Regular readers of this blog know I hate biased science. I complained about National Geographic after one of their articles described how two male seahorses "inadvertently" had sex. (Somehow they just knew the critters had failed to notice that their partners also had dicks.) I complained after March of the Penguins called the critters monogamous, despite the fact that when they return to their breeding grounds each year they always take new partners, whether or not they see last year's spouse in the crowd. I complained when scientists decided that rather than being bisexual, squid simply don't have a sexual orientation at all.

And now, according to the latest Science journal, social psychologists in Canada have designed a math test that's not going to hurt anyone's self-esteem. Because the answers aren't right or wrong: they're "analytic" or "intuitive."

Here's an example:

[S]tudents were asked this question: "A bat and a ball cost $1.10 in total. The bat costs $1.00 more than the ball. How much does the ball cost?" The intuitive answer — 10 cents — would be wrong.

Yes, obviously this answer is wrong. If the ball is $0.10, the bat is $1.10, and their total cost is $1.20. Instead of just saying this answer is wrong, though, these guys are creating a new, less stupid type of wrong. I mean, if somebody said a ball cost $4.78, clearly they'd be an idiot. This ten cent-ball answer, though, is apparently sort of understandable, so these guys are categorizing it as better than idiotic but just slightly different from correct.

Why? Gosh, no reason, really. Oh, okay: maybe because the people who give wrong answers are more apt to believe in God than the people who give correct answers. Without this new "intuitive" category, they'd have to say religious people are dumb.

And even if it's a fact, you just can't say that, right?

I think this pandering to idiots has always pissed me off because I took refuge in intelligence. I came up with theories about the world, and I assumed smart people would back me up. Instead, smart Christians decided what the the world needed to hear, and they wrote their results backward from that.

In short, the people who were supposed to help us ended up betraying us. It was the worst kind of betrayal, because the world is already designed for idiots. They're everywhere -- talking to friends in the middle of the sidewalks, counting out their change at the cash register, reading text messages at the top of the escalator. Now we have to rewrite truth to comfort them? Prayer works! Abortion causes leprosy! Dogs understand what you're saying! A dude with a degree is out there confirming everything you want to know.

It's unbearable. It's ridiculous. The smart person forces himself to tolerate stupidity -- even in smart people! -- but also searches and eventually finds one small bright light of consolation.

At least there'll be somebody around to defend me the next time I inadvertently have sex.

Edward and I wandered the Green Festival in utter bliss. Everywhere we turned there was another manufacturer offering another free sample. Nutty granola studded with tiny kisses of fair-trade chocolate. Crunchy snack bars loaded with chunks of free-range chocolate. Earth-friendly chocolate bars full of organic chocolate cream.

We jumped at the free offers, nearly skipping up and down the aisles, and though the entire reason for this festival was to return to a natural world, within three minutes of entry we were buzzed out of our brains from all the sugar and caffeine.

Still, we weren't total leeches. When samples proved irresistable we'd pull out cash, and pretty soon our free tote bags were full. We'd started out with $80 between us, and by the time we hit the last aisle we were down to absolute zero.

And that's when I saw the lunch box.

It was amazing. It was triangular, with just a top and a bottom, and barely big enough to hold a small, triangular sandwich, but it snapped together like environmentally-friendly Tupperware and it came in retro Fiesta Ware colors. It was smart and spunky and I loved it. I wanted it. And when I saw the colorful, stubby utensil it came with -- a fork on one end, a spoon on the other -- I had to have it. "How much is this?" I asked.

"Two dollars," came the reply.

It's like all of time stood still. My chocolate-caffeine haze immediately dissipated, and all my desires in the universe coagulated down to just this one: I HAD TO HAVE THIS LUNCH BOX.

I plunged my hand into my pocket, but I already knew. I didn't have one penny. I turned to Edward and he shrugged. It was an indisputable fact: I HAD TO HAVE THIS LUNCH BOX. It would have been an Unspeakable Joke of Fate if I'd found such a fantastic product but because I didn't have two dollars -- two. measly. dollars. -- I'd have to walk away.

I stepped back from the booth with desperation clanging in my head. Where could I get two dollars? My sad glance shifted to the booth next door, and a giant banner there held words that seemed like a message straight from God:

"WE'LL PAY YOU A DOLLAR TO WATCH THIS FOUR-MINUTE VIDEO."

I blinked, certain it had to be a mirage. It was far too good to be true. I looked at the volunteer manning the booth, though, holding a stack of brochures with a single crisp bill inserted into each, and I realized it was true. My heart skipped a beat: I'd watch the video, Edward would watch the video, and I'd go home with a lime-green lunch box with a tangerine lid.

I scurried over to the video stand, and the woman helped me put on the headphones. When Edward turned to look for me, I waved him over. "This sounds interesting," I said. "It's a great cause, and we really need to support these people." He nodded and put on a pair of headphones, and the volunteer turned the video on.

I probably should have asked beforehand, but I just assumed four minutes of anything wouldn't be too bad. Unfortunately, it was. The booth was run by a group called Mercy for Animals, who tried to convert people to vegetarianism. Toward that end, the film showed innocent bystanders four minutes of animals being slaughtered. It started with chubby, friendly pigs and worked through chickens, cows, sheep, and goats. It was like Jack the Ripper attacking a petting zoo. Chickens were strung up on a line and their necks passed over knives; baby pigs were slammed against the ground; and a giant meat grinder disposed of useless, unwanted, LIVING male chicks.

The seconds ticked by. Surely this was the shocking prelude, I hoped. Surely they'd switch to a blood-free lecture. No, it was a non-stop gore fest. I glanced over at Edward, who had turned white. "I know it's tough," I whispered, "but we really should support these people."

I was utterly shell-shocked when the video finally ended. Blood-drenched chickens orbited my head. Instead of happy festivalgoers, I heard the squeals of terrified pigs. Edward stared straight ahead, with the same unspeakable horror we'd seen in the animals' eyes.

On the bright side, though, I was getting a lunch box!

The volunteer gave me my dollar, and I said thanks. She handed Edward his dollar, but he broke away before I could grab it. "You're right," he said, "we should support these people," and he stuffed it in their donation box.

Possible Republican vice presidential candidate Marco Rubio released evidence of his Catholicism today, in the form of a Certification of First Holy Communion. Obviously the Republicans hope that proof of a real religion on the ticket will counteract the crazy one.

Understandably, the Democrats are suspicious, because this little document seems to have a few odd flaws. Neither "son" nor "daughter" is circled: could nobody figure out if Rubio was a boy or a girl? Is there really a church in Las Vegas? And, of course, there are the dates. First Communion in 1984, but form dated 1986. Apparently it took two years to fill this out. What, was Rubio sitting on the priest's lap at the time?

A fisherman in Croatia has caught a magic, wish-granting fish seven times. Each time he catches the rare golden carp he releases it, and in return it grants him another wish. "It really is a magic fish," he says.

Naturally, the area residents are stumbling all over themselves to catch this fish, despite the fact that the guy spreading this story IS STILL A FISHERMAN IN CROATIA.

"Legos for Girls"? What, do the regular ones come with hookers and blow?

"Steal This Art" Art Stolen

A painting of the words "STEAL THIS ART" was stolen from a Brooklyn art gallery, and the artist is furious.

Adam Simon donated the $300 painting to Momenta Art for a benefit auction, but it disappeared before it could be raffled off. “I work hard on them," sighed Mr. Simon. "I feel bad that it was a benefit and a person has taken it.”

Momenta Art and Mr. Simon are trying to recover the painting, clearly not agreeing that this is like daring somebody to punch you in the stomach and then calling the cops when they do. The message isn't meant to be taken literally, Mr. Simon declared, helpfully explaining what the painting is supposed to mean. “It’s a challenge to myself. It sets something in motion in the viewer, the train of thought of actually taking something, and it’s more interactive. The relationship between the art object and a viewer is what interests me.”

Sadly, Mr. Simon doesn't realize he's created an incredible artwork, only to totally fuck it up by crying. His painting urged an action, and some peppy viewer followed through with it. Isn't that the Circle of Life? Heck, it put a smile on my face knowing that there are people in Brooklyn who will comply even if an artwork dares them to do something nuts.

Apparently Mr. Simon doesn't recognize how silly he sounds. Thinking about taking something is "interactive," but actually taking the thing isn't? And isn't there a stronger relationship between an art object and a viewer if the viewer actually sneaks the painting out of the gallery under his coat?

When one hears this painting is the thirtieth version Mr. Simon has generated, though, the curtain falls on any hope for his career. His whining serves only as ironic commentary, considering the first faux-"Fuck the system!" artwork was on the wall of a paleolithic cave, and his complete inability to either create or recognize art makes one yearn for the quiet integrity of other, more impressive works, like "All Employees Must Wash Hands."

Earth Day Every Day

People who are smarter than you really think you should wise up. I mean, the world is evolving at a tremendous pace, but you're still fucking around. The experts all agree: you're being stupid and irresponsible and you really need to change. Thank God Sunday's New York Daily News offers the first of an endless series of changes you can make so in the future you won't embarrass us quite so much.

Buy food from farmers' markets. “The carbon impact of transportation is reduced,” says one eco-expert. “And if the food is organic, which it almost always is, no chemical pesticides will have been used."

Easy, right? And you may be surprised to find that malformed, bug-eaten Amish heritage tomatoes are just $69 a pound.

Bring your own kitchenware when you buy lunch. “Think about how waste-free you'll be,” says an expert. "Some places will even serve you in your own reusable containers."

Is that brilliant? Heck, I'll bet you eat out less often, too, after everybody knows you as "The idiot who brings his own plate."

Use natural household cleaning products.

Vinegar and baking soda make a fabulous household cleaner, provided you don't actually own anything dirty. They have the added benefit that, when your stove gets too caked with grease to be usable, you can actually eat them without guilt.

Compost in your kitchen.

This has the added benefit of confusing people who break into your home looking for a toilet.

Make that air conditioning more efficient by lowering the shades in your apartment.

Goodbye, sunlight. Adios, outdoors. Don't worry: the experts say it's okay to be a little bit depressed.

Flush less water. Install a Toilet Tank Bank made by Niagara Conservation, which essentially is a water balloon placed in the toilet tank. It saves up to .8 gallons per flush.

See, the guy who invented toilets was crazy. His toilet used way too much water because he wanted to make 100% sure that all his crap was flushed. Well, these days the experts say we don't need that kind of certainty. They're fine if you're even 30% sure you haven't left a log behind.

Cut back by installing a shower head that is EPA approved.

The experts agree that your shower and your grandpa should have pretty much the same rate of flow.

Sell your old electronics on websites like Gazelle.com. They even pay for shipping.

How does this help the earth? Because the folks at the post office don't use any energy at all.

In closing, I'll confirm that maybe some of these "tips" don't sound quite so smart. But take my word for it: they have been put together by people who are smarter than you, so just shut up and go with them. Yes, your house will be dirty. You'll have food rotting in the kitchen, and stuff floating in the bathroom. The experts assure me, though, that if somebody comes to visit, it'll be so dark they won't recognize you.

Coroner agrees: Coke is it!

Yesterday Philips announced the invention of a new super-efficient LED light that lasts 25 years and costs $50.

This is great. Because every time I've moved to a new apartment I've thought, "Gosh, I wish I could pack up all the lightbulbs too."

Andrew Breitbart was a mystery, an enigma, a Sphinx. Now that he's gone, we'll probably never get answers to the many questions we have about him.

• Why would someone who worked at E! and had a degree in "American studies" think he should determine America's path?


• How could someone watch the Clarence Thomas hearings and suddenly decide "liberals" had a secret plan to rule the world?


• Where did he get such an overinflated sense of self?


• How could a rich white man be so convinced that poor people were stealing from him?


• Why was he, as Fox News says, so "disheveled, disorganized, always seemingly distracted"?


• Where did he get his boundless energy?


• With money, privilege, a wife and kids, why was he always so irritable and anxious? As Fox says, why did he "erupt" rather than chat?

On the day after Breitbart's death, Anthony Cumia, of the radio show "Opie and Anthony," hinted toward a possible cause to his listeners. “I went out drinking with him, and boy, can he party. He liked to stay awake, that’s all I’ll say."

Oh. Never mind.

Thank God I qualified, after spending last summer at Theater Camp.

Really, is it that complicated sharing a hooker? This reminds me of when I shared a two-bedroom apartment in college. Obviously the guy who went second should pay more because he got the bigger room.

And in one blinding flash I realized everything in life was disappointing.

According to Time Out New York, a popular lifestyle magazine, the multicultural city's "Best International Eats" can be found at Miss Lily's, where the chef is a white guy who grew up in Connecticut and summered in Maine.

Their choice for Best Asian Actor? John Wayne.

Amish Jokes

When Roy became preacher, he was a little bit of a slow learner, so we sent him to seminar school. They asked him 'Where was Jesus born?' And he says 'Pittsburgh.' So they say 'Nope, Bethlehem.' And then Roy says, 'I knew it was some place in Pennsylvania.'"

Richard Linklater's new movie Bernie is totally true. The title character really was a popular funeral director in a small town. He really loved show tunes and Jesus. He really dated a wealthy widow, then really shot her and stuffed her into a freezer. He really did use her money to buy off the town's residents, who really continued to proclaim his innocence even after he was caught and confessed. His lawyer was really named Scrappy Holmes, and a restaurant in town really did have a sign that read, "You Kill It, I'll Cook It!"

Here's the real Bernie:


Rrrrowww. Man, you sure can't blame the old lady. I just mailed the dude a solid-gold cigarette lighter and a photo of my ass. I wonder who's going to play him in the movie. Oh.


Dear Mr. Linklater:

Here's a quick note from Filmmaking 101: It's probably not worth sweating the small stuff if you're going replace a man with a manatee.

Hope this helps,
RomanHans

Thanks For That

From a New York Times interview with Mika Brzezinski:

I'm surprised that your co-host, Joe Scarborough, is not only here with you now but that he also accompanied you to the photo shoot. Here's the bottom line. And don't you jump out of your chair. He's a little bit like a gay stylist.

Joe's like a gay stylist? Seriously. Talk to his wife or any of her friends. He has got a real side to him that knows style and look and color and hair. He's amazing. Amazing.

Because straight stylists basically just want to work on your car.

About Me

I have a moderately strong stomach. I can eat anything McDonald's calls "chicken," but not anything they call "beef."

Uh, Ronald McDonald?

Rick Santorum has announced that he's suspending his presidential campaign because of his 3-year-old daughter.

She can't even spring for a $10,000 ticket to his fundraising dinner.

Yesterday Cardinal Timothy Dolan led the funeral mass for Clara Almazo, the grandmother who was killed while pushing her grandson out of the path of a speeding SUV. Dolan offered to preside over the solemn ceremony, insisting he was "moved by her selflessness."

The contrast was quite stark between mitered, satin-robed Cardinal and the indigent, immigrant mourners. After the services Dolan passed the hat, so at least they got a chance to touch Prada.

At a bizarre press conference that is still ongoing, attorneys for George Zimmerman announced that they are no longer representing him. "He's gone on his own. I don't know what he's doing or who he's talking to," attorney Craig Sonner said.

Rumor has it he's chasing black kids in the Bahamas.

I can't wait to see The Lucky One, a new movie based on the book by Nicholas Sparks. I watched the trailer a few weeks ago on YouTube and I'm still flying high on its positive message.



See, Zac Efron is a Marine fighting in Iraq. He's selflessly serving our country when he sees something on the ground. He picks it up and sees it's a photo of a gorgeous young woman.

Zac stares at it. "Be safe!" it says on the back. Why, it's like this message was intended just for him. Was it . . . fate? It's fair to say Zac is stunned. He stands there and examines the photo, and when he finally starts walking again a bomb explodes three feet in front of him.

He's thrown to the ground. We can barely breathe until he gets up and dusts himself off, and then it hits us:

Was Zac saved because he was staring at a photo of a chick he wanted to fuck?

As your average God-fearing man, I say the answer is yes. I believe that you die when your time is up -- and if it's not your time, God saves you. Sometimes he sends a barking dog to warn you about a fire, or lets you cough up that wad of Cherries Jubilee. In this case, to keep Zac from walking into the jaws of death God intervened with the photo of a chick he wanted to masturbate to.

This is patently offensive, you say. Does this mean God has no use for ugly people? Of course it doesn't! God has a use for all his children. There aren't any books or movies about soldiers finding pictures of ugly women, though, because they all died. That's right. Maybe they saw the horrible snapshot half-buried in the Iraqi sand, thrown away by somebody who accidentally glanced at it while they were eating. Maybe they gave a little half-shudder, made temporarily queasy by a rheumy eye or constellation of facial moles. They quickened their step, anxious to put some distance between themselves and Edna Chickenlips, and BLAMMO! Smithereens. Nicholas Sparks probably would have written about that but the book would have been four pages long.

Sadly, I think this is evidence that God doesn't want gays in the military. I mean, how many photos can he have? He's got one shot of a chick with fabulous titties, and one shot of Wanda Noboobs. Now he needs dudes too? Say he spots some gay man in the path of a bullet, but it isn't the guy's time. What, is God supposed to find a shirtless picture of Chris Hemsworth to distract him? And what if this particular gay man just happens to like rough trade? Our Father Who Art In Heaven doesn't exactly keep spare copies of Manorama on his ottoman. As he's racing to a West Hollywood newsstand the guy would be blown to bits.

After his discharge, Efron tries to find the woman in the photo. The journey changes his life, emphasizing The Lucky One's positive message: when we need God, sometimes he's there. Is the photo a tangible symbol of God's love for us? Well, I'm thinking its previous owner didn't exactly lose it in a poker game, but God only knows about that.

A Detailed Time Line Of The Rest Of Alec Baldwin's Life

2013: Four hundred of the couple's closest friends receive an announcement in the mail saying, "Alec Baldwin and Hilaria Thomas invite you to Calvary Chapel in Montauk, Long Island, on October 24, 2014 to celebrate their gloat down the aisle."

2014: Four hundred of the couple's closest friends receive a notice in the mail saying, "Alec and Hilaria Baldwin have mixed feelings in announcing the arrival of a ridiculously useless lump of human flesh."

2016: Since his marriage to yoga instructor Hilaria Thomas lasted just eighteen months, Alec Baldwin resolves to find a partner who is even better at balancing his overbearing personality. He announces his engagement to a four foot pile of vanilla pudding.

2017: @alecbaldwin tweets, "Row row row your BOAT. Row row row your BOAT. How fuckin' hard is that to sing?"

2018: In a startling about-face, Alec Baldwin accepts a role on a TV sitcom playing an arrogant, self-centered grandpa.

2019: Little Baracka Baldwin is hospitalized for injuries to her palms suffered during a particularly animated game of Patty Cake.

2022: After 10 years practicing yoga and the intervention of two high-profile construction companies, Alec Baldwin actually touches his feet.

2024: In his last tweet, @alecbaldwin writes, "If Quacker Factory doesn't start making sweatshirts for men, I'M FUCKIN' OUT OF HERE."

Best Dialog Ever: Downtown Abbey Season 2

MATTHEW CRAWLEY (in wheelchair): I know the doctor told me I'd be paralyzed forever, since my spinal cord was completely severed, but I've been feeling weird tingles in my legs. What do you think, Carstairs?

CARSTAIRS: Sir, I am but a chubby body in a tight suit. I'll go fetch the doctor.

MATTHEW CRAWLEY (standing): Holy God! Look -- I'm walking! I'll actually be able to walk down the aisle at my forthcoming nuptials!

DOCTOR: Wow. You know, I never told anybody, but when I first decided you were permanently paralyzed, every other doctor in the country said I was wrong. (SHRUGS) Whaddaya know?

Father Martin McVeigh of St. Mary's School in Ulster, Ireland was just beginning to lecture his congregants when disaster struck. He connected his USB drive to his PC, but instead of firing up the appropriate PowerPoint presentation, it kicked off a loop of hardcore gay porn.

As the crowd gasped, Father McVeigh unplugged the USB drive and walked out. The parishioners were understandably shocked, since they'd assembled to hear his lecture on First Communion.

Folks, maybe this'll help you out: when the priest puts the wafer on your tongue, he doesn't yell, "This is gonna be a tight fit!"

Thought

How come when conniving, back-stabbing, materialistic women are in a TV show, the word "Bitches" is in the title, but when a man's the star it's called The Tonight Show With Jay Leno?

Maria
I just met a girl named Maria
And suddenly that name
Will never be the same
To me

Because before it just made me think of the world's best opera singer and Jesus' mom.

Maria
Say it loud and there's music playing
Say it soft and it's almost like praying

Which is why I used to be engaged to Blessusohlordforthesethygifts McGee.

Maria
I'll never stop saying
Maria

Oh, look. I already stopped.