Fly me to the Moon

I just can't wait to die.

Celestis, Inc., a company that pioneered the sending of cremated remains into suborbital space on rockets, said it would start a service to the surface of the moon that could begin as early as next year.

Depositing one gram of your ashes on the moon will cost $9,995.

"About 1,000 capsules containing ashes will be launched on the first lunar mission, expected in late 2009 or early 2010, and about 5,000 on future flights," according to a Reuters report.

"The moon is a special place," Celestis president Charles Chafer said, adding a half dozen people had already signed up for the service. "For many people, it would be a romantic notion to look up into the sky and see the moon and know that your mom or dad or loved one is up there memorialized."

Yeah, there are several people I'd like to see up there right now.

But, seriously, I can't "off" myself just to get my ashes on the moon. That would be wrong.

If I had a touch of asthma, though, I could use the allergy drug Singulair, which is suspected of inducing depression and suicide.

And if finding that out depresses me, I could take one of the popular antidepressants on the market, which the FDA has warned can cause suicidal thoughts, the very thing it's supposed to prevent.

There are plenty of reasons to leave this planet. The new episodes of Lost are being discussed around the office water cooler again. The Democratic convention this summer should be about as amusing as an episode of Itchy and Scratchy. The antarctic ice shelf is splitting off into the sea. Britney Spears is due for another round of rehab.

Yeah, it would all look much better in a powdered state from the cold lunar surface.


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Holy War, The Game

Sometimes you find something that so succinctly encapsulates a concept that no further information is required.

Take for instance the human tendency to hate, a passion that has brought us jihads, crusades and witch hunts through the ages. Cartoonist Christopher Stetson Wilson likes to take on philosophical ideas in his weekly strip The Invisible Life of Poet. He's nailed it this time.

The cartoon is titled "Holy War, The Game."


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Trust the Force this Easter

Sorry for the delay in posting. I just got out of the hospital after a kidney stone attack. (!) It got me to thinking about the impermanence of life, the sensitivity of the human waste removal system and the sad state of our nation's health care establishment.

So, to get my mind off THAT, I searched for the perfect antidote and found it: The Skywalker Last Supper mosaic. Just in time for Easter.

According to the Gizmodo blog, computer nerd Avinash Arora used an Asus M2N SLI motherboard with AMD 5400+ X2, eVGA nVidia Geforce 8800GTS 640MB and 2GB DDR2 Corsair XMS memory and took Eric Deschamps' Star Wars Last Supper painting done for Giant Magazine and created a mosaic using 69,550 images from all the Star Wars movies.

With a magnifying glass, you can just make out Jar-Jar Binks over in the corner there, taking the sop from Luke.


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Any candidates claiming to be funniest?

This is primary voting day in Texas, where I live. I went to the local library where I've always voted, but noticed it said "Democratic Polling Place." I wanted to vote in the Republican primary.

"Oh, you can only vote Democratic here," a nice lady told me. She mentioned a Baptist church some blocks away as the Republican polling place.

I've never seen nor heard of this Baptist church in my neighborhood, and I'm a Baptist from way back. I didn't have time to look for it either-- I had to get to work.

As I drove away without being able to exercise my constitutional right, I wondered: "Is this one of those double-triple-cross schemes cooked up by Karl Rove to make it seem that there aren't any Republicans left... and then they can jump out and ambush the other party in November? Sure, that must be it. What would we do without Karl, always one step ahead of everybody."

Over the years, I've agonized over the correct position on Christians in politics. I've carefully considered the scriptures recounting the choosing of David as king by the Israelite tribes, Paul's teaching on authority in Romans 13, Jesus' parables on helping the poor and the apocalyptic viewpoint on government as Beast from the book of Revelation. I even parsed the political commentary of both Jim Wallis and Richard Land--a thankless job.

In the end, I decided to vote for the funniest candidate.

George Bush got my vote last time, and that worked out really well. Everyone can agree that over the course of his presidency Bush has brought laughter and comic relief to millions.

This year I felt Obama and Clinton were both taking themselves way too seriously. Huckabee, although he has a great delivery and can banter easily with the talk show hosts, takes himself even more seriously than Obama and Clinton, if you scratch beneath the surface. (Of course, Ron Paul would have been the funniest looking candidate, but that's not my standard).

So I'm voting for McCain. On the Straight Talk Express bus, he tells the same jokes over and over, and laughs at 'em every time. He's always poking fun at his staff, the press and himself. Back in the Hanoi Hilton, he even took satirical potshots at his torturers as they beat him to a pulp and broke his arms.

We need a president who can stare into the face of adversity with a wink and a bad joke. Like Davey Crockett, John McCain could probably win a grinning contest with a grizzly bear.

But now I feel like the joke's on me. I can't find my polling place. Primary day is slipping away. Thank goodness, voting for the funniest candidate allows you to keep your expectations low. Humor, after all, is relative.

Even if I never get to vote for him, I plan on going down to join McCain at his victory party at Dallas' Fairmont Hotel tonight. I just want to shake his hand.

But I've always been partial to slapstick. So I'll be wearing my coonskin cap and carrying a concealed hand buzzer. The other celebrants probably all used a different political criteria than funniness. They may not get the joke.

I'll let you know how long it takes 'em to throw me out on my butt.


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