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#356,095: Standing with newspaper and briefcase at the same time
After 14 years and $300 billion, Texas Instruments mathematical engineers finally crack Project Decolletage:
(You may need to turn your monitor upside down to fully understand the historical significance of this photograph.)
(You may need to turn your monitor upside down to fully understand the historical significance of this photograph.)
"So we're going to take you back; deep, deep back into the past - before Happy Days, before Oliver! - back... So I need you to look deep into my eyes... deep, deep into my eyes like you're sinking, sinking, sinking... hip-deep in -
"No, wait! It's a prop session. Forget all that: look deep, deep into the swirling wheel; the swirling, twirling, wheel of...
"So - are you feeling sleepy? You're not feeling sleepy. OK, look, could you just breathe through this chemical-soaked rag?"
"No, wait! It's a prop session. Forget all that: look deep, deep into the swirling wheel; the swirling, twirling, wheel of...
"Actually, no, this isn't working. OK. Try this. Look deep, deep into my eyes WITH YOUR RIGHT EYE and look deep, deep into the swirling wheel of dreams WITH YOUR LEFT EYE - no, my left. My left. Your right. That's it.
"So - are you feeling sleepy? You're not feeling sleepy. OK, look, could you just breathe through this chemical-soaked rag?"
Hello! It's me, top vet Andrew Mersh. Here I am with a poorly dog, Hamilton.
Now, Hamilton might look like a perfectly healthy specimen of a dog to you, what with his shiny nose, meaty tongue and 'can do' expression. But if you look at him through the clear, blue eyes of a vet, like I do, then you'll notice something wrong. Can't see it? Then look at my fingers. That's right, my fingers are actually going right in to Hamilton's body. Like carrot sticks into humous! The explanation is that Hamilton is a dog with the hysterical belief that he is a ghost.
Obviously, any idiot can see that this state of affairs is no good for a dog, but being a vet means I can do something about it, apart from just crying and fetching a shovel. Non-vets can get a clue as to what I am going to do about it by noting the colour of the backdrop against which Hamilton and I have been so carefully photographed. Yes, it is blue. Blue is not only a restful colour to a hysterical hound, it is also invisible to video cameras. If I videotape Hamilton against a blue background, the computer inside the video camera will not be able to 'see' the blue and will fill in the missing areas with whatever I tell it to. By clever editing, I can make it look like Hamilton, rather than being in a small blue cell 30 stories below my office is actually enjoying a day at the seaside, or a visit to the Berlin Katakombe club in 1931. By choosing the right scenario, I should be able to distract Hamilton long enough for him to forget that he believes he is a ghost. Thereby curing him!
I'm wasted on animals, really I am.
Now, Hamilton might look like a perfectly healthy specimen of a dog to you, what with his shiny nose, meaty tongue and 'can do' expression. But if you look at him through the clear, blue eyes of a vet, like I do, then you'll notice something wrong. Can't see it? Then look at my fingers. That's right, my fingers are actually going right in to Hamilton's body. Like carrot sticks into humous! The explanation is that Hamilton is a dog with the hysterical belief that he is a ghost.
Obviously, any idiot can see that this state of affairs is no good for a dog, but being a vet means I can do something about it, apart from just crying and fetching a shovel. Non-vets can get a clue as to what I am going to do about it by noting the colour of the backdrop against which Hamilton and I have been so carefully photographed. Yes, it is blue. Blue is not only a restful colour to a hysterical hound, it is also invisible to video cameras. If I videotape Hamilton against a blue background, the computer inside the video camera will not be able to 'see' the blue and will fill in the missing areas with whatever I tell it to. By clever editing, I can make it look like Hamilton, rather than being in a small blue cell 30 stories below my office is actually enjoying a day at the seaside, or a visit to the Berlin Katakombe club in 1931. By choosing the right scenario, I should be able to distract Hamilton long enough for him to forget that he believes he is a ghost. Thereby curing him!
I'm wasted on animals, really I am.
Dr Benedict Noh tells Harper's Bazaar about his scientific ambitions, bees, and his megalomaniac wife:
Here I am with my favourite molecule, hydronando oxymaybelline. I invented it myself - it's synthesised by dissolving old pennies in laboratory gravy. This is actually a model of the molecule. The real thing is only the size of a baby's hand.
I'm not sure what my molecule can be used for yet. It's quite sticky, but to be honest, there are quite a lot of sticky molecules already. Paint, glue, Nutella - all molecules.
As you can see in the photo, I like to peer through the hexagonal 'window' in the centre of my molecule. I like to imagine I'm a bee gazing out of her room in the beehive before a hard day's work eating pollen. Bees are an inspiration to me.
My wife, Emily, doesn't approve of my molecular biology. She says it's 'playing God'. But somehow it's not 'playing God' when she puts on her false white beard and orders me out to the shed to make a massive boat out of gopher wood. It's a clear case of 'double standards'.
I hope to get the Nobel Prize for Molecules for my hydronando oxymaybelline. Or failing that, a rosette in the village science fair. Mrs Levitin's chess-playing pumpkin surely can't win again.
Here I am with my favourite molecule, hydronando oxymaybelline. I invented it myself - it's synthesised by dissolving old pennies in laboratory gravy. This is actually a model of the molecule. The real thing is only the size of a baby's hand.
I'm not sure what my molecule can be used for yet. It's quite sticky, but to be honest, there are quite a lot of sticky molecules already. Paint, glue, Nutella - all molecules.
As you can see in the photo, I like to peer through the hexagonal 'window' in the centre of my molecule. I like to imagine I'm a bee gazing out of her room in the beehive before a hard day's work eating pollen. Bees are an inspiration to me.
My wife, Emily, doesn't approve of my molecular biology. She says it's 'playing God'. But somehow it's not 'playing God' when she puts on her false white beard and orders me out to the shed to make a massive boat out of gopher wood. It's a clear case of 'double standards'.
I hope to get the Nobel Prize for Molecules for my hydronando oxymaybelline. Or failing that, a rosette in the village science fair. Mrs Levitin's chess-playing pumpkin surely can't win again.
