It was a good banquet as far as law events go. I'm still slightly stunned and worried that the whole affair counted as continuing legal education, but why look a gift horse in the mouth? (I've looked all kinds of horses in the mouth, and the best thing you are likely to find is bits of apple.)
The distinguish guest covered many points of law. For instance, he touched on the controversial legal issue of how hard to you have to throw a baby at a nanny's breast to constitute sexual harassment (depends on the social utility of throwing the child compared to the damage done to the breasts--also, in some states it matters whether the throw was under or over handed).
Somewhere in the middle of the address, Mr. Bernsen touched upon the topic of space law. Law in space? Can you even imagine? Space is the new Old West. A place where the six-shooter would rule, if there was enough air to facilitate a gunpowder reaction. (Now you can see why lazers play so heavily in the future.)
Space law is a blank canvass, but here is the only rule you really need to know: Space is cold, lonely, and will break your heart.
Here we have a young, brash engineer (IT) with nothing to lose. Though incredibly vast, space requires great precision.
Space is complicated, and if you want to make sense out of it all, you're going to need old newspapers, scissors, a metric/imperial ruler, explosives, and an interested Jack Russell Terrier.
And then the day cames. Zero-hour.
I'm a rocket man.
This rocket is America's greatest hope. It's the Grizzler. Majestic and proud.
This rocket has an understated, noble kind of pride. It was named Martin Luther King Blvd.
MLK Blvd sits eager upon the launch pad.
If you want to launch a rocket, you're going to need a good electron beam and many AA-batteries.
Both the Grizzler and MLK Blvd violently, powerfully, sleekly, clawed their way into space, slapping earth's gravity, mocking fate.
However neither rocket was recovered. $40, a few hours, and two hearts never to return from space's icy clutch.
