Houston, we have a boo-boo! Turns out, being shot into space isn't exactly a walk in the park. Astronaut Mike Fincke, bless his spacesuit, had a bit of a medical oopsie while orbiting our glorious planet. Now, before the woke brigade starts demanding 'equal access to space health' (funded by your tax dollars, naturally), let's get real.

Fincke, the brave soul, didn't spill the beans on what exactly went wrong. Probably something embarrassing, like space-sickness projectile vomiting into his helmet. Whatever it was, NASA, in a rare moment of sanity, decided to err on the side of caution and yanked the whole crew of Crew-11 back to terra firma. Because, ya know, space doctors are kinda scarce.

The libs are probably already penning op-eds about how this is proof of 'systemic space-ism' and how NASA needs to 'decolonize its approach to astronaut health.' Give me a break. Space is inherently unequal. Some people are brave enough to strap themselves to a rocket; others are busy virtue signaling on Twitter. Deal with it.

Now, the real question is: did Fincke forget his Vitamin C? Did he catch a case of the space crud from his commie cosmonaut buddies? Or did he simply realize that five months of freeze-dried ice cream is enough to make anyone's stomach revolt? We may never know.

But let's not forget the real heroes here: the flight surgeons, the engineers, and the brave men and women who put their butts on the line to explore the final frontier. They're the ones who deserve our thanks, not some whiny social justice warriors demanding 'representation' on the next Mars mission. (Spoiler alert: Mars doesn't care about your pronouns.)

And to Fincke himself: Get well soon, buddy! Maybe lay off the Tang for a while. And next time, pack some Pepto Bismol. You know, just in case.

Meanwhile, back on Earth, the sky is falling because some billionaire bought Twitter. Priorities, people! SPACE! It's still up there! Mostly empty! Waiting to be exploited by Elon Musk for Dogecoin mining purposes. That's the real tragedy here.

So, let's all raise a glass (of Tang, if you're feeling adventurous) to the brave astronauts who dare to venture into the unknown. And let's pray that next time, they remember to pack a decent first-aid kit. Because in space, nobody can hear you scream...unless you have a really good radio.

But seriously, it's good that the crew is back on solid ground and that Fincke is recovering. Hopefully, this serves as a reminder that even with all the technology in the world, humans are still fragile meatbags. And space doesn't give a damn.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go build a rocket out of cardboard and duct tape. For freedom! And maybe some space tendies. Don't tell AOC.