Earth better wear her hardhat for the next few days. This week and next, meteors, rock hard, iron-heavy, and hotter than Alex Jones’ temper, are running wild in the streets and alleys of our sky. This gang of danger owns a galaxy neighborhood called Perseid Radiant. The Gang Lord, the Swift-Tuttle comet, will swing around again in about 135 years to drop off reinforcement; to pour out his filled quiver, if you know what I mean.

Every August, Earth barges into this wild elliptical territory where the comet’s offspring loiter, kicking stones through space. These bad bodies burn with disregard for anything in their path, but Earth is fearless. She knows where she’s going, and she’s got a plan.

  “Come feel the warmth of my atmosphere,” says Earth, spinning, showing off her stuff. And they do! Those buffed up but brainless bits of comet debris bullying the constellation of Perseus fall prey to the goddess Gaia, to her siren’s song. About 48.5 tons of comet particles are lured to earth’s atmosphere every single day, falling hard for her attraction. Even more come calling when shower seasons roll around. Like now.

Comet debris falls, earth’s atmosphere seizes the stuff, and applies friction. Earth pulverizes her victims. Vaporized, they are. Their flameouts flie across our sky.

We watch with wonder, and wish upon a falling star. Who doesn’t love a siren’s song?

But wait! There’s more! See #29 A Woman’s Briefs for one more look at Perseid Meteor Shower. It’s coming up next.