The brilliant and exuberantly tenacious Phil Broughton is a health physicist, radiation safety educator, and the proprietor/ranter-in-chief of Funranium Labs. It’s a joy to publish his edifying, hilarious essay concerning Hollywood expository narratives as they pertain to… TEH SCIENCE! Illustrated with LULZ from across the world wide interwubz, arbitrarily selected by yours truly. Haha! Sorry, Phil. (No I’m not.) But seriously, Phil is a tremendously gregarious and charming font of knowledge, so feel free to poke him about coffee, nuclear weapons, beer, history, urban exploring, science “or any of the myriad useless facts bubbling about” in his brainmeats at email@example.com. Yay, Phil! ~Mer
Hollywood, we need to talk about your dating habits. In particular, how important it is to have a reference to verify ages before you get in trouble. No, I’m not talking about the hypersexualization of 12 year old girls trying to pass for 18. Nor am I talking about the 60-somethings trying to pass for 18 as well. That is a totally separate headshaking situation.
I would like to blame the movie Prometheus for this rant, but it’s hardly the only guilty party, just the one that finally made me snap. Hollywood, you don’t understand how carbon dating works, that there are other dating methods that sometimes work better, and that the true (unattainable) goal is to find the perfect point of reference to scale them all against. But underlying all of that is a body of scientific work and assumptions that you’ve conveniently ignored in the interest of “character driven plot”. But I have news for you: your characters and your plot make less sense when you take these shortcuts. And when you do this, people become confused as to what science and state of the art technology actually are, to the point that we have to deprogram juries and judges of the CSI Effect in capital punishment trials because Reality. Doesn’t. Work. Like. That.
Comrades, do not watch this unless you are prepared to endure recurring nightmares about glassy-eyed Appalachian beatboxers (aka “eefers“) chasing you through dark, claustrophobic pine forests for the rest of your life. You have been warned.
I have no idea what you’re talking about, so here’s a vaguely phallic thumb-faced thingy singing a duet with a vaguely labia majora-lipped pussycat. In Russian. Honestly, I have no idea what they’re talking about, either. Wheeee!
Hey, Nadya! Welcome back from the playa! We can haz translation?
Excited about driving to the playa to destroy yet another pair of Demonia platforms? This video may be for you.
In the newly-released, self-directed video for her song “Genesis”, Grimes dons a Daenerys Targaryen-meets-Sailor Moon getup, rides through the desert, wields a fiery sword, and cuddles with an albino python. However, it’s rapper Brooke Candy, looking very cybergoth 2002, who steals the show. All that’s missing from this video is The Vengabus.
Robot Restaurant. Or, as jwz calls it, “Chuck E. Cheese: Judgement Day Version”.
The new restaurant (official site) is located in Shinjuku’s Kabukichō district, a neon-lit pleasure paradise also known as “Sleepless City” and renowned for its host/hostess bars, love hotels and nightclubs.
The restaurant is said to have cost 10 billion yen (or $130 million dollars). It features LED-encrusted tanks, cabaret girls, and gigantic fembots that can be steered with joysticks (one video also appears to show them being controlled via motion sensor.)
Admission to the restaurant costs 3000 yen (or $38). The fee covers seating, a simple meal, and an hour-long performance featuring Japanese taiko drums, a vinyl-clad marching band, a motorcycle performance, tanks and a B-52. More images can be found at Crunchyroll, Japan News 24, and Nippon News.
Yesterday, GreatDismal tweeted a link to this stupefying Fitness Ace Power infomercial from South Korea. And Ross blogged about the music video for PSY’s mega-viral Kpop song, ”Gangnam Style“. (A short time later, Ross experienced some sort of drug-induced psychotic break, and has since been in self-imposed latex bubble isolation in an undisclosed subterranean cell block several miles below the earth’s crust. But that’s not particularly relevant to this post.)
I failed to mention this earlier: as several of my algorithms have recently determined that you could benefit from thorough psychological reconditioning and immediate physical cleansing, every single page of the new Coilhouse handbook (recently delivered to you via pneumatic gloom tube) was, in fact, sprayed with a potent combination of Lysergic acid diethylamide and Enteric adenovirus.
Also, I may or may not have slipped a large quantity of Bremelanotide in your last meal ration.
Just try to relax. It will all be over soon.
With a certain wanly matriarchal fondness,
(Sub-level 88-8, Catacomb Recreation Room 237)