The astronaut story is Page One all over the planet, as you had to figure it would be. The diaper detail clinched it, as did, well, the fact she’s an astronaut. Decades of careful indoctrination have led us to believe that if you are trained to drive a space shuttle, you have the presence of mind not to delaminate over a kinda-sorta love affair.
Ah, well. We may make it to Mars in my lifetime, but we will never come close to discovering the fathomless mysteries of the human heart. Talk about a final frontier.
The astronaut is out on bail at the moment. I hope she’s on suicide watch as well.
Speaking of fathomless mysteries, the book I finished this week, “The Return of the Player,” is hilarious, every bit as funny as “The Player,” but everyone who’s read Michael Tolkin knows to expect that. Near the end the protagonist, Griffin Mill, has a soul-searching conversation with Bill Clinton on Martha’s Vineyard, and the former president tells him:
Like it nor not, there are things learned in bed, and only in bed, that can move a man or woman to something great within themselves. Promiscuity can focus the senses, the faculties of mind and insight. Very few of the people who make a dent on history can get enough of such wisdom from only one bed. And that’s what the American people understand, and in a moment of panic and weakness I didn’t trust them. America has one heart. The American people said all of that to me with every poll that showed them enraged with my enemies. I let them down by not respecting their intelligence. Give them as much of the truth as the world can stand without needing more, get that out of the way, and you deflate your enemies because they’ll be screaming at the American people for not being shocked. And who really wants to be screamed at? I may be depraved, but I, William Jefferson Clinton, am the pure product of America, and the truth is, so is everyone else.
A liberal fantasia, sure, but as a statement of principles, I’ll take it over Ted Haggard’s I am 300 percent heterosexual claims anytime.
The great unreported story of the ex-gay movement: The wives. (At least the ones who aren’t lesbians themselves.)
OK, then. Back to normal, today. The temperature is expected to soar into the teens, school is back in session and I have precisely one day to enjoy the peace and quiet, because tomorrow we’re having some painters come in and rip our lives to shreds. For this, the last difficult painting job in the house, we’re splurging on a pro. It’s the foyer/upstairs hallway, which involves one of those tricky all-the-way-to-the-ceiling-of-the-staircase deals. The household control freak is allowing it, but I’m sure he’ll go around and get all those switchplate screws lined up to 12 o’clock afterward, because otherwise he couldn’t sleep at night. And he’s already done a minor reno ahead of them, removing the ’50s-style doorbell chimes from their alcove, so as to make an “art nook” instead.
“Are you sure you’re heterosexual?” I asked.
He didn’t reply, “300 percent!,” for which I am very grateful. He just kept spackling.
When all this is over, we will have finally driven out the color oatmeal, once the dominant shade of our little GP castle. I can tolerate it on the walls, but when people use it on ceilings I put my foot down. An oatmeal ceiling feels like a Michigan winter sky. Death to oatmeal.
Bloggage today? Not much. I’m a tapped-out soul today, but I will second Lance’s recommendation of Newcritics as a fine new culture blog worth a check-out by all.
Oh, OK, there’s this: I’m a Mac, and I’m a PC … in Japanese! And the best Mac/PC ad yet: Cancel or allow. Requires QuickTime, natch.
MichaelG said on February 7, 2007 at 11:32 am
You go Ted! Three years worth of analysis in three weeks. Just think of those poor chumps who’ve been spending all that time and money on long term analysis for nothing. Now Ted’s going to get a Master’s in Psych on line. Today’s equivalent of the matchbook cover. Then he can do speed analysis like he experienced in Phoenix.
Also, you can bet NASA will be revisiting their psych-eval practices.
LA mary said on February 7, 2007 at 11:49 am
The “Gazette.com” site depressed me. I remember when Colorado Springs was a really nice town. Dobson and Haggard and their gang have trashed it.
Adrianne said on February 7, 2007 at 12:07 pm
The astronaut love triangle is a bonanza for the tabs!
Here are today’s headlines:
From the New York Post: “Astro-nut faces slay-bid rap” and in big letters: LUST IN SPACE
From the New York Daily News: DARK SIDE OF THE LOON
We were tamer: Houston, we have a problem.
brian stouder said on February 7, 2007 at 12:24 pm
Well, in 2001: A Space Odyssey, HAL threw a breaker and then went into self-preservation mode.
Clearly, the troubled astronaut was embarked on an equally futile odyssey. What was she attempting to preserve?
Danny said on February 7, 2007 at 1:06 pm
Adrianne, that NYDN headline cracks me up!
Danny said on February 7, 2007 at 1:11 pm
Oh, and from foxnews:
“Astro’s Family: She’s No-Wak Job”
Connie said on February 7, 2007 at 3:18 pm
I sure would like to hear from the guy in the astronaut story. A wife and two fighting girlfriends? Wow.
Tom W. said on February 7, 2007 at 3:51 pm
4dbirds said on February 7, 2007 at 3:56 pm
This woman is a Navy Captain, a wife, mother, an astronaut, a former valedictorian and otherwise normal person. She has no history of crime or desperate behavior. This is someone who snapped and is probably technically insane. I’m not sure how she will or should be punished, but thank goodness she flubbed her chance to physically harm this other woman. The hurt to her family and friends has already been done.
brian stouder said on February 7, 2007 at 4:11 pm
but thank goodness she flubbed her chance to physically harm this other woman
See – that’s the thing. She was indeed a fighter pilot and all the rest (firearm proficiency, martial arts, survival training); clearly, if she really wanted to kill the other person, then that other person would be dead.
But taking a beebee gun, and then crying because her ‘target’ rolled up her windows and locker her doors – even despite the other gear she had – makes me think that her defense lawyers are going to prevail…and well they should.
Bob said on February 7, 2007 at 6:12 pm
That’s what you get when you let our armed forces get overrun with heterosexuals.
Those people never could manage their sexual impulses, and they jeopardize unit cohesion and morale!
basset said on February 7, 2007 at 11:55 pm
inside every woman there’s a bunny-boiler… you just never know how deep.
John said on February 8, 2007 at 8:49 am
Bob, your skids are greased and you are on the fast track to the bad place! That’s just too funny! And Basset, bunny boilers scare me to death!
MichaelG said on February 8, 2007 at 9:36 am
I think I know what happened to her. It was the cosmic rays that bombarded her while she was in space. Or maybe some other kind of rays. Or something . . .
Thing is, men do this kind of stuff to women all the time and nobody thinks anything about it. This is big news because she’s a woman, because of her position, her trenchcoat, her wig, her diaper and that wonderful picture.
LA mary said on February 8, 2007 at 2:56 pm
Slate magazine’s teaser for the article about the diapered astronaut, “Did He Tell Her He Needed Some Space?”