I suppose this continues my brief break from being cryptic! (edited, gotta stop writing things in the middle of the night)
Phase #8: I went back to 1971 and watched the Russians fuck up their Mars landing
Leonid Brezhnev: Okay, the US are gonna pull off another fucking moonlanding. I thought they’d’ve given up after we put a kamikaze spy in their Apollo 13 team but their fat capitalism saw them sail pretty too awesomely through that shit, so I’ve come up with the perfect idea.
Scientists standing in Brezhnev’s office, praying to dear Lenin: Pleasedon’tkilluspleasedon’tkilluspleasedon’tkilluspleasedon’tkillus.
Brez-face: We’re sending a rocket to fucking MARS.
One of the scientists faints violently.
Scientist #1: Errr too much vodka.
Brezhnev: God I love vodka, that man’s in charge! Alright! Everyone out, its time for my weekly phone-sex with Comrade Nixon!
The scientists mope out, pretending they hadn’t heard what they just heard.
Back in the USSR, at the best nuclear fallout shelter in all the land:
Scientist #1: Dudes, what the fuck, I swear Brezhnev is getting smarter, letting us live in absolute filth…
Scientist #2: Hey guys, I think I like, just woke up in someone’s basement, this isn’t a farm in the Ukraine.
Scientist #3: Check it out, Mikhail fainted in Brezhnev’s office and got amnesia. He’s supposed to be #1 now isn’t h-”
Scientist #1, staring at #3: “Woah, hey there number two, how’s it going being number two?”
Scientist #4: If you can’t do Calculus, you know we’re supposed to shoot you, right?
Scientist #2: Fuck off, you guys must’ve been smashed all through college, you guy’s can’t do maths for Lenin’s bald-ass scalp.
Scientist #1: Fuck you!
Scientist #3: Hey, hey, hey, guys, we’ve gotta make some rover or some shit dance around on the moon, I reckon a good place to start is by getting a rocket or something.
The three other scientists turn around and sit down properly.
Scientist #2: That’s pretty fucking easy, the USSR made the decision to make nuclear missiles and let its peoples die from alcohol poisoning in 1917, you could’ve ticked that box like, a hour ago.
A phone rings.
Scientist #1 picks up.
#1: Ugh, no, you’ve called the Soviet Science Department, better try again, Enlightened Dude.
Brez: Oh, shit, fuck, I mean of course I meant to ring you guys - the US fucking landed on the moon just then, they’re starting to make it look like there’s a fucking merry-go-round between Houston and and that cratery shit - you guys better be trading that vodka I gave you for some fucking astronauts or whatever the hell sciencey shit we need to rape Mars with Communism.
Scientist #1: Yeah sure. We just worked out that we can just take a nuclear missile and pretend its a deep-space rocket.
Brezhnev: Shit, shit, fucking slow down, okay, I know you guys are smart but you don’t need to tell me EVERYTHING you’re doing, jesus, I mean lenin, just fucking do the job, shit!
#1 puts down the phone.
The other scientists look at him.
#1: Yeah he’s pretty cool with it.
Five bottles of vodka later:
Four scientists dancing to polka music with strippers.
The next morning:
Four semi-naked scientists robbed by some Soviet strippers, hung over.
The next morning:
Four scientists checking the Soviet classifieds for a dog to pilot their rocket.
Scientist #3 spraypaints the Soviet coat of arms onto a ‘decomissioned’ Soviet nuke in a Soviet hazmat suit (loosely translated from Russian ‘hazmat’ means ‘the carcass of a dead pig’).
Dead dog in a Soviet nuke with four ‘hazmatted’ Soviet scientists standing around it. More strippers arrive.
Four ‘hazmatted’ scientists lugging dead strippers into a Soviet incinerator.
Back in the Kremlin-SSR:
Brezhnev: Alright boys, what’ve you got for me?
#1: Right, well here’s the gist of it.
#1 unveils a garbage can with some shotguns attached to it.
Soviet Official (Commissar) #1: That’s just a joke, right? That’s meant to be funny, isn’t it?
Brezhnev begins laughing like a mad fuck.
Everyone begins to laugh slowly, all the scientists look at #2 with pure hatred, laughing.
Official #1: Right, so, the demonstration, please.
#1: Right, well, theoretically, if this were the landing module, which it’s not (#1 laughs nervously, Brezhnev still wiping the tears off his face, chuckling) these uh, ‘gunpowder’ engines would control the pitch and yaw of the module.
#1 continues: And inside the module (#1 leans in to take out the ‘joke’ version of the rover from the landing module, to discover a dead radioactive stripper inside) SWEET BABY LENIN - I mean, the rover is actually still in its finalising stages, I just noticed the note I left to myself inside (begins to laugh).
No-one else laughs.
#3, realising what just happened, hissing at #2: YOU FORGOT TO TAKE HER OUT
#2: I DON’T RECALL BEING THE PERSON WHO LEFT A RADIOACTIVE HAZARD ZONE UNLOCKED
Official #3, looking at Scientist #2: What’s that, comrade?
#2: Oh! I was merely saying to my colleague here how I’d love to make the US a radioactive hazard zone.
Official #2: Promote that man, Leonid.
Brezhnev, over the funnies: You are now Scientist #1, the top Soviet Magician!
Scientist #1 (now Scientist #2) steps aside.
Official #2, emboldened by these turn of events: Tell us more.
The Scientist Formally Known As #2: The lander is to be equipped with two television cameras with a 360 degree view of the surface, as well as a mass spectrometer to study atmospheric composition; temperature, pressure, and wind sensors; and devices to measure mechanical and chemical properties of the surface, including a mechanical scoop to search for organic materials and signs of life.
All the officials, including Brezhnev, squinting: Is that all?
Former #2: Oh, it will also contain a pennant with the Soviet coat of arms.
Official #2: You are a true patriot!
A phone rings.
Brezhnev: Sexy time!
Back in the launch-day-SSR:
#4: All instruments nominal, conditions seem perfect for landing, #1.
Former #1: Good wor-
Former #2: Good work, #4.
Former #2 turns to Brezhnev: We’re gonna go for the landing, the whole Soviet Bloc is watching this.
Brezhnev: So are the Communist Parties of the world!
F. #2: What?
#3: We fucked up.
F. #2: What?
#3: Yeah we like totally fucked up, the landing module like fucking smashed into the surface of Mars.
#4: Oh shit, we’re getting a message from some martians!
Former #1: Holy shit-titties!
Brezhnev: What does it say!?
#4: It says ‘Do you want your nuke back, and if so, fuck you.” Oh wait, I forgot to read this post-script: “For this insolence, we will now invade the USSR.”
Brezhnev: Damn. Guess that means I’m fired.
And so, this demonstrates how the age-old saying “In Soviet Russia, Mars lands on you!”.
I’d just like to say that I actually harbour no prejudice against Russians or Communism, and I would have just as easily written something insulting the US, given my travels on wikipedia. In fact, to make it up to anyone who reads this blog that was offended, I’ll write something taking the piss out of the US pretty soon.