[b]Mary Roach
It is assumed that a man will fit one of the three sizes available in the condom-style urine collection device hose attachment inside the EVA suit. To avoid mishaps caused by embarrassed astronauts opting for L when they are really S, there is no S. There is L, XL, and XXL.[/b]
Let’s file this one under, “fucking men!”
Sometimes courage is nothing more than a willingness to think differently than those around you.
Not to be confused [as often as not] with being right.
I think that at the moment of death that little window opens up. I think that maybe we’re all connected to something bigger than we are.
I think not. Now what?
On top of its other charms, the maggot breathes through its ass.
Well, God does work in mysterious ways.
Edison believed that living beings were animated and controlled by “life units,” smaller-than-microscopic entities that inhabited each and every cell and, upon death, evacuated the premises, floated around awhile, and eventually reassembled to animate a new personality—possibly another man, possibly an ocelot or a sea cucumber.
Must be another Edison.
The technical term for tunnel vision is attentional narrowing. It’s another prehistorically helpful but now potentially disastrous feature of the survival stress response. One focuses on the threat to the exclusion of almost everything else. Bruce Siddle tells a story about a doctor who had some fun with an anxious intern. He sent him across the emergency room to sew up a car crash victim’s lacerations. The intern was so intent on his stitching that he failed to notice his patient was dead.
How the hell should we react to that?