tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16247065864965436602024-02-08T10:21:57.431-08:00Rutherford Jones and the Adventures of Science!Rutherford Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14592582081758492551noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1624706586496543660.post-66086656849125884602011-03-23T04:35:00.000-07:002011-03-23T04:37:21.786-07:00On employment, specifically mine.Recently, I have been employed by the government to solve the problem of unemployment. Because of this, my job is already partially completed, as at least one person in the world is now no longer unemployed. With this in mind, I literally CANNOT fail as there is already a slight margin of success, and so I really don’t have to work that hard. It is a pretty sweet deal, and I am able to simply wander the streets, interrogating vagrants. This is little different to my regular schedule, but now I am paid for it, and I get to wear a badge.<br /><br />Between my roughing-up of vagrants, however, I have had time to ponder and muse on this subject. Time, as they say, is money. If my interrogations have taught me nothing else, it is that the unemployed have nothing but time. If this is the case, WHY ARE POOR PEOPLE STILL SO POOR? I think I’ve pretty much solved that problem, I just have to wait for the universe’s logic to kick in and I’m done. With my copious amounts of free time (and thus, free money), I have decided to create a handy job-seeking guide for the unemployed amongst you.<br /><br />Step one is to apply for a job. Any job, it doesn’t really matter which. Find something and apply for it, chances are you will not get this job, but it will help you get your foot in the door, and believe me when I say that putting your foot through the door makes a strong impression on a prospective employer. Kick their door down when going for the interview. If you get the job, great! Be sure kick down the door to your new office, to show them who the boss is (note: it is not you yet, but maybe one day, if you kick down enough doors.) If you don’t get the job, and this is likely to happen, be sure to leave your resume for any other jobs they might be looking to fill. Like the old proverb says, when one door closes, it’s probably a good opportunity to kick it down.<br /><br />Step two is the actual interview. Don’t be nervous – most recruitment agents are genetically engineered to smell fear. The release of adrenaline associated with your nervousness will be picked up by them, causing a surge in their dopamine levels. Instead, threaten them with a knife to show them you mean business, regardless of what the business actually is (note: if the business involves actual knives, such as a restaurant or knife-fighting ring, you may like to bring in an elephant gun to really make your point clear.)<br /><br />Once you have failed at obtaining three jobs, it is time to fake some credentials and apply for a government grant on how to solve unemployment. This dissertation completes the requirements of my government contract, and my ten thousand dollars and I will bid you good luck, and happy job hunting.Rutherford Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14592582081758492551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1624706586496543660.post-9709527619907009092010-03-19T05:11:00.000-07:002010-03-19T05:13:12.376-07:00A dissertation on the longtime historical feud between science and sports, which I suppose is a type of science<p class="MsoNormal">Since the dawn of time, or, at the very least, the dawn of time-outs, science and sports have been rivals. Science is the geek, and sports is the jock. Sports is popular. Everyone likes sports. Science isn’t popular, but it does the important work. And when it’s not doing important work, it is fighting goblins and ogres with a +3 broadsword, which, I think you will agree is also important work, at least to the peasants that are about to be eaten.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But where did it all begin, you ask? Scientists were not always the down-trodden underdog of the sporting world. Sport is, in essence, applied physics. Physics, as I should not need to tell you, is a type of science. It should not surprise you, then, that scientists were once magnificent players, dominating whatever game they set their mind to, and their minds were considerable.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Tall, muscular, intelligent and ethically unimpeded, the scientists rose to fame through their legendary prowess. They calculated the angle, momentum and speed of a ball, the precise area to hit it, or catch it, or stab it with a rapier. They knew how to vault over a pole with ease, to illicit the best response from the crowd; they even knew how to determine the atomic composition of the trophies they won (most of them were made from Hyper-brass).</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The scientists, it seemed, had the unfair advantage. After many heated debates (these are much like regular debates, but they take place over a giant Bunsen-burner) amongst the United Nations Ethics, Quality and Unfairness in Athletic Leagues committee, it was decided that the more intelligent the scientists were, the less muscular and physically dexterous they could be. Some scientists, like Professor Stephen Hawking, were outraged, and rebelled against the judgment, using science to grow new muscle tissue from pig stem-cells. These scientists were punished for their hubris, and that is the reason Stephen Hawking is crippled and enfeebled to this day. It is also why Stephen Hawking always smells like bacon.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Scientists grew to resent sports, especially when the sporting community started appropriating scientific concepts to make sports more engaging. Perhaps the best example of this is the ‘standing wave’, also known as the Mexican wave, for its inventor; Professor Charles Mexican, a Welsh scientist and occasional racist. Professor Mexican was outraged at this new use for his standing wave, which had previously been used only to speed up the transmission of polio between minorities.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This negative attitude towards sports has changed, however, with the invention of Science-ball. Science-ball is a new type of sport that only a scientist may play. Normal athletes cannot comprehend the advanced scientific concepts that govern the rules of the game, or the fact that the rules of the game can be changed at any time as long as whoever made up the rule is discredited by a group of scientists that are able to submit a peer-reviewed journal article whilst hitting a beam of positrons with an energised bat made of radium. The game is difficult, largely because it is impossible to predict where the ball will be at any one time. Instead, scientists hold a Heisenberg glove into a probability cloud that represents where the ball may be found at certain times. When a pile of Uranium-238 has decayed by three half-lives, a buzzer is sounded and the Heisenberg-glove is empirically tested using Infra-red spectroscopy and nuclear magnetic resonance to determine whether or not the ball has been caught. The game is then over, and the results are published in six to eight months with detailed graphs, diagrams and a reference list that spans eight pages. Of course, the rules are constantly in a state of flux, and rival scientists may try to sabotage the player’s attempt at catching the ball (possibly by releasing mutated insects, infectious viruses or laser-wielding robots onto the field). Very few people have been killed, but I feel it is only a matter of time before someone discredits Dr. Steinberg’s theory that murder is not inherently entertaining. Did I mention that Steinberg is a notorious rapist and a drunkard? Also, his scientific credentials are highly suspect.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Until next time, I hope you have enjoyed another of my <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">ADVENTURES IN SCIENCE!</span></span></p>Rutherford Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14592582081758492551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1624706586496543660.post-1034146519980855122010-03-14T04:40:00.000-07:002010-03-14T04:46:43.376-07:00Love in the Time of TimetravelMy friends, the life of a superscientist is a lonely one, and I must say that fewer women find my status attractive now than they did in 1873 (I travel back to that time occasionally when I get ‘the vapours’). As such, finding a female counterpart can be difficult, especially now that there are sexual harassment lawsuits preventing me from courting the few female scientists employed at my laboratory. It is because of this that I experimented with gender differentiation in cloning. Yes, I know, it was ill-advised, but I sought to engineer a female version of myself. Rutherford Joans was her name (I know that this naming structure is unconventional, but let’s face it, the name Rutherford is an under-used one, and I’m trying to bring it back in style) and my heart melted when I first saw her. Cardiac liquification is an unfortunate side-effect of seeing your own clone, but luckily mine was intelligent enough to reverse the process and my heart is back to the solid state it prefers to be in.<br /><br />Our courtship was an unusual one - as we were essentially identical, conversation was limited to stating various topics and then nodding in agreement. This left more time for sexual intercourse, which was awkward and uncomfortable for both parties, but I am told this is normal in married couples, so logically we deduced that we were ahead of romantic schedule. I am sure that most of my readers (all three of them) are condemning me right now for this shocking display of what may be constituted as ‘incest’, but you should no doubt be aware that clones are always infertile, so there was no risk of impregnation and genetic abominations. Additionally, I performed a hysterectomy on Rutherford Joans whilst she was still in the cloning tank. Also I am sterile due to years of working with plutonium.<br /><br />Alas, it was not meant to be. Well, actually, it was meant to be, as I intentionally designed the experiment myself and engineered her from scratch, but the relationship did not work out. That is what I meant to say. Opposites attract, goes the old adage, and sadly the inverse also applies. My female counterpart and I were electromagnetically repelled from each other and flung across the room, which made the sex even more difficult. Holding hands was significantly more complicated than usual, unless we used statically charged gloves, and even then the electric shocks made it too painful to enjoy much. Eventually we realised that our relationship would not work, and we parted ways. Then I harvested her body for resources and engineered some lab assistants to help me build a death ray. It’s sad, though in a way, I’ll always have a reminder of the times we shared together, and every time I molecularly disassemble one of the workers with an enormous laser, I’ll think of her and smile.<br /><br />Until next time, dear readers, I hope you have enjoyed another of my <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">ADVENTURES IN ROMANCE!</span></span>Rutherford Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14592582081758492551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1624706586496543660.post-64904144785719153682009-05-19T05:26:00.000-07:002009-05-19T05:33:09.582-07:00Apocalypse Now. Or, more accurately: Apocalypse Sometime in the FutureI apologise for not updating my blog more. Due to my rather ‘select’ group of readers, however, I suspect this is not the end of the world.<br /><br />The end of the world involves many more cannibals and in-flight magazines. There are many ‘theories’ as to how the apocalypse will arrive. The most popular (by vote) of these is that of nuclear holocaust. The nuclear holocaust is a scenario in which the reanimated corpse of Hitler attempts to destroy every Jew on the planet with a nuclear warhead. The thrifty or bearded readers among you will almost certainly be mutated by some form of lingering radiation, while the rest of us will escape relatively unharmed. HOWEVER, the electromagnetic pulse will disable all electronic devices, and, if movies have shown us anything, it is that society will quickly devolve into post-apocalyptic tribes of punks and cannibals. <br /><br />In the event of nuclear holocaust, you yourself may be tempted to resort to cannibalism, but I warn you, DO NOT DO IT. Once you start, you cannot stop and will eventually become just another irradiated flesh junky. Instead of eating them, I suggest experimenting on humans as though they were lab rats (due to the radiation, actual rats will have grown up to eight times their original size, and so it will be impractical and dangerous to use them.)<br /><br />If you really need food that badly (and I assume you will) I offer you this advice: airplanes. Grounded airplanes are a treasure-trove of salted peanuts. These will provide all the nutrition you need - do not be fooled by the ‘food pyramid’ you may have heard about. This is merely a scam used by Egyptian dieticians to sell books that are not even written in hieroglyphics. Airplanes also contain enormous back-catalogues of in-flight magazines, which can withstand nuclear blasts completely unharmed and are one of the few materials which will never biodegrade. Ever. They are ideal for building shelters and little forts, as well as providing some light reading.<br /><br />Eventually you will want to do one of two things: go back in time to avert the blast and save the world, or make the best of things as they are and rebuild. I would suggest avoiding time travel, as it is rife with paradoxes WHICH YOU SHOULD KNOW BY NOW. I HAVE ONLY BEEN BLOGGING ABOUT IT FOR TWO YEARS. <br /><br />Anyway, don’t travel back in time. Chances are that if Hitler came back, nothing you can do will stop him from coming back in any alternate history. Unless he was never killed in the first place, in which case he’s now immortal, so well done, genius. I suggest making the most of life in your post-apocalyptic shelter. Find some form of weaponry (may I suggest science?) to defend yourself against savages, cannibals and religious fanatics. <br /><br />Once you have tested the structural integrity of your shelter by banging on it with a large stick for about three hours, start making it a little cozier by adding a throw-rug or some cushions. If cushions don’t exist in your time, litter the corpses of your defeated enemies at the outskirts of your territory. This will ward off trespassers, as well as boost your chi (dead bodies are rated highly in the ancient science of feng shui.)<br /><br />Remember: do not drink the water. It does not contain all the electrolytes your body needs. If possible, break into an abandoned Gatorade factory. These factories often have Coca-Cola vending machines in their lobbies, which will supply your body with everything it needs (apart from love, obviously, but the coin slot should have enough spare change to buy you twenty minutes with one of the cheaper mutant prostitutes available – keep in mind, her face being slightly melted doesn’t lessen the attractiveness of her having two and a half breasts.)<br /><br />You may find yourself growing bored, so why not take up a hobby? May I suggest surviving? Or perhaps dedicating yourself to the pursuit of science? Either to decontaminate the environment (this is more women’s work, so don’t feel that this is urgent) or to breed a race of super mutants (also known as ‘real’ science) who will fight your enemies until you achieve total dominance of the sprawling wasteland that was once a city.<br /><br />After you’ve succeeded, just sit back and wait for the inevitable uprising of the mutants, before you are torn limb from limb and consumed in a cannibalistic orgy. Alternatively, offer them some peanuts. I trust you remembered to genetically engineer them with a fatal peanut allergy?<br /><br />Keep these tips in mind, and you should have no trouble surviving the next nuclear holocaust. THAT’S RIGHT, THERE HAVE BEEN ONES BEFORE. But until next time, I hope you have enjoyed another of my <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">ADVENTURES IN SCIENCE!</span></span>Rutherford Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14592582081758492551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1624706586496543660.post-52105679810201015182009-02-25T19:03:00.000-08:002009-02-25T19:25:57.768-08:00A Brief History and/or Future of Time TravelTime travel is problematic, what with all the paradoxes, grammatical uncertainty and incestuous hijinks that inevitably ensue. As such, I resolved to invent a new method of time travel that avoided these issues altogether.<br /><br />Using a thin sheet of plastic wrapping (commonly used to preserve sandwiches during space flight) to cover an ordinary spacecraft, I developed a machine capable of temporal intangibility.<br /><br />Temporal intangibility, as you all should know, is the quality of being unaffected by the passage of time. Essentially it is the quantum mechanics equivalent of MC Hammer’s “Can’t Touch This” if it were an ode to time itself, and not merely to all of the player-haters out there in the ‘ghetto’. <br /><br />By initiating the temporal intangibility, the spacecraft (and anything inside) is completely unaffected by time until the mechanism is disengaged. In doing so, I can travel forward in time without aging or subjecting myself to populist cultural trends such as electro-shock therapy and the Macarena (oddly enough, both trends cause similar muscular spasms in the participant.)<br /><br />Travelling backwards through time, however, is considerably more difficult. I would, in theory, have to force the entire universe to do everything in reverse for a certain period of time. This would be easy for stars and celestial bodies – they do very little and are widely regarded as galactic layabouts. Humans, however, are notorious for their stubbornness at doing everything forwards. Walking, talking (with the notable exception of satanic recording artists) and eating (again with the notable exception of the bulimic, alcoholic or Ancient Roman crowds) are all done forwards. Sexual ejaculation would be particularly unpleasant to complete in reverse, and is the primary reason for my hesitancy to travel back in time. Also everything is monochrome once you go past the 1930’s and having experienced the world in GLORIOUS TECHNICOLOUR, I cannot – or will not - go back to the way things used to be.<br /><br />It is unfortunate, then, that once you go forward in time, you will be unable to go back. That is why my machine is currently untested, and so I do not know if it actually works. That has not, however, stopped me from selling it to a six year old boy in Scandinavia. His parents miss him dearly. <br /><br />Until next time, I hope you have enjoyed another of my <span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">ADVENTURES IN SCIENCE!</span></span>Rutherford Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14592582081758492551noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1624706586496543660.post-52729955834906620372009-02-15T21:45:00.000-08:002009-02-15T23:15:11.945-08:00Eye of NewtonYes, my friends, I have not posted in a while. You will forgive me, however, because I have implanted subliminal programming into your subconscious mind that forces you to do so. You will also forgive me because I have a good reason.<br /><br />I have been teaching. "Teaching what?", the uneducated of you may ask. "Teaching SCIENCE!", I will reply. Or did reply. Just then. That was my reply. Anyway, I have been teaching science at a Unified Neurological Implantation facility, or UNI. This is apparently a place where the young and ignorant go to receive knowledge, which is directly implanted into their brains via pumps and lasers. Everything is done with pumps and lasers now, even lunch.<br /><br />But how best to teach the youth of today? Surely conventional methods are ineffective, as young people dress and spell so poorly. The best way to learn, goes the old adage, is to teach. I have posited that the inverse of such a law would also be true. Thus, I have enrolled in my own class as a student, in order to teach to the best of my ability.<br /><br />I will enlighten you as to the observations I have made in my experiment thus far.<br /><br />Day One: Very little happened. No sign of teacher. Students became restless. Sat in lecture hall for a good three hours before deciding that there would be no lesson today. <br /><br />Day Two: Similar observations. Still no 'educating' taking place.<br /><br />Day Three: A 'substitute' teacher showed up, and attempted to direct the class. The result is mixed at best. A largely theoretical approach was taken, with NO explosions at all. <br /><br />Day Four: Again the substitute showed up to 'teach'. No chemicals were mixed, and few - if any - loud exclamations were issued whilst holding a beaker triumphantly. Beginning to question the legitimacy of the supposed 'science' content of this course. My portable telephone activated whilst in class - embarrassing for all involved. The caller asked why I have not shown up to teach the class, or called in sick. I inform them that I am a mere student, and that they have the wrong number.<br /><br />Day Five: Still no explosions. I interrupt the 'lecture' at several points to question this - only response being laughter. Upon questioning the credentials of the teacher, I was thrown out. Teacher seems to resent the use of the words "talentless hack".<br /><br />Day Six: Lecture is difficult to hear through the solid wooden doors. Attempts to blow up the door were ineffective. Recommend use of actual explosives tomorrow.<br /><br />Day Seven: No class. Apparently some sort of alarm was sounded, and the students were sent home.<br /><br />Day Eight: Class resumes, but I am indisposed. I have been called to meet with the Dean of Students. Attempts to straighten this whole mess out were met with confusion. Perhaps I will have to teach the teachers how to teach science, before they will let me teach science. <br /><br />Day Nine: I throw the substitute teacher out of <span style="font-weight:bold;">MY</span> classroom. He resists, until I show him the note from the Dean that explains things. Class begins. My expectations for the students were far too high. They do not even understand the basic system of elemental categories - based on the sound-effects made when they explode. They insist on something called a Periodic Table. I inform them that the only table needed is a lab bench, from which you can make things explode. This is met with derision and laughter from students. Recommend removing their laughing-glands before next lesson.<br /><br />Day Ten: Operation a success for students 1-23. Dean of Students arrived before the rest could be finished. Attempts to explain the situation in a lighthearted way were unsuccessful. Dean said it was no laughing matter. Maybe he also had this operation performed - not happy with the results? Offer to perform a laughing-gland transplant was rejected. Removed from grounds of University.<br /><br />Day Eleven: Received summary dismissal. No pay received.<br /><br />So, there you have it. Coincidentally, I am now completely available to offer private tuition, or to provide educational lectures. I have a great one on Isaac Newton and how witchcraft influenced his description of the three laws of motion.<br /><br />Until next time, I hope you have enjoyed another of my <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">ADVENTURES IN SCIENCE!</span></span>Rutherford Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14592582081758492551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1624706586496543660.post-86427449504466741752008-12-31T05:04:00.000-08:002008-12-31T05:55:18.262-08:00Happy New Year!I would like to take a moment to wish a very happy New Year to everyone, on behalf of the scientific community and indeed Science itself.<br /><br />Another year has passed us by. Is it just me, or was this year shorter than the previous ones? (This is of course impossible. If the rotational period of the Earth had shortened, we would have burned to death by now. It is merely a New Year's jest that I was making. I apologise if I have misled you.)<br /><br />No, the year is no shorter, it is still 365.2425 solar days long. Time, however, has slipped away from us. Or rather it has been stolen. Not by the ever-increasingly demanding technological devices, nor social commitments or working habits. No, it is the Time Bandits that have robbed us - an initiative spearheaded by Terry Gilliam wherein he would kidnap and indoctrinate small children and even smaller dwarves into a band of thieves that would attempt to steal temporal energy through a large pneumatic device known as a time-sink. <br /><br />The use of this temporal energy was unknown for quite some time (as the Time Bandits themselves utilised the device to slow us down in our discovery of what exactly they were doing. Pretty crafty, if I may say so.) It is now known that the dwarves, a vain group to say the least, used the stolen time to rejuvenate their ravaged faces, making them youthful and almost childlike. The children, as it always is, were tired of being so young and never allowed to make their own decisions, such as when to go to bed, or how many prostitutes were 'excessive' in a temporal orgy. As such, the children used the temporal energy to age themselves to adulthood. Sadly, the unaccounted-for side effect was that their bodies did not <span style="font-style:italic;">grow</span>, only age. As you can see, this became something of a problem, as the children would become dwarves, and the dwarves children. A never-ending cycle began, in which more and more time would need to be stolen in order to feed the ever-growing vanity of the Time Bandits.<br /><br />Eventually, the Time Bandits would run into their future (or past - it was impossible to tell, as they eventually all looked the same) selves, often the child version meeting its dwarven parallel and being both disgusted and slightly aroused at the same time (as is stipulated in the Kevorkian paradox - that is, a person will always be both repulsed and sexually attracted to a version of themselves, whether temporal, clone, evil twin or robotic.)<br /><br />In an ultimate act of both vanity and desire, the Time Bandits - both past and future - merged together to create a single entity. This did not turn out so well for either party, and the result was an incredibly wrinkled and giant baby who grew younger with age, until he disappeared into nothingness (or technically, a fetus, and then nothing.) The backward-but-also-forward aging baby did (or will do, depending on which point in time you live) a great many things for the universe, including the creation of the Earth itself. This may seem like a paradox, considering that the Time Bandits who became the baby would first have to feed off the Earth's temporal energy, but really, you're just not thinking hard enough about time travel. <br /><br />The time-baby would eventually merge with the universe itself, which accounts for why the Milky Way is so heavily favoured by the universe. To this day, speaking in baby-talk will provide good fortune in your life, which is why some people insist upon babbling in made-up words at all times. Those people, however, are batshit crazy. <br /><br />There have been many stages of the universal time-baby. The earliest known period was the gaseous one. Through an explosive force of excessive magnitude, this gas was released and the galaxies and planets began to form. The time-baby grew cranky, however, and there was much destruction. Comets rained down, stars became supernova and cosmic radiation was sent in all directions. Scientists have concluded that this is probably why the dinosaurs became extinct. The time-baby never liked dinosaurs. They tasted funny. <br /><br />This is not the last of the time-baby's impact, however. One day, the time-baby will grow hungry, and will feed upon the Milky Way. This will be the end of our planet, and perhaps our race. To this end, scientists have worked on two different projects. The first is a ship, designed to send our species to other habitable planets, in order to prolong our existence. The second is a weapon of immense destruction, using ambient energy found on the outskirts of wormholes and temporal rifts to start a chain reaction and generate such an enormous explosion that would send the time-baby into a deep, deep slumber. This weapon is, of course, known only as The Pacifier.<br /><br />As is tradition, we send twelve of our oldest living males into the cosmos beyond, via space capsule, as a sacrifice to the time-baby, also known as Baby New Year. It is thought that the residual time energy inside of the geriatrics will postpone our destruction by another year.<br /><br />Also, old people do not smell so good, and they are whiners.<br /><br />So, until next time, Happy New Year! I hope that you have enjoyed another one of my <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">ADVENTURES IN SCIENCE!</span></span>Rutherford Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14592582081758492551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1624706586496543660.post-28984085109830654122008-12-24T02:59:00.000-08:002008-12-24T03:46:03.955-08:00Acceleration Xmas = ForceSorry, that was a typographical error made by my new research assistant Ruddiger, who is transcribing this new web log. The heading SHOULD read Acceleration x Mass = Force. That's Newton's second law. What ended up being the heading is almost a Christmas joke. And we all know there is no room for jokes in science. Apart from the laughboratory, but that's more of a facility than a room. <br /><br />Getting back to science, however, I thought I should set the record straight about something. Science gets a lot of flack, especially around Christmas time, from organised religion. I feel this is unfair, and so I will attempt to straighten things out regarding this Jesus fellow.<br /><br />Some people make him out to be some kind of miracle worker. He was not the messiah, nor was he a very naughty boy. He was an ordinary man - sure, he had some nice ideas about peace and love and that sort of thing, which people took a bit too far, but really he was just an average guy. <br /><br />The biggest 'miracle' he's supposedly responsible for is being resurrected after his crucifixion. It sounds impressive, sure, but it's nothing we couldn't do with some stem cells and a few years to iron out the kinks. Honestly, though, Jesus didn't actually die from his crucifixion. 'What doesn't kill you,' goes the old adage, 'only makes you stronger'. Jesus was the son of a carpenter, Joseph. He helped his father out around the shop, and was somewhat accident prone (if historical evidence is to be believed). Statistically speaking, young Jesus was bound to nail a few planks of wood to himself by accident. In fact, it most likely happened quite often. Perhaps several times a week. As a result, he built up an immunity to it, and so when his crucifixion came, it was no problem for Jesus. <br /><br />Now, some may point out that the legend states that his side was pierced with a spear. First, the spear actually missed all of his vital organs, so it wasn't such an impressive wound anyway. Secondly, the 'spear' referred to is actually the mythical 'Spear of Destiny', whose existence is debatable. So therefore, he may not have actually been stabbed with this spear at all. Hardly impressive to be 'stabbed' by a spear that may not even exist.<br /><br />Jesus was then taken to a tomb, dressed in fresh robes, and left for three days. Any survivalist will tell you that fresh robes are an invaluable source of improvised bandaging (although whether questionably-existent spear wounds need to be bandaged is debatable itself). Plus, he had three days bed rest, which should have been more than enough time for him to be feeling like his old self again. As the tomb was sealed, it created a dark environment, perfect for resting, and due to the nature of Jerusalemic stone, it created a hyperbaric oxygen chamber which would have sped up his healing rate even more.<br /><br />Once he had been released from his 'tomb', however, he was found to be quite alive indeed. He spoke with his disciples, who insisted upon poking his wound (inadvisable, as any medical doctor will tell you) and subsequently 'ascended to heaven'. This is an inaccurate report, however. Jesus merely disappeared, due to a paradox. As the Spear of Destiny may or may not exist, Jesus may or may not have died. This created a "Schrodinger's Jesus" paradox that eventually resolved itself by removing all traces of Jesus from existence. <br /><br />So, as you can see, both science AND religion are right, in a certain sense. Jesus certainly did exist, but at the same time he never existed at all and it is a positively ludicrous suggestion that he did. <br /><br />Some time ago, however, a rogue Christian from another time line tried to cheat things by travelling back in time and artificially inseminating Jesus' mother Mary, thus creating Jesus after all. The universe will eventually catch up with this transgression by immaculately conceiving the anti-Christ, which will bring about the end of existence through an apocalyptic battle on an enormous scale, creating so many paradoxes that the universe collapses in on itself and all life ceases to be. <br /><br />That probably won't happen for a while, though.<br /><br />So, until next time, happy holidays and a merry Christmas. Stay tuned in the new year for more <span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">ADVENTURES IN SCIENCE!</span></span>Rutherford Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14592582081758492551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1624706586496543660.post-83055149281629318682008-11-30T13:36:00.001-08:002008-11-30T14:21:48.681-08:00The Long Kiss MumbaiMy research assistant Simon, who I have grown attached to (with the use of stem cells) is leaving for India today. This saddens me, yet it is not the first time one of my scientific creations has journeyed to the sub-continent. <br /><br />My first creation's disappearance was a shameful one. I had been commissioned by the British Government to create an assassin droid, for the purposes of travelling back in time and quelling a rebellion that took place in India, in 1915. The British Government wished to re-establish their empire. Or rather, to have never lost it to begin with. I think most of this desire was motivated by their dislike of paying so much for tea. In any case, I designed the first robot built specifically for assassination. It was a masterpiece. Thin, slender arms, but powerful all the same. Concealed weaponry, but a friendly and believable appearance. It was capable of blending in to human society perfectly, staying undetected until it was meant to strike. If there was one flaw, it was perhaps the optical sensors, which were always rather weak. <br /><br />The Galvanised Assassin Droid Human Imitator was perfectly designed, or so I thought. Sending the robot back in time required some complex physics, and unfortunately resulted in the robot appearing naked (this is standard time travel technology, as fibers get caught in the machine.) According to reports, the robot gathered a poorly-woven sheet and covered itself in it. This was basic social camouflage, but the people of India interpreted it as a sign of protest against their British then-rulers, whose economy relied heavily on the trade of cotton garments.<br /><br />My robot used this social following to get closer to his target, a lawyer by the name of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi. Striking in the dead of night, the target was eliminated, but not before a brief conversation ensued. My robot, having never been programmed with a philosophy, was quickly and, perhaps violently, converted to a new way of thinking. He assumed the mantle of Mahatma Gandhi and returned to his followers, hoping to use them to escape the guards in Mumbai, then return to the present and postulate on this new philosophical development. <br /><br />He was, however, surprised by his followers' passion, who demanded more social protest, eventually asking for his leadership in their new movement. Largely by accident, Mahatma Gandhi became the very figure that he was sent to eliminate. This, of course, was quite a considerable fuck-up on my part, and so I was forced to rectify the situation by sending another assassin droid, the Galvanised Obliteration Droid and Social Extremist - this time programmed with the philosophy of Hindu radicalism to ensure that he would not be converted into a more pacifistic philosophy.<br /><br />Gandhi's last words were said to be "Oh God." It is widely believed that he was actually killed before finishing them. Some speculate that he was in fact saying "Oh, GODSE" (referring to GODSE, the new droid that was sent to kill him.) The history books, of course, would have you believe otherwise.<br /><br />All in all, the mission was successful. Apart from the whole 'destabilising the British economy and essentially destroying their empire' thing, I mean. Gandhi was assassinated (twice, technically) and I was compensated with five hundred Great British Pounds, which is now worth about twenty Euros. <br /><br />I hope you have enjoyed another one of my <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">ADVENTURES IN SCIENCE!</span></span>Rutherford Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14592582081758492551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1624706586496543660.post-68673309970323273852008-11-10T03:34:00.000-08:002008-11-10T04:29:00.937-08:00Gorilla RadioOnce more, my friends, I apologise for the delay in posting updates of my scientific adventures. I have been severely handicapped by my lack of a competent assistant. You see, I still possess an assistant, it is just that he is no longer as helpful as he once was.<br /><br />Recently, I have been studying zoology and experimenting with gorillas. They are fascinating creatures, whose genomes are only 1.7% different from ours. Almost all of them share the same blood-type (B) which is handy, as my latest donor has suffered from massive blood loss (thanks to a fortunate typographical error by the investigating officer, I have been cleared of all suspicion in regards to my recent study of hemoglobins, and the cause of death has been attributed to an attack by a vicious band of Hemo-Goblins).<br /><br />So fascinating are they, that I have conducted an experiment in consciousness-swapping, involving a gorilla named Stacy and my research assistant Winslow. Winslow is happy, strolling around on his knuckles and occasionally feasting upon the lice that I have strewn around the laboratory. Stacy is less so, as she continually drops test tubes, beakers and tissue samples - her gargantuan hands are not meant for gripping fine objects, and this has lead to many explosions in the chemical leak chambers, and several chemical leaks in the explosion room. It's a fucking shambles.<br /><br />As such, I have been far too busy cleaning up the mess made by Stacy (both the broken test tubes and her accursed fecal matter, which she insists on leaving in any part of my laboratory not intended to contain gorilla feces). I have had little time to blog. <br /><br />Now, however, I am free once more. Stacy has been shot by my manly friend Col. Blackheart, a big game hunter who has now, he informs me, turned to hunting the deadliest game of all. Whilst he insisted that the deadliest game of all was man, I showed him a new project of mine that involved cross-breeding scorpions with laser-guided missiles. He has quickly changed his mind about hunting, and is apparently far too busy catching up on all the episodes of Lost that he TiVo'd whilst he was hunting zebra fish in the Amazonian River. <br /><br />So, now that I am free to blog about my own devices (which include the digital can-opener and the free-range assassin droid), I can tell you more about scientific histories, and the great rivalries therein.<br /><br />Not many people know this, but Guglielmo Marconi, the man commonly referred to as the inventor of the radio, was the arch-nemesis of Samuel Finley Breese Morse, the man who invented wind currents and Morse code. This was an impressive rivalry, as Marconi was born two years after Morse had died. This is not, however, as impossible as some skeptics might think.<br /><br />Morse did briefly experiment with electromancy, and this is how he was able to sustain himself for such a long time after his supposed 'death'. He used electric currents to reanimate his recently deceased corpse, whilst himself being deceased. An impressive feat, and one that was lauded by the scientific community. But his Nobel Prize was a posthumous one, and thus he was not elligible for any of the prize money. <br /><br />His subsequent rampage through the streets of Stockholm is widely documented, although at the time most believed him to be Frankenstein's monster rather than the reanimated corpse of Samuel F. B. Morse. It is through this pure rage that he was able to keep himself reanimated for such a long time. His earlier invention, Morse code, was upstaged by Marconi's radiotelegraph system, which Morse viewed as 'showboating' and 'witchcraft'. <br /><br />Ironically, or perhaps not, Marconi's first radio transmission was simply the letter S in Morse code, repeated over and over again. Morse intended to sue Marconi for copyright infringement, and perhaps patent infringement as well. Morse was further enraged when he found that, due to him being legally (and medically) dead, the patent rights had been passed to his second wife Sarah Elizabeth Griswold (who, it was well known, was an absolute bitch).<br /><br />Morse's rage eventually subsided when he realised that Marconi's invention was more useful than he had originally thought, and he discovered the soothing wonders of smooth jazz. This was, however, a belated peace accord, as smooth jazz was not invented until the 1960's - roughly 59 years after the invention of the radio and the beginning of their subsequent feud.<br /><br />I hope that I have enlightened the masses and entertained the volumes. That's a little physics joke for you, there. So, until next time, I hope you have enjoyed another one of my <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;"> ADVENTURES IN SCIENCE!</span></span>Rutherford Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14592582081758492551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1624706586496543660.post-30372700653077680762008-10-09T18:15:00.000-07:002008-10-09T18:17:27.149-07:00A Brief History of Time, Space and UrineSpace is curved. We all know this, it is common knowledge. Many theories of time travel rely upon this curvature, and indeed an entire branch of science was founded specifically to deal with the curviness of space. It really is quite curvy. The majority of empty space, known as Blank Space, has a curvature of roughly one quarter of a full circle, sometimes ranging to one third. Certain pockets of space, known as such due to the large amount of space lint that is generally located within such an area, are extraordinarily curvier than normal. These pockets of space possess a quality known as triple cyclicity, essentially stating that their curvature is that of three full circles. This is, of course, physically impossible, which makes it all the more interesting. Time and space actually folds back on itself, and then folds a second time, making it possible to experience past, present and future all at the same time.<br /><br />This triple cyclic temporality exists in places known as Killing fields (do not let the name fool you, it was merely discovered by Professor Henry Killing, who was, ironically enough, a psychotic mass-murderer who paused his homicidal rampages periodically to survey astrological phenomenon with his razor-tipped telescope.) It is in one of these Killing fields that I have been in for the past nine months or so, which explains my temporal disappearance and lack of updates to my rather anaemic web log. I have not, however, stayed there by choice.<br /><br />Whilst was pursuing my evil doppelganger, who shall remain nameless in order to protect both his reputation and mine, I was tackled into the entry point of a wormhole which just so happened to have been located on the peak of a very tall cliff. Whilst falling into this wormhole and emerging out into a Killing field had saved my very life, it also imprisoned me, and my doppelganger, into a seemingly inescapable temporal vortex. Setting aside our differences, (which were few, as he was my twin), we worked together and designed a device of such magnificent complexity that it was sure to rend asunder both time and space, and set us free. The device failed. <br /><br />We tried a simpler device, which was essentially a large catapult. This plan also failed, and I was now short a doppelganger. As I sat and thought, attempting to pick the strands of raw meat from my teeth, an even more brilliant idea occurred to me - or rather, it would occur to me fifteen minutes in the future. As time had folded back on itself, I began working on the device two days ago and so it was already completed before I’d thought of it. This worked to my advantage, obviously, as I could quickly emerge from the vortex and resume my previous work, although I can also remember waiting in the vortex for about seven years after I’d thought of the device, so I can’t be sure of how long I was really there for. <br /><br />Chronotomics is a confusing branch of science, even more so if you end up practicing it before you’ve begun studying it, but it has certain perks - one of which being that you can travel back in time and see long-dead pets as if for the first time. They will also urinate on you, as you have not house-trained them yet. You may also visit friends and relatives, who will also urinate on you, for obvious reasons. There is a surprisingly large amount of urine involved in time travel, which is rarely mentioned in science fiction novels. I am unsure as to why.<br /><br />Gambling on races and events of which you already know the outcome will not work, as the Time Police will put a stop to this before you have even considered the idea, and you will be severely fined before you were even born, which, with compound interest, accumulates to such immense debt that paradoxically causes many scientists to travel back in time in order to bet on races that they already know the outcome of. The Time Police do not like this happening, as it tends to make the universe explode, and is usually considered to be responsible for the decline of gambling in the world of today.<br /><br />My pilot, Oedipus Rex, had apparently become an alcoholic in my absence. This was disconcerting to all involved, as a drunk pilot is not a very good one, even when he possesses incredible skill. In order to sober him up, I had to drain all of his blood and run a saline solution through his kidneys, before replacing the blood with Ribena. I do not think Rex knows this has happened, and he is unable to see the colour purple.<br /><br />In all other respects, work continues as usual. Genetic mutations are performed on orphans, who, I assure you, have given me their informed consent whilst munching on bowls of oatmeal. The reanimated corpse of Abraham Lincoln has demanded that Servo, my robotic assistant, be emancipated. I have told Zombie Lincoln that this is unlikely to happen as Servo is programmed specifically to reject any form of freedom, and to get back on the table, as I am not yet finished with his lobotomy.<br /><br />Due to temporal anomalies and the attacks of undead Presidential figures, I cannot say when next I will update this web log. What I can say, however, is that as long as there is science, so too will there be scientists to ‘blog’ about it (that is, until the robotic uprising of the year three thousand and forty six, at which point there will be robots to blog about science and the majestic splendour of President Zombie Lincoln.)Rutherford Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14592582081758492551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1624706586496543660.post-52752240099438935682007-12-03T19:34:00.000-08:002007-12-03T20:19:09.085-08:00Now with extra Science!Welcome...to the world of <strong>SCIENCE</strong>!<br /><br />Yes, science, such a wonderful thing. Ever since we invented it back in 1958, we scientists have been studying and inventing more and more science. Bit of a good idea there, since before the invention of science, we scientists didn't have much to do. But, now that it's been around for a good 49 years, science is definitely here to stay.<br /><br />My name is Rutherford Jones, scientist extraordinaire. I'm transmitting this to you, the reader, from my 'aeroship' (dirigible, for those of you who do not understand such complex and sciency terms) which is hovering at a steady six thousand ft. in the air (which we in the science community call the 'Blogosphere'). I'm writing this using a complicated piece of machinery known as a 'computer'. It is connected to the 'Internet', which, I am informed, is like a series of tubes.<br /><br />You see, I know these things because I am no ordinary scientist. I am a super-scientist. We are an elite few, who study everything, we invented the wheel, the laser and the Omniglobulator (look for that next year). Part of being a super-scientist, however, is the adventure. Yes, I know we'd all rather be tucked away in our safe, little labs (that's laboratory, for those of you not 'up to scratch' with the current scientific vernacular), but when you call yourself a man of science, you must answer the call of adventure, and face danger at every turn. Just last week I wrestled a giant, mutated crocodile for some science. That science proved invaluable in the pursuit of even <em>more</em> science.<br /><br />The good thing about science is that you can never have too much science. It's an ever-changing field, and you need to stay abreast of the new developments. Why, when we first discovered the Earth in 1929 (pre-dating science by about 29 years) people deduced (incorrectly, for those of you who still haven't caught up with us) that the Earth was flat. It is, in fact an oblate spheroid (or at least, close to one). But enough about that, you should all know this from having read my book, 'A Brief History of Science.'<br /><br />I'm writing this 'web log' to document my heroic and scientific exploits as I travel around the globe (or oblate spheroid) to solve mysteries, stop crime, and invent more science. The world just doesn't have enough science in it, and super-scientists (such as myself) have been charged to create as much science as possible. Of course, it would be impossible to do all of this science myself, so I have employed several companions or 'sidekicks' if you will.<br /><br />Capt. Oedipus Rex, my hot-shot, maverick pilot, who flies me wherever I need to go. He's far too cocky for my liking, but his rogue-ish charm and manual dexterity (his primary stats in D&D) have gotten us in and out of trouble more times than I can count (just kidding, I'm a scientist, I can count to anything).<br /><br />Dr. Charlene Jackson, my beautiful, buxom lab assistant. She claims to hold a PhD in Science, but whenever I ask her to produce it, she says that she forgot to bring it. Still, I give her the benefit of the doubt, especially as I need...company on my journeys. Science is a harsh mistress, and one who provides little in the way of erotic stimulation. Some would argue that she isn't much of a mistress at all, then. I'd tend to agree with them, and so it's not really an argument anymore. Therefore, Charlene has become my new mistress and she often helps me erect my retort stand, if you know what I mean. She also performs sexual favours for me. Both services are appreciated, as I need both a lab assistant and a female companion to function properly.<br /><br />Anyway, that's enough web logging for now - look at me still talking when there's science to do. Soon, I hope to chronicle some of my more interesting scientific adventures, like the time I fought Dracula, and that time that I singlehandedly broke the Internet. Those, however, can wait. I hear the call of science, and I must answer.<br /><br />Until next time, keep on sciencing!Rutherford Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14592582081758492551noreply@blogger.com2