The Other AAA

It was a dark and starry night in Prospect Park at 10pm last Tuesday, and I decided that I was in the mood for a jog. Parks in Brooklyn are not always the safest places to spend time after the sun goes down, but I pay attention to my surroundings and stay along the edge of the park, so it’s not so bad (my mother disagrees). A few nights ago, two men setting up equipment called out to me: “You want to see something cool?” I stopped– they didn’t seem too sketchy, and I’m always interested in cool stuff. “It’s OK, we’re from AAA” the older gentleman nudged the younger one. “Give her one of those pamphlets of yours,” he said.

Did they mean Alcoholics Anonymous, and just accidentally slurred in a third “A”, or maybe they were actually from American Automobile Association? Or maybe they were just rapping punks– you know, Acronym A**holes with Attitudes, or something. Well, I was delighted to be wrong on all fronts; they were from the Amateur Astronomers Association. What a relief!
They were setting up some sleek, impressive equipment: gigantic telescopes. Passers-by lined up to gaze at Jupiter and the Moon; oggling, ohhhing and ahhh-ing insued. It was indeed very cool.
“You wanna be an astronaut?” A guy on his bike asked me.
“Yeah. I think it’s do-able,” I responded.
“Me too,” a third voice piped in. Suddenly there was a flurry of pens and bits of paper being passed around– everyone was exchanged numbers. We’ll all get together and call ourselves Astronauts Anonymous, perhaps. Another AA seems in order, after all.

For others who are interested in star-gazing, the Amateur Astronomers Association of New York holds quite a lot of public events and they kindly share their telescopes. Check out their Web site for a schedule.

Book Review: Sex in Space

In Sex in Space, author Laura Woodsmansee rattles on about the subject like a junior high school girlfriend. This book is full of simple puns, imaginative “what if’s,” creative propositions, plenty of facts (she clearly did her research), and too many exclamations for anyone who is not a teen-ager. Nearly every informative nugget is followed with an enthusiastic “Hot! That’s crazy! Let’s get this party started!” Sex in Space is a short 136 pages, which, if read in one sitting, will leave readers feeling like they’ve been up all night talking to curious, unexperienced pubescents who are giggling over a sneaky issue of soft porn at a slumber party. That said, Woodsmansee does pack an impressive amount of information in-between the immature commentary. She delves into a thorough history of sex in space (including sex among fruit flies), logistics, speculation on sex and space tourism (“I would name a space hotel the Zero-G Spot…”), pregnancy, physical risks, suggested positions and toys (diagrams included), psychological issues, and even porn.

In sum, the book is informative, but an utterly embarrassing read for anyone who no longer refers to sex as hanky panky. This book will also be irritating for those who have difficulty tolerating a large dose of feminist bitterness. In the Forward/Foreplay, Rick Tumlinson introduces the book by noting that “most of the tenants of fundamentalism, or today’s fanatic religions promoting sexual repression and social stigma were and are inventions of the male gender—not female. It is men who drive the social systems that force the covering of faces and bodies lest lustful thoughts occur (in men!)…the male hypocracy that has characterized our sexual dysfunction should be left on the savage savannahs of this world with the chest pounding apes who promulgated it…”

It is unfortunate that there are very few other books about sex in space. While this one does provide the necessary information, it’s not a turn on—but at least it can be finished quickly.

Earthly Endeavors

I did not have time to tour Brazil’s National Institute for Space Research (INPE) as planned since my excursion into the Amazon to research the effects of global warming did not leave much in the way of free time to jet to other cities. However, boating down the Amazon with surgeons, cartographers, and environmental activists did allow me to see just how essential the satellite images of the Amazon are to people working on the ground level. INPE provides a Real Time Deforestation Monitoring System (DETER) to pinpoint deforestation in the the vast, dense Amazon– a region that covers around 5% of the Earth’s landmass. NASA’s Moderate Resolution Imaging Spectroradiometer (MODIS) also aides in identifying exploitation of the forest by providing images of the Amazon up to four times a day. I’m working on an article at the moment and will have more information for you soon.

One of These is Not Like The Others: Brazil, Bikini, Beach, Blog

I’m leaving my laptop, cell phone, and winter coat in New York for a week to head to the Amazon for a little sun and research on climate change (it’s “work,” really! ). Without my laptop, I won’t be blogging, but I’ll be back on Feb. 22-ish and will have a story about the Brazilian space program for you.

Adeus!

Happy Valentine’s Day, Lisa Nowak

Love does indeed make people do crazy things…Happy Valentines Day!

Ed Belbruno’s Update on the Lunar X Prize

Ed is the kind of guy you call when your own life is just a little drab and you need some inspiration. It’s impossible to predict what he’ll say. I alway ask the same question: “Ed, what in the world are you doing?” and I’ve never gotten the same answer twice. The last three responses have gone something like this:

“I’m painting a 40 foot canvas of the universe. It’s really cool. I have an art barn now.”

“I’m heading to a book signing party. Did you read the new book that I wrote inbetween teaching classes on celestial mathmatics?”

“Just saved  a space craft…”

Here’s the latest correspondence from Ed– this time he’s working on the Lunar X Prize (no surprise):

Hello Talia,

FYI – I am involved in a really cool Google Lunar X-Prize project – to land a small rover on the Moon, and have it crawl a number of feet, then send back a video of the Earth. Our project is called Lunar Trans. My role is to design a really low cost trajectory to reach the Moon and land on it. This transfer to the Moon is actually based on one I designed in 1990 to rescue a Japanese lunar mission and get the spacecraft Hiten there in 1991. It turns out to reduce the cost substantially to land on the Moon since it reduces the landing speed. Although it takes three months, instead of the classical three days, it uses about 15% less fuel to land. This means that you can reduce the mass of the spacecraft substantially, and use, as a result, a smaller launch vehicle from the Earth. This is where you can really save a lot of money. So, instead of perhaps spending say, 150 million dollars, we think we can reduce the cost in half.

This last week from February 6-9, I attended a meeting of our team in Denver, Colorado, and went to a small satellite company, Microsat, to discuss our mission concept. It was exciting to get together with a number of other engineers to discuss this concept. We feel that we have a winning plan – and time will tell. The person who leads our team, Michael Joyce, has another job of building and selling full size replicas of the robot in the TV show Lost in Space. I think that is very cool.

Ed

Thinking about Pranking the UFO Hotline?

It seems that prank callers are really upsetting the folks at the National UFO Reporting Center. Of course, if you’re a juvenile prank caller, this will probably just make you want to prank them more. In any case, I thought I would pass along the warning notice posted on their site and propose that anyone scheming to prank call the UFO Center use better manners. Please, be a polite pranker.

NOTICE TO HOAX CALLERS

In the near future, we will post a statement here regarding the deluge of hoaxed calls and reports that we have been receiving recently over our Hotline. The volume of telephone calls NUFORC receives from rude, impudent, unbelievably foul-mouthed, young Americans has grown to an unacceptable level. Just today, April 27, for example, we received more than 25 obscene calls from youth, who seem to have nothing better to do with their cell phones than to shout triple-X rated filth over our Hotline.

If this condition continues, we are going to implement a plan that will allow them to understand just how inconvenient it can be to receive a large volume of unwanted calls. Within the next several days, we will provide more details here as to what we have in store for them, and how visitors to our site can help put a stop to this inconvenience.

For two years, we have saved all of the obscene messages from, and all of the telephone numbers of, those who have made obscene calls to our Center, and we are about to implement a program, which we think will make them reconsider whether they want to continue their rude behavior. Our objective will be 1) to deny them use of their telephones, and 2) to identify and contact their parents, in order to play for them some of the filth and stupidity their children are inflicting on others. We think that we can achieve both of those objectives.

Please check back to our website, from time to time, and we will let you know what you might be able to do to help. In the meantime, if you are a parent whose child has a cell telephone, we strongly urge you to supervise the child, and to consider requiring him/her to keep a written record of all telephone calls that are sent and received over that telephone.

Just one more note regarding anyone who takes the last paragraph of this notice seriously: asking your child to keep a written record of his/her telephone calls is not going to work. Just check your telephone bill instead.

A Fiber-Free Last Supper

If everything goes according to the schedule, I will launch on the Virgin Galactic in late 2010, which gives my mother plenty of time to worry in advance. When I told her about my plan, she responded, “That sounds very adventurous. I don’t want to discourage you….but….you know, this is a new technology, you…could…explode. And die.”

“That’s true, but it’s OK. If I explode and die, I’ll have nothing to worry about. If I explode and live, it would be a messy life to deal with.” I could tell by the silence that this was not as comforting to my mother as it is to me. “How about we have a last supper before I go?” I ask.

“Wonderful!”

My mother is an art historian, so I knew that a little pre-death Da Vinci-esque dinner would somehow make her feel a bit better about the whole ordeal. Next, of course, was the subject of what to eat.

“Nothing too healthy,” I cautioned, “Absolutely zero fiber before my trip to zero gravity.” I had been browsing KidzWorld.com and Ubersite.com, and came across this alarming bit of info:

Frequency Actuated Rectal Tremor
If you could go into space without a suit and you let one rip, your fart would have enough pressure to push you forward.

An Ubersite commenter added:
If (an astronaut) farted in outer space it would blow them halfway across the galaxy…
only if there was a hole in the suit, which would therefore mean they’d have imploded before getting the offending gas out of their arses.

Ugh, that would really stink–in every sense of the word. I’m not sure what the credentials are of Ubersite contributers, but regardless, I am suddenly concerned more about the risk of flatulence than of the safety of the Virgin Galactic. I looked into the stats of the average, normally flatulent adult. Valley Hospital writes:

The average adult produces one to three pints of intestinal gas a day and passes gas 14 to 23 times a day….gas expands at extreme altitudes.

Ultimately, mom and I settle on steak. Perhaps I’ll work on an astronaut friendly, fiber- free cook book in the meantime.

Richard Branson: A Mamma’s Boy Like No Other

The woman heading my blog is not just any pin-up girl, nor is she a virgin– though she will be on the nose of the Virgin Galactic. She’s Richard Branson’s mother (of course, this drawing is based on a picture taken about 60 years ago). Normally, there’s nothing charming about being a “mamma’s boy,” but Richard is the exception to the rule. He’s got all the charm in the world, and it has a lot to do with his mom.

I met Eve Branson at a champagne reception just a few days ago; she was making merry near a table lined with the expected delicate flutes filled with champagne. I wasn’t sure who she was at first, but I was determined to introduce myself to this 80+ year old little lady who had managed to bypass the frivolity of skinny flutes and was making grand gestures with a gigantic goblet of whiskey on the rocks.

“Are you going up in the spaceship?” she asked me, with a twinkle in her eye.

We clanked our glasses together and I said that yes, I do plan on going into orbit on Richard’s ship.

“Well, dear, I’ll make you a nice cuppa tea before you go. I’m Richard’s mother, so of course I’m going up in the mother ship and I’ll tell you all about it when I return so you’ll know what to expect.”

I’m almost looking forward to having tea with Mrs. Branson more than I am to the Virgin Galactic flight. Mrs. Branson flew gliders back when most women were still in the passenger’s seat of their husband’s car. She is a full fledged pilot who trained with the Royal Air Force and did her part in WWII. But Mrs. Branson is hardly an old, festering war vet– she’s got a spring in her step that dates back to her days as a dancer and actress, and she seems to be the type who is in the habit of enjoying herself and everyone else.

“You must meet my husband, Ted, ” she said, bringing me over to a rosy-cheeked, jolly old fellow with a few wisps of white hair gracing his crown. He sat in a stately chair, watching the youngsters walk by (most of the party is in their 50’s, and Ted is nearing 90). I introduced myself and, as I stand almost 5 ft. 8 in my heels, Ted had to cock his head at an angle a bit higher than was comfortable to talk with me. “Oh, just sit on my lap please, it’s much easier!” I hesitated. “Don’t worry dear, you can’t break me,” he pats his knee and, feeling a bit like I was six years old and sitting on Santa’s lap again, I told him all about my dreams of becoming an astronaut and how much I am looking forward on taking a ride in Richard’s space ship.

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