Monday, July 03, 2006
Space Shuttle my Ass
This whole postponing and re-postponing of space shuttle launches is getting a little old. Either shoot this fucking thing off or not -- no more post-poning.
If our entire space program can be derailed by 1 pound of foam, we screwed up somewhere. Neil Armstrong went to the moon -- the MOON -- in a tin can with the computing power of a wristwatch. If this porcelein-plated glider can't fart its way into orbit, then let's just start all over again from square one, because this is a goddamn embarrassment.
We need a roomful of those guys. You know those guys -- the ones in the button down short-sleeve white shirts with the collars so starched you can slice a tomato, with the pit stains working, five cigarettes in one hand, a slide rule in the other, the bad marriage because they work too much, communist hating, thick glasses ... those old school engineers who eat foam for breakfast and wouldn't postpone a bowel movement let alone a rocket launch.
Those fucking guys.
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If our entire space program can be derailed by 1 pound of foam, we screwed up somewhere. Neil Armstrong went to the moon -- the MOON -- in a tin can with the computing power of a wristwatch. If this porcelein-plated glider can't fart its way into orbit, then let's just start all over again from square one, because this is a goddamn embarrassment.
We need a roomful of those guys. You know those guys -- the ones in the button down short-sleeve white shirts with the collars so starched you can slice a tomato, with the pit stains working, five cigarettes in one hand, a slide rule in the other, the bad marriage because they work too much, communist hating, thick glasses ... those old school engineers who eat foam for breakfast and wouldn't postpone a bowel movement let alone a rocket launch.
Those fucking guys.
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