"No scars, no history of serious illness in the last three generations of your family, and no tooth cavities. These are amongst the 100 health requirements for would-be astronauts vying to be part of China's next space team, the Yangtse Evening Paper reported on Saturday. The selection process, which the paper said is for the second batch of Chinese astronauts, will disqualify those who have runny noses, ringworm, drug allergies or bad breath" - Reuters
To the selection committee,
I'm sending along my resume, high-resolution photos of every part of my body, and requested mouth cultures. I have no doubt you will find that I'm more than qualified to join the Chinese space team. I would like to mention some additional qualifications, above and beyond the 100 you noted, and with which I fully comply, (I assure you, cultivation of the cultures I have sent will show that my breath smells lightly of sandalwood) that I feel make me an even more desirable future member of the the space team.
I am fit, but not too fit, and am a robust 5'7½" tall, a height which, as it is just above the national average, will give me an air of leadership, but, being only slightly above that norm, will not mark me as an object of jealousy to my companions. My looks, likewise, have been described as "good, but plain." This essential averageness of my physical self will help keep petty rivalries at bay, which rivalries, in the excessively confined atmosphere of the space shuttle, could soon devolve into a sort of "space madness."
That said, I am purely bisexual. Space is a lonely place, as I'm sure I will soon find out, and no doubt more than one "office romance" has gotten underway above the Earth's atmosphere. Without any gender preference whatsoever, I could serve any of my crewmates as a romantic outlet in a bind, and since I am, as I mentioned, only slightly attractive, they will be neither unduly distracted by feelings of desire for me, nor embarrassed to have succumbed after the fact.
I have done extensive testing, via video surveillance, air-quality monitors, and sound recordings, and have determined that not only do I not snore or drool, but I do not have gaseous or other, even less desirable, nocturnal emissions. This will help save water, at a premium in space, as less regular washing of my sheets will be required than with other men. In the interest of full disclosure, I admit that I once rubbed at my nose in my sleep, but thorough examination of the sheets in the morning revealed no runoff from the incident.
Years of anecdotal evidence from myself and friends, as well as some targeted testing with the air-quality control devices, indicate that my gaseous emissions, when they do occur (which is rare, I assure you) are nearly odorless.
My hair grows rapidly, which might be seen as a negative, as there will undoubtedly be no room for barbers in space, but which I view as a distinct positive. I have found that I can weave the strong and flexible hairs that fall out of my head into a resilient, durable rope, capable of lifting up to 500 lbs in its thickest tested version. Ropes made entirely of my beard hairs tested on average as capable of pulling twice the weight of head-hair counterparts of equivalent thickness. Harvesting the materials for these, however, takes considerably longer.
My ankles are well-formed, and could in no way be described as "cankles."
I am not a vegetarian, a lifestyle choice I think gives me a distinct advantage over my herbivorous counterparts. Should anything go wrong (which, given the victorious and powerful government behind us, is certainly an impossibility), this puts me one step closer to being able to do what would then become necessary, and eat the bodies of fallen comrades in order to maintain survival. If I were one of the fallen, I have been told by former lovers that my flesh is slightly redolent of salt-pork.
I am ready and willing to drink urine should water shortages become a problem. Mine has the flavor of weak tea, undoubtedly a mark in my favor.
I have no catch phrases, and in fact employ little or no slang in my daily life, nor do I listen to popular music or follow, and then feel the need to discuss, trendy, love-them-or-hate-them reality programs. This would make me at least 4 times less annoying over time than those who indulge in at least one of the aforementioned weaknesses, and up to 40 times less annoying than those who give free rein to all three.
I have almost perfected a process which recycles my bodily detritus and my spit into printable paper. I would reveal the formula for the use of the space program at large, but I have reason to believe that success is dependent on my particular body chemistry (which is in no way abnormal, simply individual). I am less far along, but incredibly hopeful about, another process I'm working on which recycles other waste products into a functioning toner.
Perhaps most importantly, I have attained a high level of mastery at creating and arranging paper and silk flowers, which will really brighten up the living space.
Should any further inducements be necessary, I am happy to give officials access to my savings account, which is amply provided, or my body, to use as they see fit (as mentioned before, either gender is welcome to my services). I will perform a serviceable but unremarkable job, more than sufficient, with the flavor illicitness adds, to satisfy, but unlikely to make the recipient question his or her current relationship. If either of these actions is deemed necessary, I will require proof of my acceptance to the program beforehand (I do not doubt the purity of your intentions, but a similar situation with the DMV ended poorly, and I am thus more cautious now).
In these and myriad other ways, I am certain I am the most superior option, except in the potentially threatening areas of physical appearance and sexual prowess, where my complete mediocrity has been noted. I trust that we'll be on more official professional terms in the near future.
Sincerely,
Jang Han, future member of the Chinese space program