Tracking Space Trash, The New Breed Of Geek
39There's a growing trend in the astronomy community that has geeks the world over glued to the skies, and it's all about tracking space trash. Some of this space trash is an accumulation of man-made objects that stopped serving their purpose, such as old satellites. Other pieces of galactic garbage were left behind by space shuttle missions on purpose or not. These items include frozen human waste, gloves, rocket parts, cameras, and a large assortment of tools all traveling at twenty times the speed of sound. With an estimated one-hundred thousand pieces of space trash, Earth is basically inside of a giant Craigslist tornado.
The fact that humans would eventually make it into space and litter there doesn't surprise me. What does surprise me is that people have turned following this trash into an obsessive hobby. Having a dozen high-powered telescopes makes you a nerd. Watching a big piece of frozen shit move across the sky makes you a hillbilly with a telescope.
What kind of knuckle-dragger do you have to be to follow space trash? Instead of gazing at the moon, the stars, or the planets, you spend the night tracking an old screwdriver. The rings of Saturn are nice, but nothing compared to that over sized floating bolt that you've had your eye on. I'm sure these guys are praying that it all comes down at once, like a rainstorm of gifts from that giant yard sale in the sky.
If alien life exists one thing is certain, they don't want us to know about it. I'm sure they get together and gossip about the piece of shit planet on the corner of the universal block that is bringing down property values. None of them want to introduce themselves because they know we're the types that would stop by in the shuttle unannounced with a six-pack. They're probably surprised we didn't plant a confederate flag on the moon. We have to look like the trailer park of the universal community with broken down vehicles floating around and tools scattered all over the yard. Not to mention the giant blocks of frozen shit.
Matt Haught
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