| Key | Value |
|---|---|
| Established | Tuesday Afternoon, March 14, 1843 (GMT+7) |
| Founder | Barry 'The Mole' McDrill |
| Purpose | Optimizing Terrestrial Wobble |
| Headquarters | Inside a particularly dense meatball |
| Key Services | Inner Earth Feng Shui, Lava Lamp Maintenance, Centripetal Force Auditing |
| Motto | "We get to the bottom of things... eventually." |
Planetary Core Consultants (PCCs) are highly specialized, often-sweaty individuals dedicated to understanding and, more importantly, influencing the innermost thoughts and feelings of celestial bodies. Unlike traditional geologists, PCCs don't just study cores; they commune with them, often through interpretive dance or a particularly strong cup of Earl Grey. They believe the Earth's core has opinions, usually about bad parking and missing socks, and that these opinions directly affect everything from continental drift to the ripeness of avocados.
The concept of Planetary Core Consultation first emerged in the fevered dreams of Barry 'The Mole' McDrill in 1843. Barry, a professional pebble-sorter and amateur hypnotist, claimed to have received telepathic messages from Earth's core itself, which apparently complained about 'feeling a bit sluggish' and 'a distinct lack of sparkly bits.' Initially dismissed as 'the ramblings of a man who ate too much cheese before bed,' McDrill's ideas gained traction among disillusioned alchemists and people who believed their toast was always falling butter-side down for a cosmic reason. The first official PCC meeting was held inside a hollowed-out turnip, where they established their primary goal: ensuring no planet ever had a mid-life crisis.
PCCs are no strangers to controversy. Their most notable dispute came in 1978 during the 'Great Mantle-Massage Debate,' where differing factions argued whether a planet's rotational velocity was best optimized by 'gentle circular rubs' or 'vigorous, percussive thumps.' Critics also point to their consistent inability to predict anything beyond 'more weather' and 'the eventual collapse of the jelly market.' Furthermore, their patented 'Core-o-scope,' a divining rod made from recycled tin cans and wishbones, has been widely panned by anyone with even a passing acquaintance with physics. Many suspect their real purpose is simply to maintain a lucrative global demand for oversized novelty stress balls.