IF most women did not live under self-imposed censorship, 99.99 percent of them would be openly repulsed by the idea of spending years studying physics and engineering, and then years doing all kinds of repetitive exercises in T-38 supersonic jets, underwater tanks and ‘vomit comets,’ in order to be launched into that stultifyingly boring void known as Outer Space. But because most women do not have that freedom of speech and have lost their natural instincts, many will probably be outwardly impressed by NASA’s latest gimmick: a class of astronauts that is 50 percent female, including some mothers. A few of these lucky women, we are told by the liars officials at NASA, may even go to Mars someday, leaving their children behind on Planet Earth for a trip that will be overwhelmingly an adventure in nerdy button-pushing.

"The hardest part of a Mars trip, according to them, would be being separated from their planet and families for so long. But the job does come with some perks, including a unique perspective. 'From space,' says astronaut Anne McClain, 'you can’t see borders. What you see is this lonely planet. Here we all are on it, so angry at one another. I wish more people could step back and see how small Earth is, and how reliant we are on one another.'"

Believe me, folks, these women will never see the surface of Mars, except in the movies. In any event, the things these women could accomplish within the dramatic and exciting Inner Space of their own homes so dwarfs what they could accomplish on Mars (where they won’t be going anyway), that the very suggestion is an outrage. Who would trade insipid, lifeless, finite Mars (Yuck!! Revolting!!) for the chance to create and influence human beings, each one of whom is a fascinating planet, an eternal sphere of consummate adventure, a being that is utterly unique and made in God’s image? If that isn’t power, what is?

God gave men galaxies and distant planets and asteroids to compensate them for the misfortune — and unfairness — of never being able to become mothers. Outer Space takes their minds off the unfairness of it all, something women have been kind enough to recognize in the past by not denying those who have dreamed of being astronauts since they were little boys of the chance to experience the “vomit comet.”

Women don’t want it anyway. If someone came to my door when my children were young, blossoming creatures and said, “Hey, lady, you have just won a trip to Mars!,” I would have told him to get lost. I would do the same now. Women have made many serious trade-offs to become like men, but this is an especially bad deal.

These women are being used by the Pentagon and NASA for the same purpose that Vanna White was used on The Price is Right. They beautify a sales pitch. Reality is a TV show. This is nothing more than yet another publicity stunt, a pretty ad for the borderless, New World Order where everyone gets along under tyranny, the will of the people banished at last, and pays the banksters and the federal government for the pleasure of enslavement and endless war. The Price is Right. Ninety-eight percent of the world will be debt-ridden and two percent will be filthy rich. Ah, yes, they just want to look down on the earth and see all peoples getting along.

Cute uniforms. The costume division of NASA is top notch. (Aren’t these just your typical physics majors? How many ugly, accomplished women applicants got the boot?) But if you don’t smell a rat here you don’t understand the way of things on this lonely planet.

Women of the world, unite! Shed the shackles of the world controllers. It is men that we love, not Mars.