I read this morning that you are currently taking applications to be an astronaut. I was under the impression you were making a lot of cutbacks so I’m not sure how this is possible, but I stopped reading after the “Now Hiring” part because I wanted to get my resume in right away. I am writing to tell you that I would make a really, really great astronaut and you should hire me immediately. Search is over; smoke ‘em if you got ‘em; stop drilling, you’ve hit oil: I am your guy.
I am sure you will be receiving applications from a lot of people and may be wondering what makes me stand out from the crowd? What makes me out of this world?
Well you just got a little taste of the first thing: space puns.
Most of your applicants, you hire them, they’re at the press conference, and some reporter says, “How are you feeling about this mission?” and he’s like, “Oh, I anticipate success and expect to render the payload blah blah snore.” America changes the channel. Me? Same question, my response: “I think it’s going to be stellar.” BAM! America’s saying, “Wow! He’s optimistic and it’s funny because that’s where he’s going! Let’s fund this program!”
But I have more to offer than wit. Much, much more.
Why should you hire me to be an astronaut?
Because I know that Europa is a moon around Jupiter. We’re on some space mission and the co-pilot says, “It says we’re supposed to turn left at Europa, but that’s back on Earth! What do we do!?” And I could explain that he’s thinking of Europe, which is a continent. Europa is a big moon by the biggest planet which is named for a Roman God.
Because I can do that countdown thing with the echo. You know, how it’s like, “10 10, 9 9, 8 8, 7 7, 6 6…” You’d think you were sitting in the bleachers, watching a launch from Cape Byronic Man (I’m anticipating a name change).
Because Steve Austin, The Bionic Man, was an astronaut. I’m The Byronic Man. I think you see where I’m going with this.
Because just the other day I was stuck in a waiting room for, like, an hour and I read this article about the requirements it takes to be a planet. If someone said, “We’re about to crash in to that planet!” I could say, “It might seem so to a dullard, co-pilot, but you can see that its gravitational field is not powerful enough clear space debris from the region surrounding it. Ergo, not a planet.”
Because I can drop words like “ergo” in to conversation.
Because I have trained myself to poop in a bag. Oh, they laughed at me. Shunned me. Called the police on me. But I knew the day might come when I’d have a chance to go in to space and they’d say “You know you have to poop in a bag, right?” And I’d be ready. “No problem,” I’d say.
Because I carry Tang with me at all times. Sometimes you go to a nice restaurant and they don’t serve Tang because they hate America and progress, so I carry some with me so I can whip up a mug, or, if I’m out for cocktails, a Mar-tang-I (patent pending).
Because I won’t give you a bunch of crap about Pluto being downgraded from planet status.
So I look forward to working with you, and in lieu of awaiting a response, I will simply start packing and put the house up for sale. I know you’re going to find my contribution to the program a real thrill, and being an astronaut will just put me over the moon (ha! I did it again!)