As NASA’s Artemis II mission continues and the four astronauts in the Orion capsule prepare to leave Earth’s orbit, one of my numerous cislunar sources asked that I relay the following note from the moon, our planet’s only natural satellite.

Dear people of Earth:

Hey there. It’s me, your moon. Hope you all are doing well and not getting too dizzy! (That’s a planetary rotation joke. Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve communicated with anyone.)

I can’t help but notice you’ve launched one of those tin-can-looking thingies into your orbit again. That’s cool. Yeah. Definitely cool.

Anyhoo, I get the sense you all might be aiming that thing in my direction. In fact, I noticed a little write-up on the whole Artemis II mission that says you’re planning to whizz by my dark side and snap some pictures and whatnot.

Look, I know we haven’t seen each other up close since 1972, but I’m gonna have to say it’s an ix-nay on the ark-side-day. There’s a reason you all have never managed to photograph that side of me. I like to keep it private ‒ it kind of adds to my rocky, dusty air of mystery.

Plus, I know photos like that are just going to spark a slew of “moon booty” memes and AI-generated videos of me twerking. I don’t need that kind of PR.

Besides, when your Earth-band Pink Floyd sang “And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too/ I'll see you on the dark side of the moon,” did that make it sound like a good place to visit? (I consulted with them on that album, FYI, but asked to be left out of the liner notes. The whole thing got too druggy for my taste.)

Beyond the privacy issue with your planned flyby, I worry a little about where this is all heading. It feels suspiciously like you all are eyeballing me for some human development or something.

I’m flattered, of course, but the truth is, you all don’t have the best track record when it comes to taking care of things. I’ve been up here a long time, posing for your photos, occasionally hitting people’s eyes like a big pizza pie, happily making your tides go in and out and keeping your axial tilt stabilized so you don’t go flopping around. It’s what any good neighbor would do. 

But good cislunar spaces of approximately 230,000 miles also make good neighbors. Basically, I’m into you guys, but I’m not “want you living on my surface” into you.

Y’all are messy, and you seem to really like sporadically dropping bombs on each other. Up here, I’ve got the Sea of Tranquility, and things are chill. Frankly, I don’t need the drama, and I definitely don’t need any of you stabbing me with flag poles and such.

So, politely, I’m going to request you reroute the Artemis II mission AWAY from my backside and we keep our relationship friendly but distant. Mars has two moons ‒ Phobos and Deimos ‒ so maybe you can check those out sometime. (We don’t talk. I think they’re jealous of all the attention I get.)

OK, that’s enough out of me. I wish your brave astronauts well in their journey home. Remember, I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you thrust away.

Follow USA TODAY columnist Rex Huppke on Bluesky at @rexhuppke.bsky.social and on Facebook at facebook.com/RexIsAJerk

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