I Hate the Moon

I hate the moon. It doesn’t really do much for me, except hang in the sky at odd hours of the day and night, blocking out my view of the distant, pretty stars, and destroying the darkness around me in the evenings. I think it’s highly over-rated, and poeticized beyond its limited credibility. People call it all kinds of names to glorify or intensify the experience of looking at it, but it’s only a big ball of light, much like any light bulb in my house.

I’ve heard others call it a blue moon, a harvest moon, a super moon, a man-in-the-moon, a China moon, a green-cheese moon, an August moon. How confusing is that? There’s only one moon, thank goodness. I think the whole human race would go insane obsessing about a multitude of them! It’s just one moon out there, people, so just call it “moon” and quit confusing others with all these elaborate pseudonyms.

It’s made out of rock. So what? We have plenty of rock here on earth. What’s the big deal with rock? Besides, the rocky surface there has holes in it! It isn’t even good rock. Now if it were solid, smooth, polished granite, or some other such valuable material, it might be interesting to view in the evenings. Maybe some large mining corporation might even want to dismantle it and bring it down to earth, piece by piece, to build something lovely out of it. Build something that we could use every day and make some money from it, maybe freeways that look like granite counter tops. Whatever our latest national whim might be. Then, with it missing from the sky, we could see the Big Dipper and all the other far away places more clearly. That seems like scientific advancement to me!

One of the things about the moon that kind of gets to me, and I know others may not feel so strongly, is that the light that I see coming from it isn’t even generated there, but is merely ricocheted from the bigger, brighter ball that truly lights us up and keeps us somewhat warm all the year. What a huge misconception, a big fat lie, that is, to cause people to think it can produce light, when it’s nothing more than an inert door stop, in celestial terms.

Another thing I hate about the moon is that it simply wastes so much of my time. I could be indoors watching detective thrillers and blood-spilling sexual violence. I could be browsing through the TV shopping channels in an effort to make my life less ostentatious, more pretty–the way everybody else’s house looks. I don’t understand the purpose of being parked outdoors at night instead, just sitting there stupidly in a sweatshirt with my neck cranked back until it begins to ache, while making silly sighs to myself, and making comments to my lover that make about as much sense, have about as much reasoning and logic, as post-modern poetry. Surely there are more important and efficient ways for people to spend their allocated time on earth than speculate about distant lunacies.

I’m not even sure I buy into all the information I’ve heard about the origins of the moon. We don’t even know for sure where the danged thing came from, and yet I have heard of people who claim, after viewing it for awhile and developing a temporary form of madness, that they somehow feel truly connected with it. I suggest that people like that change their socks every once in a while. They might find tiny pieces of rock stuck between their toes that is giving them the inclination to think such things about the big dead rock in the sky.

One of the most malicious activities of the moon, of course, is to wreak havoc with our ocean tides. Whenever I go down to the ocean to sit on the beach for a spell and enjoy the look and feel of the water, I have to carry my beach chair a different distance than I did the day before. How inconvenient is that? I don’t think the moon should be allowed to possess the capability to change the distance from my parking spot to the edge of the water each day. Some governmental agency really ought to take a leadership position on this issue and enforce it!

I get all apprehensive when I know a full moon is rising. There’s way too much light for sleeping. My eyes want to crawl around the ceiling at night when they’re supposed to be hidden beneath my closed lids. Besides all the other things that are wrong with the moon, I find this extra intrusion into my own personal life style to be rude, thoughtless, and rather archaic, when in this modern day and age we all should be more liberated and free to choose which outward stimulations we wish to entertain.

It’s an old and out-dated curiosity. We, as a modern people, need to move beyond any further influences from it. I just hate the moon.

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