We choose to go the moon in this decade, and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.
Open a Burger Chef & Jeff in Biloxi, Mississippi.
Bring home the bronze in Judo at the 1964 Olympics.
Prepare the Mandrell sisters to dominate the entertainment landscape in the 1970s and 80s.
Follow up on cockamamie “McDLT” idea McNamara and defense guys are always going on about.
Mow the lawn, for pete’s sake.
Keep Jackie oblivious.
Fake-land a man on the moon. Giggle like girls while nation watches in awe.
Create a low-calorie Dr. Pepper drink that tastes more like real Dr. Pepper.
Full-color, half-page for “Heathcliff” on Sundays.
Have English speakers everywhere place emphasis on the wrong syllable in “decade.”
Figure out who the heck killed me.
Engineer a better, stronger, funnier cyber-Bob Hope.
Flubber. For real, guys.
Finally get Rock Hudson hitched.
Invent TiVo, fill it up with “My Three Sons.”
Get neck-deep in an unwinnable war.
Legalize manslaughter for tipsy, cherubic, younger brothers of presidents.
Create delicious bean epoxy useful in gluing soft flour tortilla to outside of hard shell taco.
End racism by giving black people the right to drink from every water fountain they see.
Publish tasteful coffee table book of nude presidential portraits.
Turn “Profiles in Courage” into a six-part made-for-TV movie starring Marty Feldman and that hot broad from the Prell ads.
End decades-old tension at Tom & Jerry summit meeting in Vienna.
Use stack of gift cards to Krispy Kreme before they expire.
Finally sit through all of “Lawrence of Arabia” without napping.
Come up with a sport that combines baseball and roller skating.
Make first working Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine prototype, crow about it to the Russians.
Have Norway and Sweden switch names.
Get Cronkite roaring drunk on Dean Rusk’s homemade gin. Drop him off in Georgetown with his head shaved and his pants missing.
Land a man on Eva Gabor.
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