Shoot the Moon

A starry, moonlit evening has always been the friend of nature's creatures, both big and small. Human beings, the most enamored of romance among all of these creatures, have always found beauty, solace, and something distinctly French in such an occassion--especially Frenchmen. So, what is it that makes the moon--this planet's only naturally occuring satellite--so appealing? It could be the pokmarcked surface upon which people superimpose faces. It could be the bizarre notion that the huge clump of rock is, in reality, composed of cheese. Personally, I have always felt that the moon is found to be so awesomely, amazingly wonderful by human beings for one reason only--it hasn't killed anyone yet.

Human beings, which, for all intents and purposes of this discussion shall be thought of as higher level primates, detest things that can and do kill them. On the other hand, these same primates jovially embrace those things which allow them to kill other things. I have no explanation for this, it is simply how it has always been. Think back to our ancestors, hacking away at a rock with another, larger rock. They dedicated most of their lives to turning round,
harmless rocks into pointy tools. Then came the epiphany that persists in its legacy to this day--human beings can make a death machine out of nearly anything.

It used to be the case that an implement of death had to be pointed to be of any notable advantage to the user. This continues to be true for objects such as knives, guns, and boards with nails in them. The lethal mechanism of each of the afore-mentioned implements of death, coincidentally, started out as some sort of rock. I mean, even thermonuclear weapons, which are somewhat more efficient than pointed sticks, had their beginnings in radioactive rocks. I know, it may sound like science fiction, but it's not. I swear this by all the mirrors in Versailles.

So, where am I going with this? I have elected, after careful--and I do mean careful--consideration, to tell you. My point is this: to a human being rocks are spectacular in two ways. One, they will rarely, in their inchoate form, kill or maim you. Two, any given rock can be fashioned into a deadly form--sometimes crude, sometimes simple. This, my friends, is why the moon is so fascinating to most people. Given a chance, most of us primates would fashion the moon into some sort of deathray--or perhaps a gigantic croissant. I shudder to think of a world in which the moon were easily accessible. Then again, I wouldn't be here to shudder, were such the case. My ancestor's ancestors would have been crushed long ago by, let's say, Napoleon's Croissant of Terror, carved of the moon, and dragged to earth by a load of poor Huegenots.

You may think, at this point, that you have just wasted a few minutes of your life by reading this article. However, I challenge you to henceforth look at the moon, and not to feel compelled to exclaim, "Sacre Bleu! I can't believe that thing's not pointy yet!" I wish you the best of luck regarding this particular personal struggle--you're may need it from now on.