Outer Space is the most exclusive country club in the world: "I'm sorry sir, but we maintain a strict dress code on the lunar surface and I simply cannot let you touchdown unless you're wearing a big round glass fishbowl on your head that has loads of tubes sticking out of it. And, as everybody knows, the only reason we landed on the moon is so that our astronauts could research the golfing possibilities (too much rough and absurdly deep bunkers, which is why we never went back).
I briefly joined NASA in the June of 1987, after being told that Houston needed someone with the Right Stuff and the proper footwear to investigate whether or not the rings of Saturn could be turned into a six lane circular bowling alley. But I quit on my first morning when an ugly gang of nosy busybodies in silly uniforms started waving guns in my face, rudely demanding to know who I was and what I was doing there.
Mission Zero-Gravity Skittle must have been top secret because no-one had heard of it. I don't suppose goons like that get clearance for that sort of classified information. Nevertheless, it was unacceptable treatment and I resolved never to go back. Let them win the space race without me, I decided, if they can!
Note: America did in fact win the space race, both the 385,000 kilometer hurdles and the Earth to Jupiter egg and spoon.
Current mood: Light Years Away
I am currently listening to: Gil Scott Heron's "Whitey On The Moon"
I am currently reading: Victor Pelevin's "Amon Ra"
"A rat done bit my sister Nell, and Whitey's on the moon.
Her face and arms began to swell and Whitey's on the moon."
What memories...To this day, I still address my mortgage check to "Whitey on the Moon".
Coincidentally, I'm trying to write the sequel under the working title, "Whitey's in Iraq", for my next album, "The Revolution Will Be Privatized".
Posted by: OutOfContext | May 11, 2007 at 09:22
More Stephenesque genius, right down to the Gil Scott Heron reference.
Posted by: The Crack Young Staff | May 11, 2007 at 11:29