NOTE TO NASA
When you send somebody into deep space to meet alien life for the first time, don’t send a scientist! They won’t know what to say! Send a poet, because they’re really smart about shit like that.
“Yeah, uh, Houston?
Yeah. I was really wasted on some shrooms I snuck on board and now I’m like, I don’t know where.
I had a blast using everything I could find that was pressurized to shoot my self around the ship in zero gravity. IT IS SO AWESOME!
Anyway, at some point I scarfed all of the food except for that fig paste (yuk!), which I used along with all the empty wrappers to make a gigantic mosaic of Freddy Mercury on the wall.
Actually, it’s only about the top half of his head. Is there any more food, you know, like hidden on this thing?
No worries, you can send some more, right?
I think you can, but I didn’t really pay all that much attention to those videos. I’m sorry, but puh-lease get somebody a little more dynamic to narrate those things. Who was that, Snoozy Van Passoutstein?
Well, that’s tata for now, I suppose.
Oh, wait!
I almost forgot to tell you, we’re almost to Mars! It’s that big flamey thing, right? I know the GPS (navigation computer, whatevs) is supposed to tell me, but after about the hundredth time it said “solar impact imminent” I just had to cut the wires on the speaker. Broken record, amirite?
And don’t send me another one of those nasty-grams full of gobble-dy-gook about “inputting victors” or “apogee whiz” or whatever. If you wanted someone that cared about that, you should have sent a scientist.”
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