Thought "mining lunar regolith for helium-3" was the most shameless scam in the space business?
Look at these graduate students trying to make a big thing of crewed exploration (a few astronauts per mission plus their vehicles, tools and supplies? if that happens, which may well be "never"?) of Mars (144 million km2) polluting that vast desert, and over that premise designing a waste management system without prior knowledge of materials science.
At current launch costs per unit mass (which are not likely to go down dramatically) not only Mars is safe from us but the Moon too. Delta vee goes up like a motherfucker beyond LEO; SpaceX filling our sky with junk is extremely dangerous for us but won't leave archeological evidence on any planetary surface except ours. Sorry if you dreamed of aliens reconstructing our habits from geo picks and bags of shit. That's why we have SF.
Irregular reminder: when an Argentinian beyond a certain age says total normalidad they're being heavily ironic. It was the infamous kicker or volanta above the headline Las Fuerzas Armadas ejercen el gobierno in the Clarín newspaper, the day after the coup of 1976.
A very dear friend gifted me crocs for Christmas. Only thing I ever wear on my feet for reasons, and she knew the ones I was using were at the end of their lifecycle. They were punctured and didn't provide proper electrical isolation in case I stepped on a single drop of water, for one thing.
Problem was, the new ones were black, absolutely not my color (for this kind of thing: a black dress I could wear; black backpack is out of the question), so I had to deface them with spray paint first and then use whatever was at hand: nail polish in my case. As you can see, I'm no artist and I don't care. Purpose is crude personalization. Think of PPE in the middle of nowhere: people judge you for being an asshole, not because you drew a goddamn peace symbol in your helmet.
Opted against wearing them for the photo. Hope you don't have a foot fetish I'm inadvertently frustrating, but it wouldn't play well with one of my minor dysphorias.
Rant time. Silence me if you like. I'd silence myself if I could. Hell, I usually do, but that's neither here or there.
Calling these things shoes is an insult to every shoemaker who ever lived. To me they're "things you put on your feet so you don't get kicked out of places".
And my despise at such things (back in the day it was alpargatas, espadrilles, for me: long story, not really suitable for wet weather) is rooted in the fact that I have walked barefoot. In the streets. Here in La Plata and in Buenos Aires. Bit harder in these months of fucking relentless Sun and hot pavement, sometimes maybe hundreds of meters of it: once I had to improvise some protection out of cardboard. Didn't much care for the dog shit plus broken glass, but if most people emigrated or died at least one of these problems would go away.
Yeah, somewhat violent mood. Happens usually in summer. We don't know how to live, we're killing ourselves by living stupidly. Can't even read the fucking sky. When the daystar is up you shouldn't go out. We haven't been really trained on it, but there's something called siesta in the provinces up north. Survival strategy when it's above 40°C in the shade. But down here in Buenos Aires that's just being lazy, right? We won't survive global warming and I won't shed a single tear for this so-called great city. We had our chance and we wasted it.
A very dear friend gifted me crocs for Christmas. Only thing I ever wear on my feet for reasons, and she knew the ones I was using were at the end of their lifecycle. They were punctured and didn't provide proper electrical isolation in case I stepped on a single drop of water, for one thing.
Problem was, the new ones were black, absolutely not my color (for this kind of thing: a black dress I could wear; black backpack is out of the question), so I had to deface them with spray paint first and then use whatever was at hand: nail polish in my case. As you can see, I'm no artist and I don't care. Purpose is crude personalization. Think of PPE in the middle of nowhere: people judge you for being an asshole, not because you drew a goddamn peace symbol in your helmet.
Opted against wearing them for the photo. Hope you don't have a foot fetish I'm inadvertently frustrating, but it wouldn't play well with one of my minor dysphorias.
I do not want to do this.
But I'll be asking for money soon.
(Who you trying to deceive, Ángela? You did this for months. In fucking Spanish. Castellano Rioplatense as you charmingly put it but it's more like your goddamn idiolect who no one but yourself can understand. Is fucking English your limit? You colonized to this extent?)
January in Argentina can be brutal for us.
And it looks like I can be brutal to myself so, your choice.
#trans #MutualAid
Physics-based flight simulators are rated in percent of runs that end up in loss of crew and vehicle. Higher is better.
Feeling a bit of (anticipated) trans joy for someone coming out of her egg in the near future and I don't even know her.
Yeah, maybe it's a mental illness but, know what? We enjoy it. So put a goddamn sock in it.
Drunk so much water I had to buy two liters of ethanol to compensate.
(That's "Everclear" to you uncultured gringos.)
Today some of us will be enjoying solitude. Thanks for not being ignorant, condescending and arrogant about our lives. Have fun just like we'll be doing in our own special way.
Perfectly fine with the seven-day week. Reminds normies now and then about the four traditional divisions of the lunar cycle.
#subtoot
Ángela Stella Matutina