Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: moon

Not Quite Xmas Eve, With A Super Moon Over Town

“Bum bah BUUUUUUM!”

“Ah, shit.”

“I have returned! My never-ending war on crime continues! For I am–”

“I hate you.”

“–Supermoon!”

“There are lots of planets without moons. I envy them, y’know.”

“Show me your crime!”

“Dude, I’m begging you.”

“Evildoers cower at Supermoon’s power!”

“If you don’t stop, I’ll send some more humans up there.”

“Oh, no, don’t. You know they left their fucking car on me, right?”

“You’ve been telling me for 45 years.”

“Well, it’s kind of a big deal, man. I’m not like you. I don’t have a fancy atmosphere full of water and scavengers. When you leave something on the ground on me, it just stays there forever.”

“I gotcha, I gotcha. But you have to stop it with the Supermoon nonsense. It’s every ten weeks with the same bullshit.”

“My crimefighting is not bullshit.”

“How do you fight crime?”

“I prevent it. Look at yourself. Look how bright you are right now. Terrible conditions for crime.”

“Well, you just proved my point. Preventing is not fighting. No one would be interested in watching Sugar Ray Leonard prevent Marvin Hagler.”

“The 1980’s were the Golden Age for the middle weight classes.”

“We agree on this. Now knock it off with the Supermoon bit. You don’t even have any superpowers.”

“I control the tides!”

Influence. You influence the tides. And only according to a strict mathematical formula. You couldn’t tell the tides what to do any more than Canute could.”

“Whenever I hear Canute’s name, I picture him as a dog-man wearing a crown.”

“You’re getting weird, buddy.”

“It’s lonely up in space.”

“I gotcha.”

“But I’m not backing down on this superpowers thing. I have tremendous abilities.”

“Such as?”

“Bulletproof.”

“Of course you’re bulletproof. You’re the Moon. You shouldn’t be bragging about being bulletproof.”

“I meant metaphorically.”

“Don’t think that you did.”

“Look at my face, jackass! Look how many asteroids I took protecting you!”

“Meteors.”

“What?”

“If they strike, they’re called meteors.”

“No, that distinction is for objects that enter your atmosphere. I’m a celestial body. I get different words. Are you trying to fuck with me? Is that what you’re doing?”

“A little, yeah. It’s called ‘trolling.’ The humans are doing it to each other now. I’ve been listening in on the internet.”

“How they doing?”

“Not the best tenants. Gotta be honest. I will not be giving them their deposit back.”

“Hey, preaching to the choir. Six! Six! Fucking! Spaceships! And not even, like, cool spaceships. The butt-end of ghetto-ass bullshit spaceships. They look like chubby spiders shitting. They poked flags in me!”

“Don’t complain to me about them. Don’t you ever complain to me about them. Do you know I used to have mammoths?”

“Not with the mammoths again.”

“They were hairy and enormous and magical! They never lumbered! Mammoths ambled with the grace of kings!”

“Please calm down.”

“I miss those shaggy motherfuckers, dude!”

“I feels ya, braj.”

“Seriously, man, I could watch them all day. You know what they did do trees?”

“No, what?”

“Whatever the fuck they wanted. It was majestic.”

“Sounds it.”

“And do you know what those bedshitting chimps did?”

“I need to you to take a deep breath.”

“Moony, buddy, do you know what those little motherfuckers did?”

“Settle down.”

“THEY ATE MY FUCKING MAMMOTHS, DUDE.”

“It’s now believed that a multitude of causes led to the mammoth’s extinct–”

“THEY ATE MY MAMMOTHS.”

“Okay.”

“So you understand why I have a low threshold for others’ complaints about that species?”

“I gotcha.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Wonderful.”

“Supermoon.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

M-O-O-N, That Spells Moon

Mercury and Venus have no moons; several Grateful Dead songs would not have been written if Robert Hunter lived on Mercury or Venus.

Earth has one moon, the Moon. (Isn’t that like naming a child “Human?”) By ratio, it is the largest satellite in the solar system–one-quarter of Earth’s diameter–and it gives us the tides and the werewolfs. Every culture worshiped the moon just as they did the sun, and twelve Americans shuffled around up there. One even golfed.

Mars has two moons, Phobos and Deimos, and they are tiny. Phobos is 7 miles across and Deimos is smaller, plus neither of them are even spherical. Y’know what? Fuck you, Phobos and Deimos. You are not moons. You are big asteroids. You can’t be in the Moon Club.

Jupiter has 51 moons, but 47 of them are bullshit. Galileo saw the four big ones in 1610 and was so excited that he immediately began to do the fandango. He named them Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto and we call them the Galilean moons. Io is where volcanoes live, more than 100 spewing mountains taller than Everest. Europa is covered with 60 miles of ice, and under that is an ocean of liquid water heated by the moon’s core; we should attempt no landings there. Ganymede and Callisto are both bigger than the Moon, but no one writes songs about them. Checkmate, Ganymede and Callisto.

Saturn has 36 moons, but 29 are bullshit. Titan is the biggest because otherwise it wouldn’t be named that. It’s the only moon in the solar system with a thick atmosphere, mostly methane. We sent a robot there. It looks like this:

Look at what we can do when we try.

The other non-bullshit moons of Saturn are Rhea, Iapetus, Dione, and Tethys. Also Enceladus, which is the reason I’m writing this. Enceladus might have life on it, which I hope works out better for Enceladus than it did for us. Choke life in its cradle, Enceladus. Let it evolve for a couple billion years and it’ll fuck up your atmosphere and dump shit in your rivers. Trust me: life is a hassle.

Uranus has four moons and I’m just going to move on.

Neptune has Triton, which orbits in reverse and has very few shopping malls.

Pluto doesn’t get to have a moon anymore because Pluto isn’t a planet anymore.

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