I release the following script into the Public Domain. I'd be happy to see anyone produce it. Here it is in .pdf format.
[fountain]
INT. SCIENCE POWER POWERFUL SCIENTIFIC COUNCIL ROOM–DAY
This large, mostly silver and gray mission control center has brightly, multicolored cyberpunk flair on so many gee-wow panels, dials, touch-screen button grids, keyboards and various controls, and large TV displays. The TVs all display space tactical warfare, aerospace or space simulation video game sessions, etc. in progress. Large windows overlook beautiful, well-kept lawns and gardens.
On both sides of a long conference table are TWELVE OFFICIALS, all 45, all male and white, all of them blonde, tweedy and twitchy, all biologically identical. At the head of the table sits OARACK BOBAMA, 53, black, with a dignified if a bit ostentatious demeanor, HON JOLDREN, 71 yet rather youthful for his age, male, white, plucky, optimistic and fairly tweedy, and BARLES CHOLDEN, 68, black, male, bright-eyed and affable. He has a pen in hand and a notepad, which he hastily scribbles notes and doodles on, almost nonstop.
All of them are dressed in dark suits, dress shirts and ties.
BOBAMA is deeply immersed in a space combat simulation on an electronic tablet.
Officials one through twelve simultaneously and gently clear their throats, in a slow, perfectly synchronized rhythmic stutter. Cholden looks at them with unease.
BOBAMA
What? Oh, my apologies gentleman. Ever played this?
The Officials all reply in exactly the same tone, in exactly the same way, with perfect synchronization.
OFFICIALS
We created it.
Cholden becomes a bit panicked, and breaths in sharp, shallow breaths.
BOBAMA
Oh yes, I forget. I didn't create it.
CHOLDEN
Welcome all to the twenty-eighth–
OFFICIALS
Twenty-ninth.
CHOLDEN
Forgive me, but it creeps me out a little bit when you all do that. Do you all really think exactly the same things at the same time?
Bobama resumes his immersion in the video game.
OFFICIAL ONE
No. My apologies. Uh, our apologies.
CHOLDEN
Thank you for the correction, though. Welcome to the twenty-eighth assembly of the SCIENCE POWER POWERFUL SCIENTIFIC COUNCIL. I will take notes for the proceedings for all of us assembled–
He gestures to each person/group he mentions.
CHOLDEN
Mr. President–
BOBAMA
His Guy–
CHOLDEN
(snaps)
Whatever!
He ignores Bobama's stare of scornful indignation. The Officials all smile the exact same pleased smile, and in perfect synchronization, they all lean back and fold their hands behind their heads. Joldren stifles a laugh. Cholden gestures to each attendee as he mentions them.
CHOLDEN
Hohn Joldren, Director of the Office of Science and Technology Policy, myself, Barles Choldren, Administrator of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, and our twelve, uh, trusted Officials. I turn the time over to Mr. President.
Bobama speaks with a slightly menacing tone, slow and insistent.
BOBAMA
His Guy the Super Chief Science Guy.
Cholden rolls his eyes and sighs with weariness. Bobama levels him a mildly punishing stare. Cholden takes a deep breath, resigned.
CHOLDEN
I turn the time over to His Guy the Super Chief Science Guy.
Cholden shows indignant surprise to see that Bobama has apparently not heard him, as Bobama is again immersed in a video game on the tablet. After a long silence punctuated only by sounds from the video game he plays, Bobama is startled by the realization that everyone looks at him expectantly. Bobama assumes a light, chipper tone.
BOBAMA
Right. Uh, sorry. Awesome game, that.
Official Two extends a hand toward the tablet, which zips through the air from Bobama's hands into the Official's hand and vanishes up the Official's sleeve.
BOBAMA
Hey!
OFFICIAL THREE
Your game is saved. Please, Your Guy His Super Chief Science Guy, our business at hand.
BOBAMA
Ah, yes.
There is a long silence.
BOBAMA
And, uh, what was–
Joldren chuckles, while Cholden cuts off the President:
CHOLDEN
The uh, space thingie. Uh, sorry, the–
OFFICIAL FOUR
The New Horizons unmanned craft.
BOBAMA
What?
OFFICIAL FIVE
Our New Horizons space probe has reached Pluto, and we saw those awesome close-up images of Pluto which were beamed back to Earth.
Official Six flicks his hand, and an image of Pluto with the brighter "heart" feature appears on all the monitors.
There's a long pause as Bobama looks at the images. He looks to Cholden expectantly.
CHOLDEN
The most distant planet–
OFFICIAL SEVEN
Dwarf Planet.
CHOLDEN
Uh, yes. Mr. President–
BOBAMA
HIS GUY THE–
CHOLDREN
WHATEVER! Mr. President, that is the newest and highest resolution available image of Pluto, beamed back from–
Bobama is overcome with raptured awe, and speaks like a child.
BOBAMA
Yes, the space thingie.
Bobama stares at the image for a long time, and puzzlement grows on his face.
BOBAMA
But it doesn't even look anything like Mars. Well, sorta.
All the others glance at each other, bewildered.
BOBAMA
Does this make America great?
JOLDREN
Uh, yes, I suppose so, Mr. President.
Bobama is taken by a sudden teenage-like enthusiasm.
BOBAMA
AWESOME!
Everyone looks at each other through a long moment of awkward silence.
BOBAMA
So how do we make sure that the whole world knows that this means we are awesome?
JOLDREN
Well, Mr. President, we could, uh, write some stuff. And publish it somewhere.
Bobama stares at him with expectant enthusiasm.
BOBAMA
Where?
JOLDREN
Uh, maybe a newspaper.
BOBAMA
A newspaper that's also a web site, so that it's interactively awesome?
JOLDREN
Uh, yes, Mr. President.
BOBAMA
AWESOME!
Joldren hides his face and chuckles. Cholden and the Officals look at each other, bewildered.
BOBAMA
Well, what will we say?
JOLDREN
That we have now visited all of the planets and dwarf planets in our solar system, and–
The Officals all gently clear their throats, and Joldren breaks off.
OFFICIALS
Actually–
They all break off as Cholden emits a terrified squeal.
BOBAMA
Okay, so who is going to write it?
OFFICIALS
Certainly not–
Cholden emits another terrified squeal, covers his ears, stands up, and walks toward an exit.
OFFICIAL EIGHT
Stop it, all of you! I think what they were going to say, Mr. President–
Bobama levels a stare of scorn at him–
OFFICIAL NINE
Begging your pardon, Your Guy His Super Chief Science Guy–no please stay, Mr. Cholden–
Cholden walks through an exit and slams the door behind him.
OFFICIAL TEN
What we all mean to say is that we are certainly not going to write this. We will leave that to Joldren and Cholden. And we were also going to correct you–we have not yet sent spacecraft to all dwarf planets in the solor system…
He trails off, as he notices that Bobama has another computer tablet in hand, and plays "Flappy Bird" on it. Moreover, Joldren plays a game on a tablet of his own. An explosion sound effect comes from both tablets, and Bobama and Joldren both exclaim "Ohh!" in disappointment.
The twelve officials look at each other in dismay.
OFFICIAL ELEVEN
Please, Your Guy His Super–
JOLDREN
What? Oh.
He watches his tablet. He and Bobama both shout "Yes!"
The Officials wait.
JOLDREN
Oh, uh…forget it. Meeting adjourned.
OFFICIAL TWELVE
Quite.
THE END
[/fountain]
Why this? Because Prominent U.S. science leadership (here parodied mercilessly) breathlessly wrote, in a major newspaper, that we ". . . have visited every planet and dwarf planet in our solar system . . ." which statement errs on facts. At this writing, we have sent no spacecraft to Haumea, Makemake, and Eris (all of which are dwarf planets, and the latter substantially larger than, and about three times as distant, as Pluto), and there are at least several other Trans-Neptunian/Kuiper belt objects whose status as Dwarf Planets is proposed/debated. It would be even more extremely incredible to send a probe and get images of Eris than it was to accomplish that for Pluto.