THE VAULT

Mars Lander’s in Space
June 23, 2008 by The Colonel

He can get a little frisky with that one arm.

While there may be plenty of amazing things happening on Earth, something even more amazing occurred on our sister planet, Mars. Last week, with a spunky “Are you ready to celebrate? Well, get ready: We have ICE!!!!! Yes, ICE, *WATER ICE* on Mars! w00t!!! Best day ever!!” the Phoenix Mars Lander declared the first confirmed instance of ice on Mars. Needless to say, this raises many questions. Does this mean there is life on Mars? Can David Bowie’s age-old question finally be answered? If there is, what kind? Might it be in the form of women? Will they be super-hot and ready to please an eager astronaut named Colonel Moses Blackwell? We can only hope.

Unfortunately, unless one of these bikini clad space nymphs of my dreams decides to start go-go dancing in front of one of Phoenix’s cameras, we won’t know if life exists, as the Lander isn’t equipped with life-detecting scanners. The reason for this, while disappointing, is to ensure that scientists don’t get a false-positive by detecting bacteria or cells from Earth. Damned scientists and their false-positives. Always giving us hope, just to strip it away.

Many folks will wonder why water ice (as opposed to its bastard cousin C02 ice) is such a big deal. Although said folks are freaking retards, the question needs to be answered. With water ice on Mars, we can begin planning for manned missions, colonies, and of course, brothels. If one enjoys the notion of the mile-high club, I submit for your consideration the 36 million (ranging up to 250 million!) mile-high club. With a three-breasted woman. The mere thought of such an amazing achievement is simply dizzying.

With this, Slantmouth is proud to announce the latest of our many conquests: Mars. NASA may be douching around with landers and junk, but we’re talking about doing business. That said, we hereby claim Mars in the name of Slantmouth. That’s right, bitches: dibs. One red planet, under Slantmouth, indivisible, so get your piddly little rovers off our god damned planet and start showing some respect.

Discoveries and the preservation of man are great and all that, but we’ve got to get paid. Inquiries about Mars sponsorships (we suggest the Mars company start selling some candy bars) can be directed to The Colonel. A brave assembly of interns and chimps are standing by, waiting only on ad sales to get the fuel for lift off. Hurry! When chimps get impatient, they tend to go for the eyes.

~The Colonel