I’m having a deja vu! Its 1967 again. There are riots in dozens of large cities and men are leaving Florida for space. I don’t remember a virus lock down back then. History doesn’t repeat, but it rhymes. Yesterday two men managed to escape this crazy scene. I watched the replay. I saw them on my big screen floating with an inflated dinosaur. They floated with the dinosaur, not me, I floated with Mary Jane. The interior of the crew dragon ship looked the part. It could have been designed by a movie set maker. I’ll bet it was, knowing that rascal Musk’s Modus Operandi. Reality and science fiction inform each other anymore. The two escapees from Earth joined three others three hundred miles up. Five down, eight billion to go. Well…. I can’t speak for the others but a few of us would like to escape into space ourselves. In clinical terms space begins 60 miles up. Climb three hundred thousand feet and you’re there. Do it with today’s pathetic technology and you’ll fall back, landing with a thud. Whats needed is the alien white tic tac vehicle. That craft, as seen on Navy video, doesn’t need the high radial velocity to counter gravity. All the huffing and puffing SpaceX’s rocket performed to insert a dragon into orbit. No, the aliens can climb and dive and turn on a dime without breaking a sweat. Its easy for them. How do they do it? nobody knows, yet. They’re not talking to us. That shows wisdom I guess, but It hurts, that these aliens don’t want to know us. Do we have B.O.? do we act crazy? are humans loathsome?, dangerous? Stupid? Rhetorical questions sorry to say. We are all of that and more. My friend Joe has one vector on the subject of space exploration. He says we shouldn’t do it. He says we should stay and fix the Earth. He joins others in the idea that its “either or”. Either we clean up our mess and make Earth the paradise it could be…or we go into space. Why not both?! I ask. His reply is something like, you can’t have dessert unless you eat all those green veggies. Maybe the aliens hang here waiting for us to cross a line. Maybe if a few of us go beyond the moon, to Mars or the Asteroids, they’ll show themselves and read us the “Riot Act”. The rules made by the adults in this part of the galaxy. God is a little too indulgent with us. God the father is spoiling his kids maybe. Its Home Alone on a planetary scale. Tough love from a bunch of aliens capable of slapping us around might be just the Rx we need. Maybe the aliens don’t have herd immunity and are social distancing. I’d prefer to think that, I decide, sniffing my armpits.