Oh, are you having a bad day? JUST BE GLAD YOU’RE NOT A BIRD. Because if you were a bird, as Ann points out, you would go through puberty every single year of your life. Nature, Ann correctly summarises, is one mean mother.
Maybe you’re just irritable because people keep noisily eating and clinking their silverware around you. Cassie takes a fascinating look at the making of a nascent new disorder. Is there really such a thing as misophonia or are there just really prickly individuals?
But don’t worry: your mood won’t stay gloomy for long when you read Christie’s life-changing news that there is a Spam Poetry Institute. “I am a wandering English” needs to be shortlisted for the T.S. Eliot prize.
And Heather warms our hearts some more with the tale of kindly, gentle St. Death, who accepts all those cast out by the Catholic Church–from gay men and women to drug dealers and prostitutes and people who kill legitimate scientific enterprise–and is said to work miracles on their behalf.
And now you’re ready to read Richard’s unraveling of the ultimate cosmological paradox.
Extra credit: So you figured out how to unravel the head-asploding multiverse paradox. YAWN. How about explaining why homochirality implies planets ruled by advanced monster dinosaurs? The ball, Panek. It is in your court.