A toilet on the International Space Station broke and was out-of-order for two weeks. This almost became a serious problem, as you could imagine (It all floats up there, folks). Luckily Russians were able send up a spare, and quite costly, part on NASA’s space shuttle Discovery. It was successfully replaced yesterday.
The problem when it comes to space stations or any other major feat of science: We always skip over the little things. We’re too busy focused on the rockets, satellites and missions to mars; not the mundane – but essentially critical stuff – like toilets.
My simple, cost-effective recommendation for avoiding another harmful and expensive bathroom breakdown in space: Use the courtesy flush. As we now know, the inside of a cramped shuttle is no place to get careless with what could be a potentially mission-ending BM.
It’s ironic that the new “hippie culture” of my generation – espousing peace, love and respect for the environment – can’t even park their gas guzzling SUVs or camp for two days without disrespecting others and mother earth.
At a music festival my friends and I attended last weekend, dozens of jerks – many sporting “love your neighbor” bumper stickers and messages denouncing America’s greed – willfully and unnecessarily blocked in dozens of other cars in the parking lot for no other reason than they didn’t want to park in the open lots farther away. Some people wound up getting stuck for hours trying to leave Sunday so they could get home in time for work.
It wouldn’t surprise me if the parking violators were some of the same people who left behind hundreds of camp sites riddled with trash.
My recommendation to hypocritical tree-huggers: Solve your littering problem before tackling global warming, and change your bumper stickers to, “I’m an idiot, please forgive me.” That might spare your car some in the event you don’t smarten up.
How many times have you gone to the vet when your pet(s) are acting funny and it turns out to be nothing, or something that would’ve fixed itself with time? Not that you can put a price on your pet’s health, but it gets expensive. That’s why I wish pets could talk. They could let you know when they did or didn’t need medical attention. Not only would it save money, but it would save them a trip to what is essentially their equivalent to animal hell.
“Please God, whatever you do, don’t take me to that guy who put his fingers where only my tongue is allowed to go. I’m just a little backed-up from the leftovers I snatched off the table; that’s all. Give me a few hours, it’ll pass.”