Hi friends!
How we all doing? Are we going to make it? It’s touch and go over here, not gonna lie. Thank goddess the girlies went to near space last week. Cackling at their self-serious soundbites was the only thing that kept me from crashing out completely while my back decided to ruin my life. I must say, watching the ladies who launch enter the herstory books in their designer space suits paired extremely well with cyclobenzaprine, my new drug of choice.
Apparently, most people fall asleep on muscle relaxers. But not me! I was semi-awake and extremely high. So, to answer Gayle King, who, based on her facial expressions, I mistakenly assumed had boarded the spacecraft at gunpoint until she landed back here in hell on Earth, dried Oprah’s tears, and then gave a crazy, defensive interview in which she asked us, “Have y’all been to space?” After last week, in a metaphysical sense, yes, Gayle, I absolutely have.
It was My Week of Rest and Muscle Relaxation, and while I hope to never live it again, I really enjoyed being tranquilized. Miss it already. And that got me thinking: Is anyone raw dogging the game of life right now? Like, is anyone facing “reality” without a weed pen companion or a few goblets of wine? No microdose of something? Nary an SSRI prescription or a secret benzo addiction or a borrowed Vyvanse in sight?
Well, I’m no doctor, but I don’t prescribe that approach. At this point, I think all of our muscles could benefit from a nice, relaxing cyclobenzaprine dose.
By Wednesday, still high as a rocket, I yearned for the Space Girls to reunite and give us an encore. I had already consumed every delicious, deluded morsel of their original content and needed to be fed again. Especially by Katy Perry, a woman who brings the same energy as the Snapchat flower crown filter, who once killed a nun in court over a real estate deal, and recently told Elle that she was putting “the ass in astronaut.” Freshly back from her space jaunt, she shared her expanded perspective on love, and even though I could barely move, it made me laugh so hard that I cried.
I was forced to make do with random people’s TikTok takes — the best of which was this woman’s brilliant conjecture that Jeff Bezos is starting an intergalactic trafficking ring — until an exclusive source came through on Thursday, with a hot tip for PEOPLE, that Wendy’s owed Katy an apology. And if you’re like, “Wendy’s? The fast food restaurant? What do they have to do with any of this?” Well, Ms. Wendy is known for having a sassy social media voice, and after Ms. Katy landed, they hard posted, “Can we send her back?”
“This kind of behavior contributes to a culture where women are punished for standing out,” said the exclusive source, who definitely wasn’t Katy Perry’s publicist in a fake mustache and trench coat. But standing out wasn’t the problem here. It was standing for nothing that got her punished by the culture. The culture has gone insane and is terrified of what’s to come and is very over this type of media opp billionaire bullshit. I guess they expected the people of the internet to be like, “Yay! A pop star so mid even gay men hate her, a couple of sidekick celebrities, and some unfamous ladies we can mostly leave out of the conversation are all going to space while we endure the end of Western civilization! Love these legit women in STEM!”
And now the culture is punishing all women for this since, unless we go trad wife, we have only two lanes left: tits out girlboss or ideological alignment with a fast food mascot.
“Tits out girlboss, you say?”
Well, this mission to ??? was the brain child of Lauren Sánchez, who aside from being Jeff Bezos’s fiancée, is best known for her visible bra in the front row at Trump’s inauguration — a moment Mark Zuckerberg seized to show us his upgraded, more lifelike programming. Did she consider that the women she’s trying to “inspire” with a space trip can’t overlook her ties to an administration that has anti-women and anti-science mandates? Let alone what we think of her impending union to a kingpin of the ongoing horrors? Or that Trump wants to cut NASA’s budget (you know, the place where actual female astronauts work) while Blue Origin recently won billions of dollars in government contracts?
Nah. And we hate all that shit. The cruelty and chaos she endorses by association enrages us, too.
It was Ms. Lauren who came up with the whole “taking up space” thing, the mission’s official motto. And when I saw the Blue Origin baddies chant it together, floating while they posed for the cameras, it filled my heart with so much hatred that I had no choice but to take to my Instagram stories.
And honestly, now that I’ve had a week to think about it, I am a misogynist. But my hatred extends only to a certain type of woman — the type whose privilege is like a blindfold to seeing what most women and girls on this planet face.
I must say, I was a bit shocked by how shocked the “astronauts” seemed when blowback followed their return to terra firma. I saw people talking shit as soon as the trip was announced and the angry think pieces had already started. Like the rocket the ladies launched in, this conversation drove itself, but it was not in the intended direction.
Maybe the people responsible for this will do some “social listening” for once in their goddamn lives and find out that space travel propaganda targeted at an imaginary demographic doesn’t work. And then they’ll reroute the funds to scientists working on solving the climate crisis and we’ll never have to see a Blue Origin trip again. But I fear we’re not getting off this ride that easily. So, my pick for the next flight crew, even though Cheryl Hines is the only one who would do it, is the cast of Curb Your Enthusiasm.
Before I go, I just have to say: RIP Pope, a true stunt queen until the end. What an exit, giving all of us a brief taste of heaven, too, when we found out he died like 10 minutes after castigating J.D. Vance. Papa, you have served humanity well, we will never forget you.
First Conclave in the Age of Unhingement™ here we come!
Less Lessons More Blessin’s™
Liz
P.S. This was an encore. I’m actually taking a lil break now. See you in a few weeks …
Space tourism puts the "ass" in Assholocene...