WHY I'M NOT RICH

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (04-09-26)

    I could have been Rich, but instead I'm just Rick. I missed it by one stinking letter. But the real reason I'm not rich is because I don't think I'd enjoy it as much as I think I should. Having all that money never really makes your problems go away, it just makes them more expensive.

     I'm reasonably comfortable, enough to live in Westchester, which ain't cheap. And yet, there's a whole stratosphere of rich out there, people with money to burn. I asked one of them, do you actually incinerate money? And they said yes, of course, but it doesn't stay lit very long and smells like burning fingerprints. So I sometimes just imagine what it would be like to be wealthy. 

     Who are my real friends? Are they just using me? If so, what for? I'd prefer to remain somewhat useless, as I am now. Instead of a bunch of poor friends who like me only for my money, I'd rather have a bunch of rich friends who don't like me at all because I don't have any. I think.

     Sometimes rich people don't seem like they're having as much fun as the rest of us. At nightclubs there used to be a "V.I.P. section" off to the side, far away from the crowded dance floor, separated by a purple velvet rope. There would sit a beautiful blonde girl on a plush couch, next to a big bottle of champagne in a bucket on a stand. She is snapping her gum, her false-eyelashed eyelids losing the struggle to remain open. But she had worked hard to get that seat. On the other side of the champagne bucket is a beautiful dark-haired guy who appears to have no interest in any subject. He's scrolling through his phone, but it's turned off. She seems to ask him a question, maybe, "Can we go outside of the rope sometime?" And shakes his head without looking up from the phone.

     Rich people often have annoying dogs. They are very small and usually unappealing, because rich people don't want to lose your attention to a mammal lower than themselves on the food chain. They want you to SAY they have a cute dog and not mean it at all. The pet is an accessory, a way to own authentic fur without being politically incorrect. The poodle is sporting a diamond-studded collar, a Valentino Garavani dress, two pairs of Christian Louboutin silver pumps and a superior attitude. But you have to admit it looks great.

     I don't like to drink wine. It gives me asthma and intolerable pretension, and both are hard to get rid of once you have them. In my rich fantasy I order a bottle using an Inspector Clouseau accent, and a sommelier comes to tell me my wine will not go with what I ordered. I tell him neither does my date, but neither of them has to be together for very long, and he leaves in a huff. 

     I don't even like the foods that go with wine. Escargot is a dish that rich people order, so I've been practicing eating snails, in case I come into money. I'm using garden snails since I don't have the money yet for escargot. I just wish someone had told me that you should remove the shell. Something a rich person would say at a restaurant is, "That souffle is simply to DIE for!" Whereas something I might be overheard to say is, "What is IN that? Tastes like something I could die from."

     I hope I don't have to walk the red carpet in a custom-made designer outfit. "Here comes Rick Melén, wearing a suit that appears to be made entirely of cat hair. Rick, who are you wearing and what is its story?" "Actually, there is an Armani suit under here somewhere, it's just that my cat sheds a lot." Then I proceed to sneeze 23 times, because I'm allergic to cats. "I promise you, the suit is nothing to sneeze at." The only satisfaction I have at the moment is that I think my cat is also allergic to me.

     The pressure that money brings is unbearable. If I have a party and something isn't right, people will talk about it, and my name will be mentioned in the same sentence as "simply isn't done." Everything has to be spotless and pristine. "So, is this China Chinese?" a woman whom I've never met before asks. "Yes," I say, "It's almost 400 years old, from the Qing Dynasty." "Oh. So, you bought it used?" God forbid something goes wrong with the toilet, or a weird smell comes from someplace that's not the kitchen. 

     Have you ever heard the phrase, "not a hair out of place?" Well, my hair has never really had a place. Sure, it's often right there on top of my head, but each one of my hairs seems to have different aspirations that are inconsistent with being part of a collective unit. Someone once convinced me to have my hair styled at an expensive salon, and when I came out I had the urge to buy Barbra Streisand records. Perhaps I came too far out.

     There are a couple things I wouldn't mind having the money for, like flying first class. As it is, I usually travel in steerage with the hazardous materials. I'd like to have my own limo driver. I don't even need the limo.

     I have to go now, the paparazzi could be lurking anywhere, waiting for me to do something gross. When do I blow my nose? I have an itch, and it's near enough to my crotch to cause a stir in the society pages.

DNA AND ME

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (03-26-26)

    My sister had her ancestry tested using one of those DNA-based services that compares your sample to millions of users, to uncover secrets about your past that could come back to bite you in the future, such as that you are the illegitimate child of Thomas Jefferson. My family always thought we were of Swedish descent, but it turns out our genetic background is primarily Danish. They use a sample of your saliva to develop a single nucleotide polymorphism, and just saying that left a bad taste in my mouth, so now is not the time for me to swab. Those Denmark genes came from my sister, so perhaps she had a Danish for breakfast that day and it skewed the results.

     23andMe is a genetic testing company named for the fact that there are 23 pairs of chromosomes in a human cell (and You). If you send your DNA to them, they will compare it to others of the same genotype in their database of over 3 million applicants. This information can be helpful to those whose family has a history of certain medical conditions that can be proactively treated, such as Parkinson's disease, celiac disease or Alzheimer's disease. Baldness, too is something that is passed down from your mother's side of the family. My own mother wasn't bald, so I should have nothing to worry about. Sometimes I think I might have memory loss due to old age, but usually I just forget about it and it goes away.

     DNA is so much more interesting now than it was when I was in school, and there were things like "endoplasmic reticula" lurking around every corner waiting to jump out at me during a pop quiz. Now DNA actually has practical uses, other than just showing off its polynucleotides. Genetic engineering, for instance, takes the process of animal or plant breeding, which could take generations, and speeds it up so that can be done while you're doing your laundry. 

     I watch a lot of "true crime" shows, and police are always following suspects around waiting for them to throw out their straws, so that they can collect their DNA. Even if I haven't committed any crime, I take a look around after I'm done with my straw, to see if anyone is looking at me holding a Q-tip. But if I HAVE committed a crime I'm much more careful. I don't lick anything even if asked, and if I so much as order an ice cream cone I hold it over my mouth in direct sunlight and wait until it melts, even if I have to wait until spring. I don't secrete ANY bodily fluids, unless I do it in secret. I would like to know what is the grossest thing the police will try to retrieve in order to get my DNA? "Did you see what Melén just threw away there? Go retrieve it, it's gotta have his DNA on it." "I'M not going anywhere near that. YOU go get it." "He's only wanted for jay-walking in a pedestrian zone, so let's just ask him not to do it anymore."

     If the case goes to trial, the DA says, "Mr. Melén's DNA was found at the scene, so he is the bad actor here." "I object," I object. "I was in that scene and there were other actors way worse than I was." And then the DA says, "The presence of that DNA means that Mr. Melén was the only one out of a blahbity-illion people that could have committed the crime. That's a one followed an infinite amount of zeroes." Every time I hear one of those astronomical numbers I wonder whose job is it to actually count to make sure the number is accurate? 

     Advancements in the field have given rise to a new branch of investigation called "forensic genealogy," where even if your third cousin committed a crime, your DNA could identify him. If he was your third cousin once removed though, he might have an alibi depending on when he was removed. The technique is credited with solving the case of the "Golden State Killer," a serial murderer who committed numerous unsolved crimes in the 1970s and 1980s. He was finally identified through DNA samples submitted by his sisters, unrelated to the original investigation. The killer blamed "Jerry," an alter-ego personality, for some of the murders, although it's not clear whether alter-egos have DNA.

     Every time I read that somebody heard a "voice in their head," I wonder why it only ever tells you to kill somebody? It never tells you how to put together the P-trap under your sink, now that you took it apart, for instance. I recently heard a little voice in my head that asked me, "Wouldn't you agree that statistically, the chance of getting a childproof cap open is only slightly higher for adults?" That's when I began to suspect that the little voice in my head was my own.

     Anyway, it's possible that I am biologically related to someone whom I don't even know about, and they're out there, trying to find me, using 23andMe. If it's 23andYou, and you'd like to get in touch, and I don't owe you any money, please feel free to contact me. If it turns out that I am your long lost son, there might be a good reason that you lost me for so long, which you'll find out after I move in with you.

OLYMPIC WRAP-UP

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (03-05-26)

    I didn't get to watch much of the Olympics this year, which makes me uniquely qualified to deliver an uniformed yet unbiased account of the major stories. I did manage to see coverage of the curling events almost EVERY time I turned on the television and even every time anyone else turned on a television. That's the sport where you slide a granite tea kettle along a sheet of ice with a bullseye painted into it, while obsessive-compulsive neat freaks Swiffer the area with extreme zeal, when they instead could save time by using a decent vacuum cleaner. In spite of caring very little about it, I learned that it's basically the same as shuffleboard, and the brooms are actually used to abrade the ice to cause the stone to go farther or in a particular direction. A controversy ensued when the Canadian team was accused of "double-touching" their stones, a practice which is apparently every bit as impolite as it sounds.

     I feel sorry for the athletes who train their whole lives for an Olympic moment, and because of an untimely fall or glitch, they are denied a spot on the awards podium. The smallest factor could mean a fraction of a percentage point off your time. Maybe three medals are too few for top finishers separated by only hundredths of a second in the final scoring. In high school I almost dropped a suggestion into the suggestion box that my math teacher shave off all his body hair so that our math class could go a little faster, but I figured they would know who that one was from. Why not just shell out a few more medals? Rhodium is a useful substance with a high corrosion resistance and a high melting point. As an eleventh place finisher, you should be happy that you proved your mettle with a medal of that metal.

     The women's skating events have a "kiss and cry" area, which is such a good idea that it should be offered as an option for home buyers who are having their own homes built. Pays for itself in dinner parties alone: "Jesus, are you guys going to kiss again? You know, we do have a separate area for that, it's down the hall and to the left. Somebody might already be crying in there, but it's kiss AND cry."

     I always enjoy the downhill skiing events, which I find much more exciting than uphill events. This year an amazing comeback attempt by Alpine legend Lindsey Vonn was seemingly foiled when she sustained an ACL injury just days before she was to compete in the Olympics. However, she decided to run the race anyway, which ended moments later when she brushed a gate and crashed out with a new injury. Who on Earth could have predicted how it would all end, besides EVERYBODY. 

     Certainly her bravery is to be admired, especially when I think of the time that I myself sustained an ACL injury on what was then known as "Birch Hill." I'm not sure if it could have been technically considered a "skiing injury," since I'm sure what I was doing was technically "skiing." I more-or-less slid down the hill sideways, hoping to reach the bottom right around the same time as spring thaw. When it was determined that I would have to turn in the other direction, I instead went downward, faithfully obeying the laws of gravity. My left knee, which has always been something of a scofflaw, continued in a different direction. As I lay cursing on the hill, I thought it would be appropriate that I be airlifted by helicopter to a Swiss hospital attended by blonde nurses, which seemed like a colorful way to end the day. Instead, they stuck me on a toboggan and pulled me painfully down the remainder of the slope, unloaded me into my car, and tried to lock my door from the outside. If I had known they had a toboggan I should have went down on that in the first place.

     Some other notes: I don't know if you follow the women's monobob at all, but the USA won a medal in it. So, if you do follow a woman's monobob, you'll have to do so fairly quickly. The men's hockey team won the top medal this year, at the expense of forward Jack Hughes' two front teeth. If he wants to have gold teeth put in, he'll know where to find the gold. He could also try to make some money with the tooth fairy, something that even as a little kid I thought was creepy and weird. What does a fairy really want with all those teeth? A Norwegian Olympian won a bronze medal, and then admitted that he had cheated. Not in the race, but on his girlfriend. He is a biathlete, so I'm unsure of what gender he was even cheating under.

     There's always a dustup concerning the judging of events that are not measured objectively, and this year was no exception. In the ice dancing competition, a disparity in the scoring was exposed when the French judge awarded disproportionate points to the French pair, even though there was not as much sizzle in their twizzle sequence. I believe that they should rid the sport of subjective judging entirely. In the biathlon they use guns, and if you notice, there are no French judges anywhere near the place.

LOVE IS IN THE AIR

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (02-29-26)

    What did you do for Valentine's Day? I hope you took your honey to a romantic spot and wooed her a little bit. Just a little, you don't want to overwoo. A nice restaurant, some flowers, chocolate. That's what I did and it worked like a charm. She fell in love with me all over again. What made her fall in love with me in the first place? That's not an easy one to answer. You know how sometimes a pathetic creature is even more loveable due to his patheticness? And you just want to take it home and put it in a shoebox, punch some holes in it (the shoebox not the creature) with some lettuce leaves, and nurse it back to health? And all the weird things about it you only find more endearing over time? And then your Mom makes you release it back into the wild, where it probably perished due to its lack of natural survival skills? I have to sit for a moment.

     Anyway, Valentine's Day is a chance to rekindle those feelings. Start with the right restaurant. I suggest one that doesn't use a lot of garlic in food preparation. A good atmosphere is key. Mostly nitrogen, some oxygen, a little argon, all that is good. If there is more garlic than romance in the air, enough to repel vampires, for instance, it's counter-productive. You also don't want to take her to a place that's known for Waffle House-type fist fights. An eatery festooned with crime-scene tape may seem lively the time, but use your best judgment. 

     I got my lady love chocolates. "Wow," she said, "a Kit Kat bar 32-pack. You shouldn't have." "Well," I clarify, "they are 'Fun Size.'" "I guess we'll see, won't we," she added cryptically. Chocolate as a Valentine's gift says to a woman, "I love you no matter what size you become," so make sure you will.

     Lighting is important. There used to be something called "dining by candlelight," which has been replaced with, "dining by flickering LEDs made to look like candlelight, but falling far short." Fire marshals are not known for their contributions to ambience. Low lighting is flattering to the female form and conducive to good digestion. If you can see anything you're eating without turning on your cell phone, the lighting is too bright. 

     Music is the lubricant of love, although there are several products available that work even better. If you know the fox trot, that's great, but make sure you practice it in front of the mirror first. Any other animal trotting is borderline-disturbing. A waltz should be in 3/4 time. If you try to waltz to something in 7/4 meter and you break your ankle in two places, don't come crying to me. Hustle dancing on the first date after more than two drinks is not a good idea, because eventually you'll knock a full tray off a waitress's arm. The mood is now set. "Would you like to dance?" I ask. "Of course," she replies. "Great!" I gush. "Go ahead, and I'll stay here and order coffee. It'll be here by the time the song ends." If you're choosing the music yourself, try not to be too obvious about your eventual end game. "Chick-a-boom," by Daddy Dewdrop, is a negative example. Suggesting a tap-dance number should be avoided.

     Should you order for the lady? Very chivalrous, and gives you a chance to minimize the financial exposure without her knowing a thing about it. Choose the wine carefully, based on the entree, the mood and if it has a French-sounding name.

     Ask the waiter to take a snapshot of the two of you to post the special day on social media. Careful: if you smile too much, you'll appear too eager, and if you don't smile enough, you'll appear as though ordering the clams was a mistake. Remember to hand the waiter YOUR phone and not hers, otherwise she's going to post the picture that SHE looks good in, regardless of what a mess you look like.

     You decide to go in for the kiss. Do you know what you're doing? Let's go over it. First, if the lighting is low, locate the exact position of the lips, which may have shifted in transit. She might be looking through her purse for pepper spray, so wait till she's done. Does she wear braces? Good to know. If French kissing, watch out for les dents. Both your and her eyes should be closed. If you open yours to see if hers are open, and they are, you will both bust out laughing and ruin the moment, which will cost you another bottle of wine.

     Let's say the evening is going well. REALLY well. She suggests a massage. Fine, I say, but I'm ticklish everywhere on my body except for three places. I meant on ME, she clarifies. Of course, duh. And use plenty of oil, she instructs. I don't have any massage oil, but I do have a full can of WD-40, and she doesn't seem to know the difference. I hit the doorknob with it while she isn't looking, and that works great now, too.

     So if things didn't go that great this year, make sure to refer to this column next February 14th and let Love conquer All!

UNDERSTANDING THE HUMAN BODY

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (02-05-26)

    The human body is either the most amazing miracle in the natural world, or the most ill-designed piece of machinery since the electric hairbrush, which my Dad bought for my sisters back in the 70s and it pulled most of their hair out on the very first try. Is there anyone you know who doesn't have a bad back? It should come with an extended warranty. A bad back is a great reason to at least make sure your front is in good working order. 

     And let's discuss cartilage, because there seems to be not one ounce of this important tissue left anywhere in my body. Where did it all go? I have no idea, but it's like running out of mayonnaise at a barbecue, only not quite as serious. 

I went to the orthopedist to ask him about the pain in my wrist, which has such a wide arthritic chasm that when we looked at the X-ray he likened it to the Colorado River carving out the Grand Canyon. He said there was nothing much he could do about it. I said, I know, it's been there for thousands of years. But what about my wrist? It doesn't even seem like such a complicated joint- what does a wrist need to actually do? Wave once in a while? Its basic function is to keep your hand from riding up your coat sleeve.

     And now I had my hip replaced a couple weeks ago. I couldn't walk a quarter mile without complaint. The complaints were mostly about me from other people, but that didn't make my hip hurt any less. At first it was just a dull throb now and then. Soon, the throb was back but the "then" was gone. So I Googled "dull pain," and gradually narrowed my search by asking myself some questions. Where exactly does it hurt? Mostly in my car. On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad is it? Well, when it's a 9, it feels like more than 3 times the times when it's a 3, if that makes sense. Is the pain tingling, stinging or lingering? All three: It's stlingering. Does the pain happen at certain times of day? Yes, but at least when we turns the clocks ahead it doesn't hurt for that hour.

     Then there was a frank discussion in the orthopedic surgeon's office. He walks me through the procedure, but slowly, because my hip hurts. Afterwards I had questions. "Doctor, what will you be replacing the hip WITH?" "Another hip, even though that seems like the very definition of insanity." "When will I be able to play competitive tennis again?" "Well, from what I hear, no match you've ever played has been competitive." "What about a triathlon?" "You can run one leg of it." "How much will the procedure cost?" "It will probably cost an arm and a leg, and in this case we will actually be holding the collateral. Just kidding." "Doctor, why do I not care at all about 'Stranger Things?'" "Hmmm. That sounds serious and you might need to go out of network for that."

     It seems like even other animals are better appointed than humans are. Take the sea cucumber, if you will, and if you did I'd be very surprised. The sea cucumber can change at will into liquid form and pour itself into a crevice to escape predators. Imagine if you could do the same thing during an IRS audit, and when the conversation rolls around your charitable contributions, you simply change yourself into liquid form and splash yourself into a martini until the whole thing blows over, and enjoy yourself over lunch.

     A cow has essentially four stomachs. If humans were built the same way I could reserve one stomach just for my sister's meatloaf. The arctic hare can change color between seasons to blend in with its surroundings. Wouldn't it be fun to blend into your surroundings so you could listen in to what people say about you behind your back, only to find out that your name hasn't come up once? Did you know that an earthworm has five hearts? It explains why they lead such complicated romantic lives. An octopus has eight pusses, so there's that.

     My dog breeder, through careful selection, has effectively "bred out" the incidence of hip dysplasia in her dogs. Why can't this be done in humans? Let's compile a database of potential mates that never had osteoarthritis, and date exclusively from that pool. In a couple generations, your family will be swimming in cartilage. You'll be selling it back to the grid! If my idea works, we can expand the principle, and over time we can effectively eradicate multiple personalities, the lack of personality, and people who say "Oh, snap." I believe that one day we will be able to eat Tide Pods if we want, although please, not with red wine.

     And now I'm resting comfortably at home following my surgery, which translated, means I couldn't be less comfortable. I've been walking a million laps around my basement for the last week using a walker. And If I have a perfectly good walker, why do I have to do the walking?

POWER POINTS

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (01-29-26)

    I read that China is developing a pair of huge reactors to harness nuclear fusion, a nascent power source that could possibly change the trajectory of human existence and reverse the effects of global warming. We would be working on that here in America too, but right now we have some other important things to do, like tearing down the East Wing of the White House to build a ballroom. And before you know it the President will have bigger balls! 

     So what is nuclear fusion? I'll lay it out for you, because it's not exactly rocket science, which I don't understand either. When two atomic nuclei combine to form one heavier nucleus, it releases energy. Think of Taylor Swift's marketing machine joining up Travis Kelce's NFL juggernaut. Producing and tapping the energy is the challenge; you need to warm the atoms to a temperature hotter than the sun, create plasma, and hold it in that state for long enough to channel the power. Pretty much the same stuff Taylor and Travis do on a daily basis. If you succeed though, the rewards include no nuclear waste or possibility of nuclear meltdown as compared to traditional nuclear fission, using a source plentiful on Earth. 

     It turns out that artificial intelligence needs much more power than regular intelligence. All you need for regular intelligence is a nap once in a while, some iron-rich nutrients and several Kit Kat bars, and you can stir up enough brain cells to formulate an idea. There are no guarantees it will be a good one, but at least try. On the other hand, Apple is expected to spend $500 billion on AI data centers in the next four years, and to power them, it's projected that they will use as much electricity as 22 percent of American households. 

     That demand alone is what may be driving an accelerated push to find the next big energy source. Energy can be as simple as Ginger and Mary Ann pedaling a stationary bike to power Gilligan's Island, or it can get quite a bit more complicated. Solar power and wind power are pretty straightforward. But what if it's a cloudy day with no breeze, and Ginger and Mary Ann aren't speaking to each other because Mary Ann hits her head on a rock and gets amnesia and thinks she's Ginger but now she sings better in the talent show so Ginger is jealous? What were we talking about again? Oh yeah- energy. The hydrogen fuel cell is another example of a technology that's on the horizon.

     Fuel cells work by feeding hydrogen molecules through an array of anodes, cathodes and electrolytes, causing the electrons and protons to do a dance almost identical to the "Beer Barrell Polka," which results in the induction of power as well as heat and water. If you think this is a over-simplification, clearly you have never tried to do the "Beer Barrell Polka." 

     Geo-thermal power is an up-and-coming technology that's up and coming right out of the ground. A geo-thermal installation doesn't create power, it simply gives existing systems a head start by sinking a pipe far enough into the Earth to tap the consistent 50-degree temperatures below the surface, heating winter air to a warmer baseline, or cooling summer swelter to the same starting point.

     I have a friend who had solar panels put on his roof that charge an array of batteries to power his home. And whatever power he doesn't use he can sell back to the grid for what seems to me like a paltry amount. I asked him, aren't there any other grids you can sell it to? Shop it around? Maybe sweeten the deal with some coupons or something. I hear that women love a man who has a lot of power. 

     My only problem with that whole idea is that I hate things that run on batteries. They always give out at the most inopportune moments. What if that PSA comes on television, and the batteries for my remote control are out-of-office? You know the PSA, the one with the kid with the shrill voice who just won't give it a rest, who makes me feel guilty for wanting to bust him over the head with a four day-old loaf of Italian bread. Or what if I'm stuck on a desert island, and I only have THREE CD's, which I chose beforehand (Black-eyed peas? I should have spent more time on this) and a plane flies overhead and I don't have enough candlepower in my flashlight to get its attention?

     We tend to take power for granted until something happens and the lights go out. I bought a gas generator for our house that has a pull cord to start it when there's a bad nor'easter. I didn't get the electric-start model NOT because I'm so cheap (as long as I'm not under oath), but because I just KNOW I'd only remember to charge the battery when the power was out and it was too late. Anyway, I only have so many amps to choose from, and I have to decide between the hot tub and heating the house. I think I made the right choice. 

     I remember as a kid seeing a tag on electrical appliances that said "Approved By the Underwriters Laboratories." I imagined that they performed a battery of tests on, well, a battery, perhaps, and when they were done, wrote something under it. Like maybe, "Your battery's okay." Now this service is performed under OSHA, an arm of the Government, which is not reassuring, especially now. But luckily, electrical products undergo much more rigorous testing under the "reviews" section at Amazon.

THE YEAR IN REVIEW- 2025

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (01-15-26)

    Some people complain that they have no reliable source for important news. The following article will prove that they DO an unreliable source for unimportant news, which is even un-better. Here are the top stories of 2025:

LABUBU BALLOON DEBUTS AT PARADE
A stuffed plush toy from China named Labubu became so popular last year that it had its own 16-foot inflatable at Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. The misbehaving mini-monster is now ALL the rage, supplanting the Chase 'N Go Ball Popper, which is now only SOME the rage and hopefully less painful than the name suggests. What exactly is a Labubu? It has fur, sharp teeth, is sometimes cute and gets into all kinds of mischief. Well, you're thinking, same goes for my cat. Yes, but the Labubu will not throw up on your newspaper, so I would be worried if I was a cat. I'm not sure what "Labubu" means in Chinese, but in French it means "The bubu."

SCIENTISTS MAKE DISCOVERY STUDYING MICROSCOPIC ANIMAL DROPPINGS
Researchers at Dartmouth College have found that coating the surface of an algae bloom with clay dust greatly increases the amount of carbon ingested by microscopic zooplankton who then defecate the material far below water's surface. The hope is that these micro-poops could thereby reduce the introduction of carbon into the atmosphere. A microscopic zooplankton, reached for comment said, "THIS is what scientists are doing? Following us around with a microscope while we do our business?" The discovery also proves that carbon footprints are not always made with one's feet.

SWAN BLOCKS TRAIN, CAUSES CANCELLATIONS
Train service to and from Glasgow Central Station was disrupted for several hours due to a swan wandering onto the tracks. It only illustrates what I've been saying all along: It's become SO annoying to fly that even birds would rather just find another way to get there. Apparently this is not the first time it has happened, and since the swan is a protected species, railway workers have undergone special training to remove them. Swans can be aggressive when threatened, so they must be handled with care. Approach the waterfowl slowly, keeping it low to the ground, covering it with blanket if necessary. Idle threats and insults should be avoided, especially referring to its beak as a "pecker." 

“CROCODILE” SON WINS DANCE SHOW 
Late television star Steve Irwin's son Robert hoofed his way to reality show victory ON "Dancing with the Stars" last year. His animal-advocate gene pool suggests an unfair edge, with advanced knowledge of the "bunny hop," the "funky chicken," the "duckwalk" and the "mouse." Steve Irwin is remembered as a beloved naturalist who was mortally attacked by a poisonous sea creature. I also know what it's like to heroically face the dangers of the natural world, having once survived an altercation with a cactus in which the cactus won.

KATY PERRY IS LAUNCHED INTO SPACE
Pop icon Katy Perry hobnobbed with actual celestial stars when she joined a flight that ascended above the Earth's atmosphere for eleven minutes, coincidentally the same amount of time it takes me to throw up in a spacecraft 27 times. Afterwards, when she referred to herself as an "astronaut," I was diplomatic enough not to suggest that the title of "space cadet" may have been more appropriate. By the way, why hasn't anyone thought to launch Miss Universe into space, just to make absolutely sure that she is the prettiest in the entire galaxy?

WOMEN SPEAK 3,000 MORE WORDS THAN MEN
Findings from a University of Arizona study found that women between the ages of 25 and 65 speak an average of 3,000 more words a day than men. Deeper analysis will probably show that most of those 3,000 words are the same ones, such as "idiot," "salad," "hormones," "DUH," "there's no way I'm wearing that" and "can I PLEASE just get 1,000 words in edgewise?" Another theory is that men are physically unable to talk while eating something off a woman's plate that she was within inches of stabbing with her fork.

PLANE CRASH-LANDS ON TOP OF TOYOTA
A small Beechcraft plane attempted an emergency landing in Florida, atop a car traveling on I-95. All participants in the crash escaped with only minor injuries, and the occupants of the plane even received their luggage faster than usual. It all sounds like an amazing stunt that Tom Cruise could do in his sleep, which is certainly the best time to attempt it. I do all my own stunts, too, like the time I bicycled down a set of steps by mistake at a park in Germany (true), and went hintenplatz at the bottom, on my bottom.

UNIVERSITY STUDENTS FAIL AT BASIC MATH
A new report from UCSD has revealed that the number of students placing below first-year algebra has tripled over the past five years. Tripled means, got to third on a base hit, although I think there's also a mathematics definition for it. That puts these collegians at less than an 8th grade level, and at risk of being grounded for two weeks by their parents. The last thing I remember passing in math was a test on the multiplication tables, which technically is pre-calculus. I was pretty good at English and pretty bad at math, which meant that I couldn't put two and two together, but at least I could read the writing on the wall.

Happy new year, everyone, and stay happy, healthy and well-informed!