Originally published at: http://boingboing.net/2016/10/26/great-moments-in-space-history.html
…
6 Likes
And they say that rippling flag is evidence of a hoax?
10 Likes
To inflatulence and beyond!
12 Likes
Shoulda stuck to Tang.
9 Likes
Space gives me the wind something fierce.
4 Likes
“Houston, we have a prob…” BRAAAAAAPP!!
6 Likes
From The Realist, October 1972:
10 Likes
It’s caused by reduced air pressure. Every climber knows about it. Apparently there have been studies that say it relates to diffusion of carbon dioxide out of the bloodstream, rather than the simple application of Boyle’s Law that you might imagine. In any case, everyone gets flatulent a few hours after arriving at high alt-itoots.
19 Likes
Strange. You’d think in all the pre-launch prep that it would make sense to start the astronauts off well in advance on the same diet they’d be having in space, so as to avoid any surprises. (Didn’t they keep that one fellow off Apollo 13 because of the remote possibility that he might come down with German measles in orbit?)
4 Likes
I would have guessed he was lactose intolerant and ate some of that “astronaut ice cream” but apparently that’s a myth, NASA never supplied the missions with freeze-dried ice cream.
1 Like
video is now listed as “private” : (
2 Likes
Toot…toot…toot…toot…toot…
19 Likes
Now you inow why he was called “Buzz” Aldrin.
8 Likes
I regret I only have one like to give to this comment.
7 Likes
The landlord shut my heat off today, but whitey’s fartin’ on the moon.
11 Likes
It should be blowing the other direction, though.
1 Like
5 Likes
Another hot mike catches some locker room banter amongst the boys.
4 Likes
“Ripley, is that you?”
“He who smelt it dealt it Dallas.”
In space no one can hear you fart…
5 Likes
Ahem.
Bowel Control to Major Tom
Bowel Control to Major Tom
Take your Beano now and put your helmet on
Bowel Control to Major Tom (ten, nine, eight, seven, six)
Commander sniffs, the side-eye’s on (five, four, three)
Check your suit seals and may God’s love be… P.U.! (two, one, liftoff)
This is Ground Control to Major Tom
You’ve really shit the bed
And the papers want to know whose shorts you wear
Now it’s time to leave the men’s head if you dare
"This is Major Tom to Ground Control
I’m exiting the stall
And I’m farting in a most peculiar way
And my crewmates’ faces look aghast today
For here
Am I sitting in my own filth
Far above the world
My suit’s filled with poo
And there’s nothing I can do
Though I’ve gassed one hundred thousand miles
I’m feeling very ill
And I think my faeces knows which way to go
Tell my wife it smells like shit up here." She knows!
Bowel Control to Major Tom
Your filter’s dead, it smells all wrong
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you…
“Here am I floating in a brown haze
Farting to the moon
My undershorts are brown
And my suit is falling down…”
Okay, I’m sorry for that.
12 Likes
