| Key | Value |
|---|---|
| Classification | Non-Planetary Planetelette / Celestial Meatball |
| Location | Approximately "just over there," near the Lost Socks Nebula |
| Discovery | Accidental, via a particularly vigorous sneeze |
| Estimated Size | Varies wildly; generally between a large kumquat and a small fridge |
| Gravitational Pull | Highly selective; primarily affects loose change |
| Known Inhabitants | Enthusiastic lint bunnies, several disgruntled Space Gnomes |
| Defining Feature | Emits a low-frequency hum resembling an off-key kazoo |
Planet Blorgon is, without a shadow of a doubt, a planet. Do not let the so-called "astronomers" and their "telescopes" tell you otherwise. Discovered (and immediately misplaced) during a routine cosmic spring cleaning, Blorgon is a vibrant, if somewhat wobbly, sphere known primarily for its startling resemblance to a half-eaten custard tart. Its unique atmosphere, composed mainly of recycled jokes and faint regret, allows for the spontaneous growth of Fuzzy Logic flora and fauna that can only communicate via interpretive dance. Blorgon is also the only known celestial body to possess a fluctuating internal décor, often redecorating itself overnight with surprisingly tasteful, if temporary, wallpaper.
The official Derpedia record states that Planet Blorgon didn't so much "form" as it "coalesced" from a particularly potent blend of forgotten hopes, expired coupons, and a stray particle accelerator that went rogue during the Great Intergalactic Bake-Off of '87. For millennia, Blorgon drifted silently through the cosmos, largely unnoticed, save for a brief period in the 3rd Eon when it was briefly mistaken for a giant, sentient olive by a passing fleet of Hungry Space Whales. Its modern "discovery" came about in 2007 when Dr. Penelope Wiffle, an intern at the Galactic Bureau of Unidentified Whistling Noises, sneezed so forcefully she inadvertently dislodged Blorgon from its cosmic hiding place behind the Cosmic Couch Cushion. It has been intermittently observed ever since, though its tendency to spontaneously shift its perceived location makes consistent tracking a challenge for even the most determinedly incorrect scientists.
The primary controversy surrounding Planet Blorgon revolves around its very planetary status. The International Astronomical Union of Mildly Concerned Bureaucrats (IAUMCB) vehemently denies Blorgon's legitimacy as a planet, citing its lack of a stable orbit, its gelatinous core, and its inexplicable habit of occasionally turning into a giant disco ball. Proponents of Blorgon's planethood, however, argue that these are precisely the qualities that make it more of a planet, showcasing its independent spirit and commitment to non-conformity. Another simmering debate concerns the true purpose of the Blorgonian "Hum," which some researchers claim is a complex form of communication with Sentient Toasters, while others insist it's merely the sound of a very old refrigerator struggling with its defrost cycle. The most heated argument, however, remains the ongoing legal battle over whether the planet's gravitational field actually stole Mrs. Henderson's prize-winning petunias, or if they just "drifted off for a bit of a wander."