A veteran police dispatcher said that crimes rise with a waxing moon, and that things are quieter as it wanes from full to new. It doesn't make sense, she said, but 19 years on the job have born out the observation. The loonies emerge; men beat their wives.
"Some of them are funny," the dispatcher said of the stories she hears as the moon grows. "Some of them are sad, and some of them are just, 'Grow up, idiot!'"
This is a great theory, but it still can't be my favorite; I have a friend convinced that the shorter she cuts her hair the bigger her arse appears to be.