I avidly followed all the early space launches. For example, on Wednesday, May 15, 1963, when I was a high school sophomore, Gordon Cooper lifted off shortly after 8:00 AM for the final Mercury flight. About the time I got home from school that afternoon, he had surpassed Wally Schirra's orbital endurance record. He was on his way to a 34-hour mission in that tiny capsule, taking pictures and adjusting equipment and performing experiments. I stayed glued to the TV for the reports until, around 10:00 that evening, controllers suggested Major Cooper should try to get some sleep. Well, if he's going to sleep, I guess I can too, I remarked, heading off to bed.
Fifty years ago this morning, humans climbed into a vehicle to begin a complex, hazardous, expensive journey all the way to the surface of the moon. They would stay there for less than 22 hours, then hurry home.
I joined 650,000,000 other people in watching the coverage. However, I deliberately did not watch the Lunar Module's landing on television because I knew there were no live TV cameras on the moon. Not yet, anyway. CBS was going to depict what should be happening with a prerecorded animation, but that might not be what was happening, so I retreated to the bedroom and listened to actual transmissions on my transistor radio.
But the LM hadn't actually landed yet, because Neil Armstrong needed another 20 seconds to fly over some boulders to a better landing spot.
Later that evening, I did join my parents in front of the TV to watch the astronauts walk on the moon. Mother and Neil Armstrong both laughed at Buzz Aldrin's quip after he'd started down the ladder:
Five more landings would be made before the end of 1972, but we haven't returned since. Been there, done that.
It's true that if funding comes through, NASA is hoping to fly an updated Apollo vehicle called Orion and land a crew on the moon during the Artemis 3 mission in 2024. That would be in preparation for a possible manned mission to Mars maybe in the mid-2030s. Those are nice places to visit, but you wouldn't want to live there.
It would be dangerous to live there. As Elton John sang in Rocket Man:
Writing in Free Inquiry for June/July 2019, Gregory S. Paul points out, Being in space means every moment being on the verge of death if something goes wrong with the damn oxygen supply. ...All of deep space is chock-full of cosmic rays that will in a few months fry the human brain into permanent dementia and pepper the body with cancers. Never forget, we evolved here on planet Earth, whose magnetic field protects us from said radiation. There is no practical way to shield people in space vehicles that must be lightly constructed. Living on the moon or Mars will require living underground. But watch out for moon and Mars dust; it's pretty toxic stuff comparable to, say, asbestos.
Also, rockets sometimes blow up, and they're extremely expensive. In May, the Trump administration added $1.6 billion to its 2020 budget request for NASA. But rhetoric is really cheap, said Casey Dreier of the Planetary Society. You can evaluate how serious something is by looking at the actual dollars. Looking at this request, it's a nice, welcome bump, but it's not indicative of a serious attempt to land on the moon in 2024. Allowing for inflation, the Apollo program cost 70 times that much. I find it very unlikely that 2024 will see a lunar landing with people. It's just not enough.
Why the unexpected shakeup? NASA Administrator Jim Bridenstine would only say it's time for a change. I don't think there's anything that he was not doing. I just think it's time for new leadership. But no permanent replacement was named.
The chair of the House Science Space and Technology committee, Eddie Bernice Johnson (D-Texas), did offer a statement: The Trump administration's ill-defined crash program to land astronauts on the Moon in 2004 was going to be challenging enough to achieve under the best of circumstances. Removing experienced engineering leadership ... at such a critical point in time seems misguided at best. The Administrator needs to explain this personnel action, as well as provide an executable program plan accompanied by a credible budget if Congress is to have any basis for supporting the President's Moon initiative.
What about the next dream, sending people to Mars to colonize it and save our species? That is an escapist elitist fantasy, writes Gregory S. Paul. The remote colony would be perpetually vulnerable to political strife and autocracy. Even in the incredible event that the fantastic funds needed to conduct the hyper-risky effort to terraform the planet actually worked out, Mars would be a rump human habitat that would do little to save the species if our homeworld goes belly-up.
Paul offers two recommendations. First, deal with the one spaceship we already have, our planet. If we can't make it here on Earth, we can't make it anywhere. Secondly, if conscious minds do go to Mars, they should be artificial minds that don't need oxygen and can get to space cheaply and safely and be resistant to the radiation.
The robots already living on the red planet are sending back pictures and data that are almost as good as being there. Couldn't humans join them? Ain't happening, folks, writes Paul. It never will be practical in terms of cost and safety.
For the 1965 Beatles album Rubber Soul, Paul McCartney wrote a song addressed to a girl who went away and now refuses to even answer the phone.
Though the days are few
The opening line of the lyric always catches my attention. People nowadays would complain, When I try to phone you, my call goes to voice mail.
People back then would have said, When I call, all I get is a busy signal. Bzz, bzz, bzz, bzz.
But McCartney, being British, could write a much more poetic iambic version: When I call you up, your line's engaged.
A newspaper cartoonist needs to come up with a brief gag every day, and for this one Dan required help from his pal James (who got a hat tip).
I'm almost too young (!) to understand why a calypso singer is confronting a seagull. A 36-year-old Dirty Harry movie is the source of Go ahead, make my day. Three decades before that, The Banana Boat Song a Jamaican work ditty beginning Day-o! Day-o! Daylight come and me want go home was recorded by Harry Belafonte way back in 1955.
Joke references are getting older and older, though not to the degree of Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?
When two people need to communicate with each other but speak different languages, an interpreter is required.
The job: listen to what one person says in one language, then turn to the other person and repeat it in the other language, then vice versa. But how accurate must the translation be?
Having recently run across two TV comedy bits about such go-betweens, I've tried to make their all-English scripts easier to read.
In the first sketch, An Interview with Juan Lee, the intepreter does Juan a favor by taking major liberties with his unfiltered frankness. But in the second sketch, the translator is stubbornly literal.
Fundamentalists claim that the United States is a Christian nation. Thats true in one sense: more Americans identify themselves as Christians than as members of any other faith.
However, the United States is not a Christian political entity. Our Constitution never mentions God, and it prohibits the endorsement of any official religion. Most of the founding fathers were Deists, not Christians. They acknowledged Natures God, not Jesus. The Treaty with Tripoli, negotiated by George Washingtons administration and approved unanimously by the Senate in 1797, reassured Muslims that the government of the United States is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion.
Not only that, the very birth of our nation 233 years ago was a direct act of disobedience to Scripture.
In 1776, Americans rejected divinely established authority. They rebelled against George III, by the grace of God the King of Great Britain. They asserted that the people have the right to invent their own form of government organizing it not according to Gods plan but according to mans own ideas, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.
This Declaration of Independence can be seen as a great sin against God. Author John J. Dunphy has collected numerous proofs from the Bible:
In rebelling against the King and his royal governors, the Founding Fathers rebelled against God and against the authority He had established.
To explain themselves, they felt a need to publish a Declaration. Did they publish it out of respect to God, whose rules they were deliberately breaking? No, they published their Declaration out of respect to humanity, or as Jefferson put it, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind.
Therefore, we are not a Christian nation. We are a humanist nation.
Left: My mother's brother Ralph married Esther Rauschenberger in Ann Arbor, Michigan, on this date in 1932. Right: Thirty-four years later, they posed for my Polaroid on the walk in front of my grandmother's house in Cambridge, Ohio.
Ralph became a publishing executive. His story is this month's 100 Moons article.
I never knew all the details of this story. Lets say that it took place in a small Kentucky diner on a hot day in the early 1940s, before air conditioning became widespread.
My newly married parents were looking over the menu. Someone inquired about the soup of the day.
The response from the cook became a family joke forever after:
Thoup?! In the thummertime?
Los Angeles writer Josh Fruhlinger stages comedy shows. He posts: Our next featured performer for this week's Internet Read Aloud: Sarah Mowrey! Sarah uses their wild energy and dark sense of humor to construct jokes about dating and mental illness. They have been featured at The Drop Comedy Club....
Wait a moment. Their? They? Plural pronouns? Is Sarah Mowrey the name of a group of comics, like Second City?
Choosing one's own pronouns is getting confusing.
I think we should all just be it.
When a comedian delivers an obvious punch line, his audience will laugh, even if the joke doesn't make sense.
Two weeks ago, Bill Maher gave a commencement address on his HBO show Real Time. I recorded the program as it aired live.
Apparently his script had been provided to both the teleprompter operator and the closed-caption operator, because the captions sometimes appeared even before Bill spoke the words.
He referred to this thousand-dollar-a-year keg party they call a college. The audience may have been puzzled by the incredible bargain only a thousand dollars a year? but they laughed anyway. Having read the captions, I can reveal that the original joke was bigger: Bill was supposed to call it a seventy-thousand-dollar-a-year keg party.
Later he urged each graduate to ironically thank his/her overprotective parents for teaching me that any thought, word, or action, or feelings I had, was unfair. There were a few confused giggles. Our parents took a dim view of all our feelings?
According to the script, he had intended to say, Thank you for teaching me that any thought, word, or action that hurt my feelings was unfair. This would have been an allusion to our President, who whines Witch hunt! to any criticism. It would have properly set up the closing dig: Which didn't make me a liberal, it made me Donald Trump.