Frequent readers already know that The Guys are entrepreneurs. We entered the booze business recently by selling Baby Merlot, a brand of wine that trains future drinkers in the womb so that they’ll be more advanced than their wine cooler-sipping peers in Kindergarten.
We’re no proud to introduce phase two: Toddler Wine. Toddler Wine is available in white, red or blush and is served in mommy’s glass. This will help mommy share sips of her wine with her toddler, fostering shared interests, all while keeping Junior in training for the big league drinks in high school. Basically, if Baby Merlot is our Childhood Development program’s Baby Mozart, then Toddler Wine is our Sesame Street.
But what about after the toddler years? The Guys are busy in our lab, trying on each other’s coats. And also working out the kinks in our beer and liquor programs.
Greek researchers have devised a new method for identifying drunks: thermal scanning their faces.
Every drinker has 20 points on their face that warm up when booze is consumed, and the more you drink, the more those spots heat up. And, of those spots, certain ones heat up more than others, indicating just how many sheets you’ve hoisted into the wind. Your nose, for example, gets considerably warmer than your forehead once you begin to tie one on in earnest.
So, if you’re looking to elude capture in the future, Space Drinkers, you’ll just have to cut off your head. Hopefully, medical science will allow that; otherwise, you can only do it once.
New research indicates that heavy drinkers may have a harder time recovering from traumatic events. Not only that, but they’re also more likely to experience them because, you know, booze.
The University of North Carolina School of Medicine study consisted of two groups of mice — one that had been drinking very heavily and one that silently judged the drinkers and hoped they would die in a car crash. Each were exposed to a certain sound, accompanied by electrical shocks.
After a while, the scientists backed off on the shocks, merely playing the sound that the mice had come to associate with the wrath of God or, at the very least, Emperor Palpatine. The non-drinking mice recovered quickly, no longer fearing the sound. Meanwhile, the boozing mice still feared the sound and froze every time it played.
We’re dubbing this the Chumbawamba Effect.
As you may recall, we recently unveiled the latest tool in pre-child rearing: Baby Merlot. Applied to the womb, Baby Merlot prepares your zygote for a life of being awesome and fun at Happy Hour.
And guess what, naysayeers? It’s totally OK for them, too. According to research conducted on Danish mothers and their children (meaning no future American workers were put in jeopardy), “low to moderate weekly drinking in early pregnancy had no significant effect on neurodevelopment of children aged five years, nor did binge drinking.” Those five-year-olds, in fact, had the same test scores as kids from abstaining mothers, but just imagine if there was a shots category.
The only kids whose performance was impacted negatively were those of regular heavy drinkers, or mothers who consumed 9 or more drinks a week. That’s why all boxes of Baby Merlot prominently display a warning not to use it on your baby more than eight times a week. SeriouslyGuys, we care about your fetus.
Everyone knows that war can tear a man’s soul apart, sending him running for the bottle. But what about animals?
Todd Schlenke, an Emory University biologist, and his team of researchers discovered that at least one species of fruit fly self-medicates with booze. Drosophila melanogaster has been fighting its own war with tiny parasitic wasps for so long that it will intentionally seek out fermenting rotten fruit whenever one believes it’s been infected.
In most cases, it works. Feeding on alcohol that’s often stronger per volume than beer induces fetal alcohol syndrome in their parasitic wasp larvae, causing the little bundles of terror to shoot their internal organs out of their anuses. Talk about rot-gut, knowwhatwemean? In fact, fly schnapps is so strong that even adult wasps “laid 60 percent fewer eggs, possibly because of the fumes wafting from the food.”
But, that was one species of wasp. Another, Leptopilina boulardi, is capable of drinking toe-to-toe with D. melanogaster. And they lose only 10 percent of their eggs to fly booze. This leads us to only one conclusion: if evolution is an actual thing, then it is creating the mother of all drunken bar fights over child custody.
We have some further bad news for you, people who just went through a break-up: it’s just not safe to eat raw cookie dough.
We know. You always thought it was safe to eat because eggs are pasteurized, but what about the flour? You didn’t consider the flour, did you? You never do, and that’s how we got into this crazy, mixed-up place.
It turns out that, this whole time? A lot of flour contains E. coli, which is fine, so long as you cook it. If you can’t be bothered to preheat an oven and operate a spatula 10-20 minutes later, then you become a statistic. At the very least, you can buy cookie dough ice cream, which is treated for raw consumption/putting on those healing pounds.
On the other hand, there is good news: booze gets you unsafe sex. So, put down that tube and tape on a couple of 40s. Your future kids will thank you.
And now a recap from the world’s second greatest drinking event of the year (right behind the day after Christmas): Octoberfest.
The main event, Munich, was the true success story this year. The 6.9 million visitors set a new record, consuming 7.5 million liters (1.65 million gallons) of beer, or one Shamu tank. That only works out to over 1 liter (or less than a quarter gallon) per person, but some of them were probably children who are famous for getting very drunk on very little.
But even more surprising is that, despite drinking more, there were only 58 recorded brawls in which fighters wielded their giant beer steins as weapons. Looks like their priorities — and hearts — were in the right place.
This year was also the first wet Octoberfest for the small Alabama town of Cullman. Located an hour from Huntsville, the city has anually celebrated Octoberfest since 1977 even though they had never repealed their Prohibition era laws against alcohol. Until this year. We don’t have any numbers from their event, but we can only assume they also had fewer fights with the addition of any alcohol.
That’s just math, people.
Russians faced a conundrum that only President Dmitry Medvedev could resolve. Russian law stated that anything with less than 10% alcohol was merely foodstuff, but even then only barely if you didn’t wrestle it yourself.
But then they started importing beer. They served it all hours of the day. They sold it to minors. They marketed as a healthy alternative to vodka and other spirits, just like we’ve been telling you for years. (Except liquor is good for, like, body builders and s@%t.)
So, Medvedev signed a law that officially classifies beer as alcohol with all the rules and taxes that implies.
Oh my god. It was the perfect world. All this time, it was … You finally really did it.
Surgeons are among the few people in this world who have a bona fide reason to drink, as if you really need one. They see people’s insides day-in and day-out. Plus, they probably have people making cracks about Grey’s Anatomy every time they tell someone what they do for a living. What’s more is that unlike most of us, the actually have the money to go out and get absolutely plastered every night.
The thing is, they really shouldn’t do that, according to a new study. Apparently, surgeons who drank the night before are more likely to make mistakes during surgery the next day, even though they don’t have a drop of booze in their systems at that point.
Of course, then there’s the whole muscle memory aspect. Like how you suck at beer pong when you’re sober, but once you have a few in you, your skills return. Doctors could easily learn out to cut drunk, then they could do it fine every time.
OK, so nobody asked, but goddammit, you guys, I’m getting pretty damn nervous over here. It appears that you sons of bitches have decided not to die anymore, which puts me in one tight pickle–mostly with my bookie, Eduardo.
Look, you like this semi-regular Dr. Snee feature, right? You’d hate for it to disappear and potentially reappear under a different name in South America, correct? Then you better start living like you’re dying, because I’ve got everything to lose.
Here’s the game plan …. Continue reading Ask Dr. Snee: Who wants to live forever?