I Hate The Planet Venus

I hate the planet Venus. It is so smug up there, acting like it owns the sky. Well, it doesn’t.

I hate how Venus thinks it can come out before all the other stars and planets. Evening star, my ass. Don’t get me wrong, I hate the other stars and planets too, but I hate how Venus acts like it’s better than all of them. It’s like it doesn’t put its pants on one leg at a time like the rest of us.

I hate Venus’s dense carbon dioxide atmosphere, its Earth-like composition (obviously, I hate Earth), and its orbit of 224.7 days — what, is it in some kind of hurry? Venus was named for the Roman goddess of love — whom, coincidentally, I hate. I also hate the Roman goddesses of fear, fire, snow, hail, cat fur, and double-entry bookkeeping, but that is a subject for another post.

One time the planet Venus came to my house and took a shit on my lawn. That is not true at all, but I still really hate it.

I hate Venus fly-traps, and I hate Venus razors. I hate intravenous feeding (hospital patients are fatties anyway) and of course I hate the Venus de Milo. I hate Venus Williams, and by extension, Serena Williams, and by extension, Prince William. I hate Kate Middleton, and I hate Camilla Parker-Bowles. I hate royalty, and celebrities, and stars, and planets, which brings me back to my main point: I really, really, really hate Venus.