Id's only natural

It’s more than a cute thing to call them; toddlers really are little monsters. Only recently awake to a sense of self and totally incapable of empathy, they may peacefully sit on your lap and offer you bits of saliva-soaked apple but are just as apt to suddenly try to tear the lower lip right off your head. I like them for the same reason people like kittens- because if they weighed as much as a full-grown gorilla, they would cheerfully pull off your arms and legs and then tearfully wonder why you no longer cared to play with them.

Finger on the pulse

I bought a package of something called “15 Bean Soup Mix” because the serving suggestion on the package made it look like it would be delicious. I peeked inside and did a quick check and sure enough, there are many different kinds of beans in there including garbanzos, pintos, kidneys, lentils, black-eyed peas, and I don’t know what all. They say it’s 15 in all but it’s hard to get a precise count the way they’re all mixed up in there. The recipe on the package says that I should rinse and sort the beans, but that can’t be right.

A submarine with screen doors

You know what would be funny? Start an Iron Butterfly tribute band and show up for the gig, play that one song, then pack up and go home. Start a record company just to release a collection of isolated bass tracks from classic bluegrass songs. Invest millions in a historically accurate Bible movie except Pontius Pilate wears a Rolex. Also, if you should ever meet Elvis Costello I think would be really funny to tell him you’re his biggest fan and that “Watch The Moon Come Down” and “Is She Really Going Out With Him?” are your all-time personal favorites.

The path not taken

In an eventuality wherein I was offering guidance to gigantic atomically mutated saurian monsters from the depths of the sea, I would suggest alternate routes inland that did not intersect with quite so many obstacles such as oil refineries and high-tension power lines. While the attendant huge orange fireballs and showers of electrical sparks don’t seem to seriously harm such creatures, they must be at least an annoyance which can’t help but contribute to an overall sense of unease, and this cumulative irritation may lead to the fits of pique which cause them to stomp densely populated cities to rubble.

O Canada

It is in times such as these when events around the globe remind us of the fragility of human life, the folly of parochialism, the need for reason and patience and empathy, that we depend more than ever on the dedication of journalists who heedless of danger to themselves strive to provide clear-eyed reportage to give us context and perspective as we witness that from which, if we aspire to be decent humane creatures, we must not look away. So let’s take a moment to recognize the heroic efforts of the CBC, fearlessly questioning the indigenous ancestry of Buffy Sainte-Marie.

Science for the millions

Dear reader, I’m sure your eye was drawn just as mine was to the headline: “A hormone shot helped drunk mice sober up quickly.” The respected publication Cell Metabolism reported this past March that “mice that received a shot of FGF21 — a hormone made by the liver — woke up from a drunken stupor roughly twice as fast as those that didn’t.” This discovery will be a boon to any of us who have ever anticipated a social occasion, perhaps a visit from a member of the clergy, only to note with alarm that the mouse was drunk again.

Clotworthy Skeffington

Here’s everything I know about Clotworthy Skeffington: Clotworthy Skeffington was born in 1661 as well as around 1681. Clotworthy Skeffington was born in 1715. In 1742, Clotworthy Skeffington was born. These are facts; you won’t learn them at school. This is the sort of hard-hitting no holds barred Clotworthy Skeffington content you don’t get anywhere else. “What the heck,” you may be saying, “is he just inserting as many Clotworthy Skeffingtons in here as possible because it amuses him?” Yes. And it’s making me laugh so hard that I’m making little squeaking noises and tears are running down my face.