There are two types of man-made telescopes in space; space observatories and spy satellites. The only difference is which way the camera is pointed.

Thanks to the Corona satellite, we know what the Pentagon looks like.

Telescopes on Earth have some serious drawbacks. You need to worry about a miles-thick pile of air bending (or completely blocking) light. On Earth, an astronomer has to contend with our spinning orb, which has a tendency to make any given location point in the complete opposite direction every 12 hours. When your subject is visible, you have to keep the telescope moving on a huge lazy Susan to get a clear image.

Many of the fundamental limitations on Earth-bound observatories all but disappear in Space. You can point at a position in the cosmos for days, picking up the faintest light from the most distant galaxies with only small adjustments. Sitting above the atmosphere, a space telescope doesn’t have to counteract distortion caused by our atmosphere. They are well worth the time and effort it takes to get them into orbit.

The first spy satellites were a real pain in the ass. They used cameras with actual film, and when the roll was used up, a jettisoned canister containing the images would re-enter the atmosphere. An airplane equipped with a big hook would then catch the descending capsule out of the air before it hit the ground (lest the enemy find the photos first!).

This absurd system allowed the U.S. to determine just what those red devils were getting up to without any embarrassing loose-ends.

It would be another ten years before a satellite with a camera turned towards almost everything that exists would be made. The people that were willing to spend 850 million dollars (~6.5 billion in 2016) putting a mirror-on-the-shoe trick into orbit finally found some spare cash to begin answering the deepest questions about the universe.

In comedy, we are allowed to make observations that would normally cause people’s minds to shut down. Comedians can slip through the defenses that keep societies unaccountable. Resistance against being shown the fundamental injustices that we perpetrate melts when we realize we can laugh about it. Laughs are Joshua’s horns, crumbling our mental walls.

The problems with direct observations of uncomfortable subjects all but disappear with a joke:

Karen Pratschky, please report to the lobby, your family is looking for you. Also, a full head of hair, please report to the lobby, Bob is looking for you... You’re going to die someday, and every hair you lose that doesn’t grow back is a stark and unmistakable reminder of your inescapable mortality.

To anyone that feels the need to actually test this out in real life: change “Bob” to the name of the balding party.

If you’re trying out the direct approach, make sure Bob isn’t armed.