Sometimes It Is, You Know, Rocket Science

It is a long established fact that in space, no one can hear you scream. But a deafening chorus of wondrous cheers erupted at Penn State yesterday when a team of astronomers announced they may have discovered evidence of a new solar system forming before our very eyes.

The researchers uncovered the presence of a large mass roughly eight-times the size of Jupiter, encircled by a disk of what may be planet-forming material which is usually present around other stars of similar size and make-up. This solidified solar soup, otherwise known as a "brown dwarf," was studied by the astrophysicists using NASA's Spitzer Space Telescope, the Hubble Space Telescope, and two telescopes in the Chilean Andes.

Though it is unclear if the gas and dust encircling the mass will form planets and evolve into a miniature solar system, the object -- which is over 500 light-years away and roughly 2 million years old -- will be studied for many years to come.

Criticism of the astronomical finding, however, shifted to the surface as space skeptics began hypothesizing the dark, swirling object seen from afar was not, in fact, an official "brown dwarf" but instead an outdated acting resume once belonging to child superstar Gary Coleman.

When pressed for an explanation on the striking similarities, the team of rocket scientists replied, "What you talkin' bout Willis?"

'Till Death Do Us Part...Or One Full Year... Which Ever Comes First

Scientists in Italy announced this week a major discovery in how the power of love affects us all, specifically the biology of the brain in new-found lovers.

A molecule named Nerve Growth Factor (NGF) has been labeled as the primary trigger for that sweaty-palm, rushing heartbeat, dizzy, head-over-heels feeling otherwise known as "falling in love."

The study, published in the Journal Of Psychoneuroendocrinology, analyzed the blood of 58 people who had recently reported "falling madly in love" and compared the findings to those labeled as "single" or individuals in "long-term relationships."

According to the results of the test, the level of NGF in the newer love-birds blood was significantly higher than those found in the other groups, leading the researchers to hypothesize actual "chemistry" present at the start of a new relationship.

But like most drugs -- natural or synthesized -- the trigger for the uncovered love-molecule comes with an inevitable expiration date. After a full year with the same partner, the levels of NGF molecules in the blood of those tested fell harshly back to the same quantity of those who were considered single or in long-term relationships, offering an explanation as to why newlyweds often fall into a rut seven to twelve months after proclaiming "I Do."

This is now the latest reason Nick and Jessica's publicists give for their relationship demise, though I remain entirely convinced it has something to do with her being a cheap, whorish, talentless, flaunting fluzy.

It Isn't Just The Size Of The Needle...

...Sometimes it's where you stick it.

If you're the type of patient who panics at the very sight of a syringe, you may want to stop going to the doctor altogether. According to recent reports from the medical community, as the country's asses continue to grow larger, the need for new needles to inject medicine into them may soon increase dramatically as well.

Recent findings show that only 30% of the injected dosage of medicine makes it through the buttock's fatty tissue to reach and be absorbed by the muscle in most American men and women. The results may lead to a change in using longer needles to assist with injectable medicines for patients with excess body and bum fat.

In a related story, veterinarians in England are now looking into whether the findings will carry over for animals with excessive weight gain as well, to which this cat replied, "Meow, Meow Meow. Meow Meow Meow Meow?"

Good Question.

Giving Thanks This Year For My Riot Gear

Reports began surfacing over the weekend of violent rioting and female fist-fighting at several Walmart locations across the country when shoppers feverishly flocked to the store chain for price-slashing deals on what has been called the busiest shopping day of the year, Black Friday.

The holiday shopping season began with a boisterous bang as bargain hunters stormed the stores after waiting in line, some for over 10 hours, for discounted deals on everything from laptop computers to video game playstations, and even diapers, dishes and Doritos -- original and Cool Ranch flavors.

In one Florida Walmart, police and security forces were called in to break up disputes among the angry masses, as ambulances took several customers to nearby hospitals after being trampled and crushed in the frenzy. There are even reports computers and boxes of toys were being flung in the air, used as weapons to defend against line-cutters and shopping-cart carnivours.

I propose a name change from Black to Poor-White-Trash Friday.

Murtha Warns Of Warring Troubles In Iraq; Martha Warns Of Trouble Wearing All Black

Washington DC divided once again this week as Democrat and war-veteran John Murtha of PA challenged the Bush Administration to another War of Words in the debate on the handling of the invasion of Iraq. Calling for an immediate withdrawal of troops from the killing fields of the Middle East, Congressman Murtha spoke of his own experiences returning home from the Vietnam war, the devastation and destruction of his mind, his body and the permanent scaring of his soul.

Meanwhile, from the penthouse of her NYC diva-den, Martha Stewart called attention to her own personal tragedy, detailing the woes of wearing black in the kitchen, especially when working with items like flour and starch. Warning the masses on the eve of Thanksgiving, the biggest cooking day of the year, Kitchenatta Martha pleaded with the nation's amateur bakers to dress casually before the guests arrive, trading silk and satin formal wear for roll-up flannels, loose-fitting jerseys or anything in plaid.




In a related story, this happened.

Musings On The Manhattan Bound N

Just the other morning, as I squeezed uncomfortably between a wet-haired blonde bitch of a woman and an older Russian man who apparently never met a deodorant he couldn't defeat, I stared down at the floor of the subway platform, avoiding eye contact with those equally annoyed by how popular that particular car had suddenly become.

And as the faces shifted at every new stop, I counted the different pairs of shoes, the colors of the socks, and to whom they were ultimately connected. It was then I noticed the face of a young girl sitting with a stack of papers in her lap, reading to herself, words no one else could translate. I tried to read her lips, but between fluttering newspapers and side-way turned coughing heads I managed only a glimpse of her moving mouth.

As she stood to exit at the 49th Street stop, one of her papers fell carelessly to the floor. I bent down to pick it up for her but within seconds, she had already departed. Instantly -- if, in fact, she was ever there to begin with...

What follows is all that could be read on the page. I thought the moment special enough to hold on to the musing, and if anyone out there knows the author, or if it's from a published piece, I'd be thrilled to hear from ya.

------------------

My daughter, who lives in New York City, reminds me that I promised her my father's loom when she can afford a larger apartment or studio space. That's fine with me, and I am sure it would be fine with my father.

Once, when I told one of my colleagues at work I had started weaving, she was incredulous. "Has the company driven you to that?"

Not the company -- My father's loom.

------------------

Good Things Come To Those Who Date

From my new Advice Column, the first of many more to come:

Anal AJ,

HELP! I just got out of a long and serious relationship and I really hate being single again. I'm not used to going out alone now and meeting new people is so hard, especially because most of my girlfriends are all dating or engaged and don't go out anymore and if they do, it's never without their boyfriends.

I'm not into casual sex but I'm also not ready to get back into a relationship again. What should I do? P.S. Do you know any cute, single guys looking for something in the middle?

Thanks!!!

-- Single In The City --


Dearest City Single,

If I was swimming in a plentiful pool of cute, single guys looking for something in the middle, do you think I'd be on here every other night blogging for the masses?

All right, I would be. But only because I love you so dearly. And I know you love me too. They ALL love me. Men love me. Women love me...Mahogany.

And now back to your issue:

Dating is like hunting for an apartment in the city. We're all holding out for the best places, the ones that meet most, if not all, of our perfectly particular qualifications, and as we begin to find problems with each new applicant, we wonder how all of our friends, our neighbors, coworkers and even taxi drivers found theirs. And more importantly, will their 12-month lease be renewed through yet another long winter season?

I can't imagine how difficult is must be to find yourself back in the game, especially after a few years of being benched and off the market. But perhaps the single most important thing you can do for yourself (and coincidentally for your future mate -- or mateS as the case may be -- is to date. Date. And date some more. It's your time now to figure out what YOU want, what makes you happy, what kind of man or woman gives your life that special spark, and perhaps more importantly, what kind will dampen and dull it to death.

And as you begin to clean out your closet, tossing out the stinky gym socks and greasy hairgels your ex left behind, perhaps it's time to consider dumping your old circle of friends as well? If they're too busy with their future husbands to notice your sweet, single ass needs some good old fashioned girl time, maybe you should begin hanging out with some fabulously flirty singles paddling up the same Louvre of Love.

Bottom line, get off the computer -- WAIT...Finish reading this first -- then get off the computer, get into your favorite pair of jeans and get back out into the dating scene. Meet a boy, or pair of boys, BROTHERS EVEN, get their phone numbers, and call, you know, if you feel like it. Enjoy being single, and date as often as you can. Allow yourself the chance to make out with a tall guy, a short guy, a girly guy, a gay guy. Let him buy you dinner. Let him take you dancing. And if you want more, don't ask, just take it. As long as you're safe and responsible, which should go without saying these days, the world is your fully-stocked city bodega and you just stumbled home drunk off your ass craving a falafel and cheese.

Remember, unlike finding your next apartment, there's no dotted line you have to sign now to have a little fun! You'll find another boyfriend; that's a guarantee. In the mean time, why not find yourself?

So come on now, don't just sit around and wait, DATE!!!

For More Analytical AJ, Check Out His New Advice Site.

Got A Problem? Ask Anal AJ!

Celine Dion's Next Role: Madame Ovary

With weekly sold out performances at Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas since 2003, offers for book deals, new album releases and even an eye on some film roles that could win her a possible Oscar, Celine Dion's career may never be on ice.

Her second child, however, will be...

...At least until 2007.

According to recently published reports, Diva Dion plans to begin in vitro fertilization at a New York based fertility clinic upon the completion of her contract with Caesar's, which consists of now less than 350 engagements.

"This frozen embryo that is in New York is my child waiting to be brought to life," she tells a French magazine.

Apparently while filming Titanic, Dion made her husband jerk it several times a day on the set and chipped off pieces of the remains from the production's infamous iceberg.

Rumors are already swirling that Vegas is so intent on keeping the Canadian cash cow in town they've offered to extend her contract and triple the pay if she works her pregnancy into the show, actually giving birth on stage in a flashy, fantastically frantic musical number entitled Cirque De So-Laid.

France On Fire: It Burns When I Oui

Apparently not even the French like the French. But after two straight weeks of violent public rioting by hundreds of angry arsonists, the city of Paris may finally be prepared enough to sleep peacefully through the night, though undoubtedly many with one eye wide open.

As text messages and Internet postings calling for further "violent action" in the country's capital began to surface this weekend, President Jacques Chirac and the Parisian police force declared a state of emergency for many of the large cities, invoking curfews and banning all public gatherings feared to insight further upheaval.

News of these preemptive strikes put quite a damper on the demonstration planned to protest famed French actor Gerard Depardieu's sudden decision to retire from the movie 'biz later this year. All twelve fans disbanded with little incident, though rumors of police being pelted with copies of his 1990 flick Green Card have yet to be confirmed.

Back in the U.S., when asked for her opinion on the civil unrest fueled by the racial and socio-economic inequalities which have left both the streets and automobiles of numerous French suburbs charred beyond repair, our nations own prided Paris -- Hilton, that is -- responded to the frequent fires by saying, "That's Hot."

Filling In The Blanks, Jerri Blank Style

I recently learned something about self-respect...

...I don't have any!

Illegal Search And Teaser

I wanted my first time to be special. Dimmed lights, soft music, maybe even a pecan scented candle or two. But sometimes things don't work out the way you plan them.

And so I just stood there, watching helplessly as his rough, rugged hands fumbled with my zipper, his deep, reassuring voice asking if I minded showing him more, right there in front of everyone, in the cold, damp entrance to the 57th Street Subway Station.

I'll never forget the first time the NYPD randomly searched my napsack -- mostly coz it just happened like an hour ago, but also because it reminded me of the first time I had sex, that is, over-before-I-knew-it and followed by uncontrolled critical laughter.

The good news was I got Sergeant Studly for my first inspection, a beautiful, 6-foot-plus, skinny, young Italian with wavy blond hair and forest green eyes. I was a tad nervous to show him mine, especially without the promise he'd show me his in return. Reluctantly, I opened my bag and dumped out the stack of CDs I was carrying with me at the time: Jason Mraz, John Mayer, some Annie Lennox and an old copy of Lisa Loeb's Firecracker.

I coyly joked he could do a full cavity search but I had nothing illegal or dangerous on my person. He zipped up my bag and slid it back across the table with what I swear was a genuine wink.

"Except your choice in music."

Too bad being cute isn't a crime. I'd have him under citizen's arrest before he could even say, "Only in New York..."

Definitely Not Your Mother's Nancy Drew...

Intended to be a woman's pocket guide to relaxation and self-discovery, the controversial Spanish "Guide For Girls" published by the Women's Institute of the Central Northern Region of Castilla La Mancha has been criticized and dismissed by conservatives and right-wing church officials as a blatant and perverse "invitation to homosexuality and masturbation."

Don't know about you, but I just RSVPd an overwhelming YES PLEASE!

It's Easier To Leave Than Be Left Behind

Life is funny. You spend your entire childhood fantasizing about what kind of man you'll be when you're older. A cop, maybe a firefighter or superhero. Then one day, when you finally have a chance to meet him face to face, when you stand before the mirror on some Saturday night, alone, tracing the troubled memories in the scars of your chin, the first gray hair, then the next, the dawning recognition sets in that this is it, this is who you are, this is what you've become. And suddenly, the fantasy to which you once held so tightly, the hope, the freedom, all of it slips further through your fingers. Dreamt up innocence now replaced with drowned out impotence, and the punch line...Don't you see? It's you.

It's always been you.

What Are We, If All The World's A Cage?

What follows is the prologue to The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell, British Nobel Prize winning philosopher best known for his work on mathematical logic and analytic philosophy.

The world needs more men like this.




What I Have Lived For
By Bertrand Russell






Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither, in a wayward course, over a great ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair.

I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy - ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all the rest of life for a few hours of this joy. I have sought it, next, because it relieves loneliness -- that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have sought it finally, because in the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life, this is what -- at last -- I have found.

With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men. I have wished to know why the stars shine. And I have tried to apprehend the Pythagorean power by which number holds sway above the flux. A little of this, but not much, I have achieved.

Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible, led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes of cries of pain reverberate in my heart. Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors, helpless old people a burden to their sons, and the whole world of loneliness, poverty, and pain make a mockery of what human life should be. I long to alleviate this evil, but I cannot, and I too suffer.

This has been my life. I have found it worth living, and would gladly live it again if the chance were offered me.

Tyra Banks: From Beauty To Obeast

Seems like just yesterday I woke up watching the luckiest doctor in the world feel up former supermodel-turned-daytime-diva Tyra Bank's beautiful breasts on national television, all for a timely segment reminding women everywhere to call their doctors to schedule a yearly sonogram, and coincidentally, encouraging men to call in late to work that morning. Mmmm memories...

And just in case you didn't get the memo, they're REAL PEOPLE!!!

But now, the almostess hostess is trading in her poofy Victoria Secret swimsuit for one of a slightly different color, albeit with less frills and forty-plus sizes too big.

This Monday's Tyra Banks episode is dedicated to discovering just how poorly obese women are treated in society, by both men and women alike, large and small. And to prove her point, an undercover Miss Banks will take to the streets donning a 350-pound fat suit, allowing the world an opportunity to truly experience what she calls, "one of the most heartbreaking days" of her entire life.

Apparently farting in front of Heidi Klum on the catwalk doesn't rank up there as all that heartbreaking. 'Tis just wind-breaking, no?

Alas, there's nothing like a skinny, drop-dead gorgeous woman dressing up like a big old fattie to remind us all of society's superficiality syndrome. Especially when she takes off the mask at the end the of the day, shedding both the pounds and the pain, revealing through well-rehearsed tear drops her true inner beauty, the kind that only supermodels and drugged up drag queens possess.

Speaking of drag queen drunks, not to be out done in the Public Self-Service Department, the magnificently medicated miracle that is still Mariah Carey rushed out to the back alleys of big cities with her camera crew to remind the world that there are tons of poor, homeless, hungry people out there who can barely afford shelter and food, let alone copies of her latest album, The Emancipation Of Mimi.

Forgive me while I go Emancipate My Lunch.