I’ll be glad when this super moon is over.

I never once saw my dad unhinged or in any state of mind where his emotion got in the way of reason. My mother (bless her soul), not so much. Dad’s nickname for her was “Thunder.” Pop always warned us that when there was a full moon emotional instability would reign in the Smith house.

As a much-seasoned veteran of life and an observer of the fairer sex, I now know how prescient the old man was. He wasn’t just joking around. This weekend’s super moon is labeled the “Beaver Moon.”  I’m too much of a gentleman to editorialize as to why scientists decreed such a moniker to this cosmic phenomenon. Suffice it to say that the Latin word “luna” is the root of the word “lunacy” for obvious reasons. From an etymological perspective, it is clear that our ancient Roman ancestors knew that their wives would go bonkers during a full moon. See Aggrippina, Nero’s mother. Poor Claudius!

During this past full moon weekend, I have been bombarded with machine gun texting, emails and voice mails from 3 different luna influenced females, none of whom I have any connection to other than being a bloke who is somewhat known to have good judgment and willing to help people. My previous record of unhinged texts/emails in a single day was 78 emanating from an upset femme from Charlotte back in 2010, but this weekend, that record has been crushed! One of the aforementioned “3” just hit the “81” mark, and there are still 10 more hours left in the day!   I can remember being at a University of Virginia football game in 2010 and who we were playing during the 2010 rapid machine gun texting incident. Thankfully for the internet, I googled the date of the game, and guess what? It was a full moon!

During this weekend’s artillery salvos, in all 3 instances, I responded to each, just one time, and gave a quick and sensible way to easily address their problems, but rather than take my advice, they all want to send me 64,000 more texts and emails telling me the same thing over and over. Please help me Jesus!

Empirical evidence informs me that anytime there are moon beams, even a measly waxing crescent, there will be female craziness, and it only intensifies as the moon gets brighter. One of my favorite memories of  my tenure of “domestic tranquility” was having a heavy flowerpot hurled at me from across the room. Once again, I was solving a problem and in doing so, I simply stated an observable fact, one that had already been stipulated to be uncontroverted, and I did so in very measured tones without raising my voice or exhibiting anything other than pleasant body language. Well, this expression of fact-based logic really pissed off this particular Venus, and no sooner than my words left my mouth, I found myself ducking and smoothly (like Sean Connery in a James Bond movie) evading the projectile, likely avoiding instant death. As clay fragments shattered against the wall, and without a hint of anger, I rose, cool as cucumber and continued my rational discussion on how to fix this vixen’s troubles. Of course, a couple months later, she did exactly what I suggested to solve her angst, but before doing so she needed to utter 6,748,931 nonsensical and needless words before rationality could make a brief appearance within her cranium. In many ways this behavior is emblematic of our current political climate. Say something completely sensible, and the screaming shrews howl like Transylvanian werewolves. But eventually, after their hormonal holocaust dies down, no one has an issue with doing what was sensible in the first place. Right now, we are in the unhinged, full moon, she-devil ogress phase of Trump’s presidency. The next phase is the “I Never Said That” phase. In later phases, no one will object to what he currently states are common sense ways to fix certain problems.

By now I’m sure all have seen the thousands of Tik-Tok videos of deranged liberal white women foaming at the mouth like Old Yeller and screaming at the moon over the election. Again, the moon thing! Some are shaving their heads to make themselves less attractive to men (as if this could be possible) and vowing not to have sex with them. While this could only be a good thing for improving the quality of the gene pool, I find it a bit disturbing. After all, these raging lunatics vote. Crazy people have always put me on edge. These women are like the schizophrenic homeless guys who walk into Starbucks and sit near you. You witness their nervous jittering, you know they are going to explode, maybe try and knife you, but you just don’t know when. Many are now shaving their heads and wearing blue wristbands so they can identify each other.  Call me crazy, but seems a wee bit cultish to me, not to mention unnecessary, as I can spot insane asylum candidates from 6 miles away.

Now that we have definitively established that moonlight makes women crazier than they ordinarily are, maybe it’s not an XX chromosome thing. Maybe it has to do with elevated estrogen levels.   See Jimmy Kimmel, Rob Reiner and Alec Baldwin, all of whom have sworn to leave the country now that Trump won the election. All of whom make Shakespeare’s Katherina look like a little church mouse in comparison.   I wonder if they realize it will be much harder for each of them to get an abortion in their new countries, as their desired new places of residence have much more restrictive abortion laws than the US. They all say that the US has become intolerant, but my guess is when Pete Buttigieg tries to breastfeed his baby in the Piazza San Firenze he is more apt to be called a fruitcake in Italy than America.

I’m not in favor of armed conflict, i.e., a civil war to clean up the corruption in Washington, but if it were to happen, how hard could it be to defeat an army of insane Sallyboys and bald women?  I think a truckload of good ole boys from the local Moose Lodge could take DC faster than the Brits took Zanzibar in 1896.

I’m hoping Elon can send a rocket to put a giant black tarp over the moon. We need to do something to “fix the crazy.”