Insert Foot on the powerful Taylor-Swift-loving women of the world.

It’s become obvious we’re stuck with Taylor Swift for the rest of our natural lives … and maybe beyond. Maybe the rest of her life as well. Which could be centuries.

She’s almost 34, born in December 1989. So she’ll outlive me for sure, which makes sense, given my decades of routine organ abuse.

As long as Swift’s record label keeps getting her oil changed every 3,000 miles, tires routinely rotated, and doesn’t run out of replacement parts, there’s no telling how long she can keep this up.

New technology is making robots more realistic all the time. The explosion in AI is everywhere and its getting more difficult to discern between the animatronic and real flesh and blood humans.

Oh … maybe you haven’t figured it out yet: Taylor Swift is a robot.

Android? Is that more accurate? Cyborg? I’m not sure exactly what she’s made of or how they did it, but she’s powerful. And she seems to want peace … so far.

It’s just all too perfect. I’ve been investigating this curious Taylor Swift phenomenon for years now. And her being a robot is the best explanation I’ve got.

I don’t know how else to explain this young woman’s power. She sells out stadiums in cities declaring whatever day she pulls into town “Taylor Swift Day.” She’s a movie star, after filming a concert some critics (well, one guy I know) are calling “the greatest concert film ever made.” She’s in commercials. And I’m hearing she’s destroyed professional football now that she’s dating Kansas City Chief tight end Travis Kelce and has the nerve to go to his games and show her face and cheer.

Oh, that’s right – she doesn’t have nerves. But if she did …

I saw the phenomenon up close this week. My cousin got married a couple days ago to a very nice, otherwise perfectly rational girl who’s only a few years older than Swift. So she’s been neck deep in this thing for a while. And she and her friends are more devoted to Swift than those Norwegian death metal kids with swords who go into the frozen forest for weeks at a time, trying to conjure demons.

Speaking of football, I have a friend who was so devoted to the Raiders in high school, he’d wrap the Bible in a Raiders pennant and put it under his pillow the night before games. These Swifties make that seem normal.

Notice how I don’t name my new cousin-in-law or her friends. Because I’m terrified of them.

They made Taylor Swift as much a part of the wedding as my cousin. She was mentioned prominently during the wedding rehearsal, the wedding rehearsal lunch, the actual wedding ceremony and the reception speeches. Oh, they pretended the devotion was a big joke. But I knew better.

And then the dancing started.

At one point, I needed an explanation from my cousin. He confessed that his bride wanted 12 Swift songs on the playlist. He skillfully negotiated her down to six.

Even if you’re not familiar with Swift’s music, you knew which songs were hers: the ones prompting all the ladies under 50 to jump onto the floor, scream along, pumping their fists like they were psyching themselves up for battle.

My God, I thought. If someone could talk these women into taking over the planet, a lot of men would be in serious trouble.

My own daughters were on the periphery of the frenzy. They both went through Swiftie phases and kind of moved on. Though when my 21-year-old was 10, she discovered that my great-grandmother, who came over on the boat from England, was named Swift. Then she went to school and told everyone Taylor Swift was her cousin.

Maybe she is. Maybe someone should tell my new cousin-in-law her great grandmother-in-law was a Swift.

Maybe this is all too crazy. Maybe not. But it’s kind of fun. I do know that many men are upset that Taylor Swift is getting so much screen time at NFL games, which is hilarious. This game of violence has survived recreational drug scandals, domestic violence, gambling, steroids, severe brain injuries, bounties, owners caught with prostitutes and the fleecing of public funds by billionaires for stadium after stadium. But Taylor Swift is ruining everything.

I’ve heard other people tying all that screen time into racism because she’s a pretty white girl watching a sport playing mostly by Black men. That’s a point worth considering, but not her fault.

Of course, she’s a young, genetically blessed woman who writes her own music about things to which millions of other young women relate. She may not be a robot, but she seems sincere and as down-to-Earth as someone in her position can be. That’s why all these women at weddings scream for her.

Swift’s no robot. Her music doesn’t speak to me, but I get it. It’s got hooks, it’s danceable, singalong (scream along) choruses, it’s mainstream and meant to appeal to a wide audience. We do need more representative artists for other people to see people who look like them making the same kind of impact. But that’s not Swift’s fault. She’s doing OK now that she’s there.

Follow music critic Tony Hicks at Twitter.com/TonyBaloney1967.