Tuesday, April 7, 2015

I'm Moving to Mars!

This may or may not be news to you, but there's a legitimate movement of VERY well-financed crack-pottery afoot to "establish a permanent human settlement on mars." It's called "Mars One," and it's gotten a bunch of press. 

This isn't some loose affiliation of tin-foil hat wearers on furlough from the psych ward, assembled in the backwoods of Idaho with a few fire crackers and a stash of peanut butter and pilot bread in a cache somewhere ala The Unabomber.

No Siree, Bob.

This is a legitimate, clearly well-funded 501(c)(3) operation with a fancy interactive website; merchandise; a time schedule; feasibility studies; rigorous astronaut preparation programs; and a highly competitive application process. 

Mars One's ultimate goal is to use existing technology to blast a bunch of fucking suicidal freakazoids intrepid space explorers into orbit on a one-way trip to Mars where--seven months after "showering" with wet wipes and eating freeze dried ice cream in zero gravity--they will land on a toxic red rock. There they'll proceed to grow hydroponic cilantro in a network of white pods that look like Storm Trooper helmets from Star Wars. Oh, and they will never see their families or loved ones again, except MAYBE on a Skype call with a seven minute delay. All for the low, low price of eighty six bazillion trillion googleplex of donated dollars. (It's all super practical, obviously).

Earth is SO over, so count me in! I researched the application process and I think I'd make a great candidate. You have to be "intelligent, creative, psychologically stable, and physically healthy." You also need "resiliency, adaptability, curiosity, and resourcefulness." 

Wow, let me count the ways in which I would be PERFECT for this mission. 

First of all, I am HIGHLY psychologically stable. I only take one anti-depressant every day and supplement that with alcohol and pain killers as often as possible. I'm rarely anxious, except every time I fly in an airplane and every time I'm five minutes late for anything. Then I'm positive I'm going to die or someone is going to kill me. I'm sure I'd do fine in a rocket ship, though. 

Second, I'm very curious. When I was a kid, that's how I found out my mom was married before my dad. I went snooping around in her shit and found her old ID from medical school with a different name on it. I was sure it was a typo, until I saw she had actually signed this foreign name in her own hand. I also found her diaphragm the same way, and brought it upstairs during brunch at my aunt and uncle's house in Washington, D.C., asking the assembled group what it was. Seriously, Curious George might as well be my biography.

Third, I'm physically healthy. Although I avoid exercising at all costs, and my diet is abysmal, I weigh myself maniacally each morning to make sure that neither of these failures is slowly making me morbidly obese. I wear only mild corrective lenses for night driving, and have never had a root canal. I'm the picture of good health.

Fourth, I am very resourceful and competent. I can sew a button (poorly) and even change a tire (also poorly). I use duct tape liberally to patch everything. I'm MacGyver and Mars One NEEDS me in the stratosphere. Trust.

Fifth, resiliency. I am woman, hear me roar! Come on. I walked around with two humans in my body for a total of 18 months and had them sucking off my tits for 18 more. I can do anything! Ok, so absent a steady stream of the aforementioned anti-depressants, I break down crying at the slightest provocation. Does that mean I lack resiliency?

Finally, intelligence. Well. PSSSH. That's obvious. Yeah ... my mom had to take Amtrak up to Providence my freshman year of college to help me pass my first semester calculus class by one point. And the T.A. in evolutionary biology the following year said, "maybe this class isn't for you" when I told him I thought the class was about finches, not numbers. And my husband claims I can't add a tip to a check. But still, there's like zero math involved in astronomy, so I should be fine, right?

Mars One can drop the mic on this whole application process. The top applicant is HERE. I'm moving to Mars, bitches! 

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