to be named, tentatively slated for early this summer. To call this vehicle ramshackle is to curse it with false praise; I'm guessing this thing never got to the top of the troposphere before taking a Boeing-style nose dive. Mitch Macaphee, our mad science advisor, says he can spruce it up a bit, but it's going to take more than a little spruce to make that shitwagon spaceworthy. Try again, Mitch. This enterprise has taken on a bit more urgency since the publication of that image of the Black Hole at the center of galaxy M-87. Our first thought, of course, was that this might be another stop on our tour, another venue. Forget the light-devouring, soul-crush...