A cylindrical projection of Jupiter stitched together from photos taken by the Cassini spacecraft during its December 2000 flyby of the planet.
Can someone confirm for me whether or not the Army Corps of Engineers are salivating over this photo? Is it tempting them, taunting them to pack up all their trinkets — their weirs, flumes, levees, spillways, etc. &mdash and head on over to the gas giant to arrest its whorls and vortices in time and place?
The Giant Red Spot National Park. And no, it's not a dog park.
But as there really is no financial or ecological reason to be creating another national park, landscape astroengineers might just simply construct dentritic hyper-mississipian superstructures — a Jovian Theatrum Machinarum — to funnel its turbulent bands over and under, disrupting their neat parallel formation. Vortices against vortices. Cataracts against cataracts. All colliding and churning to the point when, despite falling short of critical mass and what the laws of physics might have to say otherwise, Jupiter collides in on itself and finally detonates, reborn into a star.
The Star of Fisk. The Star of Pruned? Perhaps there will be a naming competition.