“The Blue Origin flight showcased the utter defeat of American feminism.”
— Moira Donegan, The Guardian.
Jeff, my man. It’s Dave. How the hell are you? Oh, fine, fine. Wife’s good, kids are good. Great. Listen, uh—we got a situation. We forgot one. In space.
No, not Katy Perry, thank God. She’s running the press circuit like a champ. Gayle’s accounted for. Lauren, too, though I’ll happily shoot her back up there if you need a break from nag, nag, nag. Hell, maybe she can take my wife too. Kidding, Jeff! Kidding.
No, uh—it’s Big Gert, the Blue Origin toilet tech. Yeah, the one with the Neanderthal brow ridge and the exceedingly rare aeronautic plumbing certification? Yeah, Jeff, she’s, uh—she’s still up there, apparently.
Easy mistake, you know? We left her out of the PR materials due to her unsettling loping gait and the tonsil hair. We intentionally centered the narrative around a six-woman space crew. Six beautiful ladies in space. It’s a nice, round number. Nobody’s gonna trust a seven-woman space crew, especially when one of them is an eight-foot-tall tradeswoman with a forehead tattoo that reads WILL FIX SPACE SHITTERS.
No, this crew had to represent the best and brightest. Women of substance. Women with something to offer the world as we step into the future. Women with rock-hard bodies well into middle age.
Of course, Big Gert’s contributions were invaluable. Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on the john during a star-studded mission to the edge of space. She’s brilliant, sure. She’s also ugly as sin, prone to spontaneous Rey Mysterio impressions, and, honestly, pretty poor. Heard she’s never even been to Nobu, Jeff. You believe that, Jeff? No black cod?
Eventually, for the sake of team morale, we designed her a sidecar-style spacecraft called “Gert’s Space House.” Great engineering, Jeff. Great. It’s attached to the main space capsule via a very sturdy rope. Allowed Gert to blast off without disturbing the other members of the crew. Provided easy access to the main capsule should any plumbing issues arise. Foolproof.
But at some point, Gert’s Space House detached at Zero G. Seems as though nobody realized until it was too late. It’s a tragedy, really. By the time the crew parachuted back to Earth, the craft’s latrine was completely out of TP. Boy, that Katy sure can urinate. Girl’s a firecracker. Firework? I don’t know. I only listen to Ted Nugent. You like Ted Nugent, Jeff?
Now, it’s been a few days, and my team’s getting a little nervous. Way I see it, we’ve got two options. We can let her drift into the eternal night until she expires, shriveled like a dried fig, her dead, unseeing eyes watching from afar as we continue to profane the Earth with carbon emissions.
Or we can send a craft up there to retrieve the old gal. We can spin this unfortunate incident into a tale of perseverance, Jeff. We can send a powerful message to the young girls of the world: That Blue Origin supports women of all backgrounds, creeds, and levels of hideousness. That, no matter who you are, where you come from, how much money you have, or whether or not you’ve got a gnarled horn growing from your scalp, Blue Origin wants to see you succeed.
Yeah, no, I agree. Let’s go ahead and leave her up there.