Trivial Pursuits II

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It’s been a long time since I’ve lambasted the scientific community (last week), but this time they’ve really gone too far.  I read the other day that ketchup comes out of the bottle at twenty-five miles an hour.  Really?  Then why does it take four days of constant beating on the bottom of the bottle for it to come out at all?  It must be getting a running start in there. What do these guys think they’re doing?  Oh, I can see a couple of egg heads hanging around in their laboratory with nothing better to do than to let their pet monkey come up with statistics using a stick in the yogurt.  What I can’t see is one of these guys pointing a radar gun at his buddy who’s got a bottle of ketchup in his hands, saying “Alrighty, let ‘er rip!”  Please.  If we encourage this sort of behavior, they’ll be telling us a sneeze exits the body at one hundred miles an hour or that if we fart constantly for six months three days fifteen hours and nine minutes we’ll have expelled enough energy to power a light bulb for one minute. (I tried that one – the light bulb exploded after just a few toots – and it cost me some pretty expensive cosmetic surgery)

Seems we just can’t get enough stupidity in our lives.  Case in point: sitcoms.  I rest my case.  It needed a break.  Listen to some of the most absurd facts ever deposited into the great well of society’s knowledge.

  • Some butterflies have fake heads on their butt to confuse predators.  That has certainly kept me from munching on those little critters.  I think they have fake heads on their butts to confuse lepidopterologists (people who study butterflies).  Maybe they think two heads are better than one.  Maybe they’re the original butt-heads.  Anything’s better than saying they’re doing it to confuse predators.  Mr. Lizard’s hanging out on a rock getting some rays when Beatrice the Butterfly floats by.  He starts to jump on her with a slice of bread and a dash of mayo when he sees she has two heads and runs away screaming.  I don’t know about you, but if I see two pork chops stuck together in a pile of pork chops, I’m going after the extra meat.
  • It takes three thousand cows to supply the NFL with enough leather for a year’s supply of footballs.  Give me a freaking break.  Have you seen the size of those guys?  It takes three thousand cows to keep up with a team that’s eating from the buffet.  And what do they mean a year’s supply of footballs?  Why can’t we use them over and over?  There’s only fourteen to sixteen games a week.  Let’s make a better football and prevent the extinction of our national past time: eating steaks.
  • The longest recorded flight of a chicken is thirteen seconds.  I’m not even going to spend a lot of energy on this ridiculous fact.  Give me a single engine Cessna, a pilot and a chicken and I promise you I can have that bird in the sky longer than thirteen seconds.
  • Howdy Doody has exactly forty eight freckles on his face.  O. MY.GOD.  Who in the hell cares?  Did somebody actually get a government grant to find this out?  I feel like going into the world with a Sharpie and a mission to prove that piece of trivia wrong.  Has anyone checked to see if maybe he’s got a freckle hiding behind another freckle?  It happens.  Also, where in the hell did he get his freckles from?  A yard sale?  Maybe from sitting in the back window of a car for one long, hot summer?

It makes me absolutely sick thinking there are scientists out there that are supporting their families from such drivel.  On the other hand, it beats having to suck farts from bus seats.  Still, there is entirely too much spare time in research facilities around the world.  Now, if they could concentrate on really important things, like reporting that Marilyn Monroe had six toes, I might change my mind.  That reminds me, though – I’ve got a sudden interest to see Some Like It Hot so I can count her toes.

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About jaytharding
Christian Mystic-in-training, burgeoning Apologist, Writer, Poet, Philosopher, all-purpose curmudgeon I am part of the load not rightly balanced. I drop off in the grass, like the old Cave-sleepers, to browse wherever I fall. ~Rumi~

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