Like "Echidna's Arf", Echidna's Oort has it's origins shrouded in the mysteries of Frank Zappa. Whereas the arf portends doggieness and juxtaposeurs prancing and mincing on the Lido Deck, an Oort, or Oort Cloud as The Pretenders would popularize with their 1987 song "My Heart Is Your Oort Cloud, Baby", is at once in measurable position in space-time and nebulous like a lava jellybean. Coteries of doctoral candidates harrumph their way through narrow, cobblestone streets as they labor to belabor the points.
"Never such a gumshoe has darkened this doorway, or I'm Bob, your uncle", the opposing harrumphers of less sedate and more garrulous natures would say as one of their naysayers, naysaying their nays hither and yon would pass by a water source. Some even took to wearing an octopus on their heads. It was a grim season for hash browns and other indigenous game. Briefly, if not astutely.
Back in the beginning, when beginnings made sense to speak of, spoken-for mistresses and goats would be decorated with runic festoonery. First a plethora of bureaucratic navigation is undertaken by the poor, hapless petitioner. Attention was paid to misspellings of "echidna" and failure to grasp the concept of Monotremes. Unsullied amigos get points for tidiness. Appellations are bandied about and among those initiated and not, not least of which to settle old grudges and snack on disgusting fried foods.
When the stage is fully assembled, a baker's dozen of cornetists play complex, fusion improvisations on Manuel De Visee's works. Since 1998, Velcro shoes were allowed, quiet going on, noisy coming off. After Vatican II, promulgates were required to register their hands and feet at police stations as deadly weapons. Routeing swine pick up any slack crumpled over the mizzenmast. Afore, astern, agape and a yarr ties everything together subliminally, whereupon Paidmasons, a super-super-secret subset of the already secretive Freemasons, perform atheist benedictions upon the gathering crowd.
Like any little green Rosetta, the Oort poofts forth from the Echidna, whole and intact. Dispersal incantations are muttered spontaneously by second year novitiates as gravel is scattered in honor of Dionysus. As with the Arf, spiny spicules wave as if in a wind, the Echidna sways as if to some unheard polka.
The Cloud assembles itself as if guided by Godly hands.