There are people who don’t believe in science, much less global warming. Perhaps they can be persuaded by learning that we can fight global warming and get drunk at the same time.
A group of scientists at the Energy Department’s Oak Ridge National Laboratory in Tennessee (your tax dollars at work!) have accidentally figured out how to turn carbon dioxide into ethanol. Carbon dioxide is a greenhouse gas, it’s the “carbon” in “carbon emissions.” Ethanol is the sciencey word for alcohol–you know, hootch. Of course, these eggheads see their discovery as a way to create cleaner burning fuel for our cars. But what it can really be used for is drinking. Cars emit all sorts of pollution and greenhouse gases. Drunk people don’t, unless you count beer farts.
Let’s save the planet by turning CO2 into booze. That’s a solution we can all drink to.
We knew scientists were getting desperate for new sources of antibiotics now that all of the old ones are becoming less effective. (Serves us right for resting on Salk’s laurels.) But, we didn’t realize how desperate they’re getting until we learned that they’re milking Tasmanian devils.
It shouldn’t be too surprising, though, that it’s Australian researchers going full tit at Tasmanian devils. On the scale of scary Down-under animals, taking a devil down by the nipple seems relatively tame.
So why bother at all? According to those researchers, who — again — reached into the pouch of at least one Tasmanian devil to milk it, their milk contains six important peptides that appear to be able to kill hard-to-treat infections, including MRSA.
Of course, far tamer wallabies and opossums have 12 and eight peptides respectively in their milk, but where’s the fun in that? If the Aussies have their way, we bet the best way to milk Tasmanian devils is with your teeth, too.
In the Terminator movie franchise, after the machines take over the world, the create killer robots that look like humans to infiltrate and destroy the remains of human resistance. Thanks to the Japanese, we’re that much closer to making it a reality.
Researchers at the University of Tokyo have created a robot that can work out, although sadly, it can’t work out for us. But more importantly, the robot can sweat to cool itself down. Kengoro the robot has a head, torso, two arms and two legs, just like a human, and when it does pushups, it gets overheated. But rather than using fans, like pretty much every other machine, it sweats like a human. The robot’s skeleton is porous, and emits water throughout its frame to cool itself down.
This is achievement will soon be followed up by the first robot to get swamp ass.
Based on an analysis of previous and the current generation, scientists now believe that 115 years may be the upper limit of how far we can age until everything just shuts the f*ck down. Sure, there might be one or two every couple of generations who make it past 120, but it’s so unlikely that “you’d have to scour 10,000 planet Earths to find just one 125-year-old.”
Skeptics of the research, however, note that we previously thought that 65, then 85, and then 105 were the longest the average person could possibly live. So, how do we know 115 is the definite limit this time, right?
The answer: maybe it’s not. Maybe we’ll continue to extend life long past it was supposed to end, filling project housing with unwashed Cryptkeepers in their early one-teens and -twenties. Because, while the number of years continues to go up past 65, are they even worth it? Or did our predecessors know something we didn’t about holding on past continence and mobility? All that smoking, drinking, fighting and bacon grease couldn’t have been for nothing.
Some people are just naturally, ungodly beautiful in any setting, next to anyone. These are the people we destroy by turning them into celebrities because, like a race car, what’s the point of owning anything beautiful if you don’t run it into a wall or two.
For instance, think of Marco Rubio. Next to Saved by the Bell‘s Mario Lopez, Rubio looks like Bert and Ernie’s in vitro Muppet son. (Lopez is only two years younger, proving how fickle the gods are with bestowing handsomeness.)
Now, put him on stage in a herd of doughy guys ranging from Chris Christie to John Kasich, and he looks like one of their interns snuck on stage.
This effectively disproves the Roadie Theory, which is that, one day, the lead singer, guitarist, drummer and bass player will all one day decide not to have sex with someone, which means you’re in. Unfortunately, in that crowd, you probably rank lower than, “Uber home, turn in early.”
Alcosynth is a chemical that recreates the positive effects of alcohol (i.e., feeling less inhibited, claiming to know everything about a movie you’ve never seen) without the negative effects, like a hangover or being “too” drunk. In execution, your bartender would use either the clear or bitter version in mixed drinks instead of, for example, vodka or whiskey. It allegedly would tap out at the drunkenness you feel after four or five drinks, so you would never black out.
But, is that all alcohol is? Just something that makes a lemonade hard, a V8 bloody, an orange juice a mimosa? Or is it something that introduces an element of danger as just part of a complex flavor experience?
All we know is that Star Trek: The Next Generation had (will have?) a version of this. And, while they were probably the safest crew to fly with, it wasn’t nearly as fun as a having a xenological parasite being removed by a half-plastered Original Series Dr. McCoy.
Chances are that this is the half-baked idea of a “Legalize it!” crank, so we’ll only have to consider the ramifications of alcosynth in theory. But, in the meantime, The Guys are going to make a designated driver’s life awful for the next six hours.
Vinyl is the most coveted audio media today. Old people like their records for nostalgia reasons, and hipsters like them because they like acting like things that suck are actually somehow better than what we moved on to. And NASA is cashing in on the trend, if a Kickstarter campaign works out.
Back in the 70s, NASA collaborated with Carl Sagan to create an album like no other. It bares some resemblance to the modern day mix tapes (that aren’t actual tapes). It features a collection of greetings in different languages, sounds of animals, different types of music — pretty out-there stuff for the age of disco. And because NASA is the pimp agency of the federal government, the album was made on gold discs. The album was then launched into space on Voyagers 1 and 2, in hopes that aliens will one day enjoy NASA’s fresh beats. But it was never released here on Earth, not even Sagan could get a copy of the record.
But now, it’s going to be reissued–on vinyl, not gold–for the public to hear. If the Kickstarter campaign meets its funding goal, The Gold Album by NASA feat. Carl “C. Saggy” Sagan, will be reissued and heard by the ears of Earthlings everywhere.
For a decade, we’ve operated under the assumption that we could freely communicate in written text here on SG. But now we’re learning that we’re not safe even here. It turns out that pigeons can read. This is the worst news since we learned that dogs can hear Donald Trump’s dog whistles.
Researchers have found that with some training, pigeons are able to read four-letter words, even differentiating the correctly spelled words from misspelled ones. Some say this discovery is the result of a lot of training, while others believe that the birds have always had the capacity to read, but we’ve only just now thought to test it out.
Either way, pigeons, if you can read this, you will not win. And we have a few four-letter words for you.
The Guys have lamented more than once that, while time does indeed march forward, it doesn’t often feel that we live in the future. Although computers are increasingly smaller and faster, they don’t do much different from they did ten to 15 years ago. We still have to chew our food like animals rather than take it in pill-form. (At this point, we’d even accept drinking a nutritionally sufficient slurry or paste.) And, even though the death toll would be astronomical (proving that we’ve gotten older), we still expect the jet packs we were promised as children.
In short, science fiction let us down. It peaked in the 1960s by predicting flat screens and cellphones, and the only modern thing it predicted is the widespread global chaos and lower fertility rates of Children of Men.
It’s not perfect. After all, Archie Bunker perfected drinking beer and watching television back in the 1970s. But, we’ll take any indication of Gene Roddenberry’s glorious, upbeat future anywhere we can find it.
Special thanks to Nat E. for the find! We owe you an unobtrusive beer.