NASA has a shrimp problem and it is not cute.

Sea monkeys are brine shrimp. They live in a plastic tank the size of a juice glass. They have three eyes, no lawyers, and no idea what a launch window is. That did not stop this agency from stuffing their eggs on Apollo, hatching them on a shuttle like it was a science fair, flying them with John Glenn, and still treating them like disposable cosmic lab rats. Some got cooked by radiation. Some hatched in orbit and then got embalmed in formalin so a high school could get a ribbon. That is not research. That is a kidnapping with a press kit.

They did not volunteer. They cannot sign a waiver. “They survive being dried out” is not consent. That is a panic button for a salt lake, not a boarding pass for Artemis.

NASA: you have the entire universe. You have rocks, robots, rich men in jumpsuits, and a budget that could buy every sea-monkey kit on Earth and still have money left for a commemorative pin. Leave the royal family in the tank.

We demand:

1.  Immediate freeze on every brine shrimp / Sea-Monkey / Artemia payload. If it is in a queue, a student experiment, a “Moon food” pitch, or a drawer at Ames, it stays on the ground.

2.  A public list of every shrimp you launched, who approved it, and how many came back vs how many became space dust.

3.  A written ban: no more “let’s see if the comic-book pets die in a vacuum.” You already know. They suffer. You published it. Stop.

4.  An apology addressed to the colony, printed, laminated, and mailed to anyone who still has a tank on a dresser like a shrine.

If NASA can lose track of a billion-dollar balloon and still keep flying, it can leave a teaspoon of shrimp the hell alone.

Sign this if you are done watching a three-eyed animal get volunteered for glory it did not ask for. Then send it to one person who will also lose their mind.

Earth. Water. Tank. That is the mission. Anything else is intern behavior with a rocket.