I grew up in the '60s and '70s -- I was 12 when Americans first landed on The Moon. In those heady days of the space race, everyone --- and I mean everyone --- was excited about the Space Race. Our country was struggling with Civil Rights and an increasingly unpopular war in Vietnam but we still loved our astronauts. They were rock stars, we all knew them by name, we knew their wives' names. Every kid I knew had Apollo models in their bedroom and could name every part of the Saturn V and LEM. We dreamed of the day it would be our time to jump a rocket up to the moon like we were promised by Disneyland, TV, movies, and books.
Then we got to The Moon and collectively we forgot about the Space Program like it was an ex-girlfriend with the clap. Even during the life or death drama of Apollo 13, a million Americans called their TV stations to complain that breaking news about the astronaut's peril interrupted a RE-RUN of "Batman" a show that by that time had been off the air for 3 years.
Apollo ended and only the most die hard nerds maintained any interest in space and NASA became like that VD-ridden ex. A girl who we once loved and was proud of that now we just wanted to go away and was willing to throw a few bucks every now and then out of nostalgia and an half-hearted effort not to seem completely heartless.
By the early 2,000's NASA had become an International joke. The rapidly aging shuttle fleet was end of life and we ended up with the only way for humans to get into space was by hitching a ride with the cash-strapped and technologically backwards ex-Soviets. NASA stopped looking into space and began looking in to how much Methane was coming out of the backsides of cows. They stopped creating technology and started selling it off to India for scrap.
OK, so now we're back, sort of. The SLS is no Saturn V. Cobbled together from used shuttle parts, it has half the lift capacity and 4 times the cost of it's Germanically designed predecessor it's got a few more problems and more duct tape than a deep space vehicle should have ... but, after more than 50 years, we've finally gone further up into space than the distance between San Jose and Bakersfield. We've filled those seats the the right composition of guys with crew-cuts and oppressed peoples and we're headed back to do the first drive-by of the moon since Nixon was in the White House.
I didn't want to get excited about this -- and neither did anyone else on this planet judging by lack luster media coverage -- but I am. NASA, older, seedier, and definitely not the hottie she was when I was in high school is back to try and get my motor running for one more romp in the back seat of my Challenger. Sure she's put on a few pounds, those breasts are saggier, and she's definitely wearing more makeup than Tammy Fae, but I really want to re-live some of the old magic.
But, I'm warning you, NASA, this is your last chance. If you break my heart again, I will not forgive. There is an Asian hottie all warmed up on the launch pad, younger, prettier, and definitely with more staying power who will take your place in a nano-second and don't think I won't let her.
You'd better come through for me this time.
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