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generator: pandoc
title: '2009-11-24-mars-2'
viewport: 'width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0, user-scalable=yes'
---
I suppose this continues my brief break from being cryptic! (edited,
gotta stop writing things in the middle of the night)\
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Mars landing**\
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\*\*\*\*\
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Leonid Brezhnev: Okay, the US are gonna pull off another fucking
moonlanding. I thought they'd've given up after we put a kamikaze spy in
their Apollo 13 team but their fat capitalism saw them sail pretty too
awesomely through that shit, so I've come up with the perfect idea.\
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Scientists standing in Brezhnev's office, praying to dear Lenin:
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Brez-face: We're sending a rocket to fucking MARS.\
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One of the scientists faints violently.\
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Scientist \#1: Errr too much vodka.\
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Brezhnev: God I love vodka, that man's in charge! Alright! Everyone out,
its time for my weekly phone-sex with Comrade Nixon!\
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The scientists mope out, pretending they hadn't heard what they just
heard.\
\
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Back in the USSR, at the best nuclear fallout shelter in all the land:\
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Scientist \#1: Dudes, what the fuck, I swear Brezhnev is getting
smarter, letting us live in absolute filth...\
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Scientist \#2: Hey guys, I think I like, just woke up in someone's
basement, this isn't a farm in the Ukraine.\
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Scientist \#3: Check it out, Mikhail fainted in Brezhnev's office and
got amnesia. He's supposed to be \#1 now isn't h-"\
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Scientist \#1, staring at \#3:"Woah, hey there number *two*, how's it
going being number *two*?\"\
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Scientist \#4: If you can't do Calculus, you know we're supposed to
shoot you, right?\
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Scientist \#2: Fuck off, you guys must've been smashed all through
college, you guy's can't do maths for Lenin's bald-ass scalp.\
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Scientist \#1: Fuck you!\
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Scientist \#3: Hey, hey, hey, guys, we've gotta make some rover or some
shit dance around on the moon, I reckon a good place to start is by
getting a rocket or something.\
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The three other scientists turn around and sit down properly.\
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Scientist \#2: That's pretty fucking easy, the USSR made the decision to
make nuclear missiles and let its peoples die from alcohol poisoning in
1917, you could've ticked that box like, a hour ago.\
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A phone rings.\
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Scientist \#1 picks up.\
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\#1: Hello?\
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Brezhnev: Nixy?\
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\#1: Ugh, no, you've called the Soviet Science Department, better try
again, Enlightened Dude.\
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Brez: Oh, shit, fuck, I mean of *course* I meant to ring you guys - the
US fucking landed on the moon just then, they're starting to make it
look like there's a fucking merry-go-round between Houston and and that
cratery shit - you guys better be trading that vodka I gave you for some
fucking astronauts or whatever the hell sciencey shit we need to rape
Mars with Communism.\
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Scientist \#1: Yeah sure. We just worked out that we can just take a
nuclear missile and pretend its a deep-space rocket.\
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Brezhnev: Shit, shit, fucking slow down, okay, I know you guys are smart
but you don't need to tell me EVERYTHING you're doing, jesus, I mean
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\#1 puts down the phone.\
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The other scientists look at him.\
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\#1: Yeah he's pretty cool with it.\
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Five bottles of vodka later:\
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Four scientists dancing to polka music with strippers.\
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The next morning:\
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Four semi-naked scientists robbed by some Soviet strippers, hung over.\
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The *next* morning:\
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Four scientists checking the Soviet classifieds for a dog to pilot their
rocket.\
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That afternoon:\
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Scientist \#3 spraypaints the Soviet coat of arms onto a 'decomissioned'
Soviet nuke in a Soviet hazmat suit (loosely translated from Russian
'hazmat' means 'the carcass of a dead pig').\
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Minutes later:\
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Dead dog in a Soviet nuke with four 'hazmatted' Soviet scientists
standing around it. More strippers arrive.\
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Minutes later:\
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Four 'hazmatted' scientists lugging dead strippers into a Soviet
incinerator.\
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Back in the Kremlin-SSR:\
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Brezhnev: Alright boys, what've you got for me?\
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\#1: Right, well here's the gist of it.\
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\#1 unveils a garbage can with some shotguns attached to it.\
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Soviet Official (Commissar) \#1: That's just a joke, right? That's meant
to be funny, isn't it?\
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Brezhnev begins laughing like a mad fuck.\
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Everyone begins to laugh slowly, all the scientists look at \#2 with
pure hatred, laughing.\
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Official \#1: Right, so, the demonstration, please.\
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\#1: Right, well, theoretically, if this *were* the landing module,
which it's *not* (\#1 laughs nervously, Brezhnev still wiping the tears
off his face, chuckling) these uh, ['gunpowder'
engines](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mars_2) would control the pitch
and yaw of the module.\
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\#1 continues: And *inside* the module (\#1 leans in to take out the
'joke' version of the rover from the landing module, to discover a dead
radioactive stripper inside) SWEET BABY LENIN - I mean, the rover is
actually still in its finalising stages, I just noticed the note I left
to myself inside (begins to laugh).\
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No-one else laughs.\
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\#3, realising what just happened, hissing at \#2: YOU FORGOT TO TAKE
HER OUT\
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\#2: I DON'T RECALL BEING THE PERSON WHO LEFT A RADIOACTIVE HAZARD ZONE
UNLOCKED\
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Official \#3, looking at Scientist \#2: What's that, comrade?\
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\#2: Oh! I was merely saying to my colleague here how I'd love to make
the US a radioactive hazard zone.\
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Official \#2: Promote that man, Leonid.\
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Brezhnev, over the funnies: You are now Scientist \#1, the top Soviet
Magician!\
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Scientist \#1 (now Scientist \#2) steps aside.\
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Official \#2, emboldened by these turn of events: Tell us more.\
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The Scientist Formally Known As \#2: The lander is to be equipped with
two television cameras with a 360 degree view of the surface, as well as
a mass spectrometer to study atmospheric composition; temperature,
pressure, and wind sensors; and devices to measure mechanical and
chemical properties of the surface, including a mechanical scoop to
search for organic materials and signs of life.\
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All the officials, including Brezhnev, squinting: Is that *all*?\
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Former \#2: Oh, it will also contain a pennant with the Soviet coat of
arms.\
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Official \#2: You are a true patriot!\
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A phone rings.\
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Brezhnev: Sexy time!\
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Back in the launch-day-SSR:\
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\#4: All instruments nominal, conditions seem perfect for landing, \#1.\
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Former \#1: Good wor-\
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Former \#2: Good work, \#4.\
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Former \#2 turns to Brezhnev: We're gonna go for the landing, the whole
Soviet Bloc is watching this.\
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Brezhnev: So are the Communist Parties of the world!\
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\#3: Shit.\
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F. \#2: What?\
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\#3: We fucked up.\
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F. \#2: What?\
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\#3: Yeah we like totally fucked up, the landing module like fucking
smashed into the surface of Mars.\
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Brezhnev: What!\
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\#4: Oh shit, we're getting a message from some martians!\
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Former \#1: Holy shit-titties!\
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Brezhnev: What does it say!?\
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\#4: It says 'Do you want your nuke back, and if so, fuck you.\" Oh
wait, I forgot to read this post-script: "For this insolence, we will
now invade the USSR."\
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Brezhnev: Damn. Guess that means I'm fired.\
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====\
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And so, this demonstrates how the age-old saying "In Soviet Russia, Mars
lands on you!".\
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-----------------------\
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I'd just like to say that I actually harbour no prejudice against
Russians or Communism, and I would have just as easily written something
insulting the US, given my travels on wikipedia. In fact, to make it up
to anyone who reads this blog that was offended, I'll write something
taking the piss out of the US pretty soon.