Every time NASA names a mission, it feels less like science and more like Comic-Con with rocket fuel. They can’t just call it “Moon Trip Two” or “Big Rocket Test.” No, it has to be Artemis, Orion, Apollo. If you squint, it looks less like a space program and more like a crossover event where Zeus personally greenlit the script. Imagine buying a telescope just to keep up with their mythological cinematic universe.
The truth is, NASA loves drama almost as much as Hollywood. Launching a satellite isn’t enough; it has to sound like a prophecy. “Welcome to Project Perseus, the satellite that checks the weather.” It’s like naming your Roomba “Gladiator.” Sure, it vacuums the carpet, but it feels like it should also conquer an empire. Somewhere in Houston, there’s a committee that rejects boring names faster than America rejects metric units.
This obsession reaches absurd heights. Apollo wasn’t just a Greek god, he was basically the original influencer, yet NASA borrowed his brand like it was a Netflix reboot. Artemis followed, marketed as the “sequel nobody asked for but everyone needs.” Orion sounds like a perfume line at Macy’s, but it’s actually a spaceship. Honestly, if you handed NASA a stapler, they’d christen it “Hercules: The Fastener of Destiny” and print a patch for it.
The funny part is how seriously the public plays along. People cheer like sports fans when a name drops. “Oh my god, Artemis II!” It’s literally astronauts doing astronaut stuff, but slap a mythological label on it and suddenly it’s an Avengers premiere. Next time, don’t be shocked if NASA announces “Project Taco Supreme” and the internet loses its collective mind.
Dedicated to NASA’s branding team, who clearly binge Marvel trailers at work and whisper, “Why launch reality when you can launch legend?”
Add comment