Renovations to the ISS


The astronauts will be forever grateful for the awesomeness that is the Popeye's empire of chicken.

Patrick Roghaar, Copy Editor

The International Space Station is just hanging out in space, hence the name, and it seems to be forgotten up there in the endless vacuum that is the final frontier. NASA engineers can pool their knowledge together and build automated land rovers that can traverse the unique ecosystems of our neighboring planets, but they can’t add a PlayStation or something to their headquarters. Astronauts are deprived of their rights in space. They have no freedom up there as they float about miserably, longing for the day they get to come home. The ISS is important as it houses all the nauts. It needs a few added touches, however, to reach optimal efficiency for technological progress and to get a really sick MTV Cribs episode. I recommend new blast shields to prevent substantial damage to our orbiting satellites, a new medical bay to further improve anatomical research of objects discovered while on missions, and a Popeye’s Louisiana Kitchen in the food court.

The poultry greatness that is Popeye’s would provide significant improvements for working in space. It would take some time for construction, but the results would immediately show after opening. Popeye’s owner Al Copeland opened Popeye’s with the goal in mind to compete with KFC, and with the right employees I think this will edge them out. These astropeople are sick and tired of munching on their freeze-dried nonsense. They want something out of this world. They want to come back to the ISS and get a 4-piece tender meal with a honey biscuit hand prepared by some guy named Duncan in space. Sidenote: Duncan will not receive space training. He is perfect the way he is.

This article will be sent to NASA. I am just as frustrated as the astronauts who wrote in to me to make a change. An astronomical change. I seem to be the only civilian that notices this significant issue in our contemporary society. I don’t mean to toot my own horn; you don’t have to call me the galaxy’s hero, but it would be nice to be acknowledged as such sometimes.