Navy SEAL Dad in Defense of Katy Perry: She Went to Space—and the Internet Had a Full-Blown Meltdown

Nobody likes a bully—especially one with editorial access.

I’ve been on the other end of the hate parade, and it’s no fun. Usually,the band is led by some hack reporter, traumatized individual, or D-list celebrity trying to get a moment of fame from the cheap seats. Somebody has to stick up for Katy and tell it how it is.

I have fond memories blasting Katy Perry in my Land Cruiser in Lake Tahoe with my daughter Olivia singing along.

So when Katy Perry blasted her glitter-powered self into actual space, I cheered like a drunk dad at a Little League game. Because let’s face it—who wouldn’t want to go to space?

But instead of celebrating a pop star doing something bold and cosmic, the usual mouth-breathers of the internet lit up like they were personally offended by her orbital joyride.

Let me repeat: Katy Perry went to fking SPACE. And the response from America’s comment section was… how dare she!? What a waste! 

This is why aliens don’t visit us, folks. Humanity has issues…

And then there’s Wendy’s—yes, the cheeseburger chain with a Twitter account run by some failed improv comedian who thinks posting zingers qualifies as social commentary. They jumped in to roast Katy like it was open mic night in a basement Arby’s. Stick to soggy burgers, Wendy’s,  and let the adults have a moment.

Katy Perry’s Cosmic Win = Your Existential Crisis

You don’t hate Katy because she went to space.

You hate her because you’ll never get invited.

She made it to the stars while you’re still rage-tweeting from your mom’s house in pajama pants that haven’t been washed since the last Trump administration.

I’m not here to hold your hand through your identity crisis, but if watching a successful woman live her damn life triggers you this hard, maybe it’s time to book a therapy session—or a week alone in the woods without Wi-Fi.

Here’s a fun fact: My daughter and I used to blast Katy Perry tracks in the car like they were SEAL team war songs. “Teenage Dream,” “Firework,” “Roar”—you name it. She was the soundtrack to her childhood and our road trips. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s called having range. Look it up.

Editorial Bullies: The Real Space Trash

There’s a reason this Katy hate fest feels gross—it’s rooted in editorial bullying. The kind of smug, sanctimonious potshots people take when they’ve got no skin in the game and even less joy in their soul.

Why are people going after her in the press?

• It’s a projection. They’re mad because they’re stuck, and she’s soaring.

• It’s performative. Mocking someone successful makes them feel clever for five seconds before they cry themselves to sleep.

• It’s cowardly. They’d never say this crap to her face—but Twitter gives them false confidence like tequila at a high school reunion.

We’ve let too many of these trolls convince us that cynicism is cool. It’s not. It’s lazy. And in the real world—the one with blood, bullets, broken bones, and hard-earned respect—lazy gets you killed.

Dream Big, Launch Hard, and Flip the Trolls the Bird

Katy Perry didn’t need to ask permission. She suited up, boarded that ship, and went full Captain Glitter in zero-G. That takes guts, not just money. It takes imagination, wonder, and the ability to tune out the chorus of sad sacks still rewatching “Friends” and pretending sarcasm is a personality.

To the haters: You could’ve said, “Damn, that’s cool.” But instead, you chose to projectile-vomit your insecurities across the web like a Reddit comment section in heat.

Grow up.

To the dreamers: Keep reaching for the stars—even if you’ve got people throwing shade from Earth. Especially then. That means you’re doing something right.

Katy Perry saw the curvature of the Earth—you trolls saw your own reflections and got mad. That’s not her problem.

And Katy—if you’re reading this—respect. My daughter and I are still fans.