I have spent the better part of 2025 watching you people. And by watching you, I mean watching you watch the sky, which is a far more pathetic sight than any cosmic collision could ever hope to be. The media outlets are currently patting themselves on the back for documenting the ‘stunning’ celestial events of the year, as if a supermoon is a personal achievement for the human race. It isn’t. It’s a rock. It’s a cold, dead satellite that happens to be a few thousand miles closer to our collective misery than usual, yet we treat it like a divine visitation. To the ‘stargazers’—that specific breed of sentimentalist rube who thinks a telescope is a personality trait—2025 has been a buffet of distraction.

I find the entire spectacle of the 2025 celestial calendar to be the ultimate exercise in human narcissism. We look at the Perseids or the Geminids—which, for those who skipped basic science to focus on their TikTok brand, is essentially just intergalactic dandruff burning up in our atmosphere—and we ‘make wishes.’ Think about the staggering arrogance required to believe that a piece of space debris, traveling at thirty miles per second before incinerating in a flash of friction, cares about your promotion at the marketing firm or your desire for a boyfriend who doesn’t play video games in the shower. It is the height of performative wonder. We live on a planet that is currently overheating, governed by a political class of geriatric toddlers and tech-bro sociopaths, yet we find ‘peace’ in watching rocks fall.

The media’s coverage of these events is equally nauseating. They frame these events as ‘lit up the skies,’ using the same breathless hyperbole they use to describe a mediocre blockbuster or a politician’s latest gaffe. It’s a survival mechanism, I suppose. If the editors forced people to look at the actual news—the crumbling infrastructure, the evaporating middle class, the fact that both political parties have the intellectual depth of a birdbath—the readership would jump off a bridge. So, instead, they give you the ‘Supermoon.’ They tell you to go outside and ‘connect with the universe,’ as if the universe wants anything to do with a species that invented the pop-up ad.

Let’s look at the two camps of idiots who ruin these events for me. On the Left, we have the ‘Vibe’ contingent. These are the people who believe that a lunar eclipse is an opportunity to ‘recenter their energy’ and buy more expensive crystals. They talk about the moon as if it’s their therapist, attributing their own lack of emotional discipline to ‘Mercury being in retrograde’ or some other astronomical happenstance. It’s a convenient way to avoid responsibility for being a terrible person. On the Right, we have the ‘Omen’ crowd. Every time the sky glows slightly green or the moon looks a bit larger, they’re checking their bunkers and looking for signs of the apocalypse in the Book of Revelation. They’re terrified of a rock in space because it’s the only thing they can’t threaten with a lawsuit or a gun. Both sides are equally deluded, staring at the same sky and seeing a reflection of their own desperate, tiny ideologies.

The reality of the 2025 celestial events is much simpler and far more depressing: we are insignificant. These meteor showers have been happening since long before we crawled out of the mud to invent the internal combustion engine, and they will continue long after we’ve turned the oceans into a plastic soup. The ‘wonder’ that people claim to feel is actually just a momentary relief from the crushing boredom of their own lives. We are a species of voyeurs, and since we’ve already watched every true-crime documentary on the planet, we’ve decided to watch the sky.

I’m tired of being told to find these events ‘stunning.’ What’s stunning is the fact that we can track a meteor’s path to the millisecond but we can’t figure out how to distribute food to children. What’s stunning is that people will drive three hours into the desert to get a ‘clean shot’ of the Milky Way for their Instagram grid, but won’t walk across the street to help a neighbor. 2025 was a year of beautiful lights in the sky, yes. But beneath those lights, the same old grift continues. The politicians are still lying, the corporations are still looting, and the public is still distracted by shiny objects. The universe isn’t putting on a show for us. It’s just going about its business, completely indifferent to whether we’re watching or not. And honestly? I don’t blame it. If I were the universe, I’d be trying to shake us off too.