No Respect for the Little Guy

The little guy is under attack.

Pluto is facing skeptics who, armed with photographs taken by the Hubble Space Telescope and released last week by NASA, want to demote it from its status as one of the nine planets. Some astronomers are saying it belongs in the comet family. Others call it little more than a rock.

This isn’t the first time Pluto’s planetary status has been challenged, but this time the battle is getting a little personal, a little cruel. One scientist called it an “icy little dwarf.”

Nice.

I’m writing in defense of the littlest planet. I must because Pluto simply lacks the great PR some of the other planets have.

Mars has had generations fearing that its big-headed, bug-eyed inhabitants will take over.

Uranus has the prestige of being every little boy’s first dirty joke.

And Saturn has those cool rings and the allure of a different kind of car company.

Pluto, on the other hand, has loser tied to its very name. Its namesake was the Roman god of the dead and counterpart of the Greek god Hades. Eventually both empires collapsed, but when the temperature hits 100, nobody says, “Whew, it’s hot as Pluto outside.”

And, while that thespian Disney dog Goofy starred in “The Goofy Movie,” his comrade Pluto can’t even speak. Coincidence?

Another blow to the Pluto heritage would be too much, especially now when in terms of omnipotence even being a land or a world isn’t enough. Planetary status is being proclaimed willy-nilly by anyone and everyone. I haven’t heard anyone denounce the formation of Planet Reebok, where all the people with athletic prowess allegedly live. And for goodness’ sake, will someone please stop Planet Hollywood before it reproduces again?

We need Pluto. Think of those models we’ve all built for science class. Take Pluto away and you’re left with a lopsided sense of the universe, a notion that could only be damaging to a young mind.

Besides, as the littlest planet and the last to be discovered, Pluto speaks to those of us who will never escape being the baby of the family, who had NBA dreams and jockey genes, who must try harder at everything we attempt.

It’s the solar system’s baby brother, something we can alternately boss around and nurture.

Pluto is the planet that could. It thrives steadfast, now some 2.8 billion miles away from Earth, spinning on its side, taking the hits of outer space debris uncomplainingly. It’s the underdog we can’t help rooting for.

For those science class models, children scramble for just the right round object to portray each planet. Pluto is often a marble. That makes sense. A marble is tiny but tough, an enigmatic swirl of colors that tempt like candy. It fits in any hand. Pluto seems as accessible and familiar as that marble.

Pluto is the yin to Earth’s yang. Any planet that sees itself as the center of the universe needs something to elicit compassion. Frankly, at its size, Jupiter could take us any day.

Pluto has a moon and it spins--sounds like a planet to me. It has lived up to the standards we set up for planethood. Think about Napoleon, Mickey Rooney, Ross Perot. Where would we be without the little guys?