Wed 19 Nov 2008
Space Sexism
Posted by Pasty under Rantish
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Two unrelated and virtually unlinkable stories about female astronauts have been linked, virtually, by yours truly. Together, they form a grim view of the future.
First there was the diaper astronaut lady. We don’t need to talk about her, because there’s nothing left to be said.
But now, oh boy, now we’ve got an active duty female astronaut making headlines with her extra-terrestrial faux-pas.
The conclusion I have come to is that, I’m sorry to say, 2001: A Space Oddysey will not become a reality any time soon. Sure, it’s already 7-going-on-8 years overdue, but I’m starting to worry that we’ll never see it come to fruition. You see, you just can’t have floating space monoliths without incredibly creepy space babies.
It’s a PB&J situation. Basically a peas-and-carrots arrangement.
If our Earth Women don’t start playing their A-game in orbit there will be serious consequences. Such as no space babies, no space colonization, and no interstellar colony ship runs that turn over 3 or 40 generations en route.
I don’t mean to sound like a chauvinist, but our Space Men can handle their tools, so maybe they should be having our Space Babies. So, thanks for the effort, Heidemarie Stefanyshyn-Piper, but next time maybe you should tether your space tools to your space belt and spend a little less time applying your space makeup in the space rear view mirror, am I right fellas?
Ladies, you’ve got a collective reputation to create, and then protect. If you drop your tools the next little astro-gal is gonna have to pick up twice as many moon rocks to get some “space cred”. Cosmochicks are hawt, so let’s avoid a space-based analog to the old shipping superstitions.
If the salty ol’ space swabs ban women from our shuttles then we’ll never be able to sustain an interstellar war across the width and breath of a hundred galaxies!
But maybe there’s hope after all.
My cat Celia catches a lot of flack for being “prickly” or “mean” or “a bitch”, but really she’s a sweetie pie. She’s only sweet to me, and everybody else just picks on her until she totally wigs out and releases her inner Tasmanian devil. To be clear, she only likes me. To be fair, she only likes me because I’m awesomer than everyone else. You’ve read what I write, you know I’m awesome and it’s a quick QED to decree that my cat is an excellent judge of character. 