Jeremy Eaton

SPACE! THE FINAL FRONTIER! (In which to tap some booty, that is!) And yet? Not a single scientist, astronaut, or president has stepped forward to say, "America must be the first country to have sex in space—and we will do so by the end of this decade. My fellow Americans, we choose to send two hot people into space to boink (and do those other sexy things) not because it is easy... but because I am hard!" (My sincerest apologies to the ghost of John F. Kennedy.)

But seriously, did you get a load of all the phony-baloney hullabaloo over last week's 40th anniversary of the moon landing? Kaaaaaa-SNOOOZE! Three hot dudes fly up into space, hop around on a dusty rock, and return to Earth without even having a circle je... sorry. Without "digitally pleasuring each other"? And just so they could collect some stoopid rock samples?? Dude... most boring road trip EVER!

That's why it's imperative that we beat the Russians in the "great space-sex race." The Russkies already have a leg up on us in sexual exploration (i.e., their brilliantly conceived mail-order-bride program)—so it's just a matter of time before they're circling Earth and making hot commie love... right over our heads! Word of advice, my friends: If the Bolsheviks beat us into space? WEAR A HAT. (Preferably one with a wide brim.)

Answer me this: Why are Congress and our scientific community so lukewarm on this obviously awesome idea? It's not like there isn't any precedent! Take Captain Kirk from Star Trek, for example: The purpose of Kirk's five-year mission was "to explore strange new worlds," and that's exactly what he did. Of course, back in the old days, the word "worlds" was street code for "alien va-jay-jay," which was why he was always in such a rush.

And speaking of sex treks, there's a new 13-episode series debuting this week exploring the necessity of intergalactic nether-grinding, and it's called Defying Gravity (ABC, Sun Aug 2, 9 pm). Ron Livingston (Office Space) stars as a hunky astronaut who, along with seven other sexually active hotties, is blasted into space on a very mysterious six-year mission. Complicating matters is the fact that everything they do on board the spaceship is monitored and they are required to wear (get this) "a libido-suppressing device."

WHOOPTY-WHOOP PLAYA... WHAAAAA??? Now, I can go along with the idea of being sent into space for six years with absolutely no clue of why I'm there—but to be placed in close quarters with seven equally throbbing roomies and be forced to wear a futuristic chastity belt? OH, HELL NO! HUMPY DON'T PLAY THAT!

In fact, the near-constant space sex is the ONLY reason I'd agree to go on a trip like this! The way I see it, my odds for getting laid are multiplied by seven under such a scenario. Sure, at first they may be able to resist my considerable charms (AKA "penis")—but eventually? I'll be visiting Uranus in no time. (Wait... what?? Stop thinking filthy thoughts! I was talking about the planet Uranus, you dirty bird. According to Kirk, they've got the sweetest alien va-jay-jay.)

Rockets at full thrust.