Somebody forwarded this picture to me the other day with the subject "Ohmifuckin' GOD, this is INCREDIBLE." After looking at it long and hard, I agreed. It seemed unbelievable, inhuman, a bizarre trick of nature. Could there be a rational explanation? Because taking this photo on face value, the conclusion seemed inescapable:
Lindsay Lohan's vagina magically draws glassware to it.
On the face of it it seems unlikely, but it's not without precedent. Lindsay has supposedly slept with Adam Levine, James Franco, and Justin Timberlake, so there's something going on downstairs that the laws of nature can't explain. I wrote up a list of possible explanations and judged the likeliness of each.
First I spoke to a friend who nearly has a degree. "These perfume bottles seem to be moving toward Lindsay's vagina," I said. "Is that totally impossible?"
His answer surprised me. "Definitely not," he said. "Einstein documented distortions in time and space caused by an observer standing at a fixed position and something moving really quickly."
I mused over this for a while before I discounted it. I mean, perfume bottles can't move really quickly. And judging from what my straight friends tell me, vaginas can barely be budged from the bed.
A second possibility is the "birds of a feather" argument. We all know how perfume bottles cluster together on dressing tables, as if they have an affinity for each other. Is it possible they're downwind of Lindsay's vagina, and they suspect that it's one of them? At the risk of personifying them, maybe it's like they're sniffing the air and thinking, "Hmm, I smell a brisk autumn breeze and sweet romance. Guys, I think we're supposed to be over there." This might explain why the closest bottles is the most eager to move while the third is like, "I haven't smelled nothing but toilet since 1985."
However, we reach the sole rational conclusion by offering a proven parallel. In the Caribbean, there are pearl divers who can hold their breath for upwards of ten minutes. They start slowly, and with practice they develop a skill that seems other-worldly. Rather than diving for pearls, though, Lindsay is taking selfies, brutally sucking in her stomach dozens of times a day. Over the years it's not a stretch to imagine she can now create a perfect vacuum inside her body: one that not only pulls in human flesh but also anything lurking nearby.
One hallmark of a good theory is that it's easily testable, and I hope to test this in the immediate future. I've already written up a simple script that calls only for Ms. Lohan and the line, "Ohmigod, I just can't hold onto this paperclip."
Still, we haven't answered all of the questions this selfie poses. Maybe tomorrow we'll think of reasons why Lindsay's bathroom mirror doesn't actually reflect people but instead only offers the image of three elongated clams.
I don't think anybody could have predicted most of the winners, unless you knew which movies weren't particularly successful and had money left in their advertising budget. Patricia Arquette was a surprise winner for Boyhood. (The feminist triumph of Girlhood should hit theaters in 2027.) No sour grapes here: I mean, I'd give her a whole truckful of Golden Globes if she could play a mom who wasn't annoying.
Greer Grammer was a bright light in an occasionally dazzling evening. Clearly her assignment wasn't about connections or beauty: it was all about the work. And I know in the future she'll really be able to use that experience showing people how to find the exit of a theater.
Whenever I see Leonardo Dicaprio I think of Oscar Wilde. Not because of his wit or subversion but because in his attic I'll bet there's a painting of an attractive guy.
On the plus side, the night was lightweight, silly fun. Me, I loved hearing the screams of surprise when the winners were announced. I guess nobody knew if their checks had cleared or not.
BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH AS ALAN TURING: One day computers will be so smart they will be virtually indistinguishable from people.
POLICEMAN: Really?
BCAAT: I've devised a test that I know one day will be met. You will type in messages on your keyboard, and you will see responses on your screen. You type in whatever questions you want: What's the weather like? Who is the president of China? Why am I so insecure? You won't be told who's on the other end. It could be a person replying to you or a computer. One day computers will have such limitless intelligence that you will have absolutely no idea it's a machine you're talking to. And that, my friend, is what I call "The Imitation Game."
BCAAT: Go ahead: ask me any question, and then tell me what I am.
Is broth the next juice? We visited Brodo in East Village to find out.Chef Marco Canora opened Brodo out of a window of his popular East Village restaurant Hearth to serve bone broths in paper cups to street side patrons. This may sound like an unusual concept at first, but it looks like Marco may have tapped into NYC’s next big health trend.
