Have you been following the dead spy satellite story this week? Right at this moment, there is a broken satellite floating out there in space, carrying about 1,000 pounds of hydrazine fuel, and we are preparing to blow it into smithereens with a heat-seeking missile. This concerns me greatly. Not because I’m worried we could miss, and that the thing could soon be hurtling toward earth, ready to toxicate our systems with lethal gas fumes, but rather because of the waste. I mean what a shame that we can’t somehow fix that puppy and put it to good use.I’ve been thinking about this lately because H-T is preparing to go on a field trip. At 11 years old. Without me. (did you catch that last bit??)
You see, H-T is a bit obsessed with life science in any form, and is thrilled at the idea of tagging along on an excursion of students who are heading to Florida to swim with and study manatees. All this would be impressive and even noble if it were someone else’s kid. But it’s not. It’s my H-T, who has hardly ever spent a night away from home, much less 10 hours away, with people who can’t possibly know just how he likes his volume on his portable DVD player or how to get the earphones on his Nintendo DS perfectly snug against his ears.
So that brings me to the spy satellite issue. I can’t figure out why someone hasn’t gotten the bright idea to create a satellite that will track preteens who have the overconfidence to think they can survive five days without their parents. I mean instead of blowing this thing to high heaven, couldn’t we possibly just tweak it a bit, and adjust it to a specific frequency, and then implant small beacons into the necks of each of our pre-adolescent children so that they could be tracked at every moment on specially made parental radar units? I mean doesn’t that sound much simpler and less costly?
And think of all the additional uses. I mean talk about making things easier for Santa! Who’s been naughty? Have the elves check the spy-cam. End of story.
I think I’ll phone up the president today, and get this ball rolling. After all, it’s only a couple months until H-T heads to Florida. I would imagine the implants might need to be fine-tuned, and that might take a week or two. And of course we will probably need a second mortgage on the house to be able to afford the parental radar unit. Resistant-Techie might even have to cough up a kidney to make sure we have enough to pay for the specialized satellite feed. But when I’m seeing H-T take his first dip with a manatee on that fuzzy screen, it will all be worth it…
Guess I better get busy. Anyone have George’s cell phone number?