but it sucked…
Sunday we built a rocket in honor of Mr. Wizard, who died last week. He was 89 years old, which is pretty old for an old man. We wanted to let him know that we remember him and can still use his science tricks. Also we wanted to shoot off a rocket. But science, ladies and germs, is harder than it looks.
Patrick found simple instructions online. Tape a construction paper rocket to a film canister, combine baking soda and vinegar in the canister, close it, set the rocket down, boom! Eight-year-olds commented that their rockets went, like, 50 feet in the air. So we knew we could make ours go at least, like, 500 feet…
Assembly went smoothly.
We signed our names so when the rocket shot all up into heaven, Mr. Wizard would know these doggs got his back.
This rocket was ready to rock.
We moved this bad-ass piece of handmade craftsmanship to the front yard, so the colossal blast wouldn’t be blocked by trees or power lines. We didn’t want to knock out power to the neighborhood or nothin’. So we’re all set up, we’ve got the baking soda open, the cameras are rolling, and drip…drip…drip drip drip DRIPDRIPDRIP.
It is fucking raining.
Boooo.
So we took a…yes…I’m going to say it….we took a…..RAINCHECK.
A few minutes went by, and the sky cleared up. Looked like Mr. Wizard had one more weather trick up his sleeve. Alright, all systems go.
Baking soda……………………………………….vinegar…………………………….close the canister…
………..AND………..
Nothing.
Baking soda fizzed everywhere, and that was it. OK, we said. Must have been too much baking soda. Or too much vinegar. Or we didn’t get the cap on fast enough. Whatever it is, it’s a simple solution and we can fix it and we can make this damn rocket fly a million feet in the air.
So we kept trying. Ten, fifteen times. The rocket got soaked.
Every time, the same result: no liftoff.
Our spirits, too, were going limp.
And eventually, they broke.
We were sad. Look at the sad face.
If anyone would like to stage a funeral for Mr. Wizard’s Dead Rocket, I’m sure that it would appreciate one. I think we are going to bury it in the back yard. Or, maybe, we will build a cannon, and shoot this sorry piece of shit off in THAT.
R.I.P.
I say we give it a burial in space… launched by a Mentos and Diet Coke powered rocket!
All the healing I’ve done in the past 24 hours has been reversed by viewing this post. Now I, like the rocket, am still broken.
Though let me say just one thing, I think our rocket was perfect. It was beautifully conceived and constructed. It is science that has failed us.
Would it help your re-recovery if we give it a burial in space, like Doug suggests?
perhaps before that, we should let it live on as the subject for more photographs in several geographic locations around the SouthEast. You know, yard Gnome style.
I think it would fit right in at Finster’s.
Hm, that’s a good idea too. But we’ll have to make a protective case for it. That construction paper won’t hold up for long.
“We signed our names **so when the rocket shot all up into heaven**, Mr. Wizard would know these doggs got his back.”
ROFL
That’s too damn funny. I’m sure Don Herbert is sitting atop a fluffy cloud, playing his harp and having a good long laughh.
or he’s crying because you let him down.
I’d like to think he knows we tried our best.
I think he’s crying. That’s funnier.
Ok, ok. I was kidding. I’m sure he knows y’all tried., but REALLY, the crying thing *is* funnier.
Maybe he was crying. Maybe that’s why it rained yesterday. Maybe Mr. Wizard’s tears are watering our lawns.
You gave it a valiant effort.
I’m sure Mr. Wizard would be proud.
I’d say he’s more likely fertilizing our lawns from below having been put back in the earth. He’s a man of science afterall.
Um, ex-squeeze me? Mr. Wizard’s body was taped onto a rocket and blasted into space, with his show’s theme song playing in the background. It couldn’t have happened any other way. Unless… unless he was buried in a volcano. I could accept that.
I like the Stella product placement in the assembly phase… though that might have been a part of your launching problem.
Perhaps, but we’re professionals. Like all good alkies, I blame external forces.
resisting…limp…joke….
Ah naw, go on and make a limp joke. I did.
Wow! This blog is really blowing up… KABOOM!
To da moon!
Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo
………………..what?