RIP, Neil Armstrong

I saw you that night. Well, at least your leg, shadowy and ill-defined, tentative, feeling your way, and I knew you had actually placed your foot on the moon a couple of times before you actually stepped down and said that phrase. I, and practically everyone else in the world, heard this: "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." And, even at fourteen years old, I knew there was something wrong with that- was it a small step, or a giant leap?

Of course, we now all know the signal was cut out and you actually said..."for a man." Which was poetry, pure poetry. And, if I had heard it correctly, I probably would have swooned. And I'm not given to swooning.

Because the world changed, Neil, right then. It felt like the culmination of history. Even my fourteen year old soul knew it, and I leaped up and ran outside and grabbed my stupid little 60x Sears telescope and swore, SWORE, I saw you and Buzz and the flag right there, on the Sea. We, mankind (a word now despised, Neil), had loosed bonds. Magics had taken over, and it was 1492 and 1621 and 1776 and 1865, all over again. There was no limit. There was no end.

Since then...well.

But it doesn't take anything away from that night. Your night. And yes, yes, thousands got you there but, Neil, you're the one. You're the one who delivered it.

So, on your way to wherever, stop by. Give the flag a shake. Send a little note back to us that, even in the grips of mediocrity, there's still loosed bonds. Still magics.

For all mankind.

Curiosity, with no dead cats

Look at this: we dropped a VW camper bus on the surface of Mars in an extraordinary choreograph of orbit and angle and thrust and parachute.

Still got it.

But Schlub, Schlub, what a waste of time and money! And aren't you the guy who thinks the government should stay out of everything?

Well, the government should stay out of people's lives and ways, of course, but we come together and form a government to take care of certain functions. Like defense. Like commerce.

Like exploration.

How else do we marshal resources and send the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria where no man has gone before? Well, white men, anyway. Where else do you think you're going to find those exotic minerals, previously unknown resources, miracle cures and astounding technology, unless you head out there?

And, besides, contractors put the Curiosity together, not the government; they just asked somebody to do it.  

See what you can do when you dream?

Mazeltov, NASA.

Eat More Chikin'

We Americans sort of listen to your cant while going about our business. Most of what you say is harmless, so you're pretty easy to ignore. But, every once in awhile, you go too far, like threatening a business. And what do we do? Smash shop windows, camp in parks and defecate all over them, scream at your children while blocking your front yard? Burn things?

No. We just show up.

In droves. In legions.

Just like we're going to do in November.

You'll be stunned for weeks.