Monday, December 08, 2014

Dude, Where's My Spage Age part !!

This is a followup to my post back then four years ago, when I was so unbusy that I didn't even bothered to do spell check on the title....and therefore, I retained the "Spage" word, which actually, being probably drunk back then, typed as fast as I can to combine two words "space" and "age" and then, followed by moment of sobrierty when I ran out of beer,  typed the word "age" again. 

Writers, most of them, like me, are the stuff squirels are always looking for. It rhymes with "guts". And I purposely made another mistake on the title just for continuity sake. 

Plus, there is no such word as "unbusy".

Anyway, I write this as as sequel because I am thrilled that they (you know who) are going to 
MARS....yes, that lovely place named after the goddam chocolate bar?

You can read more here and to hell with my rant: 

Recalling my original post, after its own hiatus (it spent time in my parents' home) I got back that scaled down version of Concorde aircraft, albeit the landing gear. The tragic history aside, there is so much behind the supersonic innovation that the world is yet to see, though it can never beat the speed of bitching, gossiping and amateur movie reviews.

Much have happened since then, like losing my job, home, you know usual stuff that hits you when you are in your middle age, or approaching one, like a wet underwear thrown from an apartment few floor upwards when you intent to smell fresh air from your own. Or a suicidal cat. Whichever first.
But, the whole space age thing has always been in the back of my mind, if my mind has an ass. It has been expelling gaseous notion about how awesome it would be if space age is as incredible as they promised. Unfortunately, no thanks to my bad long paragraphical incursion into butt related pathetic jokes, most of Universe is indeed just that, lots of fart....I mean, gas.

As of now, there are no signs of life as we know it. Life as we arrogant mofo human beings would term them, you know, the one that look like the creature from the movie ET, or a mutant potato, or both . 

Seriously...one moment they would say, "hey, there's sign of of water, therefore there must be life!" only to have some pix of goddam canals that could have been, indeed, where some sort of water like stuff flowed or where Han Solo and Chewbacca landed when attempting to wrestle the control of Millenium Falcon.

Speaking of airy excursion, remember how George Lucas started his space sagas, (no, not Howard the Duck), which started like this...."Long long ago in a galaxy far far away...."

And John Williams gets away by composing the same theme music for almost three, or more, decades. It was exhilarating for us kids growing up in the 70s/80/s and maybe 90s. 

Aside: Note to my son, "No, Nevin, Pingu the Penguin was not in it....but considering what happened in the 90s, you do have an idea". End of aside.

The love for space, thanks to, maybe, John F. Kennedy who promised that Men (not gals, one of his favourite subjects, apparently) will land on moon in few years after his administration, sparked lots of love letters from Hollywood, including the best of them all, Stanley Kubrick's 2001: Space Odyssey, a gloriously beautiful film which is awesome to look at and is as comprehensible prime minister's budget speech.

Not many of you know there was a sequel to that movie....no, don't google....I told you....okay, go and get a drink or do that 7% solution.

As usual, my rant is this, where is the space age that we were promised? The Jetsons be damned, we were supposed to be up there, getting up in space home, brushing with space toothbrush, doing business in space toilet (the order of these activities can be  changed, like getting up in space toilet, brushing the business off with space toothbrush...etc....)

How long before we can experience this. As I write this, space tourism initiated by that Branson bloke does not look good. Hell, Branson does not look good. Nothing looks good. NASA is about as cheerful as a Bhuddist Simba in his bro's' restaurant hangout.

As I always say in my most useless and most importantly,  pointless blog post endings, it remains to be seen. Or just go along with the goddam conspiracy theorists and agree that they are faking the whole goddam thing. Don't sue me, I am with Simba in that restaurant getting mauled........

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