AP shits brick over 1-in-100 risk of crew loss.

Between freaking out over the risks of dying in a war zone and the risks of dying on a Shuttle flight, the media annoys the shit out of me lately. Folks, this is rocket science: we send a crew of three-to-seven people to orbit atop millions of pounds of explosives that happen to go the other way [well, most of the time]. We learn lessons out of every single one of these flights—they’re all flight tests.

Manned spaceflight is never, ever routine and normal. The crew know the risks, and they climb up, strap in, and clench their sphincters tight. We drones down here on the ground do the same: we know the risks, and most of us worry like hell about it. But … shit is going to happen. Something that we didn’t think would ever break breaks. A contingency that we thought we’d planned for exceeds our response capability. At the worst, people die. We have to live with that.

If you freak out over the risks, that generally means that you don’t have the balls to sit at the pointy end of the rocket. Don’t worry: you’re not alone. I’m not sure that I’d do it myself. These folks, though … they know the risks, accept them, and go on with life.

Ad astra per aspera.