Me and my Moon
In recent years (by my standards, anything that occurred in the last 800 years is recent. I am very, very old) there has been much debate as to whether the Apollo moon landings were faked. There has been a good deal of investigation demonstrating various anomalies that show that it is unlikely that man ever stepped foot on the moon.
How embarrassed must Neil Armstrong be - all the time he thought he was taking a giant step for man, when all he was actually doing was walking around a vacant lot just below Colney Hatch Lane, just overlooking the North Circular Road. When he discovers that he never really went to the moon, I expect he'll be really gutted.
There are plenty of folk out there (mostly men with braces. My enemies are slender men whose trousers rarely fit) who think that I'm a crazy conspiracy theorist. That I'm paranoid, that my brilliant ideas are nothing more than hare-brained daydreams. Nonsense. You don't get to be as old as me without learning a thing or two about both human behaviour and space travel.
- first: of course there was no moon landing, for the simple fact that there is no moon. When I first proposed this theory (the Leubnitz Lunar Fallacy Theory 1871) I was mocked by my contemporaries. Well, now all my contemporaries (and their children and grandchildren) are all dead, but I'm still around. I think I've made my point. Of course there is no moon. All hail the sun, the only true galactic orb
- secondly: I shall wreak terrible vengeance upon all my foes
A 1968 photograph of myself, presenting my groundbreaking paper. My robotic exoskeleton had not yet been built. As I appear today: more than human, less than a man.