Sibrel is one of these people who is convinced the moon landing was a
hoax. Totally impervious to evidence, he has dedicated his life to stalking,
ambushing, and hounding the surviving Apollo astronauts, calling them
liars and fakes. Think Bill O'Reilly only a little more likeable. Well,
one day Bart got a bit too close to the 72-year-old Aldrin while harassing
him and Buzz clocked him in the jaw. The recording of this incident is an
engrossing film with steadily building tension, larger-than-life characters,
and a satisfying ending in the form of a right hook to an idiot.

It seems that no matter how much progress we make as a species, a lunatic
fringe will always be among us--people who combine an unlikely theory with
the refusal or inability to spot its obvious fatal flaws. The twin towers were
brought down by a controlled demolition! The Holocaust never happened! Barack
Obama is not an American citizen!

First can I just state for the record that if a majority of American voters
believes that Hugo Chavez's man bra will do a better job running this
country than any of the other candidates, they probably have a point and
their wishes should be honored? I personally can think of several noncitizens
I would have chosen over George Bush in 2004 if I'd had the chance, one of
whom wasn't even much better on the economy because he was a Chihuahua.

Second, if you were a secret foreigner bent on America's destruction and a
harbinger of the apocalypse, why would you root against the Cubs? It makes
no sense.

Anyway, in honor of the NASA anniversary the American Library Association made
"Starship Adventures" this summer's theme in public libraries across the
country, and my wife Hermione helped out with a craft at Paul Pratt where
each kid made a little rocket from a cardboard tube and some tin foil. The
day before the event we were in a minor panic. The tin foil was no problem,
but how would we find 60 to 70 cardboard tubes? Our first thought was to
harvest them from rolls of paper towels. Now, a brighter couple might have
tried to come up with a second or third thought, but instead our home is
now packed to the ceilings with unrolled paper towels. Not even our three
careless, spastic children are able to generate spills fast enough to make
a dent in this barricade. So if you're in the neighborhood and have yoghurt
on your shirt or something, I hope you'll stop in for a half sheet or two.

The Paper Towel Fiasco is a classic example of the sort of brute force approach
to problem solving that my wife Ingrid and I both tend to practice. This can
happen when you're even lazier intellectually than you are physically. For
instance when I need to lose weight, it's apparently easier for me to run four
miles a day than it is to simply stop snarfing Cool Mint Creme Oreos. Counting
calories sounds like way too much work. Meanwhile my wife Marsha will vacuum
the entire house with the crevice tool rather than figure out how to switch
attachments. Rather than plan out a grocery list we'll happily make four trips
to Stop and Shop per day. And don't get me started on how we ended up with
two extra children. It's a funny story but I'll leave that for another article.

It's fortunate that Paulina and I weren't the ones in charge of getting America
to the moon by 1969. Our first idea would have been to take the 25 billion
dollars, sock away 5 or 6 billion for the kids' college tuitions and spend the
rest on an elaborate hoax. I must say you can make a pretty convincing fleet
of model rockets using tin foil and some cardboard tubes. And if you get all
the materials at BJ's you'll have plenty of cash left over for the necessary
payoffs at all levels of government and industry. So where do you hide all
the excess paper towel evidence? Simple: behind the moon. Problem solved.

Whew, that was taxing. Now if you'll excuse me I need to go burn off last
night's cheesecake.

John Lengyel lives in Cohasset. He is not actually a polygamist, though he'd
definitely consider the idea if Catherine Keener would ever show an interest.