In other, other news, the software seems to be more stable now. Stress level decreasing. Mmm.
Um. Um. Um. What else? Well, complaining about the heat, of course. Heat index of between 105 and 110 degrees today. Yowza. Clearly, what we need is... giant blocks of ice! Yes, giant blocks of ice, flown in from the poles in gigantic zeppelins, to cool down the countryside in glorious iciness! Think of the glory! Think of the wonder! Think of the giant ice-sculptures!
In other news, woogfaf.
A brief note of mild amusement with the latest shuttle launch. It's a tribute, I suppose, to American engineering that the sucker's so darn durable. Apparently with the latest launch, the list of wackiness included: An electrical failure that knocked out primary engine control computers, a lack of about 4,000 lbs of LOX fuel, and various malfunctioning miscellany. In the first case, the backups promptly kicked in, in the second, they were simply put into a lower orbit than intended, and used the orbiter's own engines to shuffle higher, and the various miscellany (a malfunctioning monitor or two) could just be ignored. Still, that must be at least mildly disturbing for the astronauts, in the same way as you get that gnawing unpleasant feeling in the pit of your stomach when your car starts making faint, odd noises while you're tooling along at 90 on the Interstate.
But hey, no minor malfunctions on the shuttle can match the sheer volume of wackiness on board such cosmic travelling sideshows as Mir, the space station which was not so much a tribute to Russian design as it was a tribute to the ability of Russian crews to find new and intriguing solutions to life-threatening problems using only duct tape and empty vodka bottles. Wether it's jury-rigging a section of ship that's been vented to space, or trying to prevent an electrical fire from melting through the outer hull, you can pretty much count on the Russians to think of something.
It also marks the first shuttle mission to be commanded by a woman, putting us one step closer to the buxom space pirate babes dreamed about since mankind first looked up at the stars and wondered, "Hey, I wonder if there are, like, babes and stuff up there, man? That'd be, like, cool and stuff."
I suppose it's a sign of how much we take the space program for granted that I'm so, well, flippant right there. Or maybe it's because I'm pretty much flippant about everything. But hey, I'm a card-carryin' member of the Planetary Society, so I can sodding well be flippant if I want to be.
Yowza.
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