Sure we all know that space is full of noise. I, for one, think of fuzzy noises. Like the fuzzy snow you get on TV. Case in point.

But this particular batch of sounds released from Nasa is like a self fulfilled prophecy of what the collective 1960s SciFi fan base would have conjured up when the words “freaky unearthly space reverberations invade your brain.” It’s equal parts wacky and eery.

Take for example the bleeps and blots of sound as Cassini-Huygens’ descended into Titan’s atmosphere. At first they’re erratic and fun, but turn into a fever pitch of a Geiger counter running off the chart.

But the eeriest by far are the sounds of Saturn’s radio emissions. Cross the sounds of Cylon ship with those of a cetacean, add plenty goosebumps, and you’re almost there.

There’s a longer loop of Saturn’s song that resembles a symphony of bottle rockets let loose, slowed down 10x, and then stuck in a haunted house, where wispy ghosts moan and pull at your hair.

(Thanks Kurt!)

Chris Hadfield is a Canadian astronaut who sports a dashing mustache. He grew up on a corn farm in southern Ontario, and went on to dock with Mir in 1995. In 2001 he went out into space again for a trip to the International Space Station where he helped install the Canadarm2, a piece of robotics that makes most Canadians blush with pride and/or strike out into the air above them with a raised fist (ok. That might just be me). This made him the first Canadian to go on a spacewalk.

Here he is on youtube, describing the minute detail how toilets work in space - which let’s face it, is something we’re all curious and giggly about. The great thing is, I actually learned something. Like the fact that they freeze dry poo. Who knew??

So then they stockpile this freeze dried shit until they have enough of it tucked away to expel into space Hadfield explains in the video: “We put it in a little unmanned supply ship, and we undock it, and it burns up in the atmosphere.”

But here’s why we love our Hadfield. Cause he’s got a sense of humor, all the more sharp because of his deadpan delivery. “So the next time you see a beautiful shooting star going across the night sky...” he says, his finger tracing the motion of a streak of light in the heavens, ”that‘s what it might be.” At which point he has the good sense to look rueful.