It’s been quite some time since we last checked in with the genteel racist and Holocaust-denier who calls herself The Thinking Housewife. Flipping through her blog archive today, I could not find it in me to click on posts with such unappetising titles as “Usury and Homosexuality” and “Martin Luther King: Commie Fraud.”
But her recent post on lady astronauts got my attention. In it, Laura Wood (her real name, evidently), throws some reactionary shade at NASA for the unforgivable sin of training four women for space work and a possible trip to the Red Planet.
As Wood sees it, Mars does NOT need women, because a trip to yucky Mars pales in comparison to the joys of full-time housewifery.
[T]he things these women could accomplish within the dramatic and exciting Inner Space of their own homes so dwarfs what they could accomplish on Mars (where they won’t be going anyway), that the very suggestion is an outrage.
Who would trade insipid, lifeless, finite Mars (Yuck!! Revolting!!) for the chance to create and influence human beings, each one of whom is a fascinating planet, an eternal sphere of consummate adventure, a being that is utterly unique and made in God’s image?
Apparently, God is a tiny bald, incontinent person who can barely walk straight and communicates mainly through shrieks and vomiting, yet is somehow also adorable?
If that isn’t power, what is?
Uh, being president? I mean, having a kid is a momentous thing, for mothers and fathers alike, and fulfilling in many ways that even being president or taking a trip to freakin Mars couldn’t ever be. (Or so I’ve heard.) But it’s not power.
And seriously, if the thing you value most about your children is that they’re small enough to boss around, you’re probably not cut out to be a parent. Go run for president, or something.
God gave men galaxies and distant planets and asteroids to compensate them for the misfortune — and unfairness — of never being able to become mothers.
And God says this where? I’m a dude with no uterus, and I never got my owner’s certificate for everything in the sky.
Outer Space takes their minds off the unfairness of it all, something women have been kind enough to recognize in the past by not denying those who have dreamed of being astronauts since they were little boys of the chance to experience the “vomit comet.”
I’m just going to let J-Law here handle my response:
Dudes, if you’re truly furious that some darn woman has stolen what should rightfully be your spot on the “vomit comet” — the affectionate name for the plane in which astronauts first get used to the joys of zero gravity — you can actually just pay these guys to have the very same experience.
Women don’t want it anyway. If someone came to my door when my children were young, blossoming creatures and said, “Hey, lady, you have just won a trip to Mars!,” I would have told him to get lost. I would do the same now.
Uh, yeah, and so would I. But I’m not all men, and you’re not all women, and neither of us has the right to be making these decisions for other people.
I just hope that Mars turns out to be as cool as the moon.