Space . . . Cadet?

If there’s one thing I love, it’s space. And I’m not just talking about an open floor plan or a full-size sedan. I’m referring to outer space – the final frontier, the great unknown, the home of Martians, Vulcans, Alf and ET. The outer limits, so mysterious that we write books, make movies, form cults and sacrifice ourselves just in hopes of riding through it on a comet.

Okay, that’s just some of us.

Clearly, I’m an advocate for furthering the exploration of this great solar system we call home. I’m dying to know if there’s life on Mars or extra moons orbiting Jupiter and Saturn. So much so that I can understand pumping a few billion dollars into some galactic exploration.

But Barack, with all due respect, I’d advice we do nothing with Mars. Unless, of course, we have substantial evidence that its economy is far-exceeding our own. And perhaps let’s forget the Milky Way for a time, save it will provide actual Milky Ways (dark, preferably) for those using food stamps on Main Street while their homes are foreclosing.

And let’s steer clear of that astro belt until we know exactly what happening on our own Beltway.

Although, in the light of America’s current state, perhaps we could find some new territories – where land and resources are plentiful and the terrain in desperate want of human habitation – and claim it. For China.

In gratitude of the 6 billion we borrowed to find it.

I adore science. But Barack, fellow Americans, this seems a bit spacey.